The Problem With Winter and other stories

The problem with winter is that when I have gloves on I don't see the notes written on my hand. Today it says, "scarf mill!" Because I think I left my new scarf, a scarf I spun the yarn for and knitted by hand, at The Mill, at least I hope it's at The Mill because I know it isn't at Donnelly's and I know it isn't at Joe's or Sanctuary. The Mill has a lost and found and I was going to go look for it when I left Menard's* today. But I didn't.

Other things on my To Do List:

1. write response to Sonya's presentation (2 pages due Mon.)
2. fill sketchbooks (2 books due Thurs.)
3. make spoon drawing (1 drawing, optional, due Thurs.)
4. study for final exam in Central African Art (due next Mon.)
5. mat the rest of my big head photos (10 due next Sat.)
6. something else I will remember while falling asleep tonight

In other news, my self portraits are on public display, a small selection (two nudes, one big head), at the front entrance in Menard's. There was an open house last night with an estimated 2000 people attending. There are now 2000 more people who have seen me naked. Neat. There were moments of discomfort, but I think I am getting used to this. And the response from people, not just people I know, was incredible. I don't know that I deserve the praise, but I enjoy hearing it.

I'd been cynical about the open house because I knew it was designed to be a publicity stunt to convince people that art students are happy, and no one seemed to really know or care what was going on. (I think the photo department, in particular, is bad at disseminating information. They didn't tell me what class I was teaching until about two weeks before it started.) But all day Friday, the building was filled with people, finishing last-minute projects, hanging work, and setting up installations. Freyer brought bagels and coffee, Sonya brought donuts, we played Temptations Radio and yelled at the printers. And there was art everywhere! All this work being made that I'd never seen, or even knew existed. For a day there was an actual arts community, and there was more than gray cubicle walls to look at.

Today I did extra lab hours helping students with their matting. I wrote 4 out of 5 response papers for Margaret's class. I had a chicken florentine omlette for lunch and followed it with a white chocolate mocha and white chocolate cookie. I finally payed my credit card bill, and got the satisfaction of finally telling the people calling me that it was taken care of. I vowed, again, to not let it get to that point. I beat Chris at the facebook geography game, but I doubt it will last. Andrew is still neigh-unbeatable, damn him.

I realized that I've switched to using full names in my blog. On one hand, I can't see how anything I've written could be incriminating in any way. I swear I didn't eat more than $3 worth of Freyer's bagels (and I promise to not let him buy me anything else for the semester). On the other hand, I'm just so used to seeing blogs using the coy-but-not-necessarily-more-private first initial, that to do anything else seems terribly rude. Well, we shall see. I am always a bit surprised to find that anyone actually reads this at all; I'm certainly not at a point where I am worried that my readership will cause any problems.

The rest of the night is to be split between West Wing, carding and spinning, Brisinger, and possibly tea and a hot bath. 'Night, kids.

*for those of you just tuning in, the U of Iowa Arts buildings were damaged in the flood, and so they've moved the Arts into an abandoned Menard's building (for those of you in California or other parts West, it's a bit like Home Depot). The school administration would like everyone to refer to the building by it's official title, Studio Arts, instead of Menard's, or The Art Box, or any of a variety of uncomplimentary names. I am not particularly inclined to grant their request.