tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178764962024-03-12T23:07:05.277-05:00Processart | documentation | detailsM.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.comBlogger1027125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-10543633583853983752020-11-07T08:41:00.000-06:002021-01-17T08:41:56.216-06:00It's over. <p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-odft5dCfKNI/X6c_mbVu25I/AAAAAAAALuk/4-Zo0iFhL7YQ-CZEjytXVocHAtjnPbT1gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1500/DSC_2397cc.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="985" data-original-width="1500" height="421" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-odft5dCfKNI/X6c_mbVu25I/AAAAAAAALuk/4-Zo0iFhL7YQ-CZEjytXVocHAtjnPbT1gCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h421/DSC_2397cc.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Nov 7, 2020. Tears of joy and relief. It's been unreal and I'm ready to get back to a sense of normalcy. The desert has been tough. </div>M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-2916595945722961722020-01-12T08:43:00.000-06:002021-01-17T08:58:25.371-06:00In which I wake up early to get my existentialist on<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />January 12, 2020. <div>We are all burning out.<br />
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Yesterday two friends on different sides of the country expressed checking out of the art scene. </div>M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-43828129739146016472020-01-10T19:17:00.000-06:002020-01-10T19:17:06.898-06:00Wayfinding. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So much has changed in the last decade. Change is good of course, but often unsettling. I pride myself on adapting to situations and creating art out of these adaptations. Life, as it were.<br />
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My cousin was in California the other day for a corporate training thingy. Her pleasantly comfortable hotel was a mere 2.5 hours from where I live, but since that's much closer than the 3-day drive to Atlanta, I packed an overnight bag and met her for dinner. The next day I had planned to drive down the coast, find a quaint beachside motel, and do that hotel thing I so often fantasize about. The fantasy is disproportionate to reality now. Instead, I ate lunch, people-watched in the beachside tourist town, (tourist towns feature predominately in my life now) cancelled my reservation at the perfunctory but downwardly-mobile motel and drove back home that day. In traffic.<br />
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I'm not an outgoing person. Maybe at one point I will be, (I doubt it) but overall if we were to make a graph, we'd see that no, I've pretty much flat-lined in the social arena all my life. And maybe that's okay. However it wasn't until this exposure came back from the lab that I realized the work I <i>think</i> I should be doing—and the work I actually <i>am</i> doing are worlds apart, and that maybe Morandi was onto something, and that maybe, still lifes are self-portraits.<br />
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That's all I've got for today.<br />
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<br />M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-71496523548187550062019-10-16T15:21:00.000-05:002019-10-16T15:21:10.658-05:00Sneak peek at some new work. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Just got the rolls back from the lab. No post processing as of yet.</div>
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Animal Instinct. The Desert, Survival. Protection. Death. Home. </div>
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M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0California, USA36.778261 -119.4179323999999823.886426 -140.07222939999997 49.670096 -98.763635399999984tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-62822407892885176292019-01-20T19:24:00.000-06:002019-01-20T19:24:46.463-06:00Double Header: Happy New Year, 2019. An Exhibition Announcement.<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">It’s Sunday. Why has blogging become so difficult? I’m within arms reach of some sort of electronic device nearly all day. And yet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">It’s possible that I have reconciled that making art out of day-to-day life, is more interesting to make, than to write about. It’s also possible I don’t know any souls still reading blogs. Meanwhile, if you’re a pictures kind of person, you can find me on Instagram.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Latest news: </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Very fun opening last night at <a href="https://www.unpavedgallery.com/copy-of-current-exhibition-1"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">UNPAVED Gallery</span></a>, a brand new artist-run space here in the hi- desert. </span></div>
