Home » Fine Art (Page 3)

Category Archives: Fine Art

As The Mind Wanders…

Posted on by | Leave a comment

I think I could be my own soap opera. I have enough family drama (when will our fortunes turn around?), suspense (will there be a job???), heartache (my daughter may move away someday, more about that in a minute), humor (between my husband and my sister Colleen I have more than my share), romance and passion (We’ve been happily married for nearly twenty-five years for a reason), sadness and sorrow (a lot to list, but no more than most people, so tonight we’ll let it go)

Drama

As my hands are occupied with creative endeavors, my mind is free to wander about flitting from one subject to the next. I started out the day feeling ambitious. I had a plan…plans.  We started the day with an hour walk. My mind was racing with details of what my day would entail. Got home, showered, dressed, and went to work. I spent the day opening a second shop on etsy, “Pywackett Vintage”. An homage to my in-laws whose Chicago antique store shared the Pyewackett part of the name. I’ve only listed five items so far, but it is a detailed pain in my backside process, and I had other stuff to do as well. The stress and worry that come with unemployment make every day its own little drama.

Suspense

Still waiting, waiting, waiting, for the email, the text, the phone call that will let us know what is going on with Dan’s possible job opportunity. Waiting for news is always the hardest part.

Heartache

As I did dishes I began to think about Jessica. Her husband John is a journalist. There is always the chance that he may get work elsewhere. Right now they are only forty miles from me. I thought about how upset my Mom was when Dan got the job opportunity that led us to California. There was much talk about companies “tearing apart families”. She actually took off her wedding band and put it on my finger “in case she never saw me again”. I had to remind her that I was only moving to California, a little more than seventeen hundred miles away, where as she left her family in Ireland. A mere 3657 miles, across a big giant ocean. I was moving less than half the distance she did. When I think about the possibility of my daughter moving far away from me it breaks my heart. It makes me think about my Mom and how she felt, and how much I didn’t get it.

Humor

Colleen is still the funniest person I know. I don’t think I’ve ever had a phone conversation with her that didn’t include at least one giggle. When I’m with her I find it difficult to not end up crying from laughter. And then there is Dan. Despite our troubles, he makes me smile every day. He does all kinds of goofy stuff just to get a response from me. It’s really very sweet because I know he is as worried as I am.

Romance & Passion

One year of worry, stress, fear of financial ruin, anger, frustration, and bewilderment at the way the world treats an extremely decent, hardworking, compassionate and kind man, and nary a harsh word. We love each other as much as we did twenty-five years ago when we prepared to get married. You always hear or read stories about how love turns into friendship or doesn’t last, I’m here to say that it isn’t true. When you find the “right” one, your soul mate, your one and only, it doesn’t end, it only gets better. Despite all of our troubles we laugh together every day, we kiss every day, we hold each other every single night as we go to sleep. We weather every storm together and hold on even tighter.

Sadness

I know I said I wasn’t going to mention anything, but I think I need to say this. I still miss my Mom seven years later, and (although I talk to him sometimes as much as four times a day), I miss my Dad. Jobs take us from our families sometimes, and that’s life, but it also takes us away from those we love and hold dear.

In all I ended up working on several projects today. I began another cabinet door project with another of  Theresa’s old kitchen cabinet doors. It doesn’t have enough done to make it worth posting. I also began another pencil portrait. A few weeks ago I did a drawing of Mia. This is Mia’s beautiful older sister Maddie. A very preliminary sketch, lots of work yet to be done on it.

4 11 14

 

 

Our Place

No news tonight, no complaints, just some thoughts on an observation from this morning, and how it relates to the kind of business I want us to have.

