Katie Musolff

Last show of the year. St. James Court Art Show. Oct 3-5

Oct. 2, 2025.

We set up our booths at our final art fair today on St James Court in Louisville Kentucky. There is a large curb right in front of my booth because the street was once occupied by horse and buggy. It was easier to get out onto the side walk that way. Behind our booths is the historic Conrad House that is open for tours with their mimosa bar out front (very dangerous to one sitting all day just 20 feet away)

My late summer booth often features paintings I’ve done of our garden’s harvest. People here must think that I paint tomatoes all year long, just like how my June shows always feature fern fronds and violets. My subjects come in waves that follow the season.

At home, our kitchen is smothered in tomatoes and peppers. Nightly, I chop, roast, freeze and can the veggies. Tomato juice and seeds splatter and drip down the counter and our dog licks the floor around my feet. Together, we do a dance that signals the height of garden season.

It is difficult because it all comes to a crescendo at the same time; the garden and our art fair season. And then it just ends. All there is to do is clean up the mess, which is no fun. I’m tired from keeping all the fires burning at once, that is true but it is sad when the music stops.

So, come down to Louisville and buy me a mimosa while the band is still playing!

Up next, Charlevoix Waterfront Art Fair and thank you Ann Arbor

Oy. I totally missed posting about the Ann Arbor Art Fair! It has come and gone. Shame on me because it was the most successful art fair I ever had. The folks that come to that show and support me are the most loyal crew. As the years go by, we grow a little further into each other’s lives. I am so touched. The connections that are made are better than sales, really. The individuals that annually come through my booth feel like characters in a well rehearsed play. Every year we add more thorough and thoughtful lines. When I don’t see them, I am concerned. And new players are always welcomed.

Up next is the Charlevoix Waterfront Art Fair on Saturday, August 9. 9am to 6pm More info

Next Show: Des Moines Arts Festival. June 27-29

Summer is speeding by……. which is too bad.

We will be at the Des Moines Arts Festival.

Booths LS18 and LS19.

June 27-29

Visit Site for Details

First Show of the Year, Brookside Art Annual

May 2-4, we will be set up in the heart of Kansas City at the Brookside Art Annual.

The winter was long and harsh, for many reasons. Now spring blew in and brown gives into green. All the cliches are right. Life has been renewed, l have thawed. It feels wonderful. It’s a real shame that the world outside of the flowering garden has to be so unstable.

Every artist I know is worried about selling their work in this political and economical climate. We are no exception. I am sticking strong to my values of making quality, personal, sensitive paintings no matter what happens. If people have the means support art, I want them to know that I do my best to be self sustaining and community minded. We grow our own food, use recycled wood for frames and give back to the land with a 15 acre pollinator habitat prairie.

Thank you for doing your best and helping me do mine.

I promise I will update my Available Works page soon.

Grief and painting.

I've been gone, in a way....figuring out how things work without my mom. She died on November 9, in the hospital. Yet, it was sudden and without much build up. It was a death I'd been bracing for, on and off, over the years. Of course, the hit came just before the holidays of family gatherings, followed by the bleak solitude of a Wisconsin winter. There wasn't much to cushion the impact.

I dipped in and out of my studio. It was disheveled from the last fall's final push of the art fair season. Everything was in heaps. My head could not handle the chaos and my body was too exhausted to restore its' order. I hurt. On top of that, we had my mom's apartment to empty. Painting had to wait for me to catch up. I had tried to paint right away. I felt pressure to encapsulate my fresh grief. However, the attempt was overthought and lame. Then came the numbness. I'd push paint and water around on the surface of my paper but it was without passion, only something to prove that I was being productive.

Slowly, I began noticing pockets of clarity and genuine patience. For me, winter is a time to paint bones, feathers, nests, eggs and other such static subjects. But these things seemed too stagnant. They just lay there. Then, I got a blue jay. A friend had given it to me, after they found it newly dead. It was so perfect and undamaged and this allowed me to position it any which way. Unlike the other things, this bird had vitality, depth and soul.... even though it was perfectly not at all alive.

Touching the blue jay, combing back its' feathers reminded me of my mom. I was gentle with it like I was with her. My mom's body was her enemy and she fought it hard for a long time. I was one of her back ups. I caught her as she stumbled, helped guide her arms into and out of coats, scooped her off of the floor, hitched up her socks, her pants, fixed make up, buckled her in. I examined her arthritic knuckles to see if the swelling had gone up or down. My mother's hands made me nervous, because one day, they might be mine and they looked like trouble. I'd do the mental math to guess at how many more years of competent brush holding I have left on the timer. "Don't dawdle." I thought. "Get to work."

The paintings are starting to come together again. It has been slow but productive. I am searching more, planning less, and letting things reveal themselves. I ask for patience and will not be posting much available work because I can't handle the pressure of making a product right now.

Favorite Paintings of 2024

A year goes by too quickly to post all of my paintings as they come into being. I often frame, hang, and sell them with out giving them a spotlight on my website. So, here is a small collection of my personal favorites from 2024 that you may not have seen. They are sold and hopefully loved.