Eavesdropper Interview: Laura Lea Nalle.

Hello Internet, see that sprightly face above?  It belongs to artist Laura Lea Nalle. 

Laura Lea is a creative force here in Austin, and is the second in our Eavesdropper Interview Series.  Last week I spoke with Austin Kleon, a poet who starts with newspaper and crosses out the words he doesn't need; Laura however does the opposite.  In her latest art project, she scrawls words across photographs, creating graffiti in miniature.

Her photographic subject for these pieces is a place very near and dear to my heart: The crumbling walls of Italy.

I first heard about Laura Lea through an art opening last month, March, for her Me + You Series.  The photos and messages reminded me of my roommate in Italy, who left me the most awesome passive aggressive notes.  After her own romp in Italy last year, Laura Lea -- an accomplished photographer and mixed media artist -- was inspired by something we rarely get to see here in the United States: Walls, nearly one thousand years old.

It's easy to forget that the U.S. is pretty young.  I remember visiting distant family members in England once with my dad, and them laughing about our baby country.  "See this fireplace?" one of them chortled, "It is older than your entire country!  Ba ha ha!"

They were right.  One of the reasons I think we're so youth-obsessed in this country is that we ourselves, our civilization, are very young.  Next to thousand-year-old countries, America is a preteen.  Laura Lea deftly captures a sense of weathered age and layered story in her mixed media photographs of Italy, so I was excited when she agreed to an interview.

One more thing to know about Laura Lea: In addition to being an artist, she is the editor of AustinLiveMusic.org, a music photographer published in SXSWorld (and shot the cover for the March 2010 music issue), a curator and producer of the annual Art Outside festival, and designs t-shirts and show posters for bands.  So in addition to being a wildly creative spirit, Laura Lea is so incredibly productive!  I'd like to learn how to be more so myself.

Yoko Ono, whom Laura photographed during SXSW 2011. 

1. Hi Laura Lea, can you tell us a little about yourself?

I’m a born and raised seventh generation Austinite. I live with two cats, Sushimama and Snowpea, an egg-laying parrot named Skipper who I’ve had since I was four years old, and a dog named Amallah who weighs more than me.

2. You are one of THE most productive people I know: You create art, you interview and shoot bands, you're a filmmaker, you help throw Art Outside! How do you keep it all balanced?

I make it up as I go.

I’ve found that I am at my best when I’m busy and juggling a million things. It energizes me. Ultimately, the balance comes from taking care of myself: I have a daily practice of meditation, ashtanga yoga and running.  I also eat a ton of superfoods and am mostly raw vegan.  It keeps me clear headed. I don’t drink or smoke or eat processed food or sugar, aside from once in a blue moon indulgences (I do have a weakness for carrot cake).

3. Did you come from a creative family?

My family emphasized education and hard work. My dad is a mechanical engineer and always worked for himself. He was a good model for goal-oriented obsessive workaholicism.

My grandmother (on my mom's side) was a huge patron of the arts, and exposed us to all kinds of things. I grew up going to the ballet, symphony, opera, and museum with her, and she introduced me to all her artist friends in Austin.  Kelly Fearing for example, who just recently passed away, was one of those artists she had become friends with through collecting.  He ended up becoming my mentor, and was a tremendous inspiration for me.

My grandmother (on my dad’s side) dabbled in painting but she was notoriously awful at it. My grandfather made jewelry, particularly bolo ties for all the men in the family, and rings and necklaces for the women. Creative pursuits were encouraged at an early age.

4. Describe your studio to us?

I work from my home in south Austin.  The master bedroom is the main studio space where I do all my photo and video editing, graphic design, and smaller scale media like drawing, as well as object sculpture and assemblage.  I have a giant rose bush and apple tree outside my window, with tons of birds who nest in it – cardinals, blue jays, and the sweet little warblers.

The second bathroom is my darkroom for the screenprinting shop.  I coat and burn all the screens in there.