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M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-3930595175829985852018-11-05T11:19:00.002-06:002018-11-05T11:19:59.876-06:00Desert Time. Scenes From a Lapsed Blogger<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flyer for "Lost," <u>Anonymous was a Vlog</u>, 2018</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Video Still, "Cloaked," <u>Anonymous was a Vlog</u>, 2018</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Video Still, "Nature Girl," <u>Anonymous was a Vlog</u>, 2018</td></tr>
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Desert Time. It's a real thing. I believe it means something along the lines of, "eventually." Since moving out of LA, I've been told on more than one occasion I'm "so professional." Usually this would be a complement, possibly even a side-effect of being in a career which requires one to be able to show up, make work and deliver shit by certain dates without being a total spaz. But hey, it's 2018 and enough of you sat the 2016 election out, and by sitting that out, I mean, "but her emails"— that I'm constantly negotiating what constitutes a sense of professionalism these days. Before Desert Time, there was The Slower Pace of the South.<br />
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I'm learning to unwind a little out here, but not really. This summer was unbearably hot. As a result of not being able to lift a finger for fear of heat exhaustion and outright lethargy, I began a vlog. Vlogging has been on my bucket list for a while. It's a rabbit hole of research for sure, but after having a conversation with an artist friend, I was inspired, and thus the first episode dropped mid-summer, July 5th, I believe. I only say 'dropped' becuase all the hipsters say dropped. What really happened was that I uploaded a low-res .mp4 to my YouTube account, mahvideo1000. The account name was inspired by Ursala 1000 back in the late 90s. File under Geek101.<br />
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The goal was and still is 52 episodes. I'm not making the weekly quota, but as the Celestial Deity of Video Art and DIY Video Tutorials as my witness, I'll get those 52 episodes done by next summer-ish. I'm at 12 eps now. September and October were a bit of a wash. I took on some freelance work—priorities and all.<br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLYvVZRuYMDrUfW8JBQo1VYfUP72nzOYwm" target="_blank">Link to the current playlist here.</a> And remember. they're low-res downloads because nothing in life is totally free.<br />
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I'll be reporting back with some upcoming shows and news for 2019. It's slow, but I have been productive.<br />
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<br />M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-47846241208536857952018-05-15T17:33:00.001-05:002018-05-15T17:33:05.922-05:00Accountability.I swear I thought I'd get back to blogging on a regular basis. Alas, no. Meanwhile here's a rundown of what's been happening. I almost wrote, "haps" but I'd have to put on a black beret and snap my fingers while writing and that's just too much, man, too much.<br />
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I made it through an entire winter depending on a wood burning stove for heat. Because I often take on a scarcity mentality, I have enough wood to last through the Apocalypse. My holtzhausen I was so proud of building has become a birthing unit and luxury high-rise for desert rats and squirrels. The only way to remedy this is to tear it down and reconstruct it. As I write this, the tiniest little baby squirrel is dining on one of my agaves.<br />
Time needed: 1 full day<br />
Skill Level: moderate<br />
Enthusiasm: meh<br />
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I bought ten native plants from the Mojave Desert Land Trust. Three survived. I call this a success. My friend, Kate and her brother were passing through over the winter and brought with them some fig offshoot. Her brother planted 3 fig saplings. They looked like twigs, but I call them saplings. One survived and is currently in a primitive cage I built to protect it from the squirrels. It will grow up feeling isolated, but very special.<br />
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I've been lax on building necessary storage space for things most people put in their garage. Doesn't everyone have a storage tree?<br />
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I'm happy to report that the Ground Nests I built as part of the Archeology Project have withstood winds up to 45-50 mph.<br />
