Letting The Canvas Speak

Sorry fellow pyromaniacs, no burnt paper or cardboard tonight. I had an overwhelming urge to paint this afternoon. This was more difficult than you might imagine due to the fact that my studio looks as though Blick (Art Supplies) has imploded. I decided last week to completely reorganize my space, and why wouldn’t I with Christmas right around the corner? It’s not enough that crafting had put me behind in my normal Christmas cleaning, Christmas decorating, Christmas shopping, essentially everything. I went upstairs today to work and there wasn’t an empty spot to be had, well except for one, and that was the floor. Not that the floor isn’t covered too, but a little bit of pushing piles around with my foot did the trick. I grabbed a few brushes, a canvas, some acrylics, and sat on the floor in the midst of my disaster. I really had no idea what I wanted to paint. I started filling the canvas with paint, layering thickly with a brush. I hated it. I had a full size scraper within reach so off with the paint. Still no idea where things were going I tried again, scraped again, painted again, scraped again, and then something began to reveal itself. A reflection of color from above and below were left on the canvas, really beautiful, but I just couldn’t leave well enough alone, so I started adding paint, and I absolutely ruined it, scraped yet again. Meanwhile silently berating myself for not stopping, for not having enough confidence to know when to quit. Instead of the brush I grabbed a small palette knife and began to pick up some of my discarded paint, and again something began to reveal itself. I noticed in my box of paints a bright, deep pink, I dipped my knife in and smeared a little of it across the top of the canvas, and then I knew where the canvas wanted to go. Quite often when I go outside in the early morning, or at dusk here in Temecula there is a rich pink hue in the sky. It’s incredibly beautiful. I began to see my painting take shape. Mount San Jacinto Evening was born. Its been a really long time since I took the time to let the brush and canvas speak to one another. Sometimes I’m just trying too hard. Too often I concentrate on thinking that I don’t know what I’m doing.  Tonight I didn’t think, I painted, something I need to do more often.

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Feeling Merry and Bright

Dare I say it? I’m feeling just a little merry, as in Christmas. We went out today to get our tree. It’s really sort of a non event for us. We don’t have little ones who are excited. There is also the fact that as we chose our tree I was taking photos in the garden center at Home Depot to torture my sisters with. (Come to think of it that made it worth the trip.) I knew it was snowing in Chicago and it was eighty-four here. The temperature also affects the way I feel. When you grow up in the Midwest you want a white Christmas. The only snow I see here is on the tops of the mountains which are more than an hour away. I’m not complaining. I’m getting older, and I am getting to the age where every injury I have sustained in my life is tapping me on the shoulder to say, “Ha, forgot about me didn’t you?” I hurt in multitudes of places depending on the day. I can only imagine what some nice icy weather would do to me. I think I miss the idea of a white Christmas more than anything else. Didn’t I say I was merry? Doesn’t sound like it, but I am, really I am.

There is also this, before we moved to California we cut down our own tree. Our home was outside the city and we lived only a few minutes from a tree farm. I have fond memories of going with the kids in the cold picking our tree, coming back to the house and drinking something hot, and decorating the tree. The experience isn’t quite as picturesque at the home improvement store when I’m too warm to wear a jacket, but once the tree is in the house, and the boxes of ornaments come out, I’m in full holiday mode. I am a very sentimental woman, I remember nearly every ornament and when we got it. My favorites of course are the goofy ones that the kids made, and one that my mother in law made. It is in the tradition of the old German ornaments made with cotton and cloth with the exception of a cut out from a photo of Jessica’s face. It was really cute when it was new, but as the years have gone by it has gotten really creepy looking. I make sure to put it front and center. The tree wouldn’t be complete without creepy Baby Jessica.  Every year I am also reminded of an ornament I made a very long time ago. It was in the third grade. When I was a kid there weren’t many of the current safety regulations in place. We created an ornament with a Styrofoam ball, toothpicks, paint, and glitter. I remember mine was orange. We had to stick the toothpicks all around this ball, dunk it in paint, and then again in glitter. It wasn’t an ornament, it was a deadly weapon. Like a giant porcupine ball, or some Medieval instrument of torture. (Possibly a craft idea inspired by the Inquisition?)  I can’t imagine a school these days allowing kids to make anything close to it.  Of course once the ornaments come out, the snowmen come out. I’ve mentioned my dirty little collecting secret before. I haven’t taken them out of the boxes quite yet, they are awaiting my attention in the morning. (Photo tomorrow night)

Tree trimming in our house usually starts with Vince Guaraldi and the music from Charlie Brown Christmas. It sets the tone perfectly. Dan really likes Charlie Brown Christmas so a few years ago I made him a Charlie Brown tree and painted an ornament red for him to hang from it. I also painted a few ornaments for him as a gift.  They will have to suffice as my art project for the day. I spent the morning creating my Dad’s five Irish fairies. (Much thanks to my cousin Lorna in Ireland for giving me the correct spelling of Merry Christmas in Gaelic.) One of the things I truly love about the artistic abilities I have is that when I want to make something special for someone, I have the skill to do so. It makes me very happy…I mean merry.12 17 (3)

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12 17 (2)And finally, a few Irish fairies.