The garage houses the actual screenprinting shop with a large 6-color rotary press. I also do all my larger scale, messy mixed media and painting in there.  And power tools, anything requiring power tools happens out there.

I use my living room as my photo studio when I need to set up a seamless backdrop or tabletop set with all my studio lighting. 

5. Some of your latest mixed media artwork focuses on the walls and facades of changing Italy. It immediately spoke to me since I studied abroad in Milan, and remember the graffiti, the messages people wrote in subway tunnels. How did you get the idea for the Italy series?

I had been wandering around Florence collecting trash, pieces of paper, and other discarded things I’d find walking around, for a trash collage project.  Sometimes I’d stop and say, “Oh that’s a good one!” and people would look at me like I was crazy for picking up trash off the street.  

Then I went to Pisa and Lucca, wandering around again, looking for trash, when I noticed the town walls.  They had all these layers of time built up and over ... and some crumbling down.  Those layers of story were really what I was trying to get at with these trash collages, so I started photographing walls all over Italy: Pisa, Lucca, Sienna, Florence, Venice, Rome, Cinque Terra, and several little random towns along the way.

When I got back home and started editing the photos, I had this idea to add my own handwriting to them, but couldn't figure out the right way to "finish" them ... until I found out about this dye sublimation printing on metal. I ran with it, and now, the brushed metal and the float mounting just make these pieces something really special, something that people seem to be resonating with.

6. You are such an extensive traveler, and it's very inspiring!   Name the best place you've ever been, and one place you'd like to visit.

I’ve had a long, beautiful love affair with the American Southwest – Big Bend, Marfa, Santa Fe, Tucson, Flagstaff, Moab, and all the places in between those towns.  I love to take extended road trips, usually solo.

Peru and India are probably at the top of my list of places I’d like to go. There’s so much I’d like to see, and I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface.  My favorite way to travel abroad is to get an apartment for a few months, and then take weekend trips from there.  I feel like I have more substantial experiences that way. So much of the beauty and magic reveals itself over time. I miss hopping from town to town every few days, and I’d like to do that more in the States too -- particularly for artist residencies.  I’m working on making that happen right now, actually.

7. What's your favorite "feel good" movie?

Lonely Are the Brave is one of my all time faves, based on the Edward Abbey novel Brave Cowboy. It’s definitely not a ‘feel good’ movie in any typical sense, though.  Amelie by Jean-Pierre Jeunet (or anything else by Jeunet) too.

8. Your favorite cartoon show as a kid?

The Smurfs.  Most definitely The Smurfs.

A quiet interlude, a group of friends, a lot of gratitude.

Well, I've been absent from the Internet for a few days.

Some things are difficult to write about on a blog, and some things are just difficult to write about, period. 

Loss is a funny alchemist, and when it's a person's life you lose, it's hard to catalog the specific thoughts you are having, the emotions you are feeling.   Over the past few days, these little snatches of phrase have been coming to me, and I'm like, "yes! That's it. That's precisely how I feel," and then I'll try to talk about it with someone, and those words no longer hold up.  As soon as they're out of my mouth, they've become stale and flimsy.

Anyway, I will write about this experience soon.  Either on my blog or elsewhere.

The point of this post, though, is not to mourn.  But rather, to assure you that I'm still here, and while we're at it look at some happy pictures.  Oh my God people.  I can't tell you how lucky I am to have the girlfriends that I do.  They are beautiful and hilarious, gifted cooks all, and this past weekend, we spent a few days at the beach in Port Aransas.

Why do I look like Kid Rock.

This is Amy and Nina, posing in the hanging wooden recliner in the backyard.  I wish you could have seen how adorable this yard was!  There was a hammock, a little fountain, flowers everywhere.  But we made the most photo opp use out of the recliner.

This was our normal pose.  You know how, in every group photo, the straight one it taken first, followed by someone saying, "Ok now, silly picture!  Everyone get crazy!"