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Work from the paint studio has been slow but steady. The work continues to focus on place, only now here in the Mojave Desert. Rocks still show up in the work, as do plants and micro-bits of the terrain and artifacts that resurface after the winds and rain. I made the observation last week that there are more shades of green here than back east. Prickly Pear, Barrel Cacti, Agave, Palo Verdes, Mexican Birds of Paradise, Creosote, Lavender, Rosemary, Alepo Pines, Joshua Trees, of course, Yucca, Cholla, some wildflowers and numerous other plants I haven't learnt the names of. All green.<br />
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I've been making videos documenting ordinary routines of homesteading life, mixed in with some video meditations on life here in the desert.<br />
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Update: After spotting the third squirrel enter the holtzhausen condo today, I tore it down and have begun rebuilding it. I was going to leave an opening but structurally that's a no-go.<br />
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My desertversary approaches....M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-48150414066966878802017-11-11T19:12:00.000-06:002018-04-20T19:13:15.704-05:00THE ARCHEOLOGY TAPES 1: WHAT DIRECTION SHOULD YOU FACE A BUDDHA? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #080808; font-family: Roboto; font-size: 12px;">THE ARCHEOLOGY TAPES 1: </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #080808; font-family: Roboto; font-size: 12px;">WHAT DIRECTION SHOULD YOU FACE A BUDDHA?</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #080808; font-family: Roboto; font-size: 12px;"> 2017,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #080808; font-family: Roboto; font-size: 12px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #080808; font-family: Roboto; font-size: 12px;">HDV, 3:03 min. color, sound.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #080808; font-family: Roboto; font-size: 12px;">THE ARCHEOLOGY TAPES 1: WHAT DIRECTION SHOULD YOU FACE A BUDDHA? takes place on a parcel of land in the Mojave Desert, where over time, past residents had used the property as a private landfill for both household and green waste. Using both collected and constructed footage, the video blends fact with fiction to create a poetic narrative about a modern-day homesteader in the process of building a large nest and bioswale out of the yard debris left behind. THE ARCHEOLOGY TAPES series continues my investigation into domestic space, the everyday, and the absurd, while leaving behind in real life, a site-specific environmental arts piece that will facilitate land rehabilitation in the damaged area. </span>M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-82481207136054902622017-10-09T19:13:00.000-05:002018-04-20T19:17:18.190-05:00Oct 9, 2017.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #080808; font-family: Roboto;">Test shots of Ground Nest in progress. The area behind my house was used as a dumping ground for burning dead pines and oleander, along with detritus left behind by owners, past. I’m working on a rehabilitating the areas that were scorched and composting into sculptural habitats for desert creatures. There’s also the amateur archeological aspect to the project as I catalog the household items I find buried and scattered on the ground. </span>M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-21758643856030778392017-10-02T19:18:00.000-05:002018-04-20T19:30:21.537-05:00OCTOBER 2, 2017<b>OCTOBER 2, 2017</b><br />
Before we found out about Las Vegas, before we found out about Tom Petty, it was just another day.<br />
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Desert Housekeeping, PB&J Detail, video, 2017<br />
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Giant Rock (Screen Test 1, Agnes), video, 2017M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-86785578438890399232017-09-23T22:33:00.000-05:002017-09-23T22:33:29.869-05:00Russian Roulette<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dqJbQV4jPcs/Wccj3L9WcMI/AAAAAAAALC8/cijmX2h5JtAjYCppdYH8ig0--DlVzZqqgCLcBGAs/s1600/21687119_10212957245701254_5880516068948605984_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dqJbQV4jPcs/Wccj3L9WcMI/AAAAAAAALC8/cijmX2h5JtAjYCppdYH8ig0--DlVzZqqgCLcBGAs/s320/21687119_10212957245701254_5880516068948605984_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "SF Optimized", system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing: -0.11999999731779099px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "SF Optimized", system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing: -0.11999999731779099px;">She avoided doing the repair because dark, cramped spaces reminded her of the four years she lived in a cave and ate scorpions while waiting for the new regime—but then she got an estimate from a licensed contractor and put on a pot of Oleander tea. </span>M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-53803249611681787722017-09-19T19:49:00.000-05:002017-09-19T19:49:45.614-05:00Tales From the Dump: Casual Friday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxB6rUSXfeI/WcG4_IEgpWI/AAAAAAAALCY/bmz2GZPGIUoGyGfzC1SfBg72g-NvnQbMACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_6976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxB6rUSXfeI/WcG4_IEgpWI/AAAAAAAALCY/bmz2GZPGIUoGyGfzC1SfBg72g-NvnQbMACLcBGAs/s320/IMG_6976.