Dear Jack.
I took the mister to the double art opening at the Open Book building down on Washington Avenue near the Metrodome on Saturday. The center’s own parking lot was full, so we had to park the car in a lot across the street, which a nice policeman leaning on a cane told us would be OK even though the sign said otherwise. But we didn’t get towed, so I guess he was right.

There was a nice crowd at the Open Book--not so crowded that you couldn’t move about easily, but enough people to make me feel my taste in events must not be too odd. The Minnesota Center for Book Arts had a show called Loosely Bound, showcasing works by the folks in its artists co-op (which will be up till May 6); and Rosalux Gallery just across the lobby was opening a show called Dreams and Revelations, featuring two artists who’ve shown their work together before, sculptor Lucy Grantz and painter David Malcolm Scott. I didn’t get much of a chance to look at the Rosalux show, but it’ll be up all month, so I’ll be sure to go back later, most likely by myself when I can linger as much as I like.

We didn’t hang around too long, as hubby was getting hungry and didn’t want to nosh on the tasty fare offered by the folks at MCBA (courtesy of Auriga Restaurant); he’s more of a sit-down-to-eat sort of guy. But we did enjoy the convivial mingling of artists--who were made to wear rather large, cumbersome name tags around their necks--and art admirers like us. I enjoyed seeing some people I had met when I volunteered to help stitch the Winter Book, MCBA’s annual handmade book project. This impressed hubby, who thought I must be something of a celebrity if some of the artists knew my name.

We paused to watch a demonstration of the Vandercook press, which churned out a perfect little bookmark when you cranked the handle and lined up the paper just so. The man standing next to me was especially impressed with the whole operation, oohing and aahing and then examining the bookmark, handing it to me and saying with a note of awe, “And it wasn’t even made by a machine.”

Later, when we went into the gift shop to peruse the merchandise, I noticed that hubby was paging through a copy of the Winter Book. He seemed to make a point of admiring the stitching, at least while I was standing next to him.
—M