Saturday we prepped for the Open Studio scheduled for that afternoon which mean that Greg and I walked up the farmer's market up at Grand Army Plaza. Talking about life while taking in vistas of Brooklyn that I had not seen for quite some time; sunlight was lighting up the limestone, sparkling the sidewalks and glinting off the sculptures of the arch. The market was bustling, filled with people, children and dogs.
After coming back to their home I took over the food prep, which was largely making the plates of prepared food look pretty and chopping vegetables. It also offed me an escape during the open studio -something to do when I felt restless, too quiet for chatter, or like my heart was suffering from the sporadic pangs which manifested as a body ache that wanted me to propel into their bedroom in a fetal position with the cat.
Slowly those moments of awkward emotions lifted, or perhaps I was able stow them away in order to be present in the moment. Wonderful flows in and out conversations, slowly the open studio time faded to a more intimate setting to celebrate Greg's birthday and gave us time to talk in slower manner. It was a lovely a day in the end when I reviewed it all before bed.
Monday I finally roused myself to do something on my own, thinking I would go to the yarn store a mere three blocks from their home. As I turned left out of the door I realized that for some odd reasons most yarn stores in the United States are closed on Mondays. It was possible that this being within the confines of New York City would have better sense than that but I was doubtful. As it turned out it was shuttered by the typical irons gates that pull down over many storefronts here. Being out was a good thing so I simply decided to walk and stroll through the neighborhood that on and off many years ago had been my home turf. It was amazing to see so many storefronts the same in the past 10 or even 20 something years and not surprising at all to see so many things that had sprouted new life. One of the few stores I went into has been there since at least the mid-80's; an odd, narrow crowded store with mostly shoes but also a rack of fairly eclectic clothing, some of which seemed like it had been there since my first visit over 20 years ago. I walked up Seventh Avenue until I hit 3rd Street where I turned west towards the corner of 3rd and Fifth Avenue, where I lived in the early eighties. The corner of my former block is now chic and the block has been rehabbed for a long time. A far cry from when I lived there where half the buildings were abandoned, including half the units in my abode. It is the first since I left New York in 1990 that I thought, "I could live here". My large nostalgic circling took over an hour and I felt enlivened, happy, and even a bit peaceful.
(A wall of Janet's studio)
It was a lovely visit and as I write this I am back that their place visiting yet again. This is my other home base for the moment which allows me quiet, companionship, and waves of creativity as their art hangs on the walls, colors hits various types of canvases with oil paints, water colors, and food-based dyes.
(A piece of Greg's work on his studio wall)