I have been into shockingly bad puns all day, ever since I saw a friend (shout out to Ben!) post a reference to Cheetah Woods this morning... nothing, really, to broach, other than the sad truth articulated to me by Don Fallon (former graduate student, from whom I bought this brooch this morning, knowing, too, that 10% of the profit would go into the coffers of the English Department's gift fund) that he sold very few of these wonderful assemblages of found objects - old bits of metal, cog wheels, bits of glass and beads, and so on, in New Jersey, because "most people prefer something less funky. I can only sell something like this in, well, an English Department." That seems to me to be a horrible indictment of the State. I suggested a trip to New Mexico... A number of his pieces seemed to me just like the kind of things I'd like to put together from the stuff that I hoard - the broken earrings, the collapsed necklaces, the small slices of weather beaten metal, the stray beads, the little pieces of copper wire, stashed together with the tubs of Plaid's Mod Podge and bits of soldering equipment. Why I think that I am suddenly going to grow the hours in the day I need for any kind of artistic exercise beats me. Not to mention the difficult current jewelry situation I find myself in... a favorite necklace seems wedged around my neck, its clasp deeply embedded in on itself... unbudgeable. I don't want to cut it, but I think that I may get bored of this piece after a year or two.
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