Why does February seem impossible?
I've been having a recurring dream lately that I am stuck on the Piccadilly line of the London tube and the announcer keeps repeating "Cockfosters" for every station. I've never been to that station in waking life. Makes me wonder if I am going to the wrong city in a couple of weeks-- perhaps I should have booked a flight to London.
Confounding dreams and travel plans aside, I am working on several projects for upcoming shows this Spring in Boston and New York. I've been revisiting bookmaking, experimenting with lithography, delving back into my sketchbook, and generally trying to figure out this thing they call life.
And today I came home to find a package containing wonderful ephemera from the Argosy Bookstore in New York City. Nothing cures a wretched mood like a cup of hot chocolate and engravings of 17th century chairs.
Très bon.
{above} A ghost chair and lithographs drying in the studio.
