Have you had the experience of a life mask? Tonight is my first. Secretly I hope that Char Downs has forgotten her request to cast my life mask, because that was almost 30 days ago. She has not. I don't admit to her that I'm claustrophobic, that I'd prefer passing on this opportunity, and I am glad.

This is cool! Char is adept with the plaster strips (remember plaster body casts?), and is prepared with swim cap, vaseline, and towels for comfort and practicality. The casting feels like a spa treatment, or what I imagine a spa treatment to be, and is over within minutes. The Pinecone Studio artist will use the multitude of her castings - friends, family, fellow artists - in a 2015 exhibit. In the meantime, Halloween night is the premier of the second of Char's Phantasmagoria happenings: in the dark, by gallery-goers in masks with flashlights. I will miss it, but I do have a piece in the show and have had a sneak preview.

Earlier in the day, over lunch at Shandies followed by coffee and a cookie at Etcetera, Rosemarie Steele and I conduct an informal exit interview. She comments that I am one of the most low-maintenance artists-in-residence, and that I have provided great marketing of Paducah and the Paducah Arts Alliance via my blog. It's a fair trade for a month's experience in this rivertown, creating and exhibiting art, and interacting with the LowerTown artists. Thank you for the invitation, PAA.

As I leave: should you have the chance for a life mask casting, don't hesitate. It's not claustrophobic after all

Unassuming on the exterior, once inside Jefferson Street Studio I am transported to another world. Helene and Bob Davis are the creative forces here; she with hand-dyed fabric and world-class quilts, he with beadmaking. Helene and I stroll into her garden, traverse through her various studios, and converse until I am a cup that is so full it is spilling over.

As we walk past her extensive art library, Helene plucks a favorite book from the top shelf on Irish-born/American-based oil painter Sean Scully. He is an influence, his career-long dialogue with stripes. Now she, too, using her beautifully crafted fabrics in quilts, explores the possibilities of stripes. I believe that I previously met Helene's quilts, in Schweinfurth Memorial Art Center in Auburn, NY. It would have been in their annual Quilts=Arts=Quilts several years ago; an exhibition in which Helene participates regularly. I love it when I am fascinated first with the work, and then with the artist.
I'd like to insert a segue that transitions from the wonderland of Jefferson Street Studio to the balance of my day, but it escapes me. The rest of my day is quiet, the kind of unobtrusive passage of time that usually eludes. It is absolutely this gift of time that is such a boon to my art life during this residency (in addition to a multitude of new friendships). Unfettered, uninterrupted, focused time, that rare commodity. I do not miss television, radio, or the contents of my mailbox. I do miss my family and cat. Ah, but the gift of time for reading art magazines cover to cover, for depositing ink in my sketchbook (although the pages show more art journaling than sketching), for digesting critical feedback on the art installation, for peering into the crystal ball of the future, and for the silence that allows creative nuance to seep inside.

In the evening, I flash back to Helene's cookbooks; the ones she retrieves from the shelf but the recipes of which she does not necessarily implement. The artist finds it pleasurable reading. What more can I say, as this is too cool for words!

Sunday begins with news: an artist loses a daughter, one who is also her mother's muse. Shock, sadness, and a poignant moment in the community. I proceed with my residency, even while all our lives are now touched with grief.

At 1pm, I meet proprietor and ceramic artist Carolyn MacKay, who opens Stornoway Gallery for me while busily unpacking following a day with the art cart. It seems such a hassle, but Carolyn claims there is a rhythm to the process. Yesterday she made a sale via the art cart; the venture a bit more worthwhile.

Monday finds mud poet Michael Terra and logistics manager/spouse Victoria unpacking, having perfected their rhythm over a dozen years. Memphis was their latest destination; Louisiana the next. They are back in Paducah only an hour before I appear on their doorstep; but Michael and Victoria graciously usher me into Terra Cottage for a tour and cup of coffee. I appreciate the playfulness of Michael's relationship to letters and words ("Rtist" is just one in his alphabet cup series), and the professionalism of his craft.

After dark, the couple joins me and Rachel Biel for a private visit to view the installation at Studio Mars. Do check out Rachel's TAFA page (Textile And Fiber Arts is a web-based membership organization showcasing fiber artists and textile businesses). While we sit on the Studio Mars stoop in the tranquil October evening, Rachel draws my attention to paper artist Allison Svoboda on the TAFA site. I Evernote-clip this artist to my growing archive; inspiration at my fingertips.

