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Going Old School

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New Year resolution number three: Post blog earlier. I have promised this on a number of occasions, but it just never seems to happen. I let too many other things to get in the way. Today I took care of some very important things, but then I made time, daylight time, for art. The result? Probably one of the best things I’ve done in a while, and I did it “old school”. By that I mean in a continuation of the last few days of painting without thinking too much about it, or obsessing over whether what I am doing is “wrong” or “right”, I just painted. Think of it like a small child. Children have no in-habitations. No one has told them yet that they have to be deadly serious all the time, or not find joy in the silly things. I was like that when I began to paint all those years ago. Without someone to tell me I was wrong, I painted for the sheer joy of it. It was only when I did try to take art in college that I was told I didn’t know what I was doing. It’s why I switched majors. I lost the freedom of expression that came in those early days. I became hung up on the rights and wrongs, the lack of art lessons, and in general my self-esteem, which while not great in everyday life, was stellar compared to my artistic self-confidence. I am three-quarters of the way through this year-long project, and it is without a doubt one of the best things I have ever done for myself. I am feeling confident in my work, and have lost the chip that occupied my shoulder for far too long. Today I truly went old school. I sat on the floor and painted. It’s how I began painting, sitting on an attic floor in our Chicago Bungalow, not enough light streaming through the window, but it was my space to paint, and that made me happy. I have two standing easels. One is large and heavy, Dan bought it for me at an antique store years ago. It was downstairs in our home, and I didn’t want Dan to go to the trouble of  bringing it up. The other broke earlier today. It fell over several times yesterday. I kept knocking it over as I cleaned. This afternoon I grabbed my palette, paints, brushes and water (I was painting in acrylic), and sat on the floor, my canvas leaning against a bookcase. I turned on my music and painted just as I did when I was a teen. Two and a half hours flew by. I was happy and content. I think it shows in the work. The painting is of a tree I have often admired when down at the shore in La Jolla. I was there one evening as the sun was setting and snapped a few photos. I’ve often thought of painting one of the photos. I love the color, and hope I have done it justice.12 28

 

Let The Resolutions Begin

It’s that time of year again, New Year’s resolution time. It’s also the time of year when stores everywhere have everything needed for organization on sale. The stacking boxes and baskets called to me from the morning paper, promising a better life through tidiness. (I feel like tidiness is a goal that is achievable for me, unlike the empty promise that my purchase of a treadmill would be) It was enough to spur me into finishing the mess I created in my studio weeks ago. It took me more than a couple of hours to clean and organize, but now the illusion is complete. My life will be better because everything is in its place, right? That’s the plan anyway. I promised myself, and by that I guess I’m making my first resolution, that I will move forward and really put effort into getting my work out there. There is unfortunately the aftermath of cleaning the studio to deal with. There are more than a few piles of “to go through” stuff sitting in our loft. It means a little more cleaning and organizing in the morning, but once it’s done there will be no excuse to not get down to work. I think its time for the kids to leave my nest and live with someone else. Yes, it’s time to start to sell some work. In the last several weeks there have been days when I’ve just thrown something together for this blog due to my heavy crafting schedule. I’m looking forward to getting back to doing the larger pieces I haven’t had the time for. The work I want to sell.

In case anyone is wondering, the portrait of Dorian Gray…I mean Jessica, is still in the dining room. Jessica asked me the other day if the portrait was aging. I told her that it was creepy, it’s getting younger. (If you are new to my blog, Jessica’s portrait has a long back story. Short version: First ever full size portrait. Started it months ago, chickened out, haven’t finished it. I will, I swear I will..oops, resolution number two)

I tried something a little different tonight. I did a small watercolor using only three colors. I’m really pleased with the results. To be honest I was exhausted from cleaning and wanted to do something simple. It is yet another piece of work where I didn’t plan ahead and just let things happen. I feel like it’s working for me.12 27

Heeding My Own Advice

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I’m longing for Spring. Not for the reason you might think. While much of the Country suffers the Winter cold and ice, we are enjoying beautiful weather. It was 79 here in Temecula today. What I need is for the clock to change back. Daylight Savings I need you! In the short amount of time since the clock switched back my body has refused to cooperate. I cannot seem to sleep past five these days, that in spite of how late I go to bed. Christmas Eve that meant bed near one in the morning, and rising at five. It affects my ability to function, with my art as well as pretty much everywhere else in my life. I began three entirely different projects today and couldn’t get my mojo together enough for any  of them. That’s when I thought about what I wrote the other day. I decided to take brush in hand and see where it went. It went in the direction of what I long for, longer days and spring flowers. 12 26

