Don’t Play With Fire

I have mentioned from time to time that my parents, my Dad in particular, didn’t get the art thing. He was proud of me to be sure, but it was more in the “Look what my offspring can produce” department. Its fine, at this point in my life I actually find it amusing, gives me material for making fun. Actually I believe that’s where my hobby of making fun of the general public comes from. My Dad makes fun of everyone. Dad would very often pass comment about me, he would refer to me as eccentric, or bleeding weirdo. I had an incident today involving my project and flame that reminded me of one of those times with him. I think I may have been nineteen or twenty, as always I was is my room with the door closed, music playing, and I was painting. I had a small candle burning. The wind blew through an open window and the curtain caught the candle flame. In an instant the curtains were in flames. I can honestly say in an emergency, I am the person you want near by. No panic, I may worry myself into a frenzy later about what I should or shouldn’t have done, but in the moment of the emergency I am as calm as can be. I put the fire out. Then I heard them, the sound of his footsteps on the stairs. Crap! The room smelled of melted polyester. I moved towards the window and stood to hide the charred curtain. Dad walked into my room, “What is that smell? What are you doing?” “Nothing, I’m painting and I had a candle burning.” Hoping the entire time that he wouldn’t see behind me.  “Bleeding weirdo, no more candles in the bedroom.” With that he walked out. I later heard him telling my mother what a weirdo I was. I learned my lesson, at least about candles and open windows. I waited until he was at work the next day to throw the curtains out.

This little tale brings me to today. I have two or three times in the past eight months showed a technique for burning brown paper so that it looks like metal. I saw an old metal sign on an auction site. It is a perfect gift for my daughter and her husband, they are newspaper people. The sign was much, much more than I can afford these days, so I simply made my own. I don’t like to use work without giving credit, so this is officially credit. To whomever created this piece, nice work! I love it. I wish I could have bought the actual piece, but money is tight. I decided to recreate the piece using my burning technique. (Speaking of credit, I think I first saw the burning technique on Aleene’s crafts a million years ago. Not quite as sophisticated as I do it, but credit…) I hadn’t planned to use this piece for the blog tonight, it’s a Christmas gift, but it took me the better part of the afternoon to cut it out, thus no time for other art. I decided to try the technique not on brown paper, but on a heavier white board. I drew the design on the white board, and cut out the negative spaces, coated the entire thing in glue, and began to burn. I was coming out beautifully, in silver tones unlike the bronze tones of using the brown paper. I was enjoying the process until suddenly the end caught fire. Yes that’s right, fire. No panic, I put out the fire. I thought it was ruined, but I loved the top so much, and thought it looked so good I didn’t want to lose it. I lost the center P, and parts of the A and E. I made new letters from the left over scraps of cardboard, attached the letters to the bottom, re-glued and burned. Afterwards I burnished the entire piece with both silver and bronze metallic paint. I think this one was a happy accident, I love the results. IMG_3245

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The finish project with repairs.

Restart

The last vestiges of glitter remain in the crevices of my wood floors, but aside from that I’m ready for Christmas, at least on the first floor. As if I didn’t have enough to do I tore my studio apart, the second floor of our house looks like the aftermath of a tornado. I know I’m just a little crazy, but this has been such a bad year that I am determined to head into 2014 ahead of the game, and set up for success. I started this blog/project carrying some very heavy psychological baggage, I am two-thirds of the way through, its time to move forward. I’ve subjected anyone who reads this blog to my working out my artistic issues, and quite a few personal ones as well. Not something I set out to do. Actually I don’t know what I started out to do other than to use up art supplies. I honestly didn’t think about it prior to heading into it. I guess I thought I would create art and talk about it. I never dreamed that my life would change so much, or that I would find myself pouring my heart out to the vast unknown. I think at this point maybe some of you know me more than you want to. There have been nights when I have gotten on a rant on something completely non art related only to stop myself and backspace it into oblivion. I have a steel rod of self-righteousness that runs straight up my spine. It can be used for both good and evil, but when I get upset about things it is bad, really bad. I obsess. I try not to let my obsession spill out onto these pages. I need to redirect my efforts.  I’ve mentioned selling my work in the past, but haven’t bitten the bullet as of yet. I began the steps to rectify that tonight. I opened up a second Facebook account for business, a place to tie this blog, my etsy account, and my pinterest all together . The next step for me will be some serious self counseling for separation anxiety. I don’t like to be separated from my work. It needs to be done. I was hoping that over the course of this project that I would produce enough art that I wouldn’t take it so hard when one left the nest. Unfortunately that hasn’t happened. I still have trouble letting go of my babies, but I want and need to contribute to the care of my family. Sometimes I find myself feeling sad, wishing I could go back and tell my younger self to go for it. To recognize what a gift I have and to do something with it. These days I do a lot of talking myself out of feeling old and regretting I didn’t get a handle on things sooner. There’s no going back, and quite frankly this is a year I would never want to revisit, with one exception, my daughter’s wedding. Seeing your child be so happy makes the separation just a little better.