Somehow I, upper right hand corner, interpreted "crazy" as "Mick Jagger."  Nina said I look like I'm in full-on Jagger strut.  Which is pretty darn accurate.

Thank you girls, and thank you too to my friend Claudia for being an incredibly kind and sensitive listener.  I am grateful for you girls! 

A dad, a party, and the time I snotted everywhere.

For about as long as I've been alive, my father has always volunteered himself to be Homeroom Dad.

When I was on dance team in high school -- the Alamo Heights High School Spurs -- we had about 50 Spurs Moms.  And, one Spurs Dad.

We Spurs went on dance team trips each year, to New York one Fall and New Orleans the next.  Each time, Spurs Dad accompanied us there.  He was the first one shouting, "NEW YORK, NEW YORK!" as we stepped onto the tarmac, the first in line to see the Statue of Liberty, and the first to get eight Spurs in trouble because he and a couple of Spurs Moms all went out to Times Square our first night there without permission.  He just couldn't wait.

It all started in kindergarten, when my father got the opportunity to take my class out to Symphony Square for children's programs the Austin Symphony used to do.  As you can imagine, leaving school when you are five is terribly exciting.  So on the car ride over, he had a rapt audience.

"Guess where we're going, everybody?"

"Where??" we'd shriek.

"We're going ... to ..."

(pregnant pause)

"... the symphony ... that's got SQUARE on it!"

"BA-HAHAHA!!" bellowed four kindergarteners.  We thought this was the most hilarious joke ever.

The whole thing was so affirming, that my father nominated himself to be the official Symphony Square Dad.  Every time my kindergarten scheduled a field trip there, Symphony Square Dad informed my teacher that he would be driving.  And on the way, he always told the exact same joke.

I guess this is why the last time I went to The Paramount Theater -- where I snapped the "State" sign in the photo above -- I got so damn sentimental.  It was for a Ballet Austin children's show called "Not Afraid of the Dark," and it's a pretty simple story.  Basically, this little boy doesn't want to go to sleep at night because he's afraid of the dark.  Then, he has all these awesome dreams.  The end.

However ... something about this show, this sweet, sweet show, just made me weep.

Not in a feminine way, mind you.  More a nose-honking, throat-catching way. 

Was it seeing all those little kids with their daddies?  Was it watching Ballet Austin, artistic and earnest Ballet Austin, trade their high-falutin' arty dance for children's theater?

I found it all very touching.

Unfortunately for my seatmates, they were dangerously close to my snot range.   A helpful usher leaned over and offered me tissues, looking somewhat confused -- probably because at that precise moment, we were watching a number about a moon that could talk.

So, when Paramount / Stateside Theater contacted me a few weeks ago, about a little party they're having this month, I wanted to hear all about it.  They asked me if I'd like to be involved.  I said yes.

This time, I'm going to try not to snot everywhere.

These are some pictures I took inside Stateside Theater, the smaller, art deco theater adjacent to The Paramount.  (And THAT, my friends, is where the "State" sign comes from. This was always a local mystery to me, the fact that The Paramount had a huge sign in front of it that clearly said, "State."  Was anyone else confused by this?   Now I realize -- it's a totally different space.)

Back to the party.  It is next Thursday, the 28th.  You can RSVP here.  It's to celebrate The Paramount, introduce the Summer Classic Film Series, and share other Paramount secrets.  One of which is the Stateside Theater itself, newly jazzed-up and reopened.  Soon, it will be a cozy little spot for music, art house film, and theater proper.

I will be saying a few words at the party.

For other Austin social media types who read this blog, I am advised to tell you that all bloggers / social networkers who RSVP with a website will receive a personalized Paramount card.  It will give you film series benefits and bar/merchandise discounts for an entire year.

