Last night was brutal. Broo-TAHL. The winds blew like the gates of hell had been opened up and every banshee that had ever occupied those cursed halls was loosed on the Mesilla Valley. Not much can wake me once the Sandman has struck, but the howling, banging, blasting 60 mph winds did the trick. Didn’t sleep well at all. Ugh. I kept waking in a stupor and half expecting to be half way to Oz, with visions of flying monkeys and bike-riding bitches dancing through my head. At some point, Donny came home from work and I know I babbled at him a bit, before he crawled into bed and fell asleep. Mine was fitful and the dreams… well… there may be a story of two in there somewhere, but that’s an entry for another day…

The early part of the evening was pretty great, on the other hand, despite the winds. I hung out at the Rio Grande Theatre gallery again, for the Art Ramble, early on. I’d found out a couple days ago that the curator had decided to extend my photography exhibit another month, so was down playing meet and greet for the second first Friday in a row. Pretty cool. Once again, met plenty of cool people, including one guy who may set me up with a MUCH better processing and framing deal than I had previously. Also, there are three more sales pending which, if they do sell, will mean I’ll have sold a total of eight pieces. That’s half of the show. Not bad for a first exhibit. All I was missing to make the evening magical was my Donny, but he was there in spirit.

I also met the new Executive Director of the DAAC, who is a very nice guy, and took him on a tour of the galleries along the downtown mall. It was a good opportunity to get to know him better. I think we’ll get along, just fine. I introduced him to various gallery owners and the folks at the Las Cruces Museum of Art. While there, the museum manager asked me if I’d be interested in being part of the museum’s advocacy group. She’s supposed to send me information. I’m honored to be asked, but know that it most likely entails a LOT more pro bono writing and I honestly feel that I’ve topped off that tank, here. What I need is some real paying gigs, but we’ll see. The gig could offer another set of inroads.

Once back at the RGT, my friend Hilary stopped by and hung out with me for a while, toward the end of the show shift. Afterwards, she talked me into having a glass of wine with her. I waffled at first, because it was so windy out and I didn’t feel like dealing with it, but I’m glad I took her up on her offer. It was a very nice way to wind down the night. Our first stop was Vintage Wines in Mesilla, which was one of mine and Donny’s favorite weekly haunts for a long time, until it just got too expensive on our limited budget. Hadn’t been in for weeks and Nicki, the owner, seemed happy to see me. Unfortunately for Hilary and me, the place was packed, both inside and out, so there was no place to sit. We were there for maybe 20 minutes, just long enough to polish off a glass of wine, then decided to move on to someplace where we could actually sit and talk.

That someplace was Hilary’s favorite restaurant, the Double Eagle, on the Mesilla Plaza. Very exclusive, very expensive, very high end touristy kind of place. In fact, the only time I ever go there, is when I’m with Hilary. She, being a regular, knows everyone, including the wine steward, so it was an experience I don’t often get. She ordered a wonderful French wine, the name of which, naturally, I’ve already forgotten and a plate of cheese featuring Manchego, a Norweigen Brie, a very smooth Goat and a Blue Cheese squeezed from the backsides of actual blue cows. I figured it had to be, because I’ve never paid $18 for a plate of cheese in my life. It was good, and I do admit to feeling more than a few twinges of guilt that Hilary always seems to pick up the tab, but she knows how broke I am and she DID pick the place.

Time always flies when I’m with Hil, which I know confuses a lot of people. What can this elegant dancer from Indiana, who has traveled the world and dated rock stars, have in common with this old desert rat? All I can do is shrug. We enjoy each other’s company, spending the time together talking about art, music, dance and the difficulties of being a working artist in today’s economy. We also talk about wine and travel, the possible collaboration on a book of New Mexico wineries, and encourage each other to move forward with projects that may, on the outset, seem impossible because we a) live in Las Cruces and b) are both having a hard time making money at what we do. It’s actually a lovely way to while away a Friday night, while Donny is working.

We were also treated to several visitations by the inimitable Bugs Salcido, who stopped by our table a couple of times, to “check in.” He was having dinner with friends in the other room and had seen us enter, so would pop over to chat briefly during lulls in conversation at his own table. Or something like that. It always amuses me in a deep, patently voyeuristic way, to watch the interchanges between Hil and Bugs. It’s always half veiled flirtation and half sibling rivalry, topped off with a dollop of surreal musical shorthand that only the two of them understand. I always wish I had either a tape recorder handy, or a camera mounted overhead. I don’t really know what I’d do with the footage once I captured it, but it would afford me hours of fascination. Kind of like Dian Fossey, I think.

It was close to midnight by the time Hil and I wrapped up our evening, which is a rarity for me, these days. We walked back to her place, where I climbed into my car and drove home. I thought briefly of stopping by ye olde sexxe shoppe to visit Donny, but the wind and the late hour deterred me. I was bushed and, even as my little Ford Taurus was being buffeted along the roadway by the devil winds, wanted nothing more than to lay my weary head to rest. Which would have been a beautifully poetic way to end the evening, if not for the hurricane winds whipping up a mad frenzy right outside my bedroom window. Damn winds! They must end soon.




Yes, it appears to be a pirate and, no, I have no idea…
Maybe the winds brought him.

Framing is done! Time for a beer!

Oh, yeah, and check this out: http://southwestart.com/events/8988

Happy Dave.




Look, it’s a frame.

It’s coming together...