Straight Out Of Dickens

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Merry Christmas Eve to all. Quite some time ago I posted about my orphaned paintings, work I started but never finished in fear of being judged. I pledged at the time to rescue some of the orphans and see them through to completion, I did a few, but then I moved on to other things. Today I have rescued an orphan. Consider it to be straight out of Dickens, a rescued orphan. You may also consider it my ghost of Christmas Past. My son is now twenty-three years old. The painting is of him…at eight or nine. It’s obviously been awhile. One could almost hear the cries from my studio, “Please Ma’am, won’t you finish me?” I have made a gift for everyone in my family this holiday season except for Dan. I had something particular in mind for him, but alas time hasn’t allowed me to do what I wanted. This painting was also for Dan. He has been waiting for many, many years to see it finished. Well, Merry Christmas Honey, it’s done. For Christmas Present, I’ll try to knock off something tomorrow, maybe something for myself. Christmas Future? I have been writing about moving ahead with my work. Getting ready to present my stuff to the world. I’ve been writing about it, but I haven’t been doing it. I had a doctor appointment this morning for the mysterious pain in my side. (I’m not dying or anything, graceful girl that I am it seems that in my efforts to stay healthy, when I walk I am not doing it right. I am pulling muscles in my thigh or something…only me. The doctor asked if I stretch before I walk. My reply? “Why would I do anything the right way?”) Back to the future…I began a conversation with a lovely woman who works for the doctor. She likes art, she has a friend who opened a gallery in nearby Escondido. As if it were meant to be.  Just last night when Dan and I walked I spoke of trying to sell my art…do you think maybe someone is trying to tell me something? I need to get there, I need to get somewhere. It’s time, and there’s no time like the present, and wouldn’t be wonderful to think about the future and feel cheery and bright.

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Letting The Canvas Speak

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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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Addicted

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I always say I don’t have an addictive personality. I’ve thankfully never smoked, have a take it or leave it attitude about drinking, and…well OK, there is chocolate, but I don’t consider that an addiction, I consider it a necessity. Oh, and there’s coffee, and my secret unhealthy relationship with Double Bubble. What did I say about not having an addictive personality? Never mind, because I am addicted. To what? To the paper, glue and candle crafting I did last night. Today I decided to go for it again. I saw a photo on Pinterest again, this time it is the sign that hangs in front of The Writer’s Museum in Scotland. I loved it, showed it to Dan and he loved it, so that became my project for tonight. This time recycler that I am, I decided to try using a box that a book was delivered in. I had visions of never throwing away another box and making great art in the process, you know a one woman show, “The Box Lady”…  Not so fast. The box was corrugated. It did not cooperate, it did not want to be cut out with an exacto knife. Thankfully the piece wasn’t as intricate as last night, but still by the time I had finished cutting it out my wrist was throbbing. (Thank you 18 years at the grocery store for giving me carpal tunnel) It did take the glue and burning technique OK, but not quite as nice as last night’s board. Color is another issue. It took the metallic hue, but I am not satisfied with the result. I decided to rest my hand and go back to it tomorrow with some light bronzes and gold acrylics that I have. So here you have it. I’m good on about three-quarters of it, but I also am not crazy about the size. I want to go bigger and bolder with it. I have to admit I’m pretty excited by this stuff, and I don’t get enthusiastic about anything…except maybe chocolate.IMG_3266The original box top drawing

IMG_3270The excruciating cutout

IMG_3283The not quite where I want it so it’s not quite finished piece.

 

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

The Upside

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Despite what I wrote last night the day wasn’t all bad on Saturday. It was just that I worked so hard preparing for the show, and on my poem, and well, I thought I was so clever that I couldn’t resist using it. Now for the upside. Yesterday was lousy, but I did sit outside all day on a beautiful afternoon with Dan, we did enjoy our favorite pastime, which is making fun of the general public, and we met Isabella. Isabella is a beautiful young girl who was at the show with her parents who also had a booth. Shortly after I set up Isabella came over to our tables. She was enchanted by my fairies, and couldn’t decide which she liked best. Several times throughout the day she came over to play with the fairies, or drag one of her parents over to see them. Eventually she wore her father down. They came over together to choose a fairy. Isabella was beyond excited, and would pick one, then quickly change her mind and choose another. I had mentioned to her earlier in the day that I had created a “Katniss” ornament for my daughter. (For those if you who are out of touch with the universe, Katniss is the character in The Hunger Games) I had a photo of the ornament and showed it to her. That was it, that was the one. Her dad asked if she was sure that she wanted to wait for me to send an ornament rather than buy one that was already on the table. She was very definite about what she wanted. In the photo of Katniss I showed her the ornament was holding a bow, but no arrows. Isabella requested that I not permanently attach the bow, and could I make arrows? Oh, and since the fairies only have eyes could I add a smile? She was so sweet, and then she looked at me shyly and said, ” I still like to play with dolls, especially little ones, I know I’m too old.” I asked her how old she was and she said she was twelve. I said, “Honey, you aren’t too old to play with dolls. My daughter was older when she gave up her Barbie.” She broke into a huge grin. In this day when most kids are nothing more than miniature adults it was so refreshing to see a little girl who was still a little girl. It made my day.  At the end of the show Isabella’s mom came over to tell me how much her daughter loved my things. I told her how sweet I thought her daughter was.  Isabella came over to say goodbye to me before they left. Today I made Isabella’s ornament, including her bow, and arrows and a quiver to keep them in. That wasn’t enough. I want to encourage the imagination of any child that wants to be a child. She said she likes to play with little things, so I’m going to surprise her. When I mail her Katniss in the morning, Katniss will have a friend, her name is Isabella. I made a little doll the size of fairy that resembles Isabella. Of course since Katniss has a bow, arrows and a quiver, Isabella needs them as well, I mean if they’re going to play together… I know I whined and complained about my day, but there really was a wonderful bright light in my day, her name was Isabella.

Tonight a slightly askew watercolor of some flat ware. I was working and watching a movie at the same time so my perspective might just be off a little (any excuse, we know its my nemesis. Damn you evil perspective!) Its been weeks since I sat down and just relaxed. It is a difficult concept for me. I’m not totally unhappy with the results, but it did feel good just to be back working on my project once again.IMG_3112

And just in case you were interested in seeing them, Katniss and Isabella.IMG_3114

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