I was joking with the party hosts that Congress Avenue is quickly turning into the street for hipsters to go when they grow up.  When they've tired of noisy, boozily delightful Red River, they now wander west to Congress for jazz at The Elephant Room, drinks at Annie's or Bar Congress, and soon, Jules et Jim screenings at The Stateside.  Are their tastes refining?

Mine are.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some RuPaul's Drag Race to catch up on.

Sponsor Spotlight: Whitney Lee Photography.

If you're a regular reader of Austin Eavesdropper, you may have noticed a new sponsor in the margin: Whitney Lee Photography.

She's based here in Austin, and I quite fancy her work.

Sometimes, I tell Ross (husband) that we should get married again, just so we can throw ourselves another great big party.

He laughs ... because he thinks I am joking.

I am such a sucker for engagement photos.  The cheesier the better.  And, would you believe it?   This was the one thing Ross and I didn't do before our own wedding.

So maybe I'll hire Whitney to take the engagement photos we should have gotten four years ago, as those are her proverbial bread and butter.

One thing that Whitney is exceptional at is finding wonderful, wordy backgrounds around Austin to use in her photos.

She's a particular fan of east 6th street here in Austin, where a favorite neighborhood bar -- Cheer Up Charlie's -- resides.

This couple is actually two members of the most adorable family you will ever see in your entire life.  Behold:

What did I tell you?

(PS. Raise your hand if your family portrait, when you were a child, was far less hip.  Bonus points if it was taken at Olan Mills, like mine was.)

These are two of my favorites from Whitney Lee's portfolio:

Isn't that picture insane.

I'm kind of inspired to go make some word kites now.  Only I'd need some help writing cute messages.  Right now the first things that come to mind are, "I love my real estate agent" (true) and "When it works properly I love my digestive tract" (also true).  Somehow I don't think that's going to fit on a kite.

Or be terribly romantic.

But oh well.

Thank you for sponsoring Austin Eavesdropper, Whitney Lee!  We think you're the bees' knees, you talented lady.

Eavesdropper Interview: Austin Kleon.

Internet, meet Austin Kleon.

A poet, artist, and the author of the wildly popular Newspaper Blackout, there's a good chance you're familiar with Austin already.

When I first heard about him on NPR, I was immediately intrigued: Here was a poet who, instead of generating words on a page, started with a newspaper and crossed out the words he didn't need.   

This was around 2008, when I first caught wind of Austin.  Then, when I read a story about him in The Austin Chronicle last year, I realized -- oh my God!  He lives in my city, Austin, Texas.  I wondered if I'd ever get to meet him.

Austin's funny horoscopes that he does each month, click to enlarge.

Fast forward to last weekend, when I did a massive "grub crawl" with a group of about 25 people.  We were assigned to sample as many food trailers as possible, and were divided up into teams for the task.  I started talking to this portrait artist in my group.  

What do you do?  I asked.  Well, I sometimes do sketches of bands and musicians, he replied, but the main thing I guess I'm known for is blacking out words in newspapers and--

WAIT YOU'RE THAT GUY!  I shouted.  I'M SO EXCITED TO MEET YOU!

I realized it was indeed Austin Kleon, and after I calmed down a little bit, we talked about his work and his book.  In between bites of Cuban pork sandwiches, chocolate cake balls, and (at one point) a gooey maple bacon doughnut monstrosity, I asked him if he would be up for an interview on Austin Eavesdropper sometime.  And he said ok.

Austin also has an ongoing project called De-Signs, which is as equally witty as the horoscopes.

To celebrate Austin Eavesdropper's newly-revamped look, I'm doing a series of "Eavesdropper Interviews" of various artists who inspire me, and encourage me to live a more creative life.  Austin is our very first, and I hope you are as jazzed about him as I am.

1. Hi Austin, can you tell us a little about yourself?

I grew up reading and drawing and writing and playing music in a house in the middle of a cornfield in southern Ohio. I’m an artist, but I’ve always had day jobs: I’ve been a librarian, a web designer, and now I’m a copywriter. I moved to Austin about four years ago, and I live in a little house on the east side with my wife Meghan and our dachshund Milo. 

