Andrea Mulder-Slater

by Andrea Mulder-Slater When I was 14 years old, someone snuck into my mother's office, plucked the wallet from her purse and walked out the door. Evidently, the thief was a nomadic gypsy or a migrating goose, because for several months following the robbery, we received widespread phone calls from distant strangers who had stumbled across my mom's personal belongings in ditches, on sidewalks and in public restrooms. The whole experience made me queasy, angry and – apparently – supernatural. I say this because from that day on, I became a wallet magnet as the damn things started appearing around me like fruit flies in the science lab at my high school. My teenage years were spent tripping over lost pocketbooks – at the park, on the street and in parking lots. It was truly inexplicable. So much so, that my parents started to question my acquisitions. “Tell us again how you ‘found’ this wallet? (and please don’t say you took it out of someone’s car, back pocket or

by Andrea Mulder-Slater Wanna peek... at my new sketchbook? Here you go!

by Andrea Mulder-Slater I've been resting my writing muscle lately. Not by choice you understand, it's just worked out that way. I kind of feel as though the part of me that makes words appear, has wrapped itself up in tin foil and thrown itself on the $40 barbeque we picked up at a yard sale last month. I blame Geoff. Of course I do. The thing is -- while searching for buoys in the basement (this makes sense if you live with us), Geoff found my magic apron. Discovered in an abandoned garage more than 15 years ago, my magic apron is fully caked with paint, modeling paste, matte gel and god knows what else. Evidently - as soon as I put it on, my writing brain goes to sleep, but not before it injects my artmaking brain full of caffeine, or amphetamines. Whichever. The point is, this blog post is about art. Jan and I have been preparing for an exhibition of sorts which is taking place this summer and while I'm trying to maintain an air of mystery, I'm happy to

by Andrea Mulder-Slater It arrived yesterday. As part of Apple’s ongoing 1st Generation Nano replacement program*, my old device was replaced with a smaller, less flammable and apparently far more powerful – little fellow. Hi there cutie pie. I was so excited. All I needed to make it work was a set of headphones. Cinchy, right? My search began in the office. You know how some people have a junk drawer? Well, I have a thingamajig purgatory. It’s a place where a child’s glue stick, a tray of coffee paint, a roll of 35 mm film, a bag of beach glass, a wrist watch, a fake one million dollar bill, a stapler and - quite possibly – the equivalent of an entire box raisins all reproduce quietly in the dark. Did I mention the zebra-patterned dishcloth? Not exactly what the designers at IKEA had in mind for my workspace. In fact, my desk drawer looks a little bit like my kindergarten teacher’s classroom threw up on itself. Sorry Mrs. Warnica. But it’s true. From the offic