A PLETHORA OF PORK

Hello, friends. Terribly sorry the blog has been quiet for, good gracious, an entire week now. Know that I have been otherwise occupied. More specifically, distracted by quite a lot of pork.

Last week marked the tenth annual Southern Foodways Symposium, which is produced by the Southern Foodways Alliance, a.k.a my day job. The official theme: the State of Southern Food. The unofficial theme: Good God, How Much Pork Can One Person Eat?!

The festivities kicked off with a field trip to Greenwood, MS, on Wednesday, where our Pig Fest began. There was a butchered pig, a smoked pig, stuffed pig's stomach, ham, and, of course, cracklins. We were just getting started.

There was no relief in Oxford. For four days we ate (links of boudin, fried boudin balls, whole hog bbq, pig's ears and pig's cheeks), we drank, we danced, and we held our bellies. It was a good time.

For a more detailed account of the weekend's events, check out Kate Ramos's post on Chow.com. For some great photographs, check out the blog by my friends over at Green Olive Media.

And now, the recovery period. Thank-you notes need to be written, bills need to be paid, and I need to detox from all that pork. Salad, here I come.

KENTUCK TREASURES

I came home from the Kentuck Festival with a cornucopia of treasures, but these few are definitely the highlights.

I mentioned Anthony Pack's cool work yesterday. This happy guy on the left is one of his creations. He said it was something he threw together at the last minute to fill out his booth. Lucky me. I fell in love with this fella immediately. Maybe it's all of the red he's wearing. Or maybe it's the word sugar on his chest. Regardless, this little guy came home with me, and I am super glad to have him as part of the family. And while I don't know if he has a proper name, I've been calling him Mr. Sugar.

On the right is a figure painted on cardboard by Betty Sue Matthews. All of her work is just so honest and direct and colorful. When I purchased this and a couple of other drawings, Ms. Matthew's son wanted to make sure his mother signed everything. Ms. Matthews chose to sign this little gal right on the skirt of her dress. Love that. And so you know, the back of her head, dress and knees are on the reverse.

And finally, the fabulous work of Kim Young. Two pins and a pair of earrings, all from recycled tin. Unfortunately, this is not a good image of the earrings but know that they're made from an old globe. One ear gets Uruguay, the other Thailand.

I'm already anxious for next year's festival to roll around.

A CORNER OF KENTUCK

This is just one corner of Anthony Pack's booth at the Kentuck Festival. I walked away with one of these irresistible characters. Mine doesn't happen to appear in this photo, but I will feature him here tomorrow.

COLLABORATION

The Kentuck Festival was incredible--a gorgeous day, fabulous work, wonderful artists, awesome music. And I came home with many a treasure, so my back account is a little worse for the wear. I promise to make a treasure post, as soon as I document all the handmade goodness that now lives with me in Mississippi.

Until then, I thought I'd share this lovely little collaboration I had with my jeweler friend Magally Lopez. In 2003 she approached me to create miniature versions of my paintings to be mounted in silver as brooches. We made two; one is pictured here. They were seriously fun to make, and both of them sold. I don't know why we didn't--or haven't--made more. Four years later, we're both busy, but we should certainly make time to collaborate again.

I was reminded of these pins over the weekend. One of my favorite vendors at the Kentuck Festival was Kim Young. She makes wonderful jewelry using recycled metal: old globes, candy tins, and fishing tackle boxes. I bought three pieces. Looking at all of her wonderful work made me want to become a jeweler. And then I remembered these pins.

Maybe it's time to make time for another collaboration.

A HAVEN FOR THE HANDMADE

Heading to Northport, Alabama, tomorrow for the Kentuck Festival. It'll be a full day of folk art, crafts, music, friends and--hopefully--some good food, too. Expect a few related posts in the coming days.

A great weekend to all!

PEELING BACK THE YEARS

Joe's Cozy Corner pre-Katrina by Justin Hall. (Thanks, Justin!)

Joe's Cozy Corner was an institution in New Orleans--one of those diamonds in the rough, where you'd always find cold beer, nice folks, and good music. (I could be describing most of the Crescent City here, actually.) I've had the pleasure of crossing the threshold at Joe's twice. Both occasions were quite a long time ago, but they were both very memorable. Unfortunately, those memories will have to last because Joe's corner is no longer cozy. It's closed.


Ruth's Cozy Corner by GK Darby of Garrett County Press. (Thanks, GK!)

After the last Crown and Coke was served at Joe's, the building's owners peeled away all of those red bricks, only to find that the corner wasn't Joe's after all. It was Ruth's.

This story sums up what I love about New Orleans and hate about post-Katrina New Orleans all at the very same time. I hate that Joe's is gone. There were some security issues at Joe's, the place may not have fared well in the storm, but it was a neighborhood joint that I hate to know is no longer around. But what I love about all of this is that there's history here. Layers of renovations and hand painted letters and stories are still on these walls. If those walls could talk.

