It’s fun to puddle around in our imagination, but it can mean losing one’s sense of place. We can be either in our heads or in the world, but seldom in both places simultaneously.
How did Mainers put up seafood before the invention of little plastic freezer bags?
A cyber-curator reaches out from Bucksport to Boise to teach an old dog from Rockport something new. Isn’t that cool?
How do you get the pies and the paintings to come out at the right times?
Most artists understand the problem of being broke in the company of wealthier people, but that isn’t what made me laugh aloud.
I suppose the artists could have drugged the little nippers, but I doubt many mothers would go along with that.
Hollis Dunlap is treading a well-worn path, but he’s doing it as well as any living painter.
I’m bringing 65 canvases to the Great White North. I could finish them all, or a bear could steal my easel. There’s just no telling.
“Why would you want to be in the City when you can be here?” I asked my friends, with all the enthusiasm of the recent convert.
Somewhere in our lives we realize that our happy moments are not infinite. We have to savor them while we can. For me that epiphany came with cancer; in that respect it was one of the great blessings of my life.
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