My husband keeps asking me what it looks like around the residency, so I thought I would post some images of my surroundings.  In the coming weeks I hope to post reflections, sketches, and works in progress.

The view from my studio: Castello di Montefioralle

A close up

The Studio:

La Macina Di San Cresci:

Door to the Artist House where I am living:

Inside the Artist House:

My  bedroom:

and view from the bedroom window:

The hallway:

The Kitchen:

It’s been a while since I have posted here on Llama and Lamb. One of the reason is because I have become active on Twitter (@smjdesign). Yes, that thing everybody is talking about. Speaking of Twitter, earlier this week I tweeted:

Can’t we go back to when we could knock on each others’ doors at any time, ask if they can come out and play. Are people really that busy?!

I thought I’d unpack this thought with three themes: the past, the present, and the future. So let’s first stroll down memory lane and do a little psychoanalysis.

The Past

As a teenager, I had friends that I could stop in on. Some were adults others were my own age. Often I would tell my parents I was going to run an errand and not show back up until 11:00, since I had stopped by a friends house. Nothing was as disappointing as stopping by a friend’s houses only to have their mother, grandmother, or closest relative tell me they were not home.

I grew up in rural Kentucky in a county with about 7000 people. There was not a large pool of teenagers. There were 66 other people in my high school graduation class. I managed by attending summer camps in larger cities. By camps, I mean air-conditioned college campuses with classes that focused on computer programming and academics. This new medium called instant messaging was a god-send (remember ICQ, the hippy-themed precursor to AOL Instant Messenger?). I was able to log-on every night and chat with friends in other parts of the state and even a few local. Nothing was off limits: romance, religion–you name it. As I think back, it is true that people will often write virtually on the web information that they would not say in person.

So I moved onto college and loved the access to 1300 people–yes, it was a small college. Most weeks, I was that guy who hung around the dorm on Friday and Saturday nights knocking on people’s doors to see who was around. In these circumstances, it is somewhat amazing that I never met my wife, Rachel, until the last month of our senior year. It was my curiosity of starting up a conversation with strangers on an art field trip to New York that lit the match of romance. Habits are difficult to break though. For the first few weeks, Rachel wondered whether I was truly attracted to her, since I spent the majority of our time together talking about other girls I knew.

The Present

In the apartment my wife and I used to live in, my neighbors changed frequently. New residents moved in and old residents moved out every year. I did not expect consistent relationships beyond a greeting in the stairwell. When I was in the process of buying a house, I had visions of new neighbors knocking on my doors and bringing us casseroles and fruit baskets. That didn’t happen. Reality is pleasant–I can’t complain. I have really nice neighbors that say “hi” when one is out doing yard work. One of my neighbors once cut my gas for me for free.

Yes, the onus is on me to invite my neighbors into my house. We’ve hesitating doing this so far due to the continuing remodeling of our foreclosed house (think plastic sheeting on the floor, lack of shoe molding, and monstrous sponge painting from the prior owners).

The future

I’m afraid that my life will become busy with people that I only see once a month or have a passing friendship with. We sometimes have to schedule get-to-togethers with friends over a month in advance. Yes, you have to meet someone in order to have a deeper friendship, but many of our friends have children. I understand–I’m sure we will have children that will require (that we will want to spend) time with–those poor nerdy kids! I am very fortunate that I met Rachel in college– I do not have any idea where I would meet woman similar to me now (not that I’m looking). I guess what I’m saying is that it seems that we are often in our own little bubbles.

Now, on a lighter note

During this last weekend, Rachel I walked around the Stutz Building in Downtown Indianapolis stepping in and out of artists’ studios. I discovered that artists don’t really care for labels on their work, but as a poet, it’s hard for me not to distill images down to words. After all, there art encompasses their whole life, right? I also have some trinkets of insight to pass on, too. Enjoy.

Art lessons from four hours at the 2009 Stutz Open House:

• Hearts do not belong in fine art paintings (O.K, maybe folk art, but nothing else!).
• The larger your huge gaudy golden frames are the faster your work will sell.
• Lombardy Poplars (the “French trees” in impressionist paintings) should be banned–permanently. Why do we want the French countryside in our living rooms?