Rollicking is the word I think I want.
It turns out that Sundays are not always slow. The wind came up and blew folk into the gallery. The universe is full of complex and varied blessings. What can I say. Not much time to bead. There were some great conversations about art: promise and responsibility etc. We spoke about forms of abstraction. We spoke about gesture and method.
I’m inarticulate and beading now.