I intended to get so much done today. Of course, I intend that every day. But right now, all I can think about is tacos.
Or should that be "are" tacos? Damned plurals. Life is too short to stress unduly about subject-verb agreement. (For me, not for you, of course. In the event that your subjects and verbs do not agree properly, I shall taunt you mercilessly. You'd expect no less, right?)
Anyway.
Yesterday we stopped in at the Porter Flea preview -- a craft and local goods market off Chestnut and 4th. Parking was ridiculous, so I don't know what it'll be like for the actual event today. I sort of made my own space, cause, I'm like, just that kind of creative individual, right? Of course, the boyfriend/partner-in-crime did not find my creative use of a one-way street (i.e. going the "wrong" way) at all agreeable, but I salute him for not shrieking like a little boy. He just dug his fingers into the door, cringed and said in a really admirably steady voice, "YOU ARE GOING THE WRONG WAY."
I love him, even when he's judging me like that.
It was weird being at an arts and crafts event where there was nobody I knew. Except for Harry Underwood, local artist who was a fellow member of the Plowhaus during my tenure there, though I am sure Harry doesn't remember me at all. I said hello, and he gave me a sort of blank look, but then, I think that's the only expression Harry has. There are those who think Harry is a little odd, and those who think Harry wants everybody to think he's a little odd as part of his artistic persona. All I know is that Harry's work sells for a lot more than mine. I was surprised to see him there; the event was entirely too self-consciously, yet innocently, hip for an eccentric like Harry.
In fact, the boyfriend and I were looking around wondering if we'd missed an age requirement sign somewhere, because everybody -- vendors and patrons alike -- seemed to be under thirty. It was a very hipster crowd, and while there was some interesting stuff there, there was a dismaying cooker-cutter quality to most of the goods. Jewelry and clothes were all very minimalistic. Almost no painters besides Harry but a ton of print makers, whose work all looked pretty much the same. And they were all so young and earnest! My cynical heart aches for them.
Of the interesting things I did like: Rebekah Turshen, the pastry chef from City House restaurant in Germantown -- which I will now HAVE to try out -- was there selling her homemade gourmet cookies. OMG. She makes a bunch of different kinds but i fell in love with the buttermilk cornmeal cookies. I know, it doesn't sound very appealing but they were AMAZING. I also bought a few of the chocolate expresso toffee cookies, but I am forcing myself not to open the bag until tomorrow. There are only about six cookies in a bag.
There was a booth with a young woman selling handmade eyeglass frames. I'm not sure how she makes them, they looked totally professional but in some really retro and fun styles. I would have bought a pair of these champagne colored cat-eyes, except that I am poor, and had already blown my entire food budget for the coming week on 12 cookies.
There was a guy there who made these head/face sculptures in little boxes, using mostly polymer clay and found objects. One of the found objects was actual bird legs. Yes, legs taken from a (hopefully) dead bird. Strangely creepy and yet intriguing. (But then, I have this unsettling but persistent desire for a bird skull.)
And I knew it would happen eventually but yes, I ran into someone making sock monkeys in funky costumes with hair and stuff. I like the name of her company, "Show Me the Monkeys." I think mine are cuter but she does a good job. I looked at her pricing and knew that, like me, she's not making enough on them to cover the real cost of time and materials. Not unless she's got a sweatshop of illegals sewing for her.
Strangely, seeing all this did not make me want to get back into craft events. It's just too much work. My feet started to hurt just looking at all those booths.
Now, all I can think of is tacos. I fear I shall have to just go down to Los Tres Amigos for dinner. Maybe I can trade them a cookie for a taco.
Or should that be "are" tacos? Damned plurals. Life is too short to stress unduly about subject-verb agreement. (For me, not for you, of course. In the event that your subjects and verbs do not agree properly, I shall taunt you mercilessly. You'd expect no less, right?)
Anyway.
Yesterday we stopped in at the Porter Flea preview -- a craft and local goods market off Chestnut and 4th. Parking was ridiculous, so I don't know what it'll be like for the actual event today. I sort of made my own space, cause, I'm like, just that kind of creative individual, right? Of course, the boyfriend/partner-in-crime did not find my creative use of a one-way street (i.e. going the "wrong" way) at all agreeable, but I salute him for not shrieking like a little boy. He just dug his fingers into the door, cringed and said in a really admirably steady voice, "YOU ARE GOING THE WRONG WAY."
I love him, even when he's judging me like that.
It was weird being at an arts and crafts event where there was nobody I knew. Except for Harry Underwood, local artist who was a fellow member of the Plowhaus during my tenure there, though I am sure Harry doesn't remember me at all. I said hello, and he gave me a sort of blank look, but then, I think that's the only expression Harry has. There are those who think Harry is a little odd, and those who think Harry wants everybody to think he's a little odd as part of his artistic persona. All I know is that Harry's work sells for a lot more than mine. I was surprised to see him there; the event was entirely too self-consciously, yet innocently, hip for an eccentric like Harry.
In fact, the boyfriend and I were looking around wondering if we'd missed an age requirement sign somewhere, because everybody -- vendors and patrons alike -- seemed to be under thirty. It was a very hipster crowd, and while there was some interesting stuff there, there was a dismaying cooker-cutter quality to most of the goods. Jewelry and clothes were all very minimalistic. Almost no painters besides Harry but a ton of print makers, whose work all looked pretty much the same. And they were all so young and earnest! My cynical heart aches for them.
Of the interesting things I did like: Rebekah Turshen, the pastry chef from City House restaurant in Germantown -- which I will now HAVE to try out -- was there selling her homemade gourmet cookies. OMG. She makes a bunch of different kinds but i fell in love with the buttermilk cornmeal cookies. I know, it doesn't sound very appealing but they were AMAZING. I also bought a few of the chocolate expresso toffee cookies, but I am forcing myself not to open the bag until tomorrow. There are only about six cookies in a bag.
There was a booth with a young woman selling handmade eyeglass frames. I'm not sure how she makes them, they looked totally professional but in some really retro and fun styles. I would have bought a pair of these champagne colored cat-eyes, except that I am poor, and had already blown my entire food budget for the coming week on 12 cookies.
There was a guy there who made these head/face sculptures in little boxes, using mostly polymer clay and found objects. One of the found objects was actual bird legs. Yes, legs taken from a (hopefully) dead bird. Strangely creepy and yet intriguing. (But then, I have this unsettling but persistent desire for a bird skull.)
And I knew it would happen eventually but yes, I ran into someone making sock monkeys in funky costumes with hair and stuff. I like the name of her company, "Show Me the Monkeys." I think mine are cuter but she does a good job. I looked at her pricing and knew that, like me, she's not making enough on them to cover the real cost of time and materials. Not unless she's got a sweatshop of illegals sewing for her.
Strangely, seeing all this did not make me want to get back into craft events. It's just too much work. My feet started to hurt just looking at all those booths.
Now, all I can think of is tacos. I fear I shall have to just go down to Los Tres Amigos for dinner. Maybe I can trade them a cookie for a taco.
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