Changes

The bank on Sixth Street either changed hands or they just decided to change all the signs, because the sign guys were working in the parking lot all day with a small crane and a bucket truck. A good crew, the crane operator was very good. No smashed cars. We didn't have a morning receptionist, so D and I split the time there; down side is that when we don't have a morning receptionist and three of the five people at the museum are on vacation we don't get anything done. The rule is that there's always a person upstairs and one downstairs. We did pretty well, considering; D made real progress on the large catalog for the Folk Art show. Printing costs have come down dramatically and the quality has gone up. He found a place online, I think they're in Texas, and he just ships them a file and a week later we get the finished product. This particular catalog is 44 pages, full color, images from all the artists, biographies and a couple of essays. Since the show is playing at five venues we're getting a thousand copies, and the total cost is less than four thousand dollars. Seems like a bargain to me. We give 25 copies to each of the other venues, sell the rest at $10 or whatever; plus the fees the others are paying for the exhibit, this show turns a profit. If D did a show from the massive collection of prints at OU, it could travel, and probably also turn a profit. I need to talk with him about that. Finish preparations in Pegi's office. Paint tomorrow. Replaced light bulbs, goddamn but there are a lot of lights in the museum. Wrapped up the day an hour early so I could get home and try to get the house warm. Warm meaning just not freezing to death. Winter camping with a roof. It's fine, the sunset was so beautiful, and the immense silence is a transport of joy. Mackeltree was a thing of beauty. I was looking at nudes today, when I was being the receptionist, Modigliani especially, those late paintings are exceptional. His very last, I think, painting, of his great love. Seated in a room with a door, which was his motif; fucking doors, I don't know what they mean, maybe that they're just a way of closing things off. Have to think about that. "Naturalia non sunt turpia" pops into my head, and I have no idea where it comes from, a turn of phrase, it means something like 'natural things are not bad in themselves' like M exposing all that pubic and armpit hair. Without the doting hand or branch of something covering the privates. Which we consider civilized. I'm always looking for context. Maybe it's a fault of my upbringing, I'd sign off on that, in certain regards. In another circumstance I might argue the opposite case. That you should never. Which you probably had already done. And we'd argue about that, which one of us had hit the button, the first time in forever that the moon is visible at all. I just watch, my mandate, and add an occasional comment. It's always changing.