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Twas Two Weeks Before…

Today was my show. The one I worked so hard for, the one I lost sleep over, the one I neglected this project for. I received several texts from friends and family, all asking the same, “How did it go?” It was a bust. Flat out terrible. There simply were no customers, and those that did come, the same people who would pay $15 for twenty cent piece of plastic at the gift store, turned their noses up at my under-priced items. One even tried to bargain me down. Needless to say I had a lot of time to kill. I used it to write this:

‘Twas two weeks before Christmas

I’ve been trapped in my house,

not a surface sans glitter

including my spouse.

There are no stockings

hanging anywhere,

I’ve been too busy crafting

stuck in my chair.

My cats are all merry

stealing fairy heads.

Why play with their toys

when they can chase my supplies instead?

With no shopping done

and nothing to wrap,

what I need for Christmas

is a really long nap.

My show was today

not sure what’s the matter,

I was hoping and praying

for a wallet that’s fatter.

It’s near the end of the day

and still no cash.

I’m still hoping and praying

for a last-minute shopper dash.

I see lots of people

go to and fro,

but no one seems to want to spend any dough.

I’m running low on Holiday cheer,

we haven’t hit bottom yet is my greatest fear.

Maybe I need some kind of magic trick,

or maybe I should have just called in sick.

There truly is no one person to blame.

I’ve done enough of these shows

to know some are lame.

I’m in a funk I don’t want to be in.

I’m trying to smile but don’t know where to begin.

What I really want is to sit down and bawl,

but I know that won’t help anything at all.

I guess there’s no use in asking why?

Why can’t I get someone to buy?

I guess you all know that I’m feeling blue,

but you’d feel the same if you were sitting here too.

My empty wallet is mathematical proof

2013 has thrown me for a loop.

2014 for you I am bound

to search for the luck that needs to be found.

I’m gearing up for the new year, I’m no pussy-foot.

Bad karma behind me where it needs to be put!

I will promote myself where I have a knack,

art that was learned off the beaten track.

I didn’t succeed with all of those fairies!

Despite my prayer of the Hail Mary.

It’s a Catholic thing as you all must know

to ask for a favor in times of woe.

I won’t give in, I won’t retreat,

instead I need to get back up on my feet.

Its time to load up my pickup the Chevy

I was hoping to leave with boxes much less heavy.

You may think that I’m feeling sorry for myself.

I think it might be the same for yourself

if you wanted to get ahead,

but you kept falling backwards instead.

I’m off to etsy to do some work

on my own little personal merc.

There is no one more than me that knows

that selling on-line does more than these shows.

Just a few more words until your dismissal.

New items tomorrow at the nine o’clock whistle.

Sunday shopping for a fairy or sprite

can be just the thing to make your Holiday bright.

Merry Christmas to all,

here’s my etsy site.

https://www.etsy.com/shop/jackiez59?ref=si_shop

From a very worn out and disappointed me, there isn’t anything new for you to see. But in the spirit of not giving up, an older acrylic from my kitchen. The fridge will be up and running tomorrow with new work.

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Silence Is Golden

At the risk of sounding like Scrooge, it’s that time of year when we are all placed on hold and force-fed the torture that is known as Christmas Carols. Don’t get me wrong, I actually like many of the songs that we are all familiar with, I just don’t want to be fed some hideous version of Jingle Bells blasting in my ear as I wait on hold for what seems like an eternity. I know the purpose of the hold music is to give the illusion that someone will be right with us. (Ha! They are never right with us!) Silence might give the impression that we are being ignored. I like silence, particularly instead of those dogs barking out supposed Christmas cheer. It’s like musical baby-sitting. “Must play awful music so baby doesn’t get restless.” I’m a grown up, if I want music while I wait I will play some. Years ago I worked in a grocery store. (The recently deceased Dominick’s of Chicago…R.I.P….Good Luck to all those who will be looking for a new job, you know I feel your pain.) I worked in customer service. We were instructed to say, “Happy Holidays, Dominick’s, ______speaking.” No Merry Christmas, we might offend those who were not of the Christian faith, or who didn’t celebrate. I’m fine with that as well, let’s include everyone, but what about the non believers, or people of other faith waiting on hold? No Happy Hanukkah song? Kwanza? Anything? At the end of my wait time I was left with a holiday gift, an ear worm, you know those lovely songs that get stuck in your head all day? Merry Christmas to me, Ho Ho Ho.

