This beautiful glass sculpture is Dale Chihuly’s Flower Form 2 (variation), in the lobby of the Sheraton Grand Seattle, where self is staying during the AWP Conference.
Posting for Cee Neuner’s Flower of the Day.
Tag: art
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Self chooses to celebrate this day by giving thanks to each of these remarkable women: Dear Departed Mum, friends, cousins, fellow writers, and random acquaintances who have shared her life (some for just a day) and made it so much better:
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Self has to admit, she finds Con/Artist: A Memoir fantastically entertaining. Even though the author is often quite vulgar, in London he does the same kinds of things self does. For instance:
In London I spent most of my time hanging out with Stunt’s friendly and gregarious Lithuanian bodyguards, drivers, and security men. I can rarely sleep past 7 a.m. anymore, but James would stay up all night and didn’t wake up until the late afternoon. To entertain me, the bodyguards would take me to the British Museum or to Trafalgar Square or to the pub, where we’d have fish and chips and a pint of beer. I liked them, and they went out of their way to take care of me in James’s absence.
My room in Stunt’s home was on the sixth floor. I’d climb all the way up there . . .
— Con/Artist: A Memoir, p.Right, there was no lift. These sixth floor rooms are a bear. About five years ago, self found she could no longer climb to the top floor of the Penn Club. After that, she always asked to be put on ground level, or at most one level up. And Tony Tetro was in his sixties! He must have been in great shape.
Now, hunting around for London (or any European) Airbnbs, when the listings say “nice view” or “nice balcony,” make sure you ask if there’s an elevator. Self’s most recent Airbnb stay in Dublin, last November, was on the SEVENTH floor. And it was in an old building, which meant: no elevator. She had to trundle her suitcase (full of books) up there in stages. She’d go two landings, rest a bit, then tackle another two landings, then rest a bit, etc. She couldn’t complain — there indeed was a balcony (with a nondescript view). Next time she Airbnbs in a European city, she’ll stay away from the ones that advertise balconies!
On the very last page of his memoir, Tony Tetro announces: “In a couple of months, I’m going back to London for the British Museum.” (Self finds this very endearing. Believe it or not, self has said the exact same thing, multiple times!)
Stay tuned.
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Tony Tetro loved what he did and he was good at it. I am learning a lot about persistence and craft and believing in yourself, from reading his memoir. Who’d have thought my writing process would be so much like art forgery?
Then, forgery was fun, like a challenging puzzle or a riddle to solve. I loved figuring out intriguing ways to make an artwork plausible. I loved doing everything perfect — leaving little hints that only the most knowledgeable experts would appreciate. It’s strange to say, but half the fun was imagining the oohs and aahs I would get and the little nods of appreciation I might receive. Without that, art forgery would have been just another job.
— Con/Artist: A Memoir, p. 102 -
I saw the Sistine Chapel before they cleaned it, with its patina of age and human presence. I learned that for four hundred years, kilos of sweat evaporated into the ceiling every day, giving it its color, the bodies of worshippers literally becoming part of the painting itself. I went back many years later and hated that they cleaned it. Now I’ve grown to accept it, though I can’t help feeling something important has been lost.
— Con/Artist: A Memoir, p. 85 -
Is Tony Tetro a real name, self wonders.
Either way, it’s like the man himself: larger than life.
Without further ado, the Sentence of the Day:
- A couple of years before, I was a small-town kid selling furniture and eating baloney sandwiches — now I was hanging out in Beverly Hills and stars like Jack Lemmon or Michael Caine would wave at us happily and call out, “Hi, Charlie!”
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Of all the things to learn about Norman Rockwell!
Rockwell was known as America’s sentimental grandfather, but I had read that he had a real thirst for liquor and a real hunger for women and that one of his sly business associates kept him knee-deep in both. When it was time for Rockwell to sign his limited editions, instead of signing two hundred copies, the associate would slip in at least another hundred Rockwell, who wasn’t numbering them and who was already two-thirds of the way through a bottle of bourbon, never suspected a thing. Now there was a plausible reason why supposedly limited editions always seemed to have additional copies in the wild.
— Con/Artist: A Memoir, by Tony Tetro, p. 46 -
Cee Neuner: This week my black and white challenge topic is Carvings, sculptures and Statues. I hope you have FUN with this challenge.
Contemporary Ceramics Centre, Great Russell Street, London
Garden Ornament on my porch
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My first introduction to the work of the late Santi Bose was at a gallery in Manila called Sining Kamalig. That’s where I saw the Blue Room. I begged my parents to give me the painting for my seventeenth birthday.
A few years later — surprise, surprise! — they bought the companion painting, the White Room, for me. I brought both paintings to California with me. They are among my most treasured possessions.
mixed media, early Santi Bose. Posting for Travel with Intent’s Six Word Saturday
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It appears self’s books have been available on kindle for a few years. She never knew!
Two of the four:
The cover of The Lost Language is a detail of a painting by the late, great Filipino artist Santiago Bose.
Kanlaon 