To market, to market to see a fine pig. Home again, home again, jiggity-jig. Glad for the sights, and laughs, and meals and memories. Glad to be home in my bed. Glad for coffee. And, will work myself up into being glad to go back to my small studio to work. Especially since I realize these accommodations that seem somewhat humble, could be as high as $2600-3000 a month in Key West...or more. And, upon meeting a number of artists selling their wares on the streets, I am now assured there are people far Weirder than I am...and with much worse attitudes. They did not seem to be enjoying their lives in Paradise...as much as the artists in air-conditioned galleries.Or as much as I was. Rosanna was checking her GPS in front of Hemingways House, and one guy yelled at us to get out of his museum. a 4 foot space on the sidewalk....and that we were ruining his moment as it was a cell-free zone. ????? His masterpieces were $1 and painted with something that looked like excrement. He said he didnt use brushes. I didnt want to ask details. I stopped to look at another artists work (not bad impressionism) and he said we could buy or move on. After that, I stopped talking to The Artists. I also reflected that Hemingway, like so many others, in spite of his beautiful home in this island paradise, was not truly ever happy. Guess that is something you decide to be wherever you are. My fate could be so much worse. Oh...and I got to see Kenny Chesneys new mansion...whose picture I painted last month in the country band piece. A big Escalade was in the driveway. Maybe I should have waltzed up to the door and asked if he wanted MY autograph? hahahaha. That might have been as successful as that Road To Cuba idea.....
Posted on: Tue, 01 Jul 2014 11:18:10 +0000
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