Boston...

The sun rises over Boston

(view from my porch)

Really still trying to wrap my head what went on this past week. If you know Boston, you know sports... It's kind of shoved down your throat whether you're into it or not. But that's okay... because really, routing for the home team is a lot of fun. Which is what Patriots Day really has become. Yes, we still have the reenactment of the Battle of Lexington... in fact there's always 2 guys dressed in the 3 corner hats riding down Massachusetts Avenue on horseback. The games, both Red Sox and Bruins, were scheduled. And of course, the Marathon.

Monday:

I had tickets to that Bruins game. I was sitting at my desk (it's optional here to take the day off or not) and at around 3:30 - 4 a hoard of coworkers went by my desk to the conference room where the TV is. I followed them. NECN coverage, photographs from the scene. My coworker: "Holy shit, that's blood."

My neighbor ran the marathon. I was texting her begging her to respond to me. She did, about 30-40 minutes later. She later told me she was crossed the finish line 15 minutes before it happened and was eating a sandwich with her boyfriend at a local restaurant. I was calling the Garden, (I must admit here that I was a little in denial, "it can't be that bad.") to see what was up with the game. Got a recording that it wasnt' cancelled. Called Tracy who was at home (and was planning on going to the game with me)

T: No I think it's cancelled. Where are you?

C: still at work. Are you sure?

T: Chrissy, there saying there may be more bombs on the T

C; No way.

T: WAY!

C; I'll call again.

T: Ok, on Twitter. Bruins page says its cancelled.

call back

C: Yep its cancelled...

After that conversation I just went home. Walked, mind you. I don't think I had it in me to ride the train. Jason was fishing (he had the day off). When I called him, we talked a little about what happened. He then told me it was his mum's birthday and would be going out to dinner with his family. I had to wait til 11pm to get a hug. What a horrible day.

Tuesday:

Business as usual in Boston/Cambridge.... kind of. People a little on edge. Everyone asking each other, "are you okay?"

Wednesday:

I'm not a big TV watcher. I look at the Internet a lot and will admit, a bit addicted to Facebook. Really, I don't think its good, but that's a story for another day. Instead, I listen to NPR in the morning. And it was Wednesday morning, when they played a recording of when the bombs went off. That's when it hit me:

the panic. You could hear it in the screams. fucking awful.

I also did yoga on Wednesday after work. I really believe that this alleviated my body of all the stress and tension that I had been feeling, not even realizing, these past few days. On my walk home, I noticed a small pink stuffed animal lying face down in the gutter. Oh, this just breaks my heart. Why? Because all I can think of is that small child that dropped it and is now having a meltdown because she lost her 'bubby' on the way home. I picked it up, brushed off the dirt and put it in one of the flower/plant displays that adorn our city on the 'islands' of sidewalk. And then just absolutely broke down. Sobbing. All the rest of the way home. That poor family. Those poor people. Why does this have to happen? Why here? Why do we do it to other people? What's going to happen.... now? Jason came home and saw me upset. I told him the whole story and he hugged me tight. sigh.

Thursday:

Better, but not yet perfect. But hell, I was really looking forward to Jason's gig at OBriens later that night. I really thought everyone could use a drink and some hard rock and heavy metal at this point. And it was fun. A lot of fun. Then at about 12am people hearing and talking about a shooting over at MIT about a mile away. People standing around, "what is this world coming to?" I had no idea that it was related to Monday's bombing. It got eerily quite except for the cop cars FLYING up Cambridge Street. Shit was going down.

Friday:

Phone was ringing at 6:30am. I was thinking "who the hell is calling here" and by the time I got up to answer it, the caller had hung up. Oh, bastards. And yes, I was very hungover. It wasn't til later that I realized that phone call was a "Reverse 911" call telling us to stay in. Went back to bed for those precious 20 minutes before having to get up and get ready for work. Again, turned the radio on to NPR.

Lockdown.

Holy Shit.

AND apparently my cell was on vibrate, so I didn't get the gazillion texts/calls from my mother. Woops. But I did call her at that point and told her that I was fine. I woke Jason up. And it was kind of surreal, this whole lock down thing. What was going to happen? I put Luna's harness on in case we wanted to get out, Fast. Lord knows I didn't want to have to deal with a cat carrier. And then we just waited. And waited. I painted a little... did some laundry. I felt like this guy could be anywhere... was he in my basement? But no, he was in Watertown. Hiding. Bleeding. In a boat that was in a yard for the winter season. And they got him.

I believe that the things that happened this past week is a real reflection on humankind. Both bad and good.  Monday was horrific, Tuesday was edgy. Will things be back to "normal"? No, never. I will never look at Copley the same way again. I'll always think of the people down there on the finish line who were witness to this madness. I'm glad to be a part of this town, for all of it's Massholes and Wicked Pissahs. That's what they mean by Boston Strong.



Art Receptions

Party Pug

4x6 inches

watercolor

Have you ever gone to an art reception? What is that you expect from them?

There's been a couple of articles on FASO lately about being yourself and such. One example is the art reception. They go on to talk about being true to yourself. Such as, if you're one who shows her work, very sociable and open to talk to people and yet when everyone is gone, you say to yourself, "God I hate these things." then you're not being your true person, just someone others may want to see. On the other hand, if you're one of those people who cringe at the thought of talking to someone who asks you questions about your art, yet you still answer them as openly honest as you can be, you are still being true to yourself.

When I had an art reception, the guy who put it together said that it was going to be an artist talk as well. The artist being me. Well, I wasn't NOT prepared for that. I don't mind talking about my art work, it was standing up in front of those people.. that's what freaked me out. Hence the reason for a vodka tonic before I went into the reception. But as it turns out, it really wasn't so much of a talk as I made it more intimate by going up to people, introducing myself (to those who didn't know me already) and asking them, "what is it that made you come out tonight?" Is this a true reflection of me? I believe so. Especially the vodka part.

I was at a reception over at Mt. Ida college in Newton a couple of weeks ago. It was a group show, so there were a number of artists there and each had about 5-10 minutes to talk about their art work. I loved one artist in particular who did prints that were very nautical in a way... the colors that he used and did it with a variety of things that he found walking the beach. All these questions came up in my mind: When were you in Ireland? Do you still have these pieces of material that you used? what it the process of this piece.......

But when the talks were over, they artists, especially the one I wanted to talk further to, were too engaged in the circle of friends that came to support them. I guess this is a good thing, it's nice to have support from friends and family (my mom, dad and aunt come frequently to my receptions) so I'm not going to frown upon that. But is it the responsibility of the artist to make him/herself accessible to further questions? I think so, but maybe he thought he had already talked enough. Well, I guess it really doesn't matter now because I really don't remember his name.

So when you go to an artist's reception, what are you looking for? Do you want to meet the artist? Would you rather have them talk to the group or one on one? Do you go just for the refreshments? Would you rather not talk to the artist at all because you want your own interpretation? Is there really a right/wrong way?

So that being said, Unbound Visual Art group is having a show at the Harvard Learning Annex at the corner of Western Ave and N Harvard Street in Allston, Thursday May9th. I'll be there to answer all the questions you may have about the pieces that I have up.

Hope to see you there!