I love words. I love quotes. I love the way the manipulation of a few characters of an alphabet can change the course of a relationship, can propel a person to success, even sadly, when used to break a heart. I decided about two years ago to take up collage. This again for me is an exercise in frustration, collage really has no rules to follow, and how can one be perfect when there is no guideline? But what I do love about collage is that it is a place for me to add some words, some phrases, and a quote or two. I have a very different piece of art for tonight. Last night was a tough one. I promised myself that I wasn’t going to let things get to me. I promised that today would be the day where I put my art first. Did I? Of course not. We had plans this evening for dinner at our daughter’s apartment. I needed to bring something so I baked brownies. Then my son told me that while we were out he would be having friends over. You know what that means. On the chance that even one of the twenty-somethings would notice, I cleaned, and cleaned, oh and then, I cleaned some more. We were leaving at three. What time did I start my project for today? 2:45. On the forty-five minute drive to our daughter’s I sat in the passenger seat of the car sorting words. I mentioned above that I love words. I have a box of them. Single words, phrases and quotes cut from newspapers and magazines. All cut out with the intention of working on those collage projects. (I actually did do three or four small ones) Hundreds of little pieces of paper, each one speaking to me, and almost all of them having to do with changing my life. I had decided that for tonight I would use some of them. I’ve been cutting them out for years, and they waited for me to get where I am now. That was the first part of the project, choosing words. The second part was deciding how to use them. It came to me as I looked through the box. I find that I have taken quite a few photos of fire escapes. (Dan believes it is symbolic of how I felt about myself, I think I agree) When I looked at this particular photo, which had somehow found its way into my box of words, it seemed to be exactly what I was looking for. This isn’t a completed project, it is actually part of a larger piece I started a few weeks back. Tomorrow I will marry them together, but for tonight, and particularly if you read last night’s blog, you will get it. I hope. 
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Yearly Archives: 2013
One Step Back, One Step Forward
Tonight I am angry. I mentioned here in this blog not more than a few days ago that I didn’t want to be “mad” anymore. That changed earlier this evening. Who am I upset with? That would be with myself. Today I had a conversation that I let worm its way into my head. I let it wake the beast, the “not good enough” beast. Today is day fifty-nine of this project, just a day short of two months, and in those two months I have felt myself growing and changing…for the better. I felt myself growing less timid about approaching my work. I felt excited about some of the work I produced, and really hopeful about what I will produce in the future. I let that be taken from me today. When I tried to paint tonight it was nothing more than an exercise in frustration. Three times I put paint on a small canvas, and three times I took a rag and wiped it off. I am so upset with myself for giving that power to someone else. Every day of the last two months I have been making progress, every day working to lose the chip on my shoulder, learning to turn off the voice in my head that told me I wasn’t good enough. All it took was one conversation to make me feel as though I hadn’t moved ahead at all. I gave up on the painting, and gave up on myself, and I’m sorry I did that. I’m sorry I didn’t push past the insecurity, and to turn a deaf ear to that voice in my head, (and to the “ghost of the past” that came knocking). On a positive note I didn’t completely lose the day. I went back to the studio and picked out another orphan, another painting labelled “not good enough”, I think we commiserated today, my painting and I, both feeling the sting of feeling like a failure. Unfortunately in my funk, I failed to do a “before” photo of the orphan, so there is only an “after”. I can say this, the brightness of the finished painting makes me feel better. Finishing a painting I had given up on makes me feel better. I just need to tune out the negative. I need to trust the people who truly have my best interests at heart (Dan in particular. I love that you always support me), but most of all I need to trust myself.
