Quiet day. A couple of people visited because they read about me in the paper.
In the morning, I noticed I had a paper cut about 2 inches long on my face, not deep, but noticeable; I have no idea when/how I got this, but it's as if I'm advertising that weaving is a dangerous craft.
The gallery is sunny and bright in stark contrast to my basement studio. Foot looms are full-body workouts compared to my tiny KLIK which requires the upper body only; I'm finding weaving on KLIK all day harder. As a result, I've struggled with a minor aches, and overwhelming sleepiness; I've started to pace around the gallery to the utter annoyance of the gallery manager and staff, and have started playing haunting Scottish music with lots of drums instead of Iz. It took me (and Ben) a lot of energy, time and money to get me to where I am, and I started to feel like a POW.
The parents stopped by twice; Dad to have a rest on the comfy chairs. Renting and cleaning the chairs was worth it just for them.
Friday afternoon, I stayed open late because I said I would, thinking (hoping) some of my working friends my stop by, but what was I thinking? This is Nelson, and it's a sunny summer evening, and everybody is rushing to the beach/golf course (sunset was 8:47Pm last night)/Barbie, if not further afield. The gallery got unbearably hot, and I was as bored as a five-year-old on a rainy day.
Tomorrow, Saturday, I'll be open 11-3, but from here on I don't anticipate too much action or surprises. Or do I?