2. You write poetry with a newspaper and a Sharpie. When did you start doing this?

I started making the poems and blogging them at www.austinkleon.com in 2005, when I was right out of college. They slowly got more and more popular over the years, and HarperCollins published a collection of them, Newspaper Blackout, in 2010. Now I sell fine art prints and run a website where folks can submit their own blackout poems, newspaperblackout.com.

3. One of the best things about your poetry is that -- in addition to having such an innovative form -- it's also really funny.

Who are your humor inspirations?

I love comic strips like Peanuts, Far Side, and Achewood, I love stand-up comedy, especially Bill Hicks, Richard Pryor, and George Carlin, but also Louis CK and John Waters, and I love TV shows like Arrested Development and movies like Groundhog Day.

4. Your book, Newspaper Blackout, got ridiculous media!   I think I like the Cleveland Plain Dealer's description best, "Sort of like Michelangelo carving away the marble that imprisoned what he saw within." What was your favorite response (from media or even just a person) to the book?

The press is great, but my favorite thing is the magic that happens when we do a Newspaper Blackout workshop and all these strangers fill the room with marker fumes and then they start coming up to the front and actually reading their poems. It’s amazing. I don’t even bother “reading” at my readings. I just bring markers and newspapers. Playtime for adults -- it’s very rare that adults are given art supplies and asked to make something for no good reason.

5. This is one of my favorite things you have written: "You are, in fact, a mashup of what you choose to let into your life." Name 5 things in the Austin Kleon mash-up.

Pictures, words, Mom, Dad, whiskey. 

6. I've always liked the fact that you are a pro-print person, like me. You like touching newspaper and making art out of it. You are wary of too much computer time and this too resonates with me. So what are some of your favorite books?

I love everything Kurt Vonnegut and Lynda Barry and Saul Steinberg ever put out. I love Joe Brainard’s I Remember, which is a memoir made up of a bunch of sentences that begin with “I Remember...” I love Carl Jung’s memoir, Memories, Dreams, Reflections. I love Frank O’Hara’s Lunch Poems. I love William Maxwell’s So Long, See You Tomorrow. I love David Hockney’s book, Secret Knowledge. So many books! Since 2005, I’ve kept lists of the best things I read every year.
 
7. Your graduation talk, "How to Steal Like an Artist," is going viral.  I absolutely love your advice here about living a creative life. 

Knowing there are several wonderful tips you offer people, what do you think is the key to living a creative life?

I’m not sure, honestly.

Picasso said, “All children are artists.” All the really, really good artists I know are like kids when they’re making stuff. They’re concentrating real hard, and they have their tongue sticking out, you know? They’re playing. They’re using their hands.

Kids have tons of energy. They haven’t been worn out yet. They don’t have to pay bills and mow the lawn.

You have to tap into that energy reserve, I think. And you have to not waste your energy.

Lots of artists act like children, but not at the right time and place! You need to save that stuff up for when you’re in your office making things!

8. What is your favorite children's book?

Ed Emberley’s Make A World.

9. And finally, you and I recently did a food trailer crawl together. What was the best thing you tasted?

The frickin’ strawberry shortcake donut at Gourdoughs with cream cheese frosting. OMG.

What buying a house teaches you about yourself.

Source: The Selby

In an extremely grown-up move that nobody saw coming, my husband and I decided to buy a house this year.

We currently live in an old, rambling duplex in Hyde Park.  It is populated by me, my husband Ross, our roommate Caleb, our cat Claudia, roughly 10 guitars (Ross's), a steady supply of coffee and nut butters (mine), wall decals in varying shapes and sizes (usually bird-shaped), hand-me-down furniture from our parents, meals Ross has made, books I have read, high heels, flip-flops, beer, wine, expensive cheese (when we're feeling rich), canned beans (when we're not), photographs from parties in our 20s, echoes from fights we have had, old wrapping tissue from gifts we have given each other, pink carpet, yellow bathroom tile, and -- occasionally -- terrified birds and lizards Claudia carries in from outside.

