On Thursday, I drove my paintings down to NYC to have Sara take proper slides of all of them.  I’ll be shipping these paintings to Milwaukee this week for a show at the art museum, so getting these shots taken happened none too soon.

I spent Friday afternoon with my friend Karen, who is working in New York on a television show through December (she is keeping a blog during her time there in the style of a daily journal to her dad, and it’s amazing.  You can read Karen’s blog here.)

On Friday night, Sara and I did the slides.  I meant to take more photos of the process, but she works so fast; I didn’t have time to remember to take pics.  I managed to get one off before she broke down her equipment (pictured).  I like the way her photo equipment looks in her living room.

I left on Saturday, but not before Sara’s beau, Andrew, and I spent a lovely morning together.  Being in NYC on the anniversary of September 11 was like any other day, but with a couple of asterisks.  Andrew and I walked the dog along the Hudson, where we talked about art and artmaking.  We talked throughout the day about 9/11, but I don’t think that was a New York-specific conversation on Saturday.  A couple of small groups of tourists seemed extra smiley to the locals, maybe to show a semblance of solidarity or maybe to pay respect to a resident; they smiled in much the same way one smiles at the family members at a wake of a loved one.  Then we had brunch at a diner in Chelsea.  Three NYPD counterterrorism officers were also having brunch; this, I suspect, is a New York-specific 9/11 experience.  We had a lovely meal together, and after walking over to see Sara at her work to say goodbye and thanks for all her work, I stopped into one of my favorite neighborhood corner stores on 22nd and 9th.  I like this store because they sell upscale bodega goods and the owners are this lovely Chinese couple.  The wife works at the register, and there’s something about her that I like.  She has this quiet happiness about her, like maybe she’s a yogi or a habitual pot smoker.  I went there to buy Andrew and Sara some flowers.  The woman was listening to Chinese radio, and it sounded the way a television sounds.  I asked her if she was listening to the radio or the television.  ”Radio,” she said, wrapping my flowers.  ”It’s a church service.”  I nodded and smiled.  She stopped wrapping my flowers for a minute to look absentmindedly towards the ceiling, the way you do when you’re listening to something.  ”He’s saying ‘Hallelujah.’”  We both smiled, waited a moment, and then together we said, “Hallelujah.”

Happy new week, everyone.