birthday bag and art

Yesterday my aunt Libby and I spent the better part of the day at the Art Institute. An artist and art teacher, Libby is the person you want to take to an art museum. We stood teary eyed in front of works of Renoir and Rodin and were seriously mystified by the contemporary American "works" in the new wing. I have taken my share of art history classes, including a spectacular course in Impressionism when I studied in Paris, but I don't think anything I could learn would help me appreciate what passes for "art" in the late 20th century. A pile of gravel, a room of white panels, a video of a clown on a toilet reading a magazine, a big black canvas with the date October 31, 1978 painted on it, for no other reason than because the artist existed on this date. Where is the beauty? The inspiration? The skill? Doesn't take more than painting a canvas white to be an artist? Have we replaced observation and imagination for complete self absorption? The contrast is so great, it's disturbing. I even dare wonder, "My admission fee - not to mention tax dollars - is paying for this? Really?"

Since Libby lives in Canada, I don't get to see her very often, so the day together was a treat. And since today is her birthday, I wanted to make her something special to commemorate the visit and the day. So I attempted sewing my first bag. I pretty much followed the Simple Bag pattern in Last-Minute Patchwork + Quilted Gifts by Joelle Hoverson, except that I made the handles shorts and wider, added a button and clasp, and cinched in the top to cover up for the fact the the lining was slightly too small. I love how the colors all look together, and how well it suits my aunt Libby.