It is now later in the day, several hours later in fact. Dan took Brian and I out to dinner at a Greek restaurant. A Greek restaurant that played Christmas carols. Help me please.

There is also this late-breaking bit of news. The show that I had been working towards, the one I’ve been killing myself to prepare for, is not going to happen. It must be my day for music. This time it’s the old song “It Never Rains In Southern California”. Guess what? It does, and particularly when I have a scheduled outdoor show. That’s right, tomorrow’s predicted forecast is 50 degrees with a ninety percent chance of rain. Somebody somewhere isn’t liking me. The show wasn’t technically cancelled, they are waiting until morning to decide, but it has been less than six months since I had pneumonia. I just can’t risk it. The extended forecast for Temecula is for sun and 67 degrees on the fourteenth. That is when my second show is scheduled. That is the one I’ll be at…if Someone, Somewhere will take pity on me.

Tonight, something for the object of my current obsession, John’s apartment. To begin with I picked up a really cool table and chair a neighbor doesn’t want. That is a redo for next week. For tonight my most popular project on this blog, burnt glue on cardboard. As I mentioned the other day, John is a chef. I took a piece of 11×14 cardboard from the back of a pad of drawing paper, printed out some stencil font, spent a good 45 minutes cutting out the letters, applied, then burnt the glue, and in the end buffed it out with a little pewter acrylic paint. I’m going to frame it out tomorrow when it has had enough time to dry completely. It is the first of several art projects I have in mind.IMG_2758

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One Foot After Another

The title of my blog tonight is reflective of both how I have been approaching this project, and also happens to be the title of tonight’s piece of art. In terms of the blog it has to do with the many days and nights when something gets in my way. Whether it is housework, illness, holidays, family commitments, or just me getting in my own way, I just keep plodding through. On days when I feel defeated because my work isn’t coming out as I want it to, or days when I feel just a little lazy, I put one foot in front of the other and work through it.  I realize that there are nights when someone might look at my work and think “Really?’ I know its true because there are times when that person is me. I know when I’m not at my best, and I know when I am producing just to produce. I made a promise to myself today to start earlier in the day. I know I’ve touched on my procrastination in the past, but I woke this morning feeling very out of sorts and in need of getting my act together. I’m getting tired of myself. Lots of ideas, not as much action. I think we have fallen into a funk around here. Time to take charge.

Although there are times when last-minute homework comes out really well. I started the piece for tonight at about five this evening, I stopped to make and to eat dinner, I think sometimes I work well under pressure…

One Foot After Another. We have a collection of vintage shoemaker forms (I think I read The Elves And The Shoemaker too many times), and some really cool iron pieces that I assume were used to hammer on the soles of the shoes. It’s a collection we never set out to have. I found it piece by piece. My favorite is the small shoe form. I walked past them today, as I do every day, but today I felt inspired by them. I actually have been looking for a project to do on a long narrow canvas I have. It is 8 x 24. I love odd sizes of canvas, of course framing is an issue. Thank God my husband loves me so much. Dan is always the one who ends up doing the framing. He is lovely and patient just like Jessica. Acrylic on canvas.10 24

Just Say “Hello”

I have decided that there are two kinds of people in the world. There are those that say hello, and those who put their heads down, or avert their eyes, all in an attempt to not acknowledge their fellow human beings. We live in Temecula, which essentially means we are living in a tourist destination. I don’t mean that in a bad way, there are some pretty beautiful places in the world that have been turned into living nightmares of junk and fast food, Temecula is not one of them. We have I believe over 60 vineyards here, and our Old Town, a place that still has wooden sidewalks and historical plaque on nearly every building. Beautiful weather nearly year round, and settled in between San Diego (less than sixty miles), and LA (roughly 85 miles), an hour from Disneyland, less than that to Legoland, and about thirty miles to the Pacific Ocean, although there is that pesky mountain range in the way. In other words, we have it really good here. We should all be walking around feeling pretty lucky. Now I realize that stuff happens, it is still happening in my own life, but basically we Temeculan’s (new word, just made it up, clever right?) are very fortunate people. Dan and I walk every morning. We walk through our subdivision and one across the street from us. We walk anywhere from thirty-five minutes to an hour. In the course of those walks we run into a handful of people. There are some people who greet us with a smile and say, “Good morning.” There are those that suddenly become very interested in their phone, their dog, a speck of dirt on the walkway…anything to avoid looking at us and having to say hello. It’s strange. We are not bad people, nor do we in any way resemble the extras on The Walking Dead, we are just regular humans. What really puzzles me are the ones that do say hello, but say it in the most begrudging fashion, as if we have forced them to do something against their will. We saw a woman this morning on our walk. She couldn’t really avoid us. She didn’t appear to have a phone handy, or a dog to use as an avoidance prop, she did have a few small children walking ahead of her, but too far ahead for her to use as a shield, so she had no choice but to say hello. The look on her face said it all. We bothered her. Somehow we offended her.  All we did was smile (the horror!), and say “Good morning.” I have no way of knowing what is happening in that woman’s life, but she was walking down the beautiful streets of Temecula with some pretty cute kids, on an absolutely gorgeous morning. Like I said, I think there are two kinds of people, the kind that ignore you and the kind that don’t, but if you can’t return a smile, I guess I’d rather you find a sudden interest in studying cement texture in the sidewalk than looking at me as if I have a problem. OK, now that I got that off my chest….art.