My friend Rob sent me these photographs today. Rob and his wife, Ellen, are the ones who first took me to Joe's Cozy Corner. We bellied up to the bar one lazy afternoon and visited with the man himself, while Curtis Mayfield played on the jukebox.

Then there was the late-night visit, when Kermit Ruffins was there to perform. And Rob might dispute this, but as I recall, Kermit bought champagne for the crowd.

So tonight I guess I'll raise a glass to Joe and to Ruth. Thanks for the memories.

BOX + BUNDLE

A quiet photograph for you today. Enjoy.

EARTHWORKS

Just as we're having all of this earth moving going on at our place, I find this wonderful photograph. Flickr member Mykl Roventine documented this installation by Michigan artist Michael McGillis. It's entitled Wake and can be found at Franconia Sculpture Park outside Taylors Falls, Minnesota. I can only imagine what an experience it is to see this site in person. From the other photos, it looks as though the logs are stacked about four-and-a-half feet tall. That's a lot of logs.

This piece is reminding me of a woman in New Mexico, who created a bottle mosaic in her backyard, pounding the business end of bottles into the dirt with a rubber mallet.

And then, of course, there's always Grandma Prisbey's Bottle Village.

Right now, our earthworks are ponds. But some day we'll have some sculpture and mosaics and a bottle building, too.

One project at a time.

WOOD + CLAY + PAINT

It was another good weekend at the homestead. For starters, we had a fire going all day, both Saturday and Sunday. There's something completely comforting about being able to stop and enjoy a little campfire by the pond--ahem, hole in the ground.

We still have a bunch of earth moving happening at the homestead. And I think I misrepresented all the goings-on the other day. In addition to having our exiting pond dug a little deeper, we're having an entirely new pond dug as well. That's right, two ponds. Actually, the two ponds are connected by a little cut-though, over which there will eventually be a convenient little foot bridge. The crew is finishing things up today. Then all we need is some water to fill our big deep holes. The rains, they are a-comin'.

With two extremely large holes of Mississippi clay at his disposal, Kurt's inner ceramicist came out over the weekend, and he fashioned three little coil pots. While he was doing that, I spent some time in the studio and finished another painting.

Last night we had some friends over for a little cook-out by the hole in the ground. The stars lit up the night sky, and the campfire kept us warm.

It was a good weekend.

GOOD MORNING, TRACKHOE!

Kurt actually took this photograph yesterday afternoon. But know that the trackhoe--and tractor and pan and three trucks--arrived at our house this morning at 6:30 a.m. Fortunately, I was already up. Crazy, I know. Especially since those of you who know me well know that I am a big fan of The Sleep.

All of this activity is a result of my dear husband's desire to have some dirt moved around. Boys will always have a thing for dump trucks, I suppose. Really, though, Kurt has been wanting to have some work done to the property for some time now. As you can see here, our pond, which has been a puddle all summer, is being deepened. And the dirt that's being taken out of the pond is being used to create a burm on the south side of the property as a kind of sound barrier. It's not loud where we are, really, but Kurt is tired of hearing the Wal-Mart trucks go by. Can't blame him, really. And I'm tired of trying to talk to him outside when he has ear plugs in, which can be an entirely frustrating exchange. So hopefully this will soften that highway traffic hum a bit. "Homestead" is feeling a bit more like "compound" at the moment, however. But I trust his vision. I know it'll all be grand.


Also at 6:30, Kurt decided to build a little fire out by his man cave. It was the perfect thing on a cold, foggy morning. I just wish I could have stuck around for a while. Instead, I had to hightail it to the office to sit in front of the computer. Maybe we can have a morning fire over the weekend. Mmm, well, maybe not. Weekends are made for sleepin' in.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Listening to: The Budos Band. One word: Horns!

TECH LOVE

I'm in. I'm finally part of the iPod Generation. I used to be part of the Walkman Generation, but that was a long time ago. Remember the Sony Walkman that was the size of a cassette tape? Yeah, I had two of those.

Really now, I had no idea I could love a machine so much. I was hesitant to make the purchase mostly because--well, truth be told, I dreaded uploading all of my hundreds of CDs to the thing. But that part really isn't so bad. I'm reconnecting with music I haven't listened to in ages. It's--in a word--invigorating.

More than the listening-to-CDs-that-have-been-collecting-dust thing, I am now a complete geek for podcasts. This American Life? Check. All Songs Considered? Check. I happened to christen my iPod--and my ears--with a recent podcast from All Songs Considered, which featured Jose Gonzalez live at Washington DC's 9:30 Club. Oh, the joy. Seriously, you should download it. It's fabulous.

And I'm seriously glad that I finally own an iPod.

[Tech love stops here.]

IN THE ZONE

My creative juices did, indeed, flow this weekend, thank goodness. I managed to finish my American Beauty Butter painting (this is only a taste of it, by the way), as well as two smaller paintings. It was a good weekend.

