Yesterday felt like a disaster with a few bright spots (none of which had to do with painting). I didn't leave myself enough time to get any substantial work done in the studio, and somewhere between the Beacon Hill Art Walk on Sunday and yesterday, my largest new piece, which I was saving for the Provincetown gallery, took major damage from being in the van with the rest of the show gear.
Something punched several holes in the canvas, rendering a $1,400 painting worthless. And I thought I *was* being careful - I cocooned every one of my paintings in bubble wrap. Moral: treat your paintings like friggin sheet glass if you have to move them around.
The best parts of the day were visiting Bonita's studio in the Button Factory and playing music with violinist Sam Goodall in preparation for our gig tomorrow at the York Art Association's
"Second Saturdays at Seven," where Anna is reading poetry as well.
Mercifully, the night ended in a softened haze of painlessness, for some inexplicable reason. Lucky, that.
Today we begin anew.