Gingerbread Man Cake

Janice Cartier will not be posting today... She and her friends in New Orleans have been told by Paul Kirk, chairman of the debate committee, that we don't measure up.Yes. It is true. It is in all the papers,so it must be true.

At least it is reason enough for the debates to stay away. Oxford, MS (evacuation city of choice) does measure up...we are not enough... You read it huh? Well she won't be posting...because she is still reeling from the enormous slap in the face to her and her friends who stand and deliver everyday. She is incredulous at the supreme wasted opportunity and even more at the egregious insult he uttered.

Its okay. She'll recover...but she would like to disinvite Paul Kirk to Mardi Gras, Jazz Fest, Commander's, Antoines, Slim Goodies, and forever from her house for dinner ( no matter where she is camped out) and no he cannot listen to one Wynton Marsalis CD or eat at KPaul's, or hear Doctor John or walk on her street...

For those of you, my dear ones, please forgive me, but I am having a really tough time keeping a civil tongue in my mouth, as my grandmother would say. So I will not be posting today. Yellow bellied, chicken livered...son of a biscuit eater....There is a way to politely decline an invitation and a way to make a total insensitive ass of yourself. Nice choice Paul. Oops. See it just comes out.

So she better just go paint...maybe something in red....

Seriously, folks. The insult is real. Every day countless, non photogenic people and stories of heart take place there. It is heartbreaking to me to see that discounted with what he said and more so in passing this opportunity up to maybe have a REAL debate. God forbid a statesman appear. We are better than this folks. Have some guts. To my friends...my love always...what you do does not go unnoticed. And if you out there are so inclined, buy something from New Orleans on line. There's lots of good stuff. No one wants a hand out, just a chance...and some respect. Paul, shame on you and all the pack. Gutless wonders all of you. Buy a painting , buy a book, by something good to eat. I apologize again, but man this took the cake.

Blackberry Dance Tart

Oh, it lists to the left. An irony or just a function of left-handedness? And it dances. Which is so much more important. Got a blog this morning short and sweet from Seth Godin. About enthusiasm. My early mentor in art business, Famous Amos, yep, once said that his most important ingredient is enthusiasm. That and a bang up delicious cookie. And he made it. He made it so well that he was gobbled up and made superfluous to the making of the cookies...I kid you not. It happened to Al Copeland too. Popeye's. His baby. No matter the tacky garish taste this guy has, he makes good chicken. Well until he was gobbled up by the conglomerates and spit out like a spindly wishbone. So me being me this morning, I am looking at all this enthusiasm spewing from my brush and these nifty little paintings and thinking...well, it's a good thing these come out one by one. I am toooo small to be gobbled up by the art conglomerati...of no significance really, just enthusiastic as heck....(Phone rings) What? Jeff Koons calling? Wants to offer me a deal???? But I don't paint in silver??? That much , Hmm.....See dilemmas...Gobble, gobble so easily.....Just kidding, but now that silver coated tart is almost real, I have imagined it.....what if it is inflatable too....art and money, a dance in its own rite...today, I make the best of berries, let them dance. Show my enthusiasm. Keep the world at bay,yet ironically invite the entire world in...ahh, but it is almost time. Time to get back to the big work...add the zeroes on...I must buy paint and get my stuff, the stuff that did survive...reality intrudes..begin anew the gallery search...monetize my site....ugh...You can see why these berries dancing hold my fascination...they are at the core of what I do. They are a performance on a little scale. The very essence distilled... enthusiastically. Magic exploration. And I love them. So they will stay. We' ll find a way to integrate..and monetize as well...you see, it's not all transport and pigment is it? But it is enthusiasm.

GiveThanks Cheesecake

The juice of life. Paint it in. Let it drip, be a little messy. Nail it when it's there. Good art has it. Good artists live it. Look for it in little things and big. It comes naturally, but it does take nurturing. I have been wrestling with a dilemma. Actually two or three, but here it is. It is that old thing money. Money and art? Ahh, it is the curse of death in the studio. Yet the studio cannot exist without it. Have you seen Jeff Koons' prices lately? I wonder what his studio looks like? Many friends and colleagues too are terribly perplexed. You are offering your work at what?!!!That is too low. I say it is an experiment. But your work, it goes for thousands. They cite my resume, my experience, the collectors, the awards. Yes, that is true. So what the devil are you doing at auction with a starting price of 99 cents??? Are you nuts? Maybe. It is open to debate. I am taking a pulse. Looking for a heartbeat. Wondering, just who out there gets it and what they want to pay. Is good art recognizable when offered on the street to everyman instead of to the elite? And what of the gatekeepers? Who draws the line? If one is a painter, born and bred, then painting is the point. And cream will surely rise. So paint the juicy, juiciness of life, put it in the flow. There is a purity of exchange. Rebuilding, starting over again, seeing what is real. Born of necessity thanks to the storm. My work, my name, I am sure of them. So I put them on the line. There's a bit of juiciness in the test. It is a little messy. My bank account is low. But here's the thing. It's real. The paint is pure. It can be just as pure when thousands of dollars are involved. Don't get me wrong. I do like money and the use of it. But that will come again. Meanwhile you should see the notes I get, the joy of someone who has a piece, a little juiciness of their own. So pardon me for playing on the street with my little cup held out...playing my blues with paint. Mending a broken heart, rekindling what makes me tick (that adds the zeros on), it is the painting, not the accolades, not the credentials, that is the therapy. It is the doing and the steady selling to those blessed ones who get it. It is to you that I give thanks.