We try to keep that last feature to a minimum.

What I'm saying is: This is a fully-imprinted house.  I knocked on its front door for my first date with Ross.  Nine months later, he proposed to me upstairs.  There's a creek outside our bedroom window that I listen to at night, and there used to be a pair of hard-of-hearing vets who walked by every morning.  They wore matching sombreros, and their preferred communication method was shouting.  One of them was so loud, he was banned from the grocery store.

***

Ross is a school teacher, and primarily teaches music.  Which is, in fact, how we met: I taught at his same school seven years ago, and almost as soon as I met him, thought: "Now that's going to make one hell of a husband someday."

I didn't think it'd be me, but whoever that lucky girl was, I envied her.  Greatly.

Reader, I married him.  We now live down the street from it, this small, private school in the middle of Austin.  Ross still teaches there, and walks up the two blocks every day with his lesson plans strapped to his back, kissing me goodbye on the way out.

But now, the school is closing.

The property was sold a few weeks ago.

***

For Ross and me, it's ok: He's had a dream of opening up his own music school for kids, School of Rock-style.  It's a dream I am 100% behind.  And admittedly, it's a bit self-serving: I feel like a badass whenever I tell people my husband teaches kid rock bands.

So sometime back in January, we got this crazy idea to start looking for a house, a house that would allow us to build Ross' dream music studio.  Now, people told me a lot of things about the house-hunting process, but one thing no one ever told me was that it's a really good indicator of the state of your marriage.

Here is a conversation Ross and I once while looking at a potential home:

ROSS:  Wow!  Look at all this space on the lot!

ME: The neighborhood's ugly.

ROSS:  Really?  I don't think it's that bad.

ME: Well, I don't like it.

ROSS: Can you be more specific?

ME:  Uh -- I don't like that someone has a chain link fence in their yard.

ROSS:  Seriously?

ME:  Yeah.  What's up with that.  They should get a cuter fence. 

ROSS: (Silently gathering reserves of patience)

ME: Also, our whole yard would be taken up by a driveway.

ROSS: Where do you propose we park our car?

ME:  I don't know but not on a humongous slab of stained concrete.  That driveway just doesn't "feel" right.

ROSS: You're honestly getting bad vibes from a driveway?

And on and on and on it went.  If you can't tell, I can be both shockingly snobby and highly vague in my property tastes.

That conversation was about a house that Ross really wanted and I didn't, and we had an argument about it that lasted for days.  It sucked, and it scared me to think that we could be on such opposite pages when it came to the biggest purchase of our entire adult lives.  He wanted space; I wanted an adorable neighborhood.  Preferably a centrally-located neighborhood, because at this particular life juncture, I have a deep need to live close to the city.  Maybe I always will.

***

There was one house we saw online, and after looking at its pictures, felt flatly unimpressed.  The lighting was all wrong and, rather than take a picture of his backyard, the seller decided to show us a single picture of an Everlast punching bag.  Presumably in the back yard.  Presumably his favorite part about the back yard.

Still.  It was in our budget, and I noticed it was located only five miles away from our beloved Hyde Park abode.  We decided to give it a shot.

When we walked inside with our realtor, we heard what sounded like an animal waking up in the back of the house.

"HMMUPHHHRRrrrr," it said.

I thought it might be a big, sleepy dog.  Or a wolf.

"Ok, ah, hello!" called my realtor, ever chipper in the face of confusion.  "Realtor with prospectives!  Just going to take a quick look around!"  We heard the source of the sound get up out of the bed, stumble to his bedroom door, and shut it.

But we didn't need to look.  We were already in love.