I’ve been crafting for weeks and not putting forth my best work. Time to restart the project. I decided that I need a little back to basics. I had hoped to have more time to paint today, but cleaning all that fairy dust takes time. In the end I decided to just do some drawing. My scissors, as if I hadn’t seen enough of them in the last few weeks. Maybe its symbolic, time to cut out my nonsense…get it? I know, I should have quit while I was ahead. IMG_3237

 

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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Rantings Of A Not Quite Hypocondriac

Dear Grocery Store Owners,

I am deathly allergic to those hideous scented pine cones that you insist on placing at the entrances of your establishment. The detergent aisle is bad enough, its like running a gauntlet for me. I have to try to get through the aisle picking up cleaning products while holding my breath. Does it ever occur to you that you may be asphyxiating the general public? Or maybe that’s the plan. Get them coming in the door, hit them with overwhelmingly intoxicating fragrance in order to dull brain cells so that they don’t notice that the mayonnaise jar is six ounces smaller but still costs the same, or that they will think the ever so slightly smaller box of corn flakes is an optical illusion. (I realize that the store owners themselves are not resizing the products, but they do have something to do with pricing) I’m just asking if it is possible to limit the “festive holiday aroma” to one door so I don’t need my inhaler by the time I hit the produce section.

…Sorry, I had to get that off my chest. I am admittedly guilty of ruining my own respiratory system with art materials, however between the pine cones of Christmas and the Star Gazer Lilies of Easter, I can barely walk in the store. Don’t get me started on the guerrilla warfare of the mall kiosks that sell perfume and hand lotion. Random people popping out as I walk by trying to slather me with some scented concoction. This is what Christmas shopping does to me. I get annoyed, and that is never good.

The funny thing is that what got me started tonight was a pleasant memory, so let’s go down that route instead. I’m not feeling great today, actually haven’t been for a couple of weeks. I went to the doctor today to get some test results, and you know because I am Irish that prior to my visit I was getting my affairs in order. You know the usual stuff you think about before you get test results, like how will my family go on without me? Who will remind Dan and Brian that we need milk and toilet paper? And of course my worst fear, how much will my family curse me after I’m gone because I have so much crap that they will have to dispose of? Good news, I’m not dying, yet. No actual answers for some unexplained pain, and I don’t get a follow-up doctor appointment for another two weeks, which will fill my days with thoughts of probable diseases. I’ll bet Dan is overjoyed.Wait, wasn’t I talking about a good memory? Yes, it’s this. I miss my Mom. She died six and a half years ago. I particularly miss her when I don’t feel well. She was an avid reader of the Star and Enquirer and probably could have added to my list of suggested diseases. Actually I think we all pretty much want to talk to our mothers when we don’t feel well. Moms just make things better, at least mine did. When we didn’t feel well my Mom made us tea and toast. A hot cup of tea with milk and a spoonful of sugar with a slice of hot buttered toast. It’s still my go to for a not so great day. It reminds me of her, it comforts me. It isn’t of course a substitute for a little motherly sympathy, but it makes me think of her and that always makes things a little better.