Carrot Cake More

This is a lake. A mirror pond. Make it large and you will see exactly how each stroke of paint is more of a gentle caress. Each one tickles yet stays sublime, contained. The desire is to paint eternal round sheathed in silky satin. It sits upon a golden disk that shimmers only a bit. But in that small crescent, that concentrate of gold, a soul can express, richness, tenderness, a treasure trove of more. Keeping it restrained, contained and full, hinting at what's within. I beckon you to taste of it. Let it drawn you in. Two maybe three dips of vermillion perched upon the top tease. Surprises hidden here. So won't you be a dear. Take a closer look. This one is painted just for you, to soothe ,to reflect. To refresh. It is a lake of pure cool water meant to refresh. To gaze into and see what's looking back.

Frazier

A little Frazier takes me to a street in Nice on a sunny afternoon. Or the opening credits of To Catch A Thief. I mentioned last time these remind me of Grace Kelly. I guess they hold true to form. In my heart and my painting memory, those colors Matisse and Dufy played with and the clothes designed for her, mix to bring me all kinds of enchantment, a feeling of sublime. Some creations are like that. Pure essence distilled and reconstituted to carry across a chasm. They take us from one edge to another on a scent, a color, a form. No real translation needed across the borderlands. It is like dreaming of flying, n'est-pas? No obstacles in the way. Good art, good writing, good pastry making all have magic within them for those who know how to play. Give me a moment of magic. Give me a simple potent phrase. Add a dash of color, the grace of a coutour gown. It matters not to me. Give me an essence in an art form to carry me through the day. Touchstones. We all need them. Tokens of transport. To a higher better us. I say bring them on. Make me giggle, ooh and ahh, or pause to ponder. Give me another tool. Fuel. Pure fuel from the muses you see. So little Frazier you and chef have done your job. I can conquer all those beasts, those mundane creatures of life. Ahh, now on we go to conquer something called an... SEO?...and to find a purple cow? Oh muses, don't fail me now.

Napoleon Acute

Day after Thanksgiving.... acute urge for all things holiday now...First rule: Avoid Black Friday. Do not go out. Watch really good movies on TV with your family and friends while eating traditional Hamburger Soup. Second Rule: Stay away from the Computer. Well at least until late night, and then just a brief check. Rule Three: Gear up by clearing the decks as much as possible. Create The Plan. Then breathe....Saturday am. My lists are made. My strategies finished. Got a decent night's sleep...no not yet ready to go out,but soon. Brief encounter with an annoying checkout online me tells me more deep breathing is required. So more like Wellington than Napoleon, I am choosing my ground. But lookout when I am ready to go. Don't get in my way. Woman on a mission. Stand back if you will. You see it is all because,the good stuff awaits. The warm little moments. The times we take a break. And I have an acute craving too...to paint a little piece of cake. Or lots of little pieces of cake. Oh no, I am not scrooge, I love the holidays. Just cannot stand cars backed up on highways, malls, crowds...I miss the walking of my neighborhood, the gingerbread of John Folsom, the lights off Oak Street, my streetcar festooned with garland clanging down St. Charles. But we'll find some good things here. There's way lots to choose from. Remember I have a plan. To make Dallas small. Shh. Don't let the Texans hear me. They are a great lot. Warm and friendly you bet. But they probably would shudder to hear me utter that. Soon, soon I 'll grab my hat, list in hand and head out, probably to see chef. Look for that gingerbread, a buche du noel....and look at the cowgirl boots.

Chocolate Drizzles

Chocolate drizzles all over fresh whipped cream floating on fresh strawberries. Cue music...Julie Andrews sings a few of my favorite things....On this day of giving thanks, I would like to thank chef for his unending exuberance, and all of those pastry chefs out there who rise at dawn to make our lives just a little bit more delightful. You say it is a little thing? So be it. But I say the ripple effect is quite something to behold. You want smiles? You should have been with us yesterday when we picked up our chocolate bourbon pecan pie. A little UN of goodwill at the Main Street Bakery. I say more, please. If we all were truly engaged in quality of life...well, I see a prettier landscape myself. But that is just me. So for today, I am grateful for chef and you too. Those of you who get it. Thanks for making this experiment work. Thanks for all of your kind words, your fun and your collecting. And I am thanking my brush and the muse of words. Big thanks to Julien Merrow- Smith( who inspires me everyday) and Duane Keiser those painting explorers who showed me a path I could take. Enough. The parades are on. There is cooking to do today. And family dear and near. So gather round some of your favorite things...hear Julie sing, then later ...we'll eat more cake!