Halloh my esteemed comrades!

I was at the gallery until 5 am hanging up the new work, and in my delerium failed to photograph pieces for the blog. But here’s a temporary shot to tide The Curious over– it’s kind of like footage of the Yeti: blurry, dubious, but hopefully enough to incite intrigue.

“Anywhere.”, acrylic on wood

The show at Box Eight is finally tonight, and I’m just a flutter with nerves and excitement. Mostly excitement. I’ve been working on some of these pieces for months and I’m so very happy to have them seen.

The show tonight features three bands, several artists and a bit of an “eventy” vibe. There is a cover, but come on down and kick it with Ward in a jumpsuit.

I must say, one of the best moments of the process was sitting on the floor in a huge gallery space last night, putting some finishing touches on a piece while other artists hung their work and rushed around anxiously. It was close to 2 am, and the radio was blaring KCRW when a song by one of tonight’s music acts, Chester French was announced, along with our art show. A collective “w00000t!” rang out, and the excitement for tonight was quite palpable.

Thanks for reading and please continue to rock on.

Warmest regards,

Miss Alie Ward

PS- Um, a marching band just passed by my window on York Blvd. Are marching bands good omens?

Someone once said something brilliant about making an omelet, and eggs. Something about cracking them. Whatever.

Were that same master of metaphors to have tripped upon an art studio just before a show, he would have adjusted his monocle and thusly proclaimed “To make an art show, you have to crack open a few tubes of paint, scatter them all over the floor, keep a murky bucket of sloppy paintwater in the middle of the room, trip over it, and embrace that your studio will look like a meth den just before the camera guy from COPS busts in.” Also, your hair will look awful, he would have added.

Things are moving along at an even clip. I’m so excited to bring these pieces out of the crack den and into the world; I’m also excited to fall asleep in a bed, instead of with my face on a painting.

Hope to see you on the 16th, my comrades. Also, high quality prints of the piece “Then vs. Now” have just become available as of today. Yay.

Also, if you happen to be waiting on a back order of a tattoo shirt (particularly in a men’s size) please accept my most red-faced and sincere apologies that it’s taken so long to get them out the door. Post Saturday, they are first in line in the Curiological queue. They are each hand-inked in a precise, loving, time consuming fashion, and I’ll be sending out a batch after the show.

Much affection and many high fives,

Chief Curiologist

Halloh!

Just a quick update that my next show is on Saturday, August 16th at Box Eight. My closest of comrades (including The Georgia and Klimaface and The Micah) have received text messages pecked out by paint covered fingers today, detailing my fluctuating levels of excitement/anxiety as I remain sequestered in a state of creative hermitude.

For now, put this on your calendar and come by for a hello, a high five and to take advantage of our vodka sponsors. New paintings are being wrapped up, and they can’t wait to see you. And to have a Beverage of Relaxation with you.

Muchos amore from my studio/sauna,

Hello and hello and hello.

I’m back from Huckleberry Territory and my first staggers off of a plane and onto the curb at LAX reacquainted me with what I had temporarily forgotten: L.A. is hot and loud.

My time in Trout Creek, Montana was a bloated melange of good times, lake swimming, fattening cuisine, and ridiculously vast skies cluttered with more stars that I’d ever seen. There was also abundant taxidermy, fresh made waffles, and one corpse discovered in a hotel room. More on that later, preferably over white Russians to soften the shock. In all–other than that last part– I wouldn’t have changed a thing. I sat on a dock of a lake at dusk, watching the bats and hoping I’d remember every detail.

Now that I’ve come back, it’s time to get down to the task at hand: ass kicking. More specifically, the kicking of the ass of a to-do list involving tattoo shirt inking and getting ready for my next art show, set to take place at Box Eight on August 16th.

13 paintings are ready or in progress, and if you come by Box Eight on the 16th, you’ll get a gander at them and a complimentary high five.

More updates + photos to come. Meanwhile, please rock on.

After a year of eating dinner from a vending machine, manic off-hours multitasking and more whining than any one person should ever be allowed, I’m finally getting out of dodge.

In 24 hours, I’ll be in Trout Creek Montana, which–according to the 2000 census–has population of 261. My family is enormous, and the Ward Family Reunion ‘08 will more than double the town. Trout Creek should be terrified. I should be terrified.

But I’m about to stuff some SPF 70 and bug repellent in a suitcase and hit Big Sky country. When I come back next week, the whole new shipment of tattoo tees that have been on back order since the Father’s Day rush will have arrived. So if I owe you a shirt, my friends, it’s coming soon.

That is, of course, barring any major epiphanies. I’ve once before (junior year of high school) changed the course of my life (switched intended majors in college) because of sitting on a dock at night near a lake in Montana, watching bats feed on bugs and turtles slipping off logs (true story). I’m almost afraid that the serenity, clean air and lack of celebrity bloggers will make LA seem that much more absurd to return to.

When I get back, more details on that August 16 art show. Calendars: mark ‘em. Tattoo shirts: coming soon.

Until then,