I was getting dressed this morning and knowing it was going to be 90 degrees today, I looked in the back recesses of my closet. I pulled out a shirt I haven’t worn in years. It happens to be a shirt that Dan bought me in Paris. We actually didn’t spend a lot of money there. We aren’t souvenir type people. If anything we had hoped to come home with something from a Parisian flea market. We unfortunately went to the wrong one, unless of course we were millionaires. The furniture was incredibly beautiful, and incredibly expensive. On our next trip (Don’t know how, don’t know when, but it will happen!), we will do our research and make sure we know where we are going. What we did end up buying was a sweater because I am always cold, and in the same shop the shirt I am wearing. We also purchased a shadow puppet for Jessica at the Musee d’Orsay. We had seen the collection of Theatre du Chat Noir (forgive me if I’ve gotten that wrong), incredibly intricate shadow puppets. Jessica is a graphic artist and loves strong imagery. I knew she would appreciate the design. Imagine my surprise when we got back to our apartment and discovered the sticker on the back that said, “Made in Chicago, Illinois”. I kid you not. It struck me as so funny. I flew all the way to Paris to buy my daughter something from her hometown. On the next to last day I mentioned to Dan that I had been admiring a second shirt in the window of a clothing store near where we were staying.  We went to the shop and purchased the shirt. That night as I packed my suitcase I noticed the tag inside of my new shirt, “American Rag”, the same brand as my jeans from Macy’s.

The world is becoming so interconnected thanks to our unbelievable ability to communicate, but at the same time I feel like something is being lost. I traveled with Dan on and off on business trips through the Midwest. I loved all the little towns, the shops, the local flavor. I think it many ways it is being lost. Now no matter where you go there is a Target, a Walmart, a Home Depot, etc…even in Paris I ended up with items I probably could have gotten back home. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I love antique stores and flea markets so much. Pretty much everything is one of a kind.  I want our place to be the shop that everyone will think of as “their place”. I hope to make every person that walks through the door as welcome as they feel in my home. I want it to be a place, like my home, where people want to stay awhile and put their feet up, enjoy some really delicious food, a good cup of coffee, a good book, and some interesting conversation. (Now all I need is some money!)

 

As has happened before my art tonight is inspired by a photo I saw in the newspaper. I didn’t copy exactly what I saw, but definitely the feel of it with my own little twist. Something simple, I’m feeling nostalgic tonight.

 

4 10 14

 

A Change In Attitude

A change in the atmosphere? I’m not sure what it is, but today was the first day in quite a while when I spent the day feeling hopeful. Still no news on the one job that may still be in the works, but we are pursuing some financial options for our business that look very promising. There is also another plan in the works. Dan and a friend have an idea for another business, something that could prove to be very successful if they can get it up and running. There are two things about it that I love, one is that it should bring money in quickly, the other is that it would allow Dan to continue to work with me on our business. It’s literally down to the wire around here. Something has to work!

I’m also surprised that I feel as good as I do because I’m exhausted. I was up early on Monday, didn’t make it to bed until 12:30 Tuesday morning, up at 6:15 a.m. yesterday. I should have slept well last night but I didn’t. I went to bed at around 10:30, slept for maybe twenty minutes and then…wide awake. I laid there for at least a half hour before giving up. I came downstairs and used the time to do research for our business. My mind is racing with ideas and possibility.

I actually have two projects tonight despite the fact that I’m falling off my feet. In a flash of brilliance (if I do say so myself) I came up with a quick project to turn two vintage plinths into book ends for our upcoming shop. We ran over to the office supply store and grabbed a couple of metal bookends, added some glue, and there they were. There is a little bit of the new metal showing underneath which I plan to address. I’ve been pricing out bookends and they are really expensive. I’m going to need a lot of bookends. This project inspired me to see what else I have that can serve the same purpose.

I’m craving oils once again, but unfortunately my respiratory system is still not up to par. I am only days away from the end of my year. It may just end up in watercolor. I did a small one tonight of one of my Giverny photos. Dan and I are both longing terribly to go back. We went to Paris for our twentieth wedding anniversary. We are a little over ten weeks away from our twenty-fifth. We had hoped this would be the year, but things change. It will certainly be a different anniversary this time around.

IMG_6593IMG_6596IMG_6605IMG_6602

Taking It Easy…

I had planned on taking it a little easy today after my marathon crafting and painting. It is also the first day of my self-imposed fume free week. Taking it easy wasn’t so easy. Actually it was forced on me and not in an enjoyable way. I woke at three o’clock this morning not feeling well. Something I ate last night did not agree with me. I’ve spent the majority of the day on the couch sleeping on and off. Only nine more days until I hit the one year mark on this project, and today like others before it when I didn’t feel well, I’m pushing through to get something up. Pen and ink is the obvious choice, no fumes and completely doable while sitting on the couch. I can’t promise much for this evening, but I promise something.

