More May Babies

How could I forget this one?!?

How could I have forgotten Yogi Berra? Born on May 14, 1925 so he would be 100.

Here he is with Don Larsen, celebrating the only perfect game ever pitched in the World Series!

I love catchers—Yogi of course but also Thurman Munson.

Arthur and I went to a Yankee game when we suspected that a baby was coming and we saw Thurman hit a homer. Arthur said, “If we have a son, we’ll name him after that guy.” And for nine months our daughter’s fetal name was Thurman Sherman. We were heart broken when Thurman died in a plane crash that summer.

But I digress. You may see this work…

in person this summer in my solo show at the St. Francis Gallery in South Lee, MA, in the heart of the Berkshires, 1370 Pleasant Street, Rt 102 to be precise.

I’m not the only attraction in the area—The Red Lion Inn, The Berkshire Theater Festival, Jacob’s Pillow, Mass MOCA, The Clark Museum, Tanglewood, The Norman Rockwell Museum—there’s plenty to do and I hope you’ll come!

Believe me, you’ll be hearing more about this.

So what’s on my drawing table?

Not Much.

The three big pieces I did this spring were so much fun they almost drew themselves but I’m afraid the well has run dry. I haven’t a clue as to what to draw next so I’m following my own rule; if you have no ideas and you don’t know what to do, clean the studio.

So I’m tidying. I gathered all the unidentifiable wires and cords and put them in one box. I should have donated them to the wonderful project my redoubtable friend, Buffy Barton made with the children of the church nursery school.

But I know that the moment I get rid of anything I will learn what it’s for and I’ll have to run to the Apple Store and spend a fortune, so I’m hoarding my wires.

And as I court the muse to return I’m watching the Goose family, counting the chicks and I’m glad to report that there are still six. I caught sight of them Wednesday morning at 8:28.

I’m looking at stuff, like this bush,

I think it looks kind of Dr. Seuss-y so it has possibilities.

That’s the way it works—I keep working, keep looking, I doodle and scribble, trying to be open to the odd flash that grabs me and presents my next work. It’ll happen, it always does.

Did you know that Sir Alexander Fleming made paintings in his Petri dishes, using different colored fungi as paint? What did he happen upon as he fooled around with his fungi? Penicillin!

If DOGE had been around then would they have put an end to Fleming’s fiddling? Slashed his budget? Then where would we be? Maybe not here at all.

Here’s a link to the full story from Smithsonian Magazine. Sir Alexander Fleming