Fuzzy? Whatdayamean fuzzy? it must be your eyes. Either that or my scanner couldn't cope with the beads...
4 x 6. Paper, photo, acrylic painting, fabric, fiber, beads
The text on this postcard was written by George W. Bagby and published in 1891 in Half Hours with the Best Humorous Authors, Vol. II. Bagby describes hearing a performance by the Russian pianist Anton Rubinstein:
Then the moonlight came, without any sunset, and shone on the graveyards . . . and between the black, sharp-top trees marble houses rose up, with fine ladies in the lit-up windows, and men that loved 'em, but could never get anigh 'em, who played on guitars under the trees, and made me that miserable I could have cried, because I wanted to love somebody, I don't know who, better than the men with the guitars did.
Then the sun went down, it got dark, the wind moaned and wept like a lost child for its dead mother, and I could 'a' got up then and there and preached a better sermon than any I ever listened to. There wasn't a thing in the world left to live for, not a blame thing, and yet I didn't want the music to stop one bit. It was happier to be miserable than to be happy without being miserable.43 in the It's Only a Book project in which I'm deconstructing my 2003 book, Grace: A Memoir, and turning it into art. Sent to Brian in South Carolina.