Assemblagist Art

thought I’d get all fancy shmancy and try to enter a NextGEN image gallery here. we’ll see how this turns out. Clicking on the photo advances the frames… or you can wait … and wait …


Running out of clean underpants

If you’re my age, 62, you know to always wear clean underwear. You will most certainly be in a car wreck, some sort of emergency will occur, anything MEDICAL which will involve emergency technicians to rip off your clothing to administer aid. This will happen. Do not question it… if you wear inferior underpants, you will need emergency aid.

This is one of the laws of the jungle. Question it to your peril — it will happen to you.

Many facts were drilled into my little thick skull (a parental nomenclature referring to my inability to learn from my mistakes) as a child. Probably the top three (there were so many, how can I prioritize?) included pristine, like-new, underpants at all times.

What were the other life lessons drilled into my thick little skull? Eat your toast and you’ll grow hair on your chest. Obviously, not a priority as I aged out of that one rather quickly. It went right along with eat every carrot and pea on your plate, the family joke…



Someone Else’s Sadness

it was a case of other people’s sadness, not my own.  I felt bad for the people feeling bad. I had no feeling.
Talked to friend today about dead bodies. How they look. How it feels to see one. Got to ponder that a bit, roll it around in my head and think on it.

Thanksgiving Day

Another entry in the blog no one reads.

The day started out like any other Thanksgiving Day. At six a.m. I got a text that my former mother-in-law died the night before. My being informed that early meant the family was falling apart. Daughters distraught and a 19 hour drive or a long plane flight would ensue.

For me, it was a case of when one must travel 100 miles to be with now- family. Dogs needed exercise then kennel. This is done with a special key word to confinement. The handing out of a cheese offering will always be accepted prior to confinement. These monkey dogs are trained to do one thing, get in their kennel. Oftentimes they are induced to outside toilet habits but truly, getting in their kennel is their one trick.



Nice To Be Here

Since no one is reading this, let me say why I am afraid of Trump. I’m afraid of the way he mocks the disabled. Being disabled myself, it hurts to my core to watch him. The idea of a president-elect who thinks it’s okay to revert to the 1950s behaviors of a uninformed populace is shameful and disgraceful.

Fuck you, Mr. Trump. Some of us tremble uncontrollably. Others are slow to speak. Then there the neurologically impaired, those with bi-polar disorder, depression, list goes on … how will you mock them? And shame on you, shame on those of you who think it is alright to do so. Fuck you all.

God bless all America.


Starting Over

Boomer Thoughts.

This blog’s been docile for years, a microcosm of my docile, calm world. What’s been realized, through months of therapy (which will turn to years, if Medicare and Medicaid agree on a payment plan for me) is this: I don’t know how to be angry. I don’t know how to respond to anger.

My parents did not exhibit anger. It was truly a rare moment in our house. And they were angry … reading letters, thinking back about events … they must have been in despair over so many events. My grandmother (Mom’s side) was obviously manic-depressive with horrid depression, episodes of BLAMMO anger and despair. She would tell my poor Mom, back when Mom was a very young child, that she (my grandmother ) wouldn’t BE there when school ended. Mom would come home to an empty house. Whether this meant running away or suicide, Mom was too young to know.



2016 Arts of the Pamlico Fine Arts Show

Well, the judge was a loon. Choosing shit-work over the good stuff. That’s all I’ve got to say. It was about finding no “Honorable Mentions” in the 3D category. What a slap in the face for at the artists who contributed. Carolyn Sleeper’s work? Excuse me! Excellent entries, not rewarded by so much as a glance. (more…)


What does “liberal” mean? What does “conservative” mean?

We’ll start with Jack Plano and Milton Greenberg’s definitions: Liberalism: A political view that seeks to change the political, economic, or social status quo to foster the development and well-being of the individual. Liberals regard man as a rational creature who can use his intelligence to overcome human and natural obstacles to a good life for all, without resorting to violence against the established order. (oooh, isn’t that scary??) Liberalism is more concerned with process, with the method of solving problems, than the specific program. Significance: Liberalism evolved in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries as a doctrine emphasizing the full development of the individual, free from restrains of government. The twentieth-century liberal,conversely, looks to government as a means of correcting the abuses and shortcomings of society through positive programs of action…


val macewan

Fabricating verse…

while waiting for the magnificent storm clouds to fully mature, I thought about creating verses on scans of the hand-sewn napkins and handkerchiefs passed down from my at least two grandmothers back and my mom and some from my Sylvia, my once mother-in-law. What better way to elevate the art of embroidery than to add literary art over top of it? This is my first attempt. Fabricated Literature, fabricated verse. Will scan more sewing …

Fabricated Verse by Val MacEwan

Fabricated Verse. Developed this day, Saturday, August 27, 2016 in my Brown St. Studio and Gallery.


October 2005 A post about Daddy

Posted on Thursday 13 October 2005

Daddy loved to eat really good food...Found this card with my father’s things. He went to New Orleans in, I think, early 1942, on his way to OCS. Most of his letters from the WWII era involve food. If Daddy had something good to eat, he was just fine. Stationed at Newport News, VA, he was a Lt., had something to do with loading Liberty Ships. Mother worked as a civilian for Army personnel, interviewing and hiring civilians for the shipyards.

He trained in Ithaca NY and the letters to Mom would describe, in great detail, how well he was being fed at the boarding house they were staying in. I’ll have to dig out the letters… remember him through them.

And then there’s THIS.

1 Comment for ‘The Restaurant Antoine’

  1. Caroline
    12/4/2005 | 12:40 pm

    The THIS is really fun and addictive.