Christmas day was sunny and crisp. In the afternoon the extended family gathers at my cousin's house in a neighborhood filled with lovely houses from the 1920s— steep pitched rooftops, Tudor woodwork, stucco and stone— surrounded by towering old trees and a slim carpet of remaining snow. After dinner a few of us walked around the… Continue reading Gingerbread houses
I went out in the afternoon to say hi to the Dudes. The new horse is still being kept separate until they've all got to be friendly, so he was down in a separate pasture. Seneca and Prince were feeling feisty and joined me in running
[A thing I’ve been meaning to write about, but have been waiting to see how it affects, beyond initial denial and impatience.] Twelve hours after landing back in Brooklyn from New Mexico, I sustained a godawful injury to my right foot under the most mundane circumstances. Went for x-rays the next day, as it was impossibly… Continue reading The vulnerability of connective tissues
This is T. He's the third cat we've had at the Farm (since I was a child) named Tigger, but we roll like kids here, and a fitting or familiar name can always be used more than once. (Farm folk are pragmatists.) He's the sweetest cat I've known in a long time— serious; takes some time… Continue reading Having arrived at the Farm for Christmas
A still from a Flash animation I did a number of years ago. I dusted off the artwork and re-created a new animation in After Effects so it could be posted as a video (viewable on most devices, unlike Flash). Go watch it now— and Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year!
I am suddenly so sad today. It's that vague but crushing sadness of the New Year; a Sunday sadness that knows your real name and pulls without words, but remorselessly, and with a precision that feels like Love. It feels like having to say goodbye (to what?) when you're not ready to say goodbye. A… Continue reading The New Year
Happy New Year. the farm in winter Spent Thanksgiving and Xmas upstate at the farm. Sunny and freezing in November, as illustrated in the photo. December was milder. The New Year, as it begins here in Brooklyn, is drenched with rain and blanketed with fog. Sort of weather makes the knees ache and inspires reading… Continue reading 2 0 0 6
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 