The winter has been beautiful in the Mojave. We have been working on the house and grounds as always, building a composting bin, finishing the earth oven, and starting a new fence. But we are also being more social, meeting friends out here and participating in shows. I was honored to have studio visits with two curators in the last few months, something that never happened in San Diego or Los Angeles (the desert mystique works). My work is currently on view in "Mojave Madness" at the Yucca Valley Art Center, and the two small pieces sold--the new metal series, especially the tools, seems to be hitting a nerve and opening pocketbooks.
With all the worry over the spread of the virus, it feels that 29 Palms might be a safer spot to hide out if things get bad, so we are stocking up on supplies and preparing mentally to isolate if necessary. Sort of a scary time.
The other thing I find myself thinking about is the coming summer, if we will handle it any better. Having grown up in San Diego, where the weather is almost always perfect (and perfectly boring), it's a new experience to have seasonal anxiety. I try to live in the moment, or at least the current month, enjoying our wood burning stove and getting under the feather quilt at night. We are refurbishing our above-ground pool, which we originally thought was a cow trough, hoping it will make hot days a bit more bearable. But in reality, summer is another scary thing to contemplate.
Anna does most of the writing. Ted does most of the photos. But sometimes we switch. We are repairing a distressed property in 29 Palms, California, and eventually hope to run an artist residency there.