Two years ago for Christmas I received a beautiful little cabinet from Dan for Christmas. It was a great gift, it was the kind of gift where I saw it in a store and…bought it, called Dan, and  said, “You can give it to me for Christmas.” Like I said, it was a great gift. From the minute I saw this little cabinet I thought, “Grandfather Clock”. Now that we are embarking on our business I am taking all the ideas that have been laying in wait in the recesses of my brain and putting them into action. The crib/ bench was one of them. The next idea is my Grandfather clock/bookcase. The cabinet appears to have had glass in the door at some point in its life, but when I bought it the frame on the front was empty. My partner in life and in creativity, aka Dan, helps me bring my ideas to life. We went to the store and purchased wood to create a bookcase to put under the cabinet. Today we made that bookcase, and then laughed our behinds off. The bookcase is fine, but when you put the cabinet on top it becomes a clock for the Jolly Green Giant. It has to be eight feet tall. What can I say, sometimes I just don’t think. We need the bookcase, so it won’t go to waste. (Without the cabinet on top it is six feet tall.) Tomorrow we will be returning to the store to create the four-foot bookcase we need. Dan also cut a panel from MDF for the frame opening. It is my project for tonight. The clock face for my cabinet. I can’t wait to make the smaller bookcase in the morning and add it to my cabinet. I have some really great ideas to finish it off.10 22

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Velocity

Where is my finished project from last night you ask?  If you read last night’s post you know that I was to marry together a few old pieces of wood into something amazing. I had promised the photos for tonight. If you must know, the groom got cold feet. That old crib headboard was a tough nut to crack. I stripped and stripped last night, and then today I sanded, and sanded, and sanded, and… it’s not finished yet. That charming little headboard hung on to its vintage paint for dear life, and with all the curves and nooks and crannies, it was quite frankly a pain in my… you know where. I was finally finished sanding to satisfaction when the sun went down. My fingers are worn out. We have a couple of small sanders, and I have a detail sander, but again, those vintage spindle legs don’t allow for such modern conveniences. I am happy to say that it is ready for paint, and to be joined in matrimony to its partner, but the event has been moved to tomorrow. The are also two additions. (Before the wedding! Scandalous!) The piece has a back, and a seat, but had no legs in the front. (You will understand the entire project when it makes its appearance tomorrow.) What to do…of course, the pack rat archives. In the recesses of the garage are the bits and pieces of my life, a.k.a. “I’ll do something with those some day”. I was quite proud to tell Dan that I was using two of the legs from an end table that we threw out about fifteen years ago. I loved the legs on the table and couldn’t bear to part with them, and now they have a new home. It just proves my point. There’s always a reason I save things. It may take a while, but I’ll use it. All that work on the crib left me no time to finish the other project I started last night. It requires a little daylight to finish, so that too will have to wait until tomorrow.

For tonight I decided to push myself a little. I am still struggling with a bad case of the “its supposed to look like” blues. I have done only one abstract since starting the project and decided it was time for another. For years I didn’t “get” abstract art. I would look at it and honestly think, “What the hell?” I am learning that it means to go beyond the obvious. To put emotion and thought on canvas. Both are abstract concepts when you think about it. I piled colors that I love in thick layers of acrylic paint randomly placed on a canvas, and then I grabbed the palette knife and scraped it off. In the remnants I found inspiration. I saw movement. I grabbed the palette knife and dipped into the paint that I had scraped off and swiftly spread it across the canvas. I thought to myself, “How would I illustrate movement?” I grabbed more color and then some metallic gold. I began to enjoy the process and forget about any rules, Movement is abstract. I pushed the paint across the canvas away from me, I felt like the paint was gaining speed, expressing energy. In the end, Velocity.10 20