My friend Michael White is a fantastic songwriter, and, although I am quite late in getting the word out about one of his recent projects, I hope you will check out his “It’s a Wonderful Life” video. It is really well done and worth your time. Here is a shot of Michael looking all songwriter-y. . .

Anyway, his lyrics have a way of getting stuck in one’s head. At least they get stuck in mine. This bit — from an entirely different song of his — is one of my very favorites:

The broken glass in the road,
cuts you deep but you know …
they may be diamonds in available light.

–S.

Every time I come across a new artist (or, at least, a new-to-me artist) whose work is just really remarkable, I am grateful that I was able to find out about them at all. I think that ours is such a noisy, cluttered, distracted world, that, often, what really deserves attention goes unnoticed. I wonder, what else have I missed until now?…

Well, election year or not, I hope you’ll turn down the talking heads for a minute, take your eyes off the road, and check out the watercolor illustration work of one Bonnie T. Gardner. Here is a taste.

Lovely, no?

–S.

So this guy I knew wayyyyy back in college recently resurfaced. He was quite a talented musician, but last I knew he was giving that up to pursue another (I think less adventurous) path. I was pleased to hear from him, and, best of all, to discover that he’s writing and releasing his music again. He is a one-man operation, laying down track after track, until what is in his head makes it out into the world for the rest of us. Go listen, and, if you like what you hear, by God, buy it!!

Some of us worry more than others. For my part, I do it a lot. So much, in fact, that I’ve taken to wearing a rubber band around my wrist, and, when I catch myself borrowing trouble from the future, I give my wrist a wicked snap. I have gone through four rubber bands so far. They start out nice and stretchy, but, eventually, they become slack with overuse.

 Anyway, one of my favorite people has had some extra things to worry about lately, so I made her the Worry Man above. To employ his services, you simply scrawl your worry du jour on a tiny scrap of paper, fold it up, and pop it into the Worry Man’s creepy, gaping maw. There is no way to retrieve your worries, by the way. They remain permanently in the Worry Man’s guts, and I made sure he has space enough for a few years’ worth of worries at least. Once they are in him, the burden of your worry has been transfered to him — leaving you free to come up with some new worries, I suppose.

–S.

Speaking of tedium, I just finished a new bottle cap mirror, which is on exhibit with several other artists’ works created with found/recycled materials. (Yes, it is for sale. Yours for $400. Woo hoo!)

Thanks go to all of the heavy drinkers who contributed. I hope you’ll keep on drinkin’ — and saving me your bottle caps. I’m especially looking for very colorful or unusual ones and bottle caps from outside the U.S. since there are so many amazing specimens out there.

–S.

I wanted to show this off sooner, but I thought it best to wait until now. In the latest issue of CRAFT Magazine (Volume 05), you’ll find my how-to write-up of the Cave Canem — “Beware of dog” — paper mosaic (modeled after the ones in ancient Pompeii) which I completed on my living room floor.

The whole thing spans 80 square feet, and here is a little close-up of the tedium in progress…

Don’t get me wrong. The dogs and I are quite pleased with the result. It’s just that, well, getting it all done was kind of a bitch.

–S.

Incidentally, the “graffiti” girl’s story was of particular interest to me since I used to spend hours “tagging” my parents’ driveway. Here is some of my early handiwork — I had a penchant for drawing transvestites.

… and that’s me. I was certainly a grubby thing, huh?
–S.

Did you hear about the little Park Slope girl who got in trouble for doodling with chalk on the sidewalk? Some old-biddy neighbor reported her to city officials, lumping the drawings in with graffiti.

Now it’s been said that chalking is a gateway crime. Indeed. The girl recently rolled up her sleeves and defiantly drew again! Cheeky!

If she’s not careful she could have a career on her hands. Just look what happened to this man.

–S.

I am usually up for just about anything, but when James asked me if I would tattoo him I was a little reluctant. After all, I may *have* a tattoo of my own and a background in art, but does that qualify me to prick him full of holes and simultaneously flood said holes with ink? Well, he really wanted this design (Indiana love!) and he didn’t want to actually spring for a pro. You know what they say… you get what you pay for. Man, do you ever.

OK. So I was able to draw the design and transfer it to his side with no trouble. Feeling pretty confident by this time, I wielded his (rather unwieldy!) tattoo gun. Dip into the ink. Hit the foot pedal. Bzzzzzz. Bzzzz!! And then I hurt him like no else ever had (and he is someone with a considerable number of tattoos.) I had to go over my lines several times, and yet they still look like one of my pen-and-ink drawings — tentative, spindly, and awkward. Needless to say, he’s going to end up paying a pro to fix my “work.” Still, he claims it was “a good experience,” and I learned that I should stick to works on paper rather than works on rib cages. (Sorry, James!)

It’s that time of year for the 4th Street Festival of the Arts in lovely Bloomington, Indiana. I pop in year after year, and, year after year, I am just a little more disappointed. Disappointed that the glass, ceramics, textiles, watercolors — all of it — are so cookie-cutter slick. Disappointed not to see anyone really taking some creative risks. And disappointed in the judging, since artists purveying any originality, passion, or raw vision are invariably overlooked. At least there was something I knew I could do about the judging. I decided to create and present SusanLand National awards to my three favorite artists at this year’s festival.

Armed with handmade ribbons for Most Spectacular, Most Visionary, and Most Imaginative and a few gift copies of The Not-So-Lost Soul Companion, I waded through the crowds to look through each booth for something — anything! — that could be considered spectacular, visionary, or imaginative. And as much as I hate to say it, I never found them.

–S.