Below The Fold

The reviews are in and iPop is a smash! The best part about it: You can still see the show!

Head down to Neopolitan Art Gallery, 3107 E. Colfax Ave. (at St. Paul) and check it out. Gallery hours are noon until 6 pm on Saturdays and by appointment; call (303) 362-0199 to schedule.
Here’s what the critics are saying:
“Amy Flomberg’s a color-whisperer. The way she bends colors to her will recall a blues guitarist bending notes in a ripping solo.” –French Davis, Yellow Scene magazine

“Although Flomberg’s been battling Undifferentiated Connective Tissue Disease and Fibromyalgia for quite some time, nothing stops her. Her passion for art and expression is not only visible in her work, but in her will to keep creating new pieces that dance with endless possibility.”– Brit Horvat, Examiner.com
“Amy Flomberg’s art is a lesson in balance and a dance of color…each painting seems infused with the amplitude of her emotion” – Terry Beck, Founder, Revoluciones Art and Culture Collective

“We’re tremendously excited to host Amy for the month of November. The work she’s created for this show is accessible without being pandering. She’s got an amazing color palate that really bursts off of a wall. It…pops.” –Jen Garner, co-owner, Neopolitan Art Gallery

The artist, left, pictured with her mother, Sally Hodge, right. Images courtesy Mel Aman, From The Little House Productions

It was almost two years ago when I jumped on the Obama bandwagon.

A lot has happened in two years. 

Tonight, I was talking with my father as the tallies were coming in. The numbers looked very good, but it wasn’t sealed yet. One thing I noted was that there was a silver lining to the tanking economy: Any chance McCain might have had was obliterated by Wall Street’s performance as of late.

Not that McCain is the Devil. To this day, I still believe he’s a man who himself believes that he has the country’s best interests at heart. 

But Wall Street’s crumbling laid the stones for Obama’s final steps over the threshold of the White House.

Now, it gets tough. 

How does a man who has become a movement live up to it all? It’s going to be daunting, at best. And still, after watching his acceptance speech, I can’t help but feel the elation. I actually believe. 

I actually fucking believe.

And for now, tonight, this moment… 

It’s enough.

I have none. 

My blog is angry at me for abandoning it. 

I’m sorry, Mr. Blog.

There’s a moment in the drive, where I passed a bedraggled man standing at 8th and Colorado holding a sign that said “The end is nigh.”

There’s one when I looked into Betsy’s eyes at work and saw my own fear reflected back from them.

There’s one where I put a headset on and looked at the computer screen and saw my own face looking back at me.

There’s one where Amy and I sat with Betsy and Sara, tears in our eyes.

There’s one as we left their condo, and heard sobs coming from another across the street.

There’s one as we passed by a gas station with a line of cars wrapping into the street.

There’s one as I sat on the balcony, looking out at Colfax, which was staggeringly quiet.

The day is a photo album in my mind of images that are as clear as though they happened yesterday.

I don’t think they’ll ever go away.

Saw this car while filling up my gas tank yesterday (filled up the whole tank with premium. Cost? $5.87. Scooters rawk!). Denver water’s “Use Only What You Need” campaign. Well done, on the execution, folks. On the downside, when I’m in a car, I actually do “need” a hood. Keeps crap from getting in your engine, ya know?