Beginning The Adoption Process
I mentioned all the “orphans” in my studio, those half done works of art left waiting for my attention. There are also a few “finished” works. Paintings that qualify as finished only because paint covers the entire a surface of the canvas. They are pieces that I felt were not representative of the kind of artist I want to be. One of the biggest issues, one that I have mentioned before is that the work is flat, dimensionless, lacking in texture, (can I think of any more adjectives?) work that I felt wouldn’t evoke feeling when looked at. I have seen a number of works of art in my life that make me feel, make me want to be in a place, or make me want to rush home and pick up a brush and paint. That is the kind of work I want to create, work that inspires feeling, or more than that, work that would want someone else to follow their creative dream. When I went into my studio today to decide what to do,I chose painting. I enjoyed the exercise yesterday, and my favorite critic/fan (Dan), loved the result. I wanted to use a smaller canvas, I still wasn’t sure of the subject matter, so I grabbed an 8×10 from the shelf. It was an orphan, a finished one. A canvas that I had painted and then shoved back on the shelf to paint over. If there’s a benefit to painting too flat, it’s that it is that much easier to cover. The painting was a simple one, just a sky and water scene. It had some texture, but it was boring, no movement, nothing. Instead of covering it up I decided to give it new life by using a style similar to yesterday. I changed the color just a touch, using the paint that was still on my palette from yesterday. I didn’t take my glasses off this time, although I wasn’t working in the best light possible. I’ve posted both, a before and after. I see the difference, and better yet this time I feel a difference. It is only the first of many, many half done, or hidden works of art. Now I just need to prepare myself when I’m ready to let some of my finished work go, when I do my first show.
Up To My Old Tricks
When I began this blog I wrote about how shy I was as a child. There is still a lot of that inside me. I think it is why I enjoy solitude so much, and that more often than not my paintings, and photography reflect that. People who know me now are often surprised when I claim to be shy. I work really hard at being friendly. When you are a shy child, and particularly one who is the brunt of all the grade school jokes, you learn compassion. Dan knows that if we go to a party I will find the loner in the corner and stay there for the night. I cannot stand to see anyone lonely, or to sense that someone else is struggling, I need to help them. When I was in high school I was forced to take a speech class. I dreaded it. Speaking in front of a single person can be difficult enough, put me in front of a crowd and I’m terrified. At the end of the semester we were required to stand on the stage in the school auditorium and make a speech. The subject matter could be anything we wanted, the only restriction was the amount of time. For weeks leading up to it my stomach was in knots. I didn’t know how I was going to get through it. I came up with a plan. The first thing to do was to pick a subject for my speech that I was familiar with. I chose Wicca. It was an interesting choice, considering that I was at an all girl Catholic high school run by Benedictine nuns. I had an interest in witchcraft, nothing to speak of, I think for the most part it had to do with my childhood fascination with Bewitched, and my all-time favorite movie, “The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. Fortunately, the speech teacher was a lay teacher, a man, and he didn’t seem all that upset with my choice. I knew we would be required to look up as we spoke and not check our notes too often. That part was easy, I knew my subject well. I talked off the top of my head for the entire speech. The hardest part was facing the crowd, well a crowd of about twenty-four. On the few previous occasion when I spoke in class, my classmates had to critique me. Every single time they pointed out that as I stood there choking out words the podium was shaking. The night before the speech I was really nervous, and of course like most kids, trying to figure out what disease I could possibly come up with on a moments notice so that I wouldn’t have to go to school the next day. Nothing worked and the moment was at hand. Then a brainstorm. I’ve been wearing glasses since I was thirteen. Blind as a bat. All I had to do was to take off my glasses, from the auditorium stage I couldn’t see my audience. I big blob of color. I was still nervous, and I did shake a little. The speech went well. My teacher said it was good, just a little unorganized. Not bad since I didn’t really write one.
That brings me to today’s painting. I have mentioned before that I love Impressionism. Strangely enough since I have the perfection issue. The thought occurred to me that all I need to do is to take my glasses off. Trust me, the world at large is one giant Impressionistic scene when my glasses are off, and as long as I’m going down this road I am doing my own waterlilies. A photo taken in Giverny in 2009. I have to admit I’m struggling as I look at it. I do believe I may be revisiting this one. 
Do you think it’s possible that there would have been no Impressionism if eye care were better in Monet’s day?
