Friday Night’s Alright for Workin’

Ah. Would you look at that box top of accomplishment?

Last week, Dave and I bought a new printer/scanner- my first printer purchase since about 2002, his first printer that didn’t come from the trash! I’ve never had a scanner all of my very own, not even in college, so my mind is being blown about every 2 hours more so on weekends when I have time to putter around.) The upside to this is being able to develop some more cohesive designs for presentation and packaging. I’m pretty smitten with my little variants on the original cards.

All this hoo-ha is in preparation for a rapidly upcoming show at Pawtucket’s own cozy nook, Kafe Lila. Work should be up by the 10th and runs through… well.. at least a month. But there are more than just baubles. The show features multiple installations from RISD grad Nora Rabbins as well as a full collection of my unwelcoming cross stitches. I do really need to bang out an artist statement for it. At least then the whole project will be tied together in a way and I can feel like I reached some sort of stopping point, or at least a temporary conclusion.

And then I can devote myself more fully to other ideas that have been clunking around in the old rock-tumbler I call a brain: small print run, a finished website, large scale embroideries tying together the small print run and the God Shave the Queen series. Oh. And a small line of clothes for gents and dames. And summer dresses for me! And more jewelery.

I do other things besides work, you know. Other activities of the past few weeks have included being front row at a fashion show at the local tranny bar, breaking my computer and then having it fixed, shooting bb guns in the backyard (unrelated to the computer incident), filing my taxes, applying for one month’s worth of dental insurance, eating pizza, and listening to the first Human League album as often as I can. Seriously, if you told a 17 year old Liz Novak that in 10 years she would be all about the band that did “Don’t You Want Me?” she would have rolled her eyes really dryly and told you that no one was better than Depeche Mode. But now, I am patiently awaiting the day that time travel becomes both reliable and affordable so that I may zip into 1979 and toss my undies on stage at a 24 year old Phil Oakey. I’m putting a lot of stock in you, The Future!

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