As for yesterday’s show, I think I’ve finally learned my lesson. I had a nice comment and some suggestions from a fellow blogger which I agree with. I know there must be a way to discover some local art shows. We do have a local art society. I checked it out a couple of years ago but then never followed through.  I think at the time I didn’t have enough confidence to put myself and my work out there. I feel like I’m ready to try again.

So here is my very little piece of art that I doodled for tonight.

4 6 14

 

 

Oops!

At the show, and the fact that I have time to write tonight’s post should give you some inclination of how it’s going. Not a customer in sight, this despite the fact that I am between an exit door coffee/ice cream stand. I was assured that this was a successful show in the past, but not for me. Oh wait, I did make one sale, an adorable little girl came by and was looking longingly at one of my zombie ornaments so I sold it to her for a dollar. What can I say? I’m a sucker for kids. It’s really disappointing. We didn’t get to bed until nearly twelve thirty, got up at six fifteen, and have now been standing on my feet since about eight fifteen this morning, it’s currently 12:27 Pacific Coast time, two and a half hours left to go. I know I’m in the wrong place, if you were to look around me you would see quite frankly momentous amounts of crap. I’m talking manufactured merchandise, the toilet paper cover crafting that I abhor, and a lady trying to sell massages. An “art show” it’s not. I try not to judge the work of others, but I know that my work is heads above what I’m seeing. I always swear I’ll never do another one of these school shows, but I thought maybe I could add a little to the family finances. I’ve gotten several comments on my work, “Beautiful!”, “You’re so talented.”, etc., but no one seems to want to pay the price. My pieces are always marked less than they are worth (insert lack of self-esteem here), but still people don’t seem to want to buy them. It’s hard, I’m tired, I’ve worked really hard for nearly a month, and I just wanted to succeed a little. I need to learn from this, and discover where I belong. I need to find better shows. I’m not sure how, but I guess a little internet investigating is in order. As for today, I can’t wait to go home and get off my feet. Tomorrow everything will go on etsy. I probably should have done that in the first place.

It is much later in the day, 7:15 in fact.The earlier blog was posted by accident…oops, from Dan’s iPad. So the result of all my hard work? $68 Whoopee!!! After five hours of standing on my feet, weeks and weeks of hard work. We took my meager earning and went out to dinner. Our feet hurt, I was understandably upset, and we were hungry. No new art to post tonight but some I haven’t posted yet. Taking the night off. I deserve it.IMG_6551 IMG_6549 IMG_6548 IMG_6547 IMG_6546 IMG_6545 IMG_6544

Nothing to choose from right?

Last Minute Projects

Posted on by | Leave a comment

I’m on deadline, and as always happens the night before a show, I am nowhere near ready. I lost my man Friday, because it is after all Friday (So sorry for that. I assume we all know Robinson Crusoe, right?), anyway Dan had a job interview that turned out to be a waste of his time. (It’s never good when the person interviewing you tells you he needs to be armed because “people” want to get him) As much as he needs a job, this is one I’m not sure I’d want him to take.

I’m a procrastinator, one might say the queen of procrastinators, but not this time. I’ve been working every day, but with so much on my mind my creativity has been hit or miss. I’ve messed up quite a few projects, started some that won’t be completed, killed myself with fumes, but in the end what will be, will be. I always think I won’t do well (you know the Irish broken glass on the floor thing), occasionally I do very well, sometimes terrible, shows are like gambling, sometimes you get lucky, sometimes not. I made an attempt to cut the mirror for the “Mirror, Mirror On The Wall” piece. I bought an inexpensive door mirror for another project and I had more than half left over. I broke the mirror four times. Hmm four times seven, another twenty-eight years of bad luck for me, oh and Dan broke two, another fourteen years, added to my twenty-eight equals forty-two. OK, so we’ll be unlucky until we are dead, what else is new, although I did manage to break four mirrors without slitting my wrist, or needing a band-aid, and trust me that is progress, and more importantly… Success! Dan finally cut a piece of mirror without breaking it.