Following Through
I spent the day working on following through on projects that I had already begun. Part of my artistic history that I am working to change is to finish things. So much unfinished work hiding in the studio avoiding judgement. So many years that I hid behind the words “I’m not finished”. That way when anyone saw my “not good enough work”, I had an out. I no longer want and need the out. I’ve walked through art fairs, museums and paged through art magazines and seen work that I love. So much of it is simple, uncomplicated, without the kind of perfection that I expect of myself. I see color that I am in awe of, or works that evoke feeling, it’s what I want to get to in my own work. To free myself of the weight of my own expectation. To learn to just let the creativity flow and watch what happens. To stop sitting in judgement of myself and create for the sheer pleasure of it. In a few days I will reach the two month mark with this project. I am seeing and feeling a difference in my work. I have not however, learned to put my work first. I am still on many a night scrambling at the end of the day for a project. It took far too many years for me to begin this journey, and I know I can’t expect everything to change over night. I told my son not long ago that I didn’t want to be “mad” at anyone anymore. Life is too short. I think I need to take that to heart for myself, to be a little kinder to me. I also need to make myself and my work a priority.
I did more work on the Iris box. It still isn’t complete, I’m waiting for some antique stain on the top to dry. I am also experimenting with something I read about on Pinterest. It is a technique to turn regular printer paper copies of my work into canvas prints. I am posting one of a painting I did based on a very old botanical drawing. I had some success with this first one, but I tried three others that were not quite as successful. I wasted a lot of time and materials. I’m not giving up. I like the first one, so I’ll have to try again tomorrow.
What I Do For Love
I began tonight’s blog far from my usual spot. Most nights I am sitting in front of my home computer while my dear husband is falling asleep on the couch waiting for me. Tonight I began writing at a local bar/restaurant. Actually, I did my little sketch for tonight’s post sitting on a bar stool. We hadn’t planned to go out this evening, and I hadn’t even begun to think about what I wanted to create for today. We went for a nice long walk this morning, came home to finish a marathon viewing of Top Chef season five, and then I made an attempt to straighten up my studio which thanks to my productivity as of late is a disaster. Top Chef inspired our cooking a lovely New Orleans inspired dinner together. I figured that as usual I would sit after dinner and decide what I would do. However, the Chicago Blackhawks are in the NHL Finals, and though I may have mentioned it, I’m from Chicago. I’ve lived in California long enough to begin to consider myself a Californian (10 years), however, you can take a sports fan out of Chicago, but…No! not me, but Dan. I grew up going to Wrigley Field, I lived in the neighborhood. I have a mild interest in how the Cubs are doing. Dan on the other hand is a fan of Chicago teams, mostly the Bears, but also the Hawks and Bulls. When we realized that tonight’s game wasn’t available on our television I suggested we find it elsewhere. I knew I hadn’t done my project yet, but I can honestly say I have the most wonderful, supportive husband a woman can ask for, so going in search of a game is the least I can do.
So I sit here looking around this very noisy place for inspiration, and quite frankly it isn’t coming. I personally cannot get enough quiet, particularly when I am working. I, in a desperate attempt to find something, began looking through our phones at our photos, and then it hit me. Why not just create the place I’d like to be? I had only a pencil and a small sketch pad so I did a little drawing of a quiet meadow in the countryside. Just a quick post, and quick sketch, gotta get back to the game and my date. In case you are curious, Hawks win!
…Back at home…While unloading my camera I came across some photos from the other day. I’m a good photographer and love to take photos. My son called me out into the garden to see a dragonfly. It was a particularly friendly dragonfly that seems to like our garden. I took quite a few shots and from very close up. So, here is tonight’s sketch, and a few shots of a very cooperative dragonfly.
Tearing Down Road Blocks
Still on the mend, but very happy with myself this evening. Three months ago, six months ago, or a year ago, actually for the last twenty years I have been putting myself off. Finding every excuse in the book to not work, putting up self-built road blocks, telling myself that I wasn’t good enough, or focusing on the “can’t” instead of the “can”. Putting myself in the position of having to answer to others, some I know, obviously some I don’t know, and most importantly to myself, has forced my hand literally. I didn’t feel like working again tonight. Still have an earache and a headache. I gave a fleeting thought to hanging a shingle up here on the blog declaring, “Blog closed due to illness”, but I am so committed to this project that I couldn’t do it. Not only did I work, but I confronted my biggest artistic hurdle head on. Perspective, it’s a dirty word for me. I pull out the ruler, I study the angles, it just doesn’t work for me! It isn’t perfect, which is OK, (because we all know I am leaving perfect behind) but I do love the finished piece.
