To get in the '60's mood (and to procrastinate), I decided to play around in Photoshop since I have no spare T-shirts to tie-dye or macramé to weave. Possum suggested experimenting with hallucinogenic drugs first, so I gave him catnip. His instinctive understanding of the zeitgeist of the '60s just amazes me. Were we all trying to behave like cats in those days?
When Possum was in a more mellow, expansive mood, we Warholized Wendy.
As we worked, I told him my Warhol story. I was on a bus in Manhattan in the early '80s, staring out the window and people-watching as we moved through traffic. Suddenly, this pale, skinny guy with lots of floppy white hair came tearing out the door of one of the big office towers, as if he were being chased. He stopped in the plaza in front of the building, and wrapped his arms around himself, panting, mouth open, wild-eyed. He looked very similar to some of his fright-wig self-portraits. Then he quickly got a grip on himself and began looking around to see if anyone had noticed him. Then my bus took off. My Andy Warhol Moment.
If we keep reminiscing, goofing off, and rolling in catnip, we're never going to get our work done.