Homage to Blouseybrown

Devotees of the ancient cat god attempt to appease him with offerings of sausages, bread, and fish.

This began as my homage to Blouseybrown, who started this chain of events with her homage to me. It's difficult to do a good homage to her, because she does so many different things. Her journal is richly personal, furnishing her a way to cope with an unimaginable series of deep losses and changes in her life. Here are some examples of what she is most famous for:

her belly

pots she has made

small things

In her hono(u)r, I set out to blip some small things myself, and you may be grateful I have spared you a view of my belly. These are tiny clay monks given to me as lagniappe by a shopkeeper in Portugal in 2006, after I had bought an array of gifts for people back in Texas, where I then lived. I am not a collector of anything, and I got rid of most of my worldly possessions before I left Texas to come live in a small retirement apartment in Portland, but I couldn't give these up, and they take very little space, so I still have them. I set the monks up on my lovely black velvet cloth, and I shot them from various angles with various settings. Just as I thought I had what I wanted, Taiga, who doesn't like anything to happen in this house that is not focused on him, rose up unexpectedly right behind them, glaring into the camera jealously.