A little about the subject matter. I have boxes of paper in my studio. Photos that I tore from magazines over the years because I liked a color, or a shape, or a face, something that appealed to me about each and every one. Then there are the computer files of the thousands of photos that I have taken, all with the intention of drawing or painting them some day, or using them for inspiration, but never actually doing anything but collecting them. I did attempt something from time to time, but as I have mentioned before when it wasn’t fitting into my idea of what it was supposed to be, I walked away from it, leaving many, many orphaned, half-finished works of art hidden away in my studio. In the last fifty four days since I began this project I haven’t abandoned anything. I do have a few works in progress, and I fully intend to finish them. I also intend at some point to go in to my studio and free the orphans. Take a good look at what I have that is already started and decide what needs to be finished. As for tonight, I made a decision. I will be recycling a great deal of paper. I don’t want to look to anyone else for inspiration. That doesn’t mean I won’t be moved or inspired by a painting, or a photo, but I want to rely on myself for a while. Tonight I looked through my photos. I took this photo in San Diego a few years ago. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why I loved it so much, but I think Dan hit it on the head tonight. It has a certain nostalgia to it.This photo certainly gave me what I’m looking for, it is my photo, and it is certainly a perspective challenge. It is done in watercolor, ink and pencil. I will say again that I am really pleased with the piece, and myself for not giving in to the temptation of throwing up a road block, despite how I’m feeling.
In Sickness And In Health
Tonight’s post will be a short one. I started antibiotics last night but right now I can barely keep my head up. Enough about that.
I so loved the effect of the wood burner on the table that I decided to play with it again today. I looked in my studio to see what was on hand and found a small wooden box that was painted white. If I remember correctly I was trying to decoupage something on it a few years ago. I did a sketch of some Irises on the lid. When I started to use the wood burner I got a different reaction to yesterday. When I burned the design in yesterday it gave the impression of inlaid Mother of Pearl. Today because there were a few layers of paint on the box, and I think maybe some Modge Podge residue, the design began to rise up on the surface. It still has a beautiful effect. I definitely want to continue down this path and experiment with the technique. I am posting a photo of the unpainted box, and then a second photo where the box has a single coat of paint on it. There is still much work to be done on it. I want to touch up some of the burn marks, as well as add more paint. I’m not sure if I want to keep the background painted with the same pearl paint as the flowers, or if I want to doing something a little different, possibly black to make the flowers pop. I really wasn’t up to the task today, but I refuse to lay down and not create. Maybe I need a slogan like the post office…through wind and rain, and sleet and snow…I think I’m getting delirious with fever. Better things tomorrow .
Shedding Weight
Just 24 hours ago I was writing this blog and poking a little fun at myself. One day later and things aren’t so funny. Nothing terrible, but I have strep. I wasn’t feeling great last night, but I worked anyway. Terrible earache and sore throat. I mention how lousy I felt because despite the way I felt last night I made many plans for today. I wanted to work on Jessica’s portrait as well as my table. I didn’t get to the portrait, but every now and then I get really excited about a project, and I felt that way about the table. As I mentioned last night, with many furniture projects I can see the finished piece in my head even before I begin. However, there are those occasions where the finished piece turns out even better than I had hoped. That is definitely the case with this one. With the little bit I finished last night I could see where it was going. So, despite how I was feeling today I finished my table and I really love it.
Therein lies another issue that I am sure every artist runs into from time to time. I love it too much. It is a piece I did to sell, and it will be difficult to let it go. As you might recall the point of this entire project was to gain my identity as an artist, but also to use up the multitude of supplies I own. Art supplies aren’t the only thing I have too much of. We have two garages, one is a single, the other a two car, and they are both full, furniture, unfinished wood, canvas, and various vintage junk that I always planned to do “something” with some day. As much as I love this table it can’t stay. I feel burdened by “stuff”, and am more than ready to let go of it and a lot of the negativity that has been weighing me down not only as an artist, but also as a human being.
