I think it pisses God off if you flip past the color pink in a New Yorker magazine and don’t collage with it.

Actually, the God of my understanding does not have human characteristics, especially anger. But I think you get my drift. (Thank you, Alice Walker!)

I find myself getting really precious with my New Yorker issues. With only four collages left (and now three!) to complete this challenge, I am searching through so many to make sure I find a *perfect* one. 

When a full page of variegated pink jumped out at me from this 2016 issue, I snagged it. Mind you, I’m not a *pink* girl. Even as a child, I could see right through the manipulations of the *mad men* who tried to socialize me into loving pink. Tell me I should be a certain way because of my gender and I’ll … well, I digress.

This pink page sang out to me. Since it did, and since I’m easing my way through the end of this challenge, I let the pink lead the charge this week.

Walking Buddy Wanda loves my bird collages. So do I, honestly. My “tiny miracle” bluebird from week 18 is still one of my favorites. So I decided to borrow that design and add to my bird collection.

Except for flamingos, I’ve never seen a pink bird. So I consulted the magical interwebs and discovered several absolutely gorgeous pink species, like the rosefinch, the pine grosbeak, and this sweet little “tubby” bird from Australia—the pink robin.

But could I find a title to go with my robin? Most weeks the title strikes first, then the vision. I didn’t want to force the issue, but I wanted the design to be similar to the blue bird. Which meant finding a title.

I jumped to the critics’ section at the back of the magazine and spied an opera review. Promising, for a singing bird.

Heartbeat Opera is a small company in New York that is changing perceptions around opera. Their tagline is “Revelatory adaptations. Radical rearrangements. Ingenious design.” I can dig it.

“Heartbeat Opera” also sounded to me like the natural expression of any songbird. All the world’s its stage. Why not sing out as the heart desires?

Notes to Self: 

• You don’t have to be Leontyne, or Aretha, to sing out.

• You don’t even have to actually sing.

• Visual art sings in its own way. So does gardening.

• Stick with your heart, your gut, your curiosity.

I’m compelled to make these notes as I come to the completion of this gargantuan project. It’s a mixed bag. I’m very excited to finish it, and a little wistful. I’m looking back at what I’ve done, examining what I’ve learned, hoping to carry that forward into whatever is next. 

An old me would expect that my art world should continue to get bigger and grander. More operatic, perhaps. And it should certainly become monetized. 

New me wants to stick with whatever brings me joy. AND—new me is staying open to the possibilities of monetizing. Although I confess to having trepidations. Show is fun; show business can be a drag.

See? I’m already inching into that rabbit hole when today’s task is to just get this post up. And look toward the next collage. 

And remember this pink robin, singing its heart out for the sake of singing.

PS—Can you spot the reason I mentioned Aretha?

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