Sometimes in the midst of the chaos (which would be my kitchen at the moment) something great happens. I love aging mirror. You know when the glass is old and the silvering is disappearing? The patina of it is gorgeous. I was messing with a mirror that I bought at the thrift store a couple of months back. I was aging it with chemicals (so cool!), but it wasn’t turning out exactly as I wanted. Then I turned it over. Beautiful! I added one of my photographs from the Eiffel Tower, which I had changed to sepia, painted the frame in metallic black, and I love it. It’s one of the best “night before my homework is due” projects I’ve ever done. Now comes the hard part, selling it. Everything I do is one of a kind. Especially when it is the “accident that turned out incredible” kind, I’ll never be able to do it again.

Short post tonight, work still to be done, but here is my happy accident, and my frame with a mirror.

4 4 14 (1) 4 4 14 (2)

Staying With It

I started the day hoping to be very productive, but my artistic mojo had jumped ship. It seemed that no matter what I put my hand to it just didn’t want to work. I began to get discouraged but I didn’t give up. First because I have the show to get ready for and time is moving fast, but I am also fighting some inner demons. My mind isn’t where it needs to be, which is focusing on my work. I almost quit, but I don’t have the luxury of quitting. So I plowed ahead and you know what? My mojo made a return appearance. By the end of the afternoon I was well into not one but three pieces. Only one is fully completed, but there isn’t much to do on the others. I’ve produced a few pieces that I really love in the last few weeks. That’s one of the unfortunate perils of artistic creation. You fall in love with the work, but you can’t keep everything. On a positive note, as I near the one year mark of my project, my “artistic refrigerator” is starting to look a little empty. I feel like I’m making real headway on finishing many of the upcycled projects that were started long ago, using up unpainted wood that has been sitting for years, and turning some old pieces into something really nice.

In a little less than two weeks I will be at my year’s end. I had promised to do something fabulous for the anniversary, but what I had in mind might not happen as of yet. My head cold of a few weeks ago left me a little on the breathless side. Working with semi-gloss paints on these wooden pieces isn’t helping. I’ve promised myself a break from fumes after Saturday. I had planned on something in oil, but it may be a last-minute production.

I forgot to take a “before” tonight on this box. It was an old piece I picked up a few years ago in an Arizona antique mall. The perfect size to use as a desk top file folder. I had attempted to work on it a while back using the photo to wood transfer technique, but of course impatient me ruined it. I thought I might try again but then remembered that I have a roll of beautiful vintage wallpaper. I attached the wallpaper using spray mount, added metal corner brackets on the bottom, but I still wasn’t satisfied with the piece. A look through my stuff turned up a piece from the back of an old chair. I painted it black, distressed it, and attached it to the back of the box, perfect! This is one of those pieces I love that I wrote about, but off to the show it goes in hopes that someone else will love it as well.

4 1 14 (2)  4 1 14 (3)4 1 14 (4)4 1 14 (1)

Signs

Tonight I will spare you all the “woe is me” saga. I had a couple of really bad days. As if things weren’t troublesome enough around here, the IRS has not taken kindly to our situation and is hitting us hard for tapping into retirement funds. Imagine that? We had the nerve to want to use our own hard-earned money to eat and pay our mortgage. Just when you think things can’t get any worse…

Strange dream again this morning. I was walking for miles and miles, but it was back in Chicago, and Phillip Seymour Hoffman (RIP) was waiting for a bus, there was a woman’s voice on an intercom, then I woke because the phone was ringing. It was my Dad and it was 4:54 a.m., I jumped out of bed and ran for the phone. (Insert minor heart attack here. When the phone rings at night or early morning I always assume the worse) He felt really bad when I answered. He knew he had woken me, but he is eighty-one and gets confused, and the two-hour time difference between here and Chicago sometimes get switched around in his head. I told him it was fine and tried to go back to bed, thinking maybe I could go back to sleep and find out where I was walking to, and why Phillip Seymour Hoffman was waiting for a bus. Unfortunately for me at that precise moment our neighbors decided to let their dog out, and turn on the security light in their garden that shines right in the window next to where I sleep. I mumbled some choice language and gave up. No sleep for me!