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helveticaneue"; font-size: 12px;">Casual Friday was his favorite day of the week but the summer had been stressful for us both. He took a long inhale and said he was taking off again- didn't know where or how long. As he exhaled he smiled and blew a ring of smoke in my face. I picked up my Heineken and took the last sip. </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0); font-family: "helveticaneue"; font-size: 12px;">No need to let good beer go to waste. </span><span style="font-family: "helveticaneue"; font-size: 12px;">They never found his other shoe. </span>M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-38761475913703425112017-09-14T19:39:00.000-05:002017-09-19T19:49:36.414-05:00Tales From The Dump: The Man in the Blue Polo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0uJXdP82nRQ/WcG3K6wV8WI/AAAAAAAALCM/f0T3pkNd1_gswISQTzKz_VpE1NWJhiazgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_6888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0uJXdP82nRQ/WcG3K6wV8WI/AAAAAAAALCM/f0T3pkNd1_gswISQTzKz_VpE1NWJhiazgCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_6888.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Pretend like you're holding an invisible knife, I said. Otherwise it looks like you're fidgeting with your bandana. A few days later I found his vision board in the garbage along with a receipt from SkyMall and an ode to polo shirts he had written the summer we first met. It was a doomed relationship from the start. </div>
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M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-14400977178026473632017-09-13T19:24:00.000-05:002018-04-20T19:24:32.258-05:00SEPTEMBER 2017<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HTMnwYxFt94/WtqED5N3GSI/AAAAAAAALIQ/OUE3AlbEliMmfeQ05PmcZdcFC4TTv8gKQCLcBGAs/s1600/203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HTMnwYxFt94/WtqED5N3GSI/AAAAAAAALIQ/OUE3AlbEliMmfeQ05PmcZdcFC4TTv8gKQCLcBGAs/s400/203.jpg" width="300" /></a><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><em style="background-color: white; color: #080808; font-family: Roboto;">Mary Addison Hackett, Concrete Jetty (after Robert Smithson), installed at Jemez Homestead, Flamingo Heights, JOSHUA TREE, California, summer, 2017. Photo by Sierra Delgado.</em></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #080808; font-family: Roboto;">While watering plants at </span><a data-cke-saved-href="http://www.megmadison.com/jemez/" href="http://www.megmadison.com/jemez/" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: Roboto;">Jemez Homestead</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #080808; font-family: Roboto;">, I discovered pieces of broken concrete strewn about. Spiral Jetty came to mind and I spent some time imposing my sense of order. "Jetty" from the French word, jetée</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto;">, meaning "thrown," signifies something thrown out. The lack of a local body of water, did not deter me. </span><br />
<em style="background-color: white; color: #080808; font-family: Roboto; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">Mary Addison Hackett, Concrete Jetty (after Robert Smithson), installed at Jemez Homestead, Flamingo Heights, JOSHUA TREE, California, summer, 2017. Photo by Sierra Delgado.</em><br />
M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-15004507553694998772017-09-11T19:48:00.000-05:002017-09-19T19:48:45.215-05:00Desert Nights<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DBquS2NsWno/WcG6H2iiw7I/AAAAAAAALCk/wrVEV7IZ1Nk6IENPc3MVmJ4V71wbUs1kACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_6813.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DBquS2NsWno/WcG6H2iiw7I/AAAAAAAALCk/wrVEV7IZ1Nk6IENPc3MVmJ4V71wbUs1kACLcBGAs/s320/IMG_6813.JPG" width="256" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helveticaneue"; font-size: 12px;">When I was a kid I asked my mom whether she liked day or night the best. She said night. Being around 5 years old, the full spectrum of nighttime was over my head but it struck me as an adult answer, full of mystery and a little dangerous. </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0); font-family: "helveticaneue"; font-size: 12px;">Every time I pull in my desert driveway late at night, I feel like I'm in a David Lynch film.