|Even without its usual bounty of blooms the Gothic Road |
is something to see.
Last week I was off teaching sketching workshops at the Crested Butte Wildflower Festival. Our persistent drought meant that the usually flower-lush valley floor was parched and blooms were thin on the ground this year, but we had fun anyway. Tuesday I unexpectedly experienced my most diverse workshop dynamic EVER: My students ranged in age from 10 to 90! Wow.
|The monsoons have finally arrived, but the rain held off during |
On Monday I'm off again, this time headed east to Maine and Hog Island Audubon Camp, where I'll be an instructor for Educators' Week.
I'm really pleased that I sat down and made a new journal when I did, since I've managed a few moments here and there to make some entries. The most difficult part is finding the book in the disaster that is my work area right now. I have piles of papers from last week, stacks of items for next week's workshops, stacks for an art festival the week after, AND another workshop the week after that. My drawing table feels like a "Where's Waldo?" book. Can you find: My phone bill, a linocut that needs to be shipped to a buyer, my paint box, workshop materials that need to go in my suitcase, a draft of a contract project, a checklist for an art festival, my "Square," my journal, my checkbook, a supply receipt, and... oh, gee... is that a bottle of aspirin? How do you suppose that got there?