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[Detail of] Tom Phillips with
Tom Phillips with Women's Work, 1997
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New this month:
CURRENT EXHIBITIONS THE MODERN AT SUNDANCE SQUARE, Fort Worth, Texas VALERIE CHARLTON GALLERY, Midhurst West Sussex ROYAL ACADEMY, London ST. ALBANS CATHEDRAL, University of Hertfordshire Art and Design Gallery, Hatfield MUSEO CENTRO DE ARTE REINE SOFIA, Madrid COURTAULD INSTITUTE ROYAL INSTITUTION, London 4 July 2001 RAIN AND FIRE Sure, 4 July's a fine day to be in any of the 13 colonies or the 37 States later united under red, white, and blue. But Baltimore is sweltering and oh, what a blast to have been at Tom's opening three nights ago in Midhurst West Sussex! Lucy says it was grand, and everyone loves the exhibition. I'm hoping for a quick hop before the show closes in August; if you have the chance to take it in, please do and think kind thoughts about this Yank who's 50/50 on making it or not. I'm not much of a yankee doodle dandy in this heat, but it's cool out here on the back porch where there's a ceiling fan, and my Siamese cat is stretched out in front of my laptop, counting squirrels with the tip of his tail. We're catching up on this month's edition. The smell of charcoal grills begins to fill the air, and the neighbors play the weather report on their radio: rain likely this evening; fireworks could be cancelled. Storms come up quickly this time of year -- last Sunday I got caught in a downpour while bicycling to the cinema for 'Sexy Beast' -- but on this Independence Day afternoon the rain comes up slow. A nice break, really; the temperature drop about ten degrees. The cat gets friskier; I put him on a deck chair before he tips my water glass. A slow start, sure, but the rain gains momentum and by sundown it's hard and steady. Night's falling and I'm glad I'm not down at the harbor, rolled up in a picnic blanket waiting for the announcement that the show's been called off. Nice on the porch, though. We've almost finished the pages for the Dulwich / South London shows, and I notice the fireflies are out despite the rain. They're swirling in a dry spot under the branches of the pear tree, and a few take blinking refuge under the awning of the porch. One adventurer stays a pawlength from my cat, demanding his attention. The fireworks aren't called off after all. I hear the thunder and see the reflection of light off the low ceiling of clouds. The cat starts leaping at the firefly, and I'm the only one not dancing. Remember dancing back and forth between the two exhibitions back in 1997. What a time. This month we're revisiting those shows; a recollection if you attended, a discovery if you did not. Enjoy the weather. Enjoy the memories.
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