The title of this one--again, you're only seeing part of it--is Butterscotch / Estelle Was Going to Bake A Pound Cake, But She Decided to Pour Herself A Glass of Scotch Instead.

Instead of baking a pound cake, I made lemon custard on Saturday. There was no scotch involved. And, of course, my name isn't Estelle.

MAGIC LIGHT

Saturday evening in downtown Oxford.

ANOTHER ROLL OF THE DICE

After making yesterday's post, I got to reminiscing about my gramma's love of dice games. It seems like every time my dad and I would pay her a visit, they would spent at least one night in a casino together, playing craps until the cows came home. I can imagine she was a pretty good player. My gramma was a whiz with numbers and probabilities. She could also kick your butt in Boggle. I never saw her put money on a Boggle game, however.

My gramma's love of dice games cropped up in the privacy of her own home, too. Our family game was--and still is--a game called zilch. (Some call it farkle, but those people don't really know what they're talking about.) It's a game that's kind of similar to poker but with dice. And no, it's not a poor man's Yhatzee. It's a great game. I'll kick anyone's butt in zilch. Okay, maybe not my gramma's.

So after all this dice business, I realized that just last weekend I documented some of the dice that happen to by lying around my own home. I do have a complete zilch set (many, actually), these are just dice that are old, interesting, colorful, and without mates. And you'll notice the Sun Spot bottle, which I painted a portrait of a few months back. Inspiration is everywhere.
















Which brings me to a little discussion about this week's "Painting of the Week," Ice/Dice. This piece was actually inspired by a photograph I took at the King Biscuit Blues Festival a handful of years ago. (The event is now called the Arkansas Blues & Heritage Festival, which is going on this weekend, by the way) The photograph is of the side door of an old ice truck. The letters of the word ice had that awesome stylized snowcap thing going on, and the colors were incredibly vibrant. I knew I wanted to do a painting that incorporated that image, and I eventually decided on creating a little play on words. Ice and dice, with only a "d" coming between them. And then there's sheet from the bingo pad that I bought in Batesville. And, of course, a single die. I still have good feelings for this painting, which is more than I can say for most.

I think I'll challenge Kurt to a friendly game of zilch when I get home.

PORTRAIT OF A JAR

Lately, my free time has been consumed by travel, house guests, and drag races. This weekend looks to be completely open, though, so I plan to be in the studio. There's a little show coming up that I need to do some more paintings for.

I have been in the studio lately, but not for me. So this weekend I look forward to sifting through my stacks of wood to find the perfect piece to work on, laying out all of my paints and brushes, putting on my apron, and disappearing into the world of art making. There's nothing like creating in the zone. Geez, I hope I can find the zone.

That's one thing about painting on a schedule: there's every chance that you won't be energized by a burst of creativity precisely when you've planned to be creative. That can really suck. Usually, though, just prepping my studio--and my head--for making a painting gets me there. And then I stay there for hours on end.

There's a painting sitting on my studio table that I started months ago. It's a portrait of my American Beauty Butter box. I might try revisiting that to get the juices flowing, but I am really looking forward to painting a portrait of the jar pictured here. It belonged to my Gramma Evans. She loved to shoot craps (she lived in Las Vegas), but I never knew she sewed, much less embroidered. I already have a little narrative composed for the painting of this jar and its contents, and I can't wait to get started.

FROM THE AMY ART ARCHIVES

I did this painting when I was in kindergarten. Obviously, I eventually ditched the whole figurative thing. But butterflies, they still crop up in my paintings from time to time. What I love about this, though, is that the little blue-headed figure is so happy. And so grounded.

Maybe I already had some ideas about living in Mississippi.

GOATS, DRAG RACING & S'MORES

Saturday, we went to First Monday in Ripley, Mississippi. You kind of have to be in-the-know for this because the action really happens on the weekend before the first Monday of every month. Of course, it wasn't always like that. You really did go on the first Monday of the month back in 1893, when the event began.

First Monday is widely known (around these parts, anyway) as the oldest and largest flea market in Mississippi and, some say, the South. I can't make an argument for either case, but I do know this: you haven't lived until you've been to the thing. The first visit I made to First Monday was seven years ago. I hadn't been in Mississippi long, so it was a most memorable introduction to my new home. I was hooked immediately. And now, whenever I need a barnyard animal, some tube socks, or a good corn dog, I head to Ripley. This weekend's visit did not disappoint, although I came home with nary a barnyard animal. Not even a goat, although there were quite a few that caught my eye.

The photograph above is from a visit to First Monday I made back in 2002 and is one of my favorite pictures of all time.

After First Monday, we stopped in Blue Mountain for the Saturday night drag race extravaganza. There are no words.


And then last night Kurt and I topped off the weekend with a fire by the pond, complete with hot dogs and s'mores.

I'm pretty bummed it's Monday.