The table. I finished burning in the design on the other areas of the table, put on a light coat of stain, and a single coat of Modge Podge for furniture. It isn’t quite dry yet, and will definitely require another coat, but that is for tomorrow, as for now my sore throat and I are going to bed!
When Have I Suffered Enough For My Art?
It’s OK to laugh now. I mean at me and the things I am about to reveal about myself. In the several weeks of blogging that I have done it has mostly been confined to my artistic troubles. I have let in little glimpses of myself beyond that, but it occurred to me that maybe people might want to read something a little more uplifting, well not exactly uplifting, but it might just give you cause to do that laughing I deemed permissible. For today’s project I decided to work on a small table. I’ll go into the details of it momentarily, except for now to say that it involved using a wood burner, and it inspired tonight’s blog.
When I was twelve I slit my wrist. Before you gasp in horror let me tell you it wasn’t intentional. Crafty, artistic child that I was, I was in the process of trying to make a present for my working mother. I don’t remember exactly what I was making, but we can all assume it was a project from Highlight’s Magazine, I was an avid reader, and for those of you who are old enough to remember, I still quote Goofus and Gallant. I was cutting a bleach bottle in half with an open blade, it got stuck on the seam so I did what any brainiac would do, I slashed hard at it while holding it in my other hand. My parents were at work, so my big sister put a rubber band on my wrist to stop the bleeding. (She was a freshly turned fourteen year-old, how would she know?) Fortunately my dad came home shortly after that and took me to the emergency room. Two hours later with a butterfly bandage, because it was too late for stitches, and an interrogation by the police officer on duty who I had to convince I wasn’t trying to kill myself, I had for the first time officially suffered for my art. I bring this up because today while using my wood burner I turned to Dan and said that I couldn’t believe my parents gave me a wood burner for Christmas that same year. They gave a burning hot, searing weapon to their daughter, the daughter who accidentally slit her wrist, the daughter who had a gap between her front teeth until she tripped over her sister and smashed her face on the sidewalk, the same girl who can’t tumble, failed swimming lessons, can’t roller skate and didn’t figure out how to ride a bike until she was nine. Did anyone ever get the toy where you poured paint on a spinning device similar to a record player? I got it, spun the paint all over my bed. Stepped on a tube of acrylic paint in my teenage bedroom and shot hot pink across the olive-green carpet. I swear I have no fingerprints, they are all attached to the hot glue that I have had to pull off my burning fingers. My dad’s favorite story to tell about me to anyone willing to listen (and even those who don’t want to listen) is that I failed Phys Ed in high school. It’s true, of course my P.E. teacher is a dead ringer for the witch in the Wizard of Oz, I kid you not, I’ve got the yearbooks to prove it. Then there is of course my six knee surgeries. Tripped over a vacuum cleaner and fell down a flight of stairs, fell off a ladder, (twice) tried to hang a kitchen curtain, you get the idea. (Although Dan said he likes to tell people I did it pole dancing. Which might be possible if I could actually get on a pole) What I want to know is if suffering makes your art better, then why aren’t my paintings at the Getty yet?
Now that you all know just how pathetic I can be, I will tell you where I’m not. I took this five dollar table that I bought at a yard sale and am in the process of turning it into something I love. (I have a before photo. I’m not sure where in my pictures it is right now, but I promise to post it when I put up the finished table tomorrow) I had two ideas for it. One would have turned it into something for a kid’s room, but I went instead with an idea based on a piece of vintage fabric. Dan painted the base black for me. On the top I wood burned a floral design that I am painting with those Martha Stewart Pearl paints I mentioned before. I love, love, love them! It looks like inlaid Mother Of Pearl. I still need to draw two more of the flowers for the top and burn them. It is painstaking and time-consuming, but I love the finished look. When I am finished with the flowers I am going to add a light coat of stain.
It’s been a good day, and I only burned myself once!
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