9:17 p.m. And my project for today has only just begun.  Actually, I had an idea earlier in the day, which I did start on, but I had to go to a friend’s house for an opportunity to do a few small creative jobs. We ended up staying for quite a while sitting in her beautiful garden. I had another friend coming for dinner, so window of time for art started to close. All of that means that I will have to finish in the morning. I will however share what I have so far. I used some home bake clay to create some molds to use in altered art work. I have a collection of vintage pins that I pushed into the clay and baked. I plan on using the molds to make other clay impressions and to do paper pulp. I am working on another piece of altered art using a cigar box, an old book, and somehow incorporating the molds. For now I’m sitting in my beautiful garden, enjoying the company of my husband and a good friend.

See you in the morning!  

I’m back….just when you thought you’d heard the last from me today, but the piece of art I posted earlier was from yesterday. I almost gave up today. Earlier in the day I was letting the “not good enough” voice in my head worm its way into my consciousness. Stress here at home from Dan’s job situation was weighing heavily on my mind, and my dad who is eighty isn’t feeling his best, and he too has been worrying me. The truth is though that what I look for, and always have looked for, is a way to not work on my art. I can find so many ways to put up roadblocks for myself, and this morning I was laying the foundation. I was formulating excuses to stop this project in my mind. I can’t do that, I don’t want to wait another ten years and say, “I should have”. So I worked on the earlier piece. I really didn’t think I would finish it, I thought it would go by the wayside (remember the photos of my mom and grandmother? Still sitting waiting to be turned into something…anything). But then the epiphany, and the finished piece that I loved. So tonight, even though I was tired I did one more piece of art, just a pencil drawing, but I did it. I didn’t lose a day, I kicked my way through that wall that was half built in my head. It doesn’t mean I won’t lay down a few bricks tomorrow when I get creatively frustrated, but it helps to know I can get past myself when I push hard enough.This is a sketch of a statue that I love that was my mother’s. Regular old #2 pencil with just a touch of red.

No artwork to attach as of yet for the day, but rather some early morning (at least here in California) food for thought. We watch CBS Sunday Morning every week. Today’s episode was about the future. Interesting stories about past World Fair exhibits, what was predicted and envisioned , and what actually came into being. Jules Verne and how he inspired scientists as children, an amazing story about 3-D printing, where not only are plastics formed to make objects, but human tissue recreation. What struck me the most however, and then led to an entirely 6 degrees of separation train of thought, was how we as humans and our DNA have evolved. In particular how technology and its evolution doesn’t require us to use our brains as much.  In a small way I see this in my own life. I know the phone number of each and every friend I have, as well as those of my family. The idea of that seems to be beyond the comprehension of my twenty-two year old son. (“Get to the point”, my inner “Don’t be the long-winded old lady type”, is screaming.)  So here it is…. As we get further and further into technology what do we lose? My son had barely, if any attention paid to penmanship in school. He has a horrible signature (sorry Brian), and rarely puts anything on paper. Notes are typed into his phone, I am sure the thought of writing a hand written letter would seem absurd to him, and many of his “friendships” are over a game console during an internet session of what ever the latest video craze is. Don’t get me wrong, I love the idea of connecting with people from around the world. That in part is why I started this blog, to put myself out there, but what I fear losing, or even worse, what this younger spoon-fed on the internet generation won’t even know to miss, is a little old-fashioned sentimental humanity. This blog is about my life and art. In my struggles top find my artistic identity, and to get past the a fore mentioned “not good enough” voice that resides in my head, I have used particular tools on the computer to help myself. I have taken photographs that I would like to paint and put a filter on them. Not to use for any other purpose than to blur the lines, to help me get over my artistic perfection chip, but often when I look at these printed copies I realize that with say a paint filter, how easy it is to manipulate something and call it art, virtually no skill required.