***

There's a certain cliched, cheesy magic that has been portrayed by Remax commercials, of couples gazing expectantly at each other, eyes wide, thrilled that they've found THE HOUSE and that they can now embark confidently on The American Dream.  And the thing is, they're actually not joking.  Just like when I found out that the best part of waking up really is Folger's (or any coffee) in my cup, I discovered this was a time when commercials weren't lying to me.

Because the moment you realize that you and your mate both love a house is nothing short of momentous, causing you to react like you've just discovered King Tut's Tomb.  Or maybe the Baby Jesus.

"The stained concrete floors!" I cried.

"The huge backyard!" Ross wept.

"Oh, oh my God, Ross, there's a PECAN TREE," I whispered.

"I know, Tolly, and there's even a small driveway," he said.

We were completely giddy.  We practically skipped out the front door, and into our realtors' arms.

And you know the best part?  All those crappy pictures that the seller took of his own house worked in our favor.  When we made our offer, we had zero competition.

***

We close on this house in six days, and are so nervous it's all going to evaporate somehow.  I've never saved up this much money before, and it's just sitting in our savings account, staring out at me from the bank website.  "Hello?"  It seems to be calling.  "Hellooo, Tolly!  Let's go play and have fun.  You need new shoes."

No, I don't need new shoes!  I want to tell it.  STOP TAUNTING ME savings account.  What I need is groceries, but we're saving every single cent we have right now to make our down payment.  I bought fancy coconut milk coffee creamer the other day, and immediately felt guilty about it.  So there, savings account.

Ross has already started boxing up our belongings, and I keep asking the cat if she's ready for a grand adventure!  She swats at my face, and then runs off to kill something. 

As for me?

I am honestly so excited I can hardly stand it.  We're doing it!  We're buying a freaking house!  I never thought I would do something this adult until I was at least 45.  Look out world, I want to say.  Ross and Tolly are making decisions!  Big, responsible decisions.  Next thing you know, we'll join a home owners association and write off tax deductible charity donations! 

But.  I'm terrified it will fall through.

You hit snags buying a house.  It's just the nature of it.  For various reasons, it really could all go away.

I'm also keenly aware that leaving my neighborhood might present a weird, surprising pain of its own.  I've identified with its haunts -- like Quacks -- for so long, that I'm maybe not quite ready to leave.  I've taken so many walks through this neighborhood that I've memorized the best corners.  I know the characters of Hyde Park, the loud veterans, the bright-eyed, 19-year-old checkers at Fresh Plus Grocery, the attendant at Pronto Mart who looks like Jerry Garcia, the Iranian couple who own a gas station as well as a hundred flags, decorating the building exterior and even the very gas pumps, so, so many flags that we've nicknamed this gas station "The UN."  There's a church in Hyde Park where they do Ouija board seances.  There's a peacock in somebody's back yard.

Still though, I think I'm ready for this change.

I just can't believe that words like "escrow" and "HOA" are now part of my vocabulary.  Part of me wants to spit them out, saying, "Ew!  Too much adult around here!"

But the other part of me savors these words, these official-sounding pieces of home buyer terminology.  It's like the time I finally realized I like olives.  A slow, contemplative bite, and then ... a contented turn of the lips.

These grown-up words don't feel so bad in my mouth after all.

Stephanie Bonham.

I got an email today that artist Stephanie Bonham is having a reception for her work, this Saturday at 4:30, at Schatzelein.  Which is hard to spell?  But oh well.  (Rhyming!)

I really like the middle piece up above, titled "Somebody's Hurting."  Something about those statements -- and the way they get me out of my own little self-referencing world for just a moment -- is very refreshing.

Stephanie graduated from University of Texas with her Studio Art BFA in 2008, and in addition to her drawings, I'm also digging her photography.

This one is titled, "Hickoids Again?" which completely cracks me up.  I'm pretty sure it's taken of the ladies' bathroom at Hole in the Wall.