Before the Terras return to their 1800s home/studio, I solicit their thoughts on my installation, especially the walk-in suspension. Artists always pose such good questions and make intriguing suggestions. "What if you add to the inside of the walk-in, offering a different interior personal experience than the exterior public one?" I'm letting that simmer and brew.

Students also offer thoughtful queries. Earlier in the afternoon, Cody Arnall, Artist-in-Residence at the Paducah School of Art and Design, accompanies his Sculpture I class for a tour of the installation. We talk concept, process, materials. And just prior to their departure - literally a one-block walk to the School - another gallery-goer arrives. Nancy Flowers, owner of Gallery 600, is following her frame shop assistant's directive to check out the "interesting" exhibit at Studio Mars.

And speaking of interesting, here's Michael's and Victoria's cat (actually one of several) dining in a highchair out of a "monstrous" bowl! Insert huge grin here - an actual one, not an emoticon.

One month, one-half tank of gas. That's the "easy" part of Paducah living. I set out as a pedestrian again today because it's too gorgeous to remain indoors. Here's a snapshot: an end-prostate-cancer fundraising rally, sunshine on the late Sarah Roush's tiles downtown, the "art carts" setting up in historic downtown, the two remaining available Artist Relocation buildings, and the homes/studios of artists Linda Ogden, and Maureen Ursery. And finishing my piece for Char Downs' "Phantasmagoria" happening.

Let me expound a bit on today's snapshots. According to Zero Cancer, "one in seven American men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer in his lifetime." To learn more about the organization's efforts to "create Generation ZERO - the first generation of men free from prostate cancer," visit their website.

Sarah Roush's tiles brighten the facade of the downtown Paducah School of Art & Design, and across from MarketHouse. The artist retains a posthumous virtual presence online; everyone I've encountered speaks admirably of her, softly and with sadness. Not having known her, I am merely grateful for her tiles.

The Artist Relocation Program offers a property at 421 North 5th Street that can be acquired for $1 and an accepted proposal process. My guess is that you'll also need hundreds of thousands of dollars for rehabilitating this abandoned structure, even with the financial incentives and historic tax credits. The Lower Town buildings that have been transformed are noteworthy, as are the new buildings constructed on Artist Relocation lots.

The "art carts" are, indeed, wooden push carts used by local arts/crafts vendors for sharing their wares at the gazebo in downtown Paducah, weather permitting. It appears to be a component of Paducah's UNESCO creative city designation. The carts are wheeled out at Noon; I'm too early...another day.   

If you're looking for real estate in Paducah, I know of another house for sale: the home/studio of sculptor Linda Ogden (pictured), perhaps best known locally for her design/construction of the black granite and bronze Korean War Memorial. She is yet another of the prolific artists in Lower Town. As is Maureen Ursery, part of an informal artist group who exhibit together and dine together monthly. I was fortunate to be included in their gustatory gathering following my installation opening. Good food, interesting conversation.

Did I mention that I'm packing my mental suitcase with as many memories as possible during this final artist residency week?

If you missed the opening of my installation at Studio Mars, you missed the delicious homemade coconut cake with hibiscus sauce. While the cake has disappeared, the artwork remains through Tuesday, but is uninstalled Wednesday. Then it's time to disassemble and pack the suspensions for a return journey to Greenville, SC, where a number of the pieces will reappear in a 2015 exhibit. In fact, the director of Greenville Technical College's Riverworks Gallery just set a mid-June date for my installation. I'll share a "Postcards from Greenville" blog with Paducah when it premieres!

I understand this is a good turnout for a Paducah Arts Alliance exhibit; I count more than three dozen gallery-goers. Some are following this blog, others saw the Paducah Sun article or the Facebook posting, and a few are just walking down the street. The response is positive, and this Artist-in-Residence is encouraged.

What I find interesting is the difference in tactile response to artwork that hangs on the wall versus artwork that dangles from the ceiling. No one touches the cradled wood pieces on the wall. But there is little hesitancy, or none, with the suspended pieces. Admittedly, I am surprised. Although I create the suspensions with durability as one factor, there is a delicacy in my work. Okay, I do intentionally invite attendees into the walk-in piece.

Personally, I find that receptions are the most challenging time to view a show's artwork: eating, socializing, straining to be heard above the crescendo of conversations, bumping (literally) into people, attempting to remember names, red wine's potential to spill on pristine surfaces, chocolate fingertips looming. One young man mentions that he'll return in the quiet to experience the installation. Agreed.