I was lazy today. Too much crafting, too much self-imposed worry, too much intoxicating pine cone. A simple little watercolor. I need to get back in the swing of things.IMG_3128

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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A Mystery Solved

Just days away from the show and working nonstop. I can’t wait until Sunday for a moment to breathe, but then only for a minute. My house will need a glitter detox before Christmas. I may have previously mentioned the cat hair tumbleweeds that I deal with in my house, but now they are sparkling and spreading the glitter as they travel. I took a load of laundry out the the dryer the other day and it had glitter on it. It’s out of control.

I will probably give myself a day off, or at least half a day off on Sunday, but then there is the Christmas tree we need to get, decorating to do, and of course shopping…I hate shopping. Yes, I am the legendary woman of lore, the one you have only heard tales of, the woman who hates to shop. The mystery woman with less than ten pairs of shoes, who only wears two of those pairs, one for winter, one for summer. Who only uses one purse until it completely wears out. You thought it was a myth didn’t you? I confess, I detest shopping. Hate malls. Hate crowds. I usually do most of my Christmas shopping via the computer, but unfortunately I have been too busy to do even that. Now it is too late unless I want to pay a fortune for shipping. I will have to plan carefully to get through it as quickly as possible. Otherwise there is the danger of my losing my temper and no one wants to see that.

The one thing that I am looking forward to after the fairy marathon is over is John’s apartment. I did another little piece of art for his walls tonight. A watercolor of my Chef’s knife. Just a week away from that project, and I can’t wait.12 10

All I Want For Christmas

Dear Santa, I have been a really good girl. This year for Christmas I would like a …break.

Last night I posted that I had pulled out of my show today due to weather. The predicted weather was 50 degrees with a ninety percent chance of rain. I woke this morning to a shining sun, and I kid you not, a hot air balloon sailing past my son’s bedroom window. Really? I couldn’t believe it. It sent me into a tailspin of self-pity and tears. I’ve been working so hard and was terribly upset about the weather forecast, that shining sun was more than I could handle. The sun managed to stay out long enough to make me miserable, and then the rain started. What does it say about my life that I’m upset by a shining sun? The torrential rain that began didn’t make me feel better. I felt bad for the people who were probably set up for the show and were drenched. I think maybe these days my emotions are a little too close to the edge. I’ve spent months having my hopes dashed. Every time I think something good is going to happen for us something goes wrong. I spend a lot of time convincing myself that there are so many people in the world worse off than us. It’s an interesting little mind game that I play on a regular basis. To be honest I am counting the days until this year is over. New beginnings, new year, and new attitude. Just what the doctor ordered. Now I just need to get past the next three weeks.

After that little rant of self pity…I am still a woman obsessed. I had another idea for my nephew’s apartment. I love dictionaries. Obviously because I love words. I wanted to create another art piece for John’s place and came up with the idea of using a word to do with his profession. I chose “gastronome”. It’s just a cool word. I painted a piece of wood white and set out to paint the definition. As always as I look at the almost finished product it is slanted and skewed just like my brain. This can be explained by a number of reasons, my arch nemesis perspective, my horrific eyesight, and probably the fact that I start these things at nine o’clock at night. What all of that means is that tomorrow I will be whiting out areas and redoing them. For tonight however what you see is what you get. I would like to point out that my hand painted font is pretty decent. Many years ago in a land with no home computers, I was a college student majoring in advertising. We went to an advertising show in downtown Chicago. At the show we were given sample font books. I gave mine to my daughter just a few years ago. There wasn’t a font in there I couldn’t copy free hand. Still can, just like a Xerox machine. A what??? If you are too young to know what that is Google it. For tomorrow it is predicted to be sunny, and I hope to have an outlook to match.12 7

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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Has Anyone Seen My…?

