Falling in love at the drop of a hat, the slide of a paint stroke
I'm in between to-do notes since getting home. Finally unpacking the end of the car from Crown Chakra, finally putting away that stuff, doing the write-up for the Tea Group online and print out that review to glue into the book. Finished my exercises for Five Elements through Five Senses: Water and my notes for the RCG Samhain ritual.
I still need to pack for my trip that I leave on Thursday afternoon, since I won't have time tomorrow. And there needs to be an errand to activate my new card and send out a small, but important, bit of mail tonight. But I'm pausing to tell you about falling in love at tonight's McNay Museum Member's Opening of the new Impressionist's Gallery Exhibit.
It's name is On the Heights, done by Charles Curran, and it was painted in 1909. You know, it's getting more and more less a joke that I'm falling in love with refined, shiny things from the first decade of the twentieth century. And the world as my witness it's so much more stunning in person. I turned around and lost my breath entirely not expecting it where I was walking through beach and landscape scenes.
Sadly. It's also becoming more true that the differences between the actual art and even exquisitely well done prints is getting to be too far and apart different for me. Could I try not to be purist somewhere that being a purist is actually exorbitantly expensive?
I still need to pack for my trip that I leave on Thursday afternoon, since I won't have time tomorrow. And there needs to be an errand to activate my new card and send out a small, but important, bit of mail tonight. But I'm pausing to tell you about falling in love at tonight's McNay Museum Member's Opening of the new Impressionist's Gallery Exhibit.
It's name is On the Heights, done by Charles Curran, and it was painted in 1909. You know, it's getting more and more less a joke that I'm falling in love with refined, shiny things from the first decade of the twentieth century. And the world as my witness it's so much more stunning in person. I turned around and lost my breath entirely not expecting it where I was walking through beach and landscape scenes.
Sadly. It's also becoming more true that the differences between the actual art and even exquisitely well done prints is getting to be too far and apart different for me. Could I try not to be purist somewhere that being a purist is actually exorbitantly expensive?