So, if you would like to see the installation, please give me a call (864-360-8652) to make arrangements. Before Wednesday. Thank you, Paducah! 

I'm exhausted, in a good way, following 5 hours of installing my exhibit for tomorrow's opening at Studio Mars. A big thank you to artist and Paducah Arts Alliance-member Paul Lorenz for loaning his beautiful gallery, to Rosemarie Steele for a helping hand and for such excellent communication, to Anita Stamper for reception food, and to all the PAA members. The interview by Laurel Black appears in this morning's Paducah Sun, page 7B; the word is out. It would be great to have a big turnout. The energy is always so juicy.

I meet one person this morning, Betty Martyn, who recognizes my name from the newspaper article. She is a member of PAPA - Paducah Area Painters Alliance - who is gallery sitting their downtown location. We chat, and she shows me her work in watercolor and acrylic. I love the way Betty describes her feelings about each medium: watercolor makes her feel "softer" while acrylic makes her feel "bolder." The work absolutely reflects this. During Betty's show-and-tell, she notices the absence of one of her pieces. Mild panic morphs into elation, as the explanation is documented in the PAPA log: "sold." Congratulations, Betty!

The artist residency is a fleeting one. When I first arrive, I hear, "We're so excited that you're here," but now that I am into week four, the question is, "When are you leaving?". Too soon.

This pic is a teaser from my exhibit. It's the interior of "Postcards from Paducah" - the piece where I print my blogs, then shred and insert the strips into a polymer grid. When the light strikes the top, it glows. Come see for yourself.

Rubber ducks adorn an ornate concrete fountain, gingko trees line a bank drive-through, and turquoise pods nestle in magenta sepals. Just another day in Paducah, Kentucky. In full disclosure, the rubber ducks are a surprise sighting during tonight's walk; the trees are sought out, following a tip from Judeen; and the botanical specimen is plucked from a fragrant bush by Anita in her garden. It continues to feel magical here.

Today, Pinecone Studio has visitors from "the boats." The American Queen and Queen of the Mississippi dock in the Port of Paducah from May through November. Then a chartered bus delivers sightseers to Lower Town, where they can walk into any gallery sporting an "open" banner. At least a half dozen individuals appear, haling from Louisville to Australia. It's a bit like Second Saturday.

In between these visits, I complete the piece, "Postcards from Paducah." Then it's time to refresh "the little grey cells" - to quote Agatha Christie's character Poirot, which is when and where on my walk, I encounter rubber ducks, gingko leaves, and turquoise pods. There is also a shop offering art, art supplies, and craft workshops. Ephemera is a 50th birthday present owner Kristin Williams bestowed upon herself, and is just across the street from the Paducah School of Art and Design. She features local artists: quilts by Rose Hughes, beads by Bob Davis, and a charming alphabet book on Paducah illustrated by Bill Renzulli, Gay Spierbahn, and Stefanie Graves, to name a few.

Time to consider tomorrow: installation day at Studio Mars. It is always a pleasant surprise to see the individually-created pieces intentionally located together. And so begins an entirely new dialogue. Let the conversation begin!

An artist is both worker and boss. Yesterday, the boss told the worker that "enough is enough." Desiring yet one more piece for Friday's exhibit, I create a collage and spend the day sewing it together. Early in the process I consider discontinuing the effort but press on. You guess correctly: it's disastrous and it's in the trash.

Rather than mourning the loss of time and effort, I acknowledge the inherent lessons: listen to my inner voice, persistence does not always pay off, letting go often does. If every artistic effort results in a successful outcome, where does discovery emerge? If perfectionism is a paramount goal, where does creative joy enter? Let's face it, we more readily share our triumphs than our tragedies.

I finish Monday's studio time ensuring that every monofilament tie-off receives a reinforcement of glue, that every strip of paper is adhered and secure. Tuesday begins with a bit of negotiating at the dry cleaners, but ends with positive energy following collegial visits to Pinecone Studio. Margaret Claus-Gray and Rosemary, (escorted by Lily Liu), were unable to attend last week's Paducah Fiber Artists meeting due to weather, but are in sunny Paducah today. We are all sharing our creations, oohing and aahing.

Then a visit by Judeen, who lives and works around the corner in a building she designed as part of the Artist Relocation Project a decade ago. It's beautiful, and for sale, as are a variety of objets d'art, books, tools, and more. To say Judeen is prolific is an understatement: fiber art, stained glass, and ceramics. She delved into ceramics with a passion, partaking in the senior benefits at the Paducah School of Art & Design - tuition waived. Give her a call (270-444-9525) to set up an appointment, although you are forewarned; you will not leave empty-handed.  

