This weekend I finished the baby blanket and got one of the gloves (sans a thumb--I will do that after I get the second glove done) off the needles.

I am having a hard time picking which project to start in the empty slot. I am getting sick of the blue scarf--I am beginning to loathe the thick unstretchiness of chenille. But stubborness won't let me forsake it. So I am trying to trudge through to the end.

I also finished a collage this weekend. It is a rework of an image I made two years ago, a master drawing reproduction layered with two Bukowski poems. I was unhappy with some of the elements (these great fly photocopy-transfers--they were beautiful-but looked terrible on the drawing), so in what seemed to be a manic upswing, I redid it in a different paper/size on Saturday and left out the offending flies.

I wish I had a digital camera, will just have to wait for the prints. I liked the look of the flies so much that I want to try to get them into their own piece. But I am waiting for a poet to inspire me. I want to do something with E.E. but flies don't seem appropriate for any of his stuff that I like. I might use them with a Kenneth Patchen poem... one of the "people are terrible animals" type poems. Although I may just need to do another Bukowski with them. He reminds me of flies and crusty ashtrays and too-bright sun peeking through a cracked window blind.

Found an interesting artist's website today: Mark Ryden, and his sad-eyed bloody baby paintings, complete with masonic symbols and eerily japanime-styled familiars. Not sure whether I like the work or am just fascinated by the too-too-ness of it. Either way, it is worth taking a look.