</span>M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-87760170482916962182017-08-27T21:24:00.000-05:002017-08-27T21:26:46.503-05:00Hi-Desert Breadbox<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qOAn8fCaN1Y/WaN4YtTskvI/AAAAAAAALBU/8J6zV5TJaTYQ46O1ce7SDFrN3lMm0PbkACLcBGAs/s1600/FullSizeRender%2B4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1501" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qOAn8fCaN1Y/WaN4YtTskvI/AAAAAAAALBU/8J6zV5TJaTYQ46O1ce7SDFrN3lMm0PbkACLcBGAs/s320/FullSizeRender%2B4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">7:48am.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Because it’s Sunday, I decide to sleep in. I still have yesterday’s headache. I let the dog out and go back to bed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">8:03 am. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I’m unable to sleep in. I boil water for coffee. Based on experience, this is day 2 of a 3.5 day migraine. I made fresh guacamole yesterday for Michelle and Caroline, but forgot to offer it to them. I also forgot that I was testing out my breadbox. Inside was a new loaf of store-bought bread still wrapped in plastic, an opened bag of tortilla chips, with the top folded down a couple of times to seal in freshness, and a small cup containing a few tortilla chips basking sans wrapper in the tidy confines of the breadbox. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">8:04 am.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I open the breadbox and scream. Inside was a legion of ants crawling all over my breadbox test subjects. In succession, I douse the entire counter and breadbox with organic ant killer, vinegar, peppermint soap, cedar oil, and more vinegar. Next I wipe the floor down and take the party outside. Lighting fast observations: The cup of exposed chips is covered in ants. The bag of open, but loosely sealed bag of chips, is also creeping me out. I scrutinize the six dollar loaf of unopened bread thoroughly. I transfer the sliced bread to a Ziploc bag and place the bag in the fridge. Fuck freshness. I mist the counter with cedar oil once more and vacuum. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">10 am.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I re-boil my water for the 3rd time and finally make coffee. I still have a migraine. The coffee tastes funny, but I am ant free for now. I burn sage and wave it over the killing fields. The breadbox sits empty and open. Outside by the trashcan there's a hermetically sealed trash bag full of ants gorging themselves silly on fucking chips.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">11 am.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I open the six dollar loaf of bread and carefully look for any signs of life. Satisfied there is none, I decide guacamole on toast will help my migraine. The toast is fine. The guac is fine, but I still have a migraine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">1:38 pm</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I try recuperating in every room of the house. Currently I’m on the couch tucked away from the sunlight. It’s dark even though it's a beautiful day outside. Since the morning coffee tasted awful, I’m having iced this afternoon. I’ve never had my taste buds affected by a headache, but it could have been the combination of organics this morning. Fun fact: ants have a chemical compound that can cause blindness. I rub my eyes a lot these days. Floaters, ants. I take nothing for granted. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">2:35 pm. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Earlier in the week I rsvp’d to a film screening to be held tonight. I was looking forward to this event, but it requires I use my eyes. Why can’t migraines affect your elbows or little toes? </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Because:</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><i>migraine</i></b><i>. late 14c., megrim, from Old French migraigne (13c.), from vulgar pronunciation of Late Latin hemicrania "pain in one side of the head, headache," from Greek hemikrania, from hemi- "half" + kranion "skull" (see cranium).</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">2:47 pm.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Latin class is over. Time for another nap. I try a yoga mat on the floor. Child's pose, then Shavasana, also known as corpse pose. I use an eye pillow, but my body is restless. I backtrack and try and pinpoint what triggered the migraine. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">4:28 pm</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I change out of my pajamas. Sort of. Switched tops. I've eaten most of the guac and five slices of six dollar bread by now. Coffee's not doing it today, so I've been hydrating with water in between naps. The migraine is still there, but knowing I'm possibly over the worst of it, I feel like I can stay in an upright position for 30 minutes at a time. The eyes are tired though and I can't focus. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">4: 35 pm </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I feed Agnes and eat the remaining guac on toast for my own dinner. </span></div>