Dan and I went out today to look at a few possible locations for our business. We still don’t know how we will pull this one off, but we aren’t giving up. He also got another lead on another job. (Major good karma and prayer request.) We need a miracle and we need it fast. I’m a person who believes in signs. Not like stop signs ( I do try to come to a complete stop, but there’s a reason they call them “Hollywood stops”, and I’ve lived here more than ten years), but signs from God, or Mohammed, or Buddha, or to whomever it is you give your prayers to. My Mom prayed to Our Lady Of Perpetual Help. Swore by her. My Dad was out of work when we were young and my Mom prayed a particular prayer that was answered. We put the photo on her mass card when she passed away. I’ve been praying my Mom’s prayer, I actually have the ratty old cardboard one that she had for years. I’ve been praying for a year. Honestly I’ve been questioning why my prayer hasn’t been answered, but I haven’t given up. I did my prayers this morning, even cried a bit asking for help. After looking at business locations we stopped at Walmart. We rarely go there. (We don’t like their politics or how they treat their employees, but that’s a story for another time.) As we walked to the back of the store we saw a display of religious candles. The kind that I see many Hispanic people buy. There are usually photos of Jesus or Our Lady Of Guadalupe on them. There She was, Our Lady Of Perpetual Help looking right at me. I’ve never seen that photo on one of those candles before, and I worked at a grocery store for eighteen and a half years. I bought it, She is sitting next to my bed with my Mom’s mass card, and my Mom’s Prayer card. Dan isn’t religious, he is too practical, too scientific, but not completely closed to it. I am choosing to believe, I need to. I’ll be lighting the candle tonight.

One more day, one more box for the show. I’ve had this box, an unfinished wooden one, for years. Grabbed it out of the studio the other day and thought, “Suitcase!” Searched Google images for copyright free luggage stickers. Added some faux ribbon straps, a chain, and lined the inside with decoupaged paper. I’m rather fond of it, but it needs to go, hopefully Saturday.

Off to bed now, wondering if maybe just possibly I will dream something not so odd tonight, or that maybe my Mom and Phillip Seymour Hoffman are cooking up a plan to get us out of this mess with a little help from a particular Lady.

IMG_6485  IMG_6487 IMG_6490

IMG_6492IMG_6486

The Clock Is Ticking

Posted on by | 2 Comments

I’m sure anyone who read last night’s post knows that I wasn’t in a great frame of mind. I was trying to focus on renewing our business plan in order to lift our spirits. That plan is still in place, but this morning I woke from a horrible dream where our house was emptied of everything, including one of my cats.  There’s no need to decipher that nightmare, but I decided not to let it ruin my day. I joined Dan for a long walk on a beautiful California morning. We were relatively quiet while we walked, both lost in thought, each of us worrying in our own way. I began to think about the beginning of the year when I promised a new start for us. I was reminded of my “to do” list by news I read here on WordPress. One of the blogs I follow (Beautiful Hello Blog) is of a young woman much like the young woman who I once was. She is a wife, a mother, and she is an artist. The glaring exception is that she is actually doing something with her talent. She recently posted that she will be working with West Elm. I sent her a “Congrats!” reply, and I mean it more than she could possibly realize.

I ended last year and began this year with the determination of getting my work out there. Of selling my art. Have I done it? No. I put maybe three art pieces on etsy (aside from the fairies I make), I sold one, and that sale made me feel great at first. Then I got a note from the person who purchased it. She said she loved it, but that it wasn’t what she thought it would be, that it was much more lightweight but that it would serve its purpose, and added a “Good job…” (She added the …) I was completely accurate in my description of the piece, a lightweight box that I had created using the burnt brown paper/cardboard technique. Even though she said she loved it, I sensed some disappointment, and let me tell you it is extremely easy to let the air out of my balloon. It made me feel bad, although I’m sure she hadn’t intended that. The truth is that I was so insecure when I prepared it for mailing that I must have asked Dan ten times if the price was too high, then I asked Jessica, who told me I was crazy that it wasn’t high enough. As I wrapped it I began to feel the “not good enough” voice in my head screaming in my mind. I added a thank you note, and a vintage handkerchief, explaining she was my first “art” sale on etsy. I wrapped the box beautifully, added ribbon and a silk flower, packed it was carefully so that it wouldn’t get crushed, and in the end it cost me three dollars more to ship it than I had charged. Obviously despite my recent proclamations to the contrary, my self-esteem, my artistic confidence, my self belief are sorely lacking. I had grand plans for this new year, and here it is days until April and I have yet to make the move to promote myself. My friend Theresa emails me with every opportunity that she can find. She believes in me, as do my husband, my children, my family, and my friends. Why can’t I do it for myself? Fear of rejection? Failure? I won’t know until I try, but I can’t seem to make myself take the first step. As I said last night, time is running out, money is running out, I have the ability to change that. My back is against the wall, and I have to get past myself. I’ve talked about it more times than I care to admit, and have written about it repeatedly here on the blog. Maybe another night or two of nightmares might do the trick. Nothing like a good scare to make you do the things you need to do right?