This is where my six degrees comes in. As I was cooking breakfast I looked at a block of wood that sits in my kitchen on top of the microwave. It is a scrap off a two x four piece of wood that has a nail driven through it, with the words “RAY FISH SKINNER” written on it. It was my mother’s. She made this odd tool after she severely cut her hand trying to make fish for my dad. I rarely make fish, and certainly don’t ever envision myself skinning a Ray or any other fish, but it’s the words written on it in my mother’s handwriting that make it so valuable to me. This is where I worry about the loss of human connection. I have hand written hundreds of notes and love letters to my husband in the last twenty-seven years. They are not typed, they are written in my hand writing, and I hope some day that will mean something to my children. As for art, I have seen countless books and photos of art, I have quite a collection of art books, and have always loved looking through them. Then I went to Paris, I went to the Louvre, I went to Musee d’Orsay, and visited both Versailles and Giverny. Here in the U.S., I have been to the Art Institute of Chicago, the Getty in L.A., the Museum of Art in Milwaukee, the list could go on and on. What struck me at all of them is that until you see the paintings of the waterlilies, and Van Gogh’s Iris, and the countless other spectacular works of art in person, until you see the brushstrokes and see the three-dimensional thickness of the paint, and the real life color, you haven’t really experienced the paintings. My children could have photos of my art, but when I am gone and they can touch my brush strokes and know that their mother created that piece of art with her hands it will hopefully bring some part of me back to them. There isn’t a computer screen that can replicate that. There is no technology that can replace my mother’s handwriting. The show visited the Library of Congress this morning, and the reporter held a book in her hands that belonged to Thomas Jefferson. Could she have read that book on her Kindle? Sure, but to hold in her hand something that had once been in the hands of Thomas Jefferson made all the difference. As all of us rely more and more on iphones, lap tops, ipads, lets not forget to leave behind a piece of ourselves. Something not contained in a screen, but something that can hold a value that can never have a price on it. Get your kids to go outside and actually interact within the community, unlike internet connections, human connection can’t afford to be lost.

I close this rambling with what someday might be called a piece of folk art, by a little known but much beloved artist named Mary Ann Power Archbold. She was my mother, and she left this world without ever realizing how much talent she had.

It does seem that I am getting to my writing later and later. This trying to put myself first stuff is difficult for me. This morning I was full of energy and full of ideas about what I wanted to accomplish today, but as always life got in the way. Actually I think I put it in the way. I am awfully good at avoiding my fears. This project is meant to help me overcome that, lets hope it works. So around an hour ago sitting in the garden with my husband, daughter, freshly minted son-in-law, and a small glass of wine I drew my wine glass, and then my hand.

I had plans to finish the altered art piece I started last night, but I quite frankly ran out of steam. I honestly felt the night before homework dread creeping in. So I guess you call these desperation drawings. I refuse to let myself down on this project, but it had been a long day that included a sore throat. And to be completely truthful I received  a new magazine in the mail with some terrific recipes, and cooking truly is another passion for me.

So the drawing of the wine glass…not perfect, but I think not bad. It was fairly dark outside and I chose not to add any additional light. I really do want to start to do more simple drawings. I need to hone those skills and there is no better way than to practice, practice, practice. I think the drawing of my hand came out quite nice. Yes, my fingers really are that crooked and have been since birth. Actually, our creepy babysitter (who was actually a very sweet woman who had unfortunately suffered the effects of polio as a child), (OK, I know that sounds awful, but when you are six and your babysitter drags her leg and tells Jack In The Beanstalk in the most horrifying fashion ever, its creepy. And, I had not yet learned empathy, So all of you judgmental types…relax.) Hazel, told me that I would have arthritis in my hands when I grew up. Who says that to a six-year-old? Creepy. (You wouldn’t want to see my right hand which is even more crooked thanks to a couple of broken fingers last year.) Anyway, drawing my hand is just another practice drill. Having never learned the fundamentals I am going to try to learn them now. I am going to attempt to teach myself since going to class is still not a comfortable thing for me.

I also wanted to address last night’s entry. I wrote that I am uptight. My husband told me this morning that he disagrees. He said that the only place that I am uptight is in my art. I though it was an interesting observation. I have mentioned that I started drawing as a child at a very early age. What I didn’t mention was that as a kid I would re-outline the pictures in my sister’s coloring books. Seriously, when they colored outside the lines I would take the black crayon and redo the lines of their pictures. I told Dan about it this morning and it has been on my mind ever since. I can’t figure out why even then I was so concerned with the perfection of art. It’s something I will be thinking about.

Finally this evening I am again going to include food photos. Why? Because for me the imagination, creativity and care that I give when I cook a meal is art. Plating is as important to me as how the food tastes.

In case you are wondering…peppers stuffed with goat cheese and chorizo, shrimp with re-fried black beans, guacamole and a chipolte mayo sauce, chicken and black bean tostada, and finally, smoky olive poppers. There were also going to be beef empanadas, and I did make them, but we were too stuffed to eat anymore!

So for tomorrow, I promise myself to cut loose and do something completely different, and this time actually do it!