Artist We Love / Things We Loathe: Kent Rogowski / Puzzles

I hate puzzles. I never had the concentration or the patience to actually sit down and complete one. Of course I always tried to force pieces together that didn't fit. And by the end I was just too frustrated to continue. Obviously, Kent Rogowski is a better man than I am. His new exhibit Love = Love at the Jen Beckman Gallery sheds new light to my childhood frustration with fitting different pieces from 40 different puzzles to create beautiful landscapes with montages of flowers and skies. "Although puzzle pieces are unique and can only fit into one place within a puzzle they are interchangeable within a brand." This show runs until June 14th.

Things We Loathed: Thank You Notes

The moment all the wrappings hit the floor on Christmas and birthdays, we faced the harsh reality that 12 present-free months lay ahead. To make things worse, an even greater evil lurked: Thank You Notes. Sadly, they are the way to go. Emily Post, the grande dame of Etiquette, believes one can never start this painful process early enough. The Emily Post Guide to Good Manners, advises parents to strap a pencil to their three year-old’s hand and have the kid force some grateful thoughts onto paper. Pain for the child, delight for the gift giver.

Things We (HHH) Loathed: Piano Lessons

By age four I was fully involved in ballet, gymnastics and piano, the latter of which fell far below the more active activities on the enjoyment spectrum. As my dad and I toiled away learning Mary Had a Little Lamb, my mom toiled away shopping for culottes and a miniature tuxedo jacket for our big performance. Recital day finally arrived and she gussied me up for the big duet. We took to the stage, me, wildly calm and focused (just look at the photo!), my father, a wreck of nerves. We start to play. I play Mary Had a Little Lamb. He plays something else entirely. I stop the recital and point this out. That was the end of piano.

Things We Loathed: Christmas and Easter Photo Sessions

You could always guarantee a biannual fit out of Hollister.  Christmas and Easter photos were her greatest torture. There were the costumes - and yes, they were costumes - and a lot of yelling...and it gave me a free license to maul her with hugs. Every single photo of the two of us is the same -- Hollister, looking like something from American Gothic, me, looking like an elated, loveable bunny. This (which we estimate is from Easter '85) is obviously no exception.