One more box for the show, and another (not shown) well on its way. Vintage postcards yet again, but done in a different way.

3 30 14 (1) 3 30 14 (2) 3 30 14 (3) 3 30 14 (4)

Creating With Heart

Posted on by | Leave a comment

Before I begin my rant, and there will be a rant, I want to acknowledge that I have touched on the following subject more than once before. (If you’re interested 4/23/13 I Am An Artist, 6/15 What Makes An Artist, and 7/16 We Are All Artists) When you post every single day for a year, and your brain is as full of knowledge as mine (a nice way of saying I’m getting older), there will be times that I may repeat myself. I can’t remember every single thing I’ve written about, but there are things that I am passionate about and things that get under my skin and I just can’t let go. Two days ago on Facebook there was a post about a photographer named Vivian Maier. She was a nanny by profession, but also a gifted photographer. There is a new documentary about her that opens this weekend. Ms. Maier was an unknown talent until a man named John Maloof purchased a box of negatives from a Chicago auction house in 2007. (One more recommendation from me about something to Google!) This morning while reading the NY Times I came across a review of the documentary and some criticism about Ms. Maier. I have in the past touched on the fact that I have no formal art education. My only exposure to an art class was in high school, and well, it was high school art. My teacher thought I was gifted and didn’t give me much in the way of guidance. I had upon showing her my work been allowed to skip Art 1. I now think that may have been a mistake. I don’t know the basics, but at this point I don’t really care. I could always actually take a class or read a book, but I am me, and that means I do everything my way. Some of the criticism leveled at Ms. Maier was that she had no formal training, and that she didn’t print her own photos (which I might add would be difficult because she is deceased), thereby she shouldn’t be called an artist, and also questioning photography as an art form.  Two days ago I wrote a post about the judgements leveled by other people. Why the need to demean this work? Any five-year old can take a photograph, but with an artist’s eye? Last night we watched American Idol (Yes, I am part of that demographic that no one cares about but still watches) Keith Urban made an excellent point. He told one of the contestants that you can sing from your head or sing from inside yourself, you are still singing the same words,but the performance changes. (Not an exact quote but the general gist of what he was saying) I am related by marriage to a very talented and successful artist. I love his work. He has been fortunate enough to have training that I have not. I don’t envy him, I admire him and have told him so. There was a point in my life ( before the blog) when I would use his talent as a weapon against myself, to further the agenda of “not good enough” that resides inside my head. I made myself feel inferior, that and another member of this same family called my work “primitive”. I would say to Dan, “Look how wonderful and talented he is. What could I have done if I had his training and family support?” That is a ridiculous question, it is the question of someone who doesn’t believe in them self. These days my mantra is, “Look what I can do when I’ve never had any training.”  (Thank you Mr. Urban for inspiring the following thought) I could paint with all kinds of skill if I had the right schooling, but my skill comes from my heart, and is God-given. Who gets to decide who gets the title? I see quite a bit of work in museums that I really, really dislike. It’s still art. The creator of that work is still an artist. The terms “outsider”, “primitive”, “amateur”, are words that I find offensive. Vivian Maier was an artist every time she pushed the shutter button, I am an artist every time I pick up a pen, a brush, a pencil, or for that matter a frying pan.

OK, got that out of my system. I managed to finish a few things today. I’m only posting one because there are five photos to go with it. Another box, this one done with scanned images of vintage French postcards that I own, decoupaged on painted wood, trim painted in the wonderful Martha Stewart Pearl Paints (Love them!)

3 28 14 (2) 3 28 14 (3) 3 28 14 (4) 3 28 14 (5)3 28 14 (1)