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7:15pm</div>
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I miss the film screening. One day I will rip out that granite counter top that camouflages the ants. I don't know what wlll become of the breadbox. </div>
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M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-45525605276572725532017-08-16T18:31:00.002-05:002017-08-16T18:31:28.225-05:00Metaphor<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<a href="http://www.cnn.com/2017/08/16/politics/republican-reactions-donald-trump/index.html" target="_blank">I can’t do much today.</a> I live in the desert and have a major ant colony about 20 feet from my door. If that were the only one, I’d be chill, but it’s not. Agnes is small and blind and I’m a helicopter mom, <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/global-opinions/wp/2017/08/16/president-trump-must-go/?utm_term=.9a5b60cb42d0" target="_blank">so I look at swarms of ants with distrust</a>. I’m also a buddhist, <a href="http://www.existentialbuddhist.com/2010/09/on-not-killing/" target="_blank">so technically I don’t kill things</a>. Instead, I have a bag of organic insect stuff that I sprinkle around the exterior of the house. <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2017/08/15/us/politics/trump-press-conference-charlottesville.html" target="_blank">It smells like spearmint.</a> The word “kill” is on the package. Even so, I’m not sure there will be a day when I’ll be able to camp outside under the stars. I notice when I try and keep them at bay, more ants rally around. It's freaky. </div>
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I dug holes today. I started early. I’m not an archeologist by training, but the mounds on the other side of the fence have gotten the best of my curiosity. </div>
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Green plastic beads</div>
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Rusty tools</div>
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Roofing material</div>
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Bricks</div>
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Astroturf remnants</div>
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A small plastic stake identifying a plant </div>
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Golf ball</div>
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The previous owners used the back of the property as a dumping ground for downed trees and limbs. <a href="http://www.latimes.com/politics/la-na-pol-joint-chiefs-race-20170816-story.html" target="_blank">I’m working on rehabilitating it</a>. It will take some time, but some of the debris has turned to mulch and maybe I can plant things. </div>
M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-8599134285461130742017-07-06T19:25:00.000-05:002018-04-20T19:25:59.212-05:00JULY, 2017<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6rPqp27auI4/WtqE90IaMPI/AAAAAAAALIY/9s-3U60f_kUM00ODfNzVXdoS5aB54566wCLcBGAs/s1600/201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="966" height="424" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6rPqp27auI4/WtqE90IaMPI/AAAAAAAALIY/9s-3U60f_kUM00ODfNzVXdoS5aB54566wCLcBGAs/s640/201.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<em style="background-color: white; color: #080808; font-family: Roboto;">Mary Addison Hackett, Sweeping in Wonder Valley, Amboy Road, Wonder Valley, California, July 6, 2017. </em><em style="background-color: white; color: #080808; font-family: Roboto;">[Photo by Meg Madison]</em><br />
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<i><br style="background-color: white; color: #080808; font-family: Roboto;" /></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #080808; font-family: Roboto;">This past summer I relocated my home and studio to Joshua Tree, California. June was spent looking for a place to live and work. I purchased an average size parcel just large enough to engage with my immediate environment on a daily basis. Priorities have included home repairs and learning the ways of the desert. While painting has been a major part of my studio practice—video, writing, photography, and time-based works have become increasingly important as ways of communicating and interacting. Maintenance, both absurd and practical, has been a theme in my work for 25 years and the desert does not disappoint with regard to source material. The desert does not lend itself to being domesticated, and yet…</span><br />
