When I committed myself to this 365 project  I forgot to take a few things into consideration, mainly that I have a life! It isn’t as though prior to this I spent my days lazing about. I work every day, not at a job that involves a time clock, or a paycheck (my family couldn’t afford me), but I spend every day employed in the business of making a home. I have on occasion (usually because one of said family members has pissed me off) stated that mothers and housewives don’t get days off, or vacations, personal days, and most of the time we work through our sick days. There are I admit bonuses. Like when your husband still thinks you are beautiful after twenty seven years, or you see some of yourself (and I mean the good stuff) in your daughter, or when your twenty two year old son gives you a hug after years of acting as though you are contagious. (He attempted to hug me last year for the first time in ages, I was so startled it was as if a stranger were attacking me. You can’t blame me, six years ago when my mother died I got a pat on the back.) The point of all of this ranting is to say that I didn’t have enough time for myself today to finish a piece of art. What I really should say is that I didn’t make time, or give myself permission for time to work. It’s 10:30 now, and the two men in my life, my husband and son, are passed out cold, one in an armchair and one on the couch, I need to get them to bed.

I started drawing about an hour ago so I do have a glimpse of today’s project. I had a hard time deciding which cat to draw last night, so tonight I had decided to make it Mia. It’s an older photo when she was a kitten, but my favorite one. And tomorrow I promise to finish Mia, and more importantly to give myself the time to work.

And maybe the next time I sign on for something for a year I should make sure I get vacation time.

I reread my post from yesterday. Yikes! I think  maybe the fact that we drove five plus hours to Tempe on Wednesday, and the same five plus hours back Thursday had taken a toll on my brain. No, I’m not a desert person, but there is no denying the rugged beauty that can be seen there. We’ve made that trip more times that I can count. We have family in Arizona, and my husband has had business to conduct there. I think maybe seeing the scenery too many times may have taken effect too. However, it doesn’t stop me from taking dozens and dozens of photos out the car window. I have annoyed Dan more than he will ever admit (as I have said, he is wonderful), I am continually having him move his hands and head as he drives because he is the way of a shot I want to take. I sat this morning looking at the one hundred ninety-two photos that I took, and realized how wrong I was. It is beautiful, and dare I say it…magical. So in my apology to the desert I will post a few photos. I will be back later with some art, but I felt the need to express how I was feeling this morning. Also, in my defense, all the chocolate I packed to snack on in the car melted, that also effected my mood. I take my chocolate very seriously.

Yesterday was not a good day for art, and today isn’t much better. I was actually cursing myself last night for starting this blog…the pressure….the pressure.

I painted last night, and drew last night, but did I complete anything? No I did not. Also, as I predicted it was late at night in a hotel room. There were a few problems dancing around in my head, most of which are personal and I won’t share, but two other issues were in the way. The first is that the drive through the Arizona desert wasn’t the inspirational trip I hoped for. I’m sure you have all heard that the desert can be magical. Maybe you are one of the people who believe that, I am not. I enjoy color, vibrancy…living things. OK, I admit there are times when the light is right, or the night sky is filled with stars that it looks beautiful. I think the people who call it magical are dying of thirst and hallucinating.  If I were a pioneer and got this far I probably would have said, “Crap, I starved, suffered and sacrificed for this?” At that point I would have made a u-turn in the wagon, (of course only if it was legal), and headed back to the other coast.  Then the other issue, which was actually a good thing. If you ever get to Scottsdale check out Zinc Bistro. The closest thing we’ve found to Paris since Annisette’s closed in Santa Monica.  A cheese and charcuterie course, a bottle of French wine, well lets just say I chose a lovely early dinner with the love of my life over art. If you knew him you wouldn’t blame me in the least.

This morning I tried again. Reworking some of last nights work, nothing was going right. So I spent a few hours pursuing my other passion, antique browsing. Late afternoon back at the hotel, the stars aligned, angels sang, and I did a watercolor.  Ladies and