Let’s Have Brunch showed up in my mailbox while I was in San Diego for the five-day Sasseen-fest.
@my ruppel is an artist and person extraordinaire. An admirer of her work, I was touched when she graced me and Sofia with a piece called My Message. Based in Portland, Oregon, she brought it to SB for me earlier this spring when visiting in-laws. She just wanted to send Sofia good wishes while she was in the NICU.
Her artistic process fascinates me:
The bird paintings are more like assemblages: hand-cut birds and striped ovals of paper lie between layers of a beeswax and resin mixture (encaustic method). I then sometimes draw back into the topmost layer of clear beeswax with a sharp tool, filling the lines with oil paints and oil pastels. A propane torch is used to fuse it all together, and make the surface smooth. The striped ovals are derived from my photographs: the images are manipulated in Photoshop into colorful fields of stripes (my secret!), then inkjet printed onto acid-free paper. The birds are drawn in Illustrator, printed and cut in the same manner. I watch a lot of Science Channel and Fine Living Network programming while cutting out the birds!
So, my musical concert season started off this year with Morrissey. Awesome. (But actually, my first show this year was Kathy Griffin. A riot!)
Gwen Stefani’s show Wednesday night at the SB Bowl was fabulous. Both KL and I left wanting to be her, but realized it meant we could never eat again. That wouldn’t jive with the nachos craving we both had earlier in the evening.
Gwen’s voice was sharp, her hair impossibly perfect, and her wardrobe wicked. No mere mortal could pull off wearing as poufy an obi as she did. She really engaged the crowd, running up among us to perform an entire number… During this interlude, she realized that she ripped a big hole in her pants along the way, but didn’t let it stop her.
I wish I’d taken Sofie out earlier in the day… Perhaps we might have run into Gwen and Kingston, to whom I would have betrothed Sofie.
Here’s a photo of Sofie helping me get ready while chillin’ in her Oeuf lounger, wearing her Harajuku Lovers t-shirt:
How could Kingston have refused?
And Norah Jones last week with KO was delightful. Except for the old hippy woman who sang a couple of songs with the forgettable opening act. She sounded like a Muppet who’s smoked one too many packs of menthols and was sucking on helium. I and those around me laughed guiltily and irreverently.
(Oh yeah, and it was upon arriving at K’s car after the show when I discovered serendipity paid us a visit and left us a postcard on the windshield announcing the Weiners and Wine event.)