Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Oh Hell I Don't Do Art

Oh hell, I don't do art. I work for a dang living, and try to keep the bits and pieces of life together, as best I can. The center doesn't hold. Maybe that's all art. I know it's not, but maybe it is, maybe trying to keep it together and waking up and dealing with this and that gets you some sort of credit in Art Heaven. Probably not. Painters paint. Writers write. I seem to fix a lot of small machinery, read pointless books about ancient Egypt, feed the neighbor's cat, and try to remember what my computer passwords are. And deal with big big life issues, some, at least two or three, very big. Or where I put my keys. Small issues.  Not what I pictured when I pictured what it would be to be 50. I don't even know now what it is I pictured anymore. That's 50 I guess: forgetting.

I think I have done a fairly reasonable job of doing what it is I thought was right, and fit me, and true to my nature, and not getting caught up in too much worry and stress. I look at that sentence and think: well, that;s BS, you haven't at all. But I thought I was, all the time. And I don't know that I'd advise someone else to do the same, starting out, but somehow its been a theme for me to follow my own drum, quiet as it is. So, no children, no real responsibilities, not much of a career, and at the end, payback...no real peace. Dang.

I have however, been catching some bee swarms. I've caught 5 this year I think. They are so cute, and they don't, as far as I know, worry about doing art, or not. They work, and die.

Here are the darlings after being caught (last week) and spreading the good news, the bee Gospel, butts in the air, shooting out the pheromones to say "The queen is alive and well". Come home.




And here I am on the roof of my house trying to get a new hive in place. Its something called the Pelage method. Interesting to beekeepers. You'll see two varieties of green supers, one from my friend Brian, and an other from Elizabeth, up the street. And that's my office, center.

And my bee bucket, replacing having to haul up a hive box. Works great. They just sort of fall in like water and stay there, and I can walk them over and dump there wherever I want. I'd guess that was 4 or 5 pounds of bees from the pear tree at Kevin's house. Kevin is a house painter, who now works at Trader Joes. His first paycheck depressed him enormously. I cut his lawn out front, and he leaves bottles of wine on my wood pile.

1 comment:

Bruce Edwards said...

Christ, you're arty!