As I write this, a watercolor painting is drying in the sun. I thought I would post this class demo done a few weeks ago (a quick one of red berries) and say hello (join my next workshop, “Watercolor and Sticks and Ink” at Frank Bette Center in Alameda in January!).
Here’s today’s book review (I know, you’ve been holding your breath). I’m reading Auntie Mame, a memoir written by her orphaned nephew, Patrick Dennis. I was expecting a fun romp and an inspirational read about a one-of-a-kind woman who lived life on her terms. And it is an interesting recollection about a lost era in Manhattan, but it also has dark undertones and an undercurrent of sadness, for Patrick had lost both parents, Auntie Mame was a bit of a self-absorbed hedonist even though she loved her nephew, and I suppose I am projecting my own biases when I say that the characters of the book are a bit shallow and racist (if fun, and fun-loving, and interesting). The Broadway play based on the book seems to have been a sanitized version of the story, as was the movie with Rosalind Russell (but her performance was stellar).
So… why was I attracted to this book, after I’d read a reference to it in the NYT? I think I wanted to read about a strong woman (and boy howdy she was that). And I wanted to have a read that would take me away into another world (checkmark next to that item as well). So why does it make me feel slightly melancholy? Well, duh, lots of things make me sad these days. But Auntie Mame for all her vivaciousness and ability to survive seems hollow and someone with the depth of a paper towel. She just doesn’t grab me. But I’m not done with the book yet.
OK, going back to my painting. I surely am enjoying my quiet, sunny house today and soon I’ll head out for bike ride out in the lovely but chilly sun. Then I’ll come home and make a nice dinner and have a happy hour cocktail and feed my guinea pig and tomorrow will return to brother-care, something I am grateful to be able to do.
10″ x 10″ ink, watercolor on paper