M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-18442524673885563712017-06-29T00:33:00.000-05:002017-06-29T00:33:14.347-05:00The Desert is Inconvenient. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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Day 32. Welcome to the Wild West.<br />
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I've lost track of how many miles I'm putting on my car per week, and I work from home. To be fair, for the last few weeks I was traveling from Point A to Point B two to three times a day, with side trips to Home Depo where I keep returning stuff: (crawlspace vents- yes, I measured, and no, they don't stock my size; light bulbs that are too garish for desert nights, and some <i>thing </i>I would have eventually smashed with a hammer trying to open had I kept it.) A trip to the local grocery store requires strategic planning, and a trip "down the hill" to Trader Joe's entails emergency supplies and an itinerary. There's a battalion of ants colonizing <i>my</i> land and I've already had a close encounter with a baby scorpion [See above about crawlspace vent.] <br />
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I could go on, but here's the thing— inconvenience is a wonderful teacher and I couldn't be happier.<br />
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<br />M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-82796097020332884222017-06-11T14:29:00.001-05:002017-06-11T14:30:52.687-05:00What goes around comes around<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JzlKlT6gq-I/WT2OMYzU9UI/AAAAAAAAK_o/yJmd9F4_SOI01v8Swl_2uKmhc1Y9cUo9QCLcB/s1600/IMG_1091%2Badj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JzlKlT6gq-I/WT2OMYzU9UI/AAAAAAAAK_o/yJmd9F4_SOI01v8Swl_2uKmhc1Y9cUo9QCLcB/s320/IMG_1091%2Badj.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The house needs a few repairs and we're still negotiating the details. Today I learned the current owner would like to leave all the furniture and the contents of the house. I'm simpatico. I did the same more or less two weeks ago. This move has been loaded with symmetry and synchronicity.<br />
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I'm still in awe of the landscape. The physical contrast is, of course, striking and when I look at old (two weeks old, to be exact) photos of my former house, the emotional distance is equally stunning and poignant. Like looking at an open casket. I can't really stare too long.<br />
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<br />M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-68239646739224120362017-05-29T00:43:00.000-05:002017-09-19T21:48:28.422-05:00Joshua Tree. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xnjmj1mLKOk/WTTrJJ46GWI/AAAAAAAAK_I/YnA3-FwAGc81ooevQ60z0bbgRfMP1-ibQCLcB/s1600/IMG_1117.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xnjmj1mLKOk/WTTrJJ46GWI/AAAAAAAAK_I/YnA3-FwAGc81ooevQ60z0bbgRfMP1-ibQCLcB/s320/IMG_1117.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Agnes and I finally made it to the high desert. We're crossing our fingers and toes that we'll soon be moving into a little home on five acres in Joshua Tree with a backyard view of the Little San Bernadino Mountains and just enough, but not too much, city lights in the distance to remember we're connected to humanity.M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-13394764868043438142016-07-24T09:37:00.002-05:002016-07-24T10:04:44.322-05:00Dear New York. I love you. <i>Originally written... oh, about a month ago.</i><br />
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For those of us keeping score on my productivity the last two weeks in New York, here's a cheat sheet:<br />
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I finished up the edits on some videos, which are for the most part under wraps, but you can see an excerpt from one of them <a href="http://maryaddisonhackett.com/art-works/video-art/1/0" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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I contributed a review of <a href="http://www.charlesgoldmanwork.net/" target="_blank">Charles Goldman</a>'s work to <a href="http://www.twocoatsofpaint.com/2016/06/street-smarts-charles-goldman-at-songs.html" target="_blank">Two Coats of Paint</a> and <strike>will try to sneak i</strike>n a post highlighting some of my gallery hopping below.<br />
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My itenerary, in no particular order:<br />
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<a href="http://lifeonmarsgallery.com/" target="_blank">Life on Mars</a><br />
<a href="http://www.momentaart.org/" target="_blank">Momenta</a><br />
<a href="http://nurture art" target="_blank">NURTUREart</a><br />