Although the sun has set, I want to extend a special thank you to Char Downs, owner of Pinecone Studio, who is a great listener. Especially as she deals with her own curatorial demands, readying for "Phantasmagoria E," a happening where viewers discover artwork via flashlight in the darkened Studio. Select artists are creating works using one ordinary item from the Old E Hotel, premiering anonymously on - when else? - Halloween. Works are for sale, participating artists are featured in an accompanying book, and the reception is Second Saturday, November 8. I'm working on a creation for this event, but I cannot tell you more...it's a secret for now!

Ideal weekend; rapturous sky, sunlit butterfly, Halloween decorations appear in windows, and pumpkins on doorsteps. On Saturday afternoon, three walk-ins (thank you, Victoria, for sending them to Pinecone Studio) visit from Indiana, Missouri, and Florida. At 11pm, Freda Fairchild appears at the studio door, enroute to her own working/living space. We chat about, what else, our current art explorations. I share a few magazines that I've finished - Surface Design, and Fiber Art Now, and then Saturday rolls into Sunday.

I decide to utilize the oval embroidery hoop as an armature for yet another suspended artwork. The intensity of my daily routine reminds me of my college days in 2008-2009, consistently staying up until 1am and 2am. It's burnout mode, but I sense that this is just the kindling for a bonfire of creativity. Ah yes, I can hear my Greenville friend, Alice, asking "why do you want to do an installation?" and just the other day a Paducah artist voiced the same query. My answer: I want to give you an art experience.

Off the wall, out of the frame, moving in the air. Perhaps it's a bit like theater, casting players and directing. Or a concert that has a finite beginning and end, leaving only a memory. I could continue the analogies with dance and poetry, but you get the idea.

So, the latest piece - note the binder clips are serving a temporary function - is quite difficult to convey via photography. The layers are lace curtain outside, negative gingko leaf shapes inside, and several strands of gingko leaves suspended in the center. The gingko leaves are digitally printed details from my "Edo Influence" collage/cradled wood series. The negative shapes are actually the carrier-sheets for the die-cut gingko leaves. There are over 70 leaves in this piece, with 40 of the 8-1/2x11-inch carrier-sheets sewn together. I like the effect, but you need to see it in person.

All of those numbers remind me of a question Paducah Sun journalist Laurel Black posed: "Do you find the work tedious, or contemplative?" It is both. I wonder if there is an artist who has figured out how to better manage or avoid this necessary step? Other than sending one's work to China. That's a conversation for another time. For now, sleep!

It is always good to be interviewed. What I hear is the current conversation in my mind, where in the course of the interview, I also "overhear" some previously unspoken insight, either from myself or the interviewer. Laurel Black of the Paducah Sun leaves the studio with notes on my discourse, responses to questions, and numerous photos that are due to appear in an article in the local newspaper next Thursday. This was a good part of the day.

Then there is the other - not the grocery shopping, by the way. It's the struggle to enclose the top of the walk-in installation piece. It's also what seems like a waste-of-time attempt to move another piece to resolution. Cut, combine, disassemble; all the while knowing that I should walk away from this artistic dialogue that feels more like an argument, or perhaps just a tiff. "Why won't you resolve?" "What do you need?" "I should just discard you!" But I resist the call of the koi pond outside, and try yet one more potential solution for my problem child. While I am in process, I hear voices outside the studio, in the dark.

I think to myself that the comments must be emanating from passersby as they admire the fun park bench in front of Pinecone Studio's window. No, two women are not looking down at the bench but are heads back, eyes wide, and mouths exclamatory. I realize they are viewing my suspended installation pieces. I invite Erica and Monica inside (if the "c" should instead be a "k," I am sure they will understand my misspelling) where it is now 6:30pm. Erica, a Lower Town resident, informs me that she was drawn across North 7th Street to take a closer look. Monica, celebrating her birthday but approaching her parked car, is also curious. Their enthusiasm bubbles out into the studio air and transforms my earlier artistic funk.

I suspend the revamped problem piece, perhaps finally resolved, and decide to venture through the studio door. I need to see what captured Erica's and Monica's attention. My attempts to photograph the nighttime scene are blurry, and my vision will never be the "first time" experience that you enjoy, but here are the pics anyway.

Thank you, Laurel, Erica, and Monica - you made my day.