Maybe it has to do with all the balls I’m juggling in the air these days, but I seem to be losing my mind just a wee bit. For example, twice in the last week I have gone in search of my glasses only to find them attached to my body. I hang them on the front of my shirt, I’ve done so for years, yet somehow these days that little fact seems to be slipping my mind. I do have a very long history of losing my car, and I mean losing it everywhere. Church, the grocery store, the mall, so much in fact that I now have particular spots that I use just so I know where to look. A while back I wandered aimlessly through a store lot searching for my pickup. I was just about convinced it had been stolen. I had been looking for a good ten minutes. I finally called Dan, who after he stopped laughing, reminded me that I had driven his car. Which by the way I had walked past at least three times in the search for my own vehicle. I’m obviously not a stupid woman. Look what I can do. I also solve the New York Times crossword puzzle every morning. I’d say I have about a seventy-five percent average on finishing it alone, seventy-six to one hundred if I bug the crap out of Dan. So obviously I remember some things. He was making fun of my latest glasses mishap today, referring to me as the absent-minded professor. I am of course getting older, and I have a lot on my mind, but I’m beginning to wonder if some glitter hasn’t made its way into my brain. Or maybe it has to do that as an older woman I have learned to prioritize what matters to me, pushing little details to the side. (That sounds good doesn’t it?) I can still tell the men in my life, Dan and Brian, where every single thing they can’t find in this house is at. It seems that my bad memory only has to do with myself. That would make sense since I usually put myself last. So to sum it all up, I’m forgetting things because:

A.  I am trying to do too much

B.  I am absentminded

C. I have glitter on my brain

D. I’m older

E. I put myself last

F. All of the above?

Actually I have decided that it because for the first time in my life I am devoting every waking moment to creativity. My house is falling down around me, and right now I don’t really care. I am motivated and determined, and have had in recent weeks some new-found confidence in my work. The things that are important to me are always on my mind. My family, my kids, and most of all Dan, but for the first time in my life I’m beginning to see the glimmer of a dream for myself, and if that means I lose a few things along the way…well, except I really do need those glasses.

For tonight a little “upcycling”. A vintage box that I found in OK shape. I’m giving it a touch of nostalgia. One of my photos from Paris changed to black and white and then computer colorized, decoupaged to the top. Inside copies of some of my collection of vintage French postcards, and a small mirror. I have a few finishing touches to complete, but the glue on the mirror needs to dry so those will wait until tomorrow.  I’m pretty happy with the finished product.IMG_2729

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In Need Of A Fix

I write every day. I have written every day for 204 days now with the exception of the lovely case of pneumonia I contracted last June when I missed one. I never really know what I will write about until I sit down at this keyboard. There have been one or two occasions where I sort of knew ahead of time what I wanted to say, and very early on I got sick of my “woe is me of the no art lessons” stories, sometimes I talk about the work, but I really don’t get into it in-depth. I just write. I have a friend who has asked on more than one occasion, “Why?” She says that she is fascinated with how my brain works, my thought process, the whats and whys of the piece of work I am currently creating. She has brought this up more than once. I don’t really have an answer for her. Much like I sit down here night after night and words begin to flow, I do the same most days/nights with my art. It is second nature to me to create. I don’t think about it all that much, I just do. I cook, I write, I sculpt, I paint, I design, I never stop creating. When I have an idea I go with it. I went to my nephew’s apartment in LA the other day. He is a chef, a very busy, talented chef, and he is relatively new to his apartment. He needs a decorator. It’s a small place, two rooms, kitchenette and bathroom, and I can’t wait to get my hands on it. That will come to no surprise to those who know and love me, as well as those I annoy to no end. I’m a girl who loves a project. I have so much to do with two shows right around the corner, Christmas cleaning and decorating (although the glitter issue has me way ahead on that!) I have to shop for Christmas, get a tree, rescue my snowman collection from its garage prison, and write those Christmas cards that will never see the inside of a mailbox. (Story for another time) What is on my mind? John’s apartment. If I didn’t need the money I would forget the shows and be there now, paintbrush in hand. It’s as though I’m in need of a fix, it is that bad. To know that somewhere in this world there is an apartment laying in wait is killing me. My home is done, several times over in fact. My sister once said that I paint my walls more often than she changes her sheets. Sad but nearly accurate. About two years ago I painted the kitchen three times in three days. (Dan only had to help the first two times) It’s an illness, but the color just wasn’t right. The ideas for John’s apartment will not let my brain rest. I have to wait at least another eleven days until after my second show. I don’t know how I will get through it.

I took a day off from fairies today. My back was pleading with me, and as I mentioned last night I am exhausted. Something simple tonight, another book-plate for the business. A pen and ink, computer tinted in photo-shop.12 4