Three summers ago, actually.

It’s the first day of July and just like that, June gloom is gone.

The weather is incredible today. Summer is here, the sky is blue, blue and I’m feeling happy and inspired.

This afternoon I’m working on another Bomb-Pop collage. I gave this one to D & M on the occasion of their backyard ice cream social a few weeks ago. Although it had been cool and foggy for a days, on the day of the party the weather cleared. It was gorgeous and hot–much like today. Luckily all the ice creams were packed in ice and got eaten so quickly that there wasn’t time for them to melt. We drank Prosecco with generous scoops of tangy Campari Grapefruit Granita. It was a great day.

(As usual, I didn’t take a photograph of the collage before giving it away––really, I am going to change this habit––but I did find this small-sized image. All texture and the handmade-ness of it is lost in this low quality scan, but I’m happy to have the reference. And I’m sure D & M will let me take a picture of the real thing. Which I am also sure they have very prominently displayed in their cool house.)

Last novel read: Revolutionary Road (Richard Yates). Currently reading: Music for Torching (A.M. Homes). Keeping in the theme, shall Who’s Afraid of Virgina Woolf (Edward Albee) be next?

Some days are just like my Alvin Self-Healing Cutting Mat.

A slick surface beckoning for creativity and use, and in turn a little bit abuse.

It easily gets prickly and hurt, but then moments later is back to it’s smooth-surfaced self, just slightly scarred…until the next cut.

Now posting on all of my social networking, uh, outlets. William Powhida writes Tyler Green’s big MAN announcement. Posting everywhere because it’s just that good and I want everyone to read it.

Yesterday I finished a big “oh,” on the cardboard insert that kept my Powhida print safe during shipping. It’s damn good, this “oh,” and today I will begin another piece in the series. An “S”. It’s a poem. A poem to me.

Any interaction I have with my Godmother leads to reflection. What she said about the box of nothing I sent off:

“Let us call it “space with potential.”  The period of waiting is an opportunity to address the unknown.  Since, nature abhors a vacuum….nothing will soon become full.”

There it goes, my little box of nothing. Very fun making it, but kind of sad to see it go.

My favorite panel was the last one, made all in black and white. Gave me an idea for a new project.

BIGGER.

Here’s something: my day today was spent making nothing.

Each side will be a piece of the American flag. Two simple sides finished, three complicated ones to go. Shipping off to the Tate tomorrow.

Designer Alex Dearmond gets it right…laying down the rules for the Zine class for teens he is teaching at the Walker Art Center. Via Eyeteeth (who always gets it right too).

I have my box picked out, now I just need to put nothing in it, but put something all over it. Yes, my “work” is going to be on display at the Tate Modern. Yours can be too.

I’ve just spent two days making ten things and my creativity has either been eaten up or is ripe and ready, I cannot decide. Until I do the box is empty (not a problem) and blank (a problem).

I also cannot decide on a sweet temptation. Now that I’ve signed up for the 20×200 email alerts I realize what a mistake I have made. I want everything. The newest offering is a delight: a print by Kevin Cyr. Earlier I tried to get one of his beautiful graff-decorated vans: SOLD OUT, suckers. But now there is this sweet something, something.

If I hadn’t already shown the print to my boyfriend I would buy it for him. He calls the hostess at Barbarella “Hostess Cupcakes.” Yes, she’s awfully pretty and has really nice, soft, full…um, cupcakes.

I took this picture for him while I was in New York solo last year, hoping it would satisfy his cupcake craving while I was away. Snapped the pic on the iPhone and sent it off with a little smirk.

And then I noticed the “Irresistible” sign right above the cupcakes. A mixed message.