<a href="http://honeyramka.com/" target="_blank">Honey Ramka</a><br />
<a href="http://www.microscopegallery.com/" target="_blank">Microscope Gallery</a><br />
<a href="http://www.transmitter.nyc/" target="_blank">Transmitter</a><br />
<a href="http://www.tigerstrikesasteroid.com/" target="_blank">TSA New York</a><br />
<a href="http://www.underdonk.com/" target="_blank">Underdonk</a><br />
<a href="http://www.songsforpresidents.com/" target="_blank">Songs for Presidents</a><br />
<a href="http://www.antonkerngallery.com/" target="_blank">Anton Kern Gallery</a><br />
<a href="http://www.davidzwirner.com/" target="_blank">David Zwirner</a><br />
<a href="http://www.michaelrosenfeldart.com/" target="_blank">Michael Rosenfeld Gallery</a> (Group show with Fairfield Porter)<br />
<a href="https://www.whitecolumns.org/" target="_blank">White Columns</a><br />
<a href="http://www.thehighline.org/" target="_blank">The High Line</a><br />
<a href="https://www.moma.org/" target="_blank">MoMA</a><br />
<a href="http://www.newmuseum.org/" target="_blank">The New Museum</a><br />
<a href="http://www.bam.org/" target="_blank">Brooklyn Academy of Music</a>. (The Lobster)<br />
Studio vist with <a href="http://margaret-murphy.com/" target="_blank">Margaret Murphy</a><br />
Studio visit with <a href="http://www.sharonlbutler.com/" target="_blank">Sharon Butler</a><br />
Breakfast with <a href="http://www.terridilling.com/" target="_blank">Terri Dilling</a> and her husband, who happened to be in town.<br />
A studio visit and lovely and ongoing conversation about art, politics, race, gender, the city, the suburbs, life, etc with <a href="http://sugarbushwick.com/home.html">Gwendolyn Skaggs</a><br />
Zazen with Zen Center of New York City<br />
Migraine<br />
Jazz in Union Square Park<br />
Coin laundry and pizza<br />
A few iced coffees outside Hana Natural Foods.<br />
The Post Office, Wyckoff Station<br />
The G, L, M, 2, 3, F, and Path.<br />
Dogs, cats, and birds.<br />
Binged watched a few episodes of Orange is the New Black.<br />
Caught two amazing sunsets.<br />
Vegan cookies. (note to self: begin running again)<br />
Scored some free books on the landing, and a magic blanket at a thrift store.<br />
Two dozen hardboiled eggs and egg salad.<br />
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<br />M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-2119670004213099552016-05-30T19:37:00.000-05:002016-05-30T23:36:00.836-05:00Review(s) update<i><b>The Repair Project (And Other Affairs of Just Plain Living</b></i><b>)</b> at Seed Space received a lovely and generous review on <a href="http://burnaway.org/review/meding-as-metaphor-mary-addison-hackett/" target="_blank">Burnaway</a>, by Erica Ciccarone, who also writes for <a href="https://nycnash.wordpress.com/author/nycnash/" target="_blank">NYCNash</a>.<br />
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And a equally lovely spread in the <a href="http://www.tennessean.com/story/life/arts/2016/05/29/seed-space-examines-art-mending/84787424/" target="_blank">Tennessean</a> written by Sara Estes.<br />
(Note, the amazing 1/3 page photo submitted was taken by moi. Amazing, of course, because I was also in the photo. This is one of my highly developed skill sets of late, of which only a handful of people have a clue what that means.)<br />
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There will be two more mending sessions, including a closing reception on the June 4th. Check the gallery website or their social media feeds for details.<br />
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More news of the cryptic sort to follow.<br />
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M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-71463900396520012312016-05-25T19:40:00.000-05:002016-05-25T19:40:15.898-05:00More leaning in. <div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WsvoN-ZmxvY/V0W0hQO8P9I/AAAAAAAAKxI/xZJykxT1Yd01ULzKKWvltskW6j1kqxylQCK4B/s1600/Mom%2Band%2Bme%2BHH%2Bsm.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WsvoN-ZmxvY/V0W0hQO8P9I/AAAAAAAAKxI/xZJykxT1Yd01ULzKKWvltskW6j1kqxylQCK4B/s320/Mom%2Band%2Bme%2BHH%2Bsm.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Thank God they dug out that hedge pictured in the background. I miss this woman. </div>
M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17876496.post-91005122450214358282016-05-25T07:49:00.001-05:002016-05-25T07:49:27.340-05:00Leaning in. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Your editor, <i>leaning in</i>. </div>
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And while I've got you attention, I'll direct you to a essay in which the term "faux feminism" is used by bell hooks at the Feminist Wire. </div>
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M.A.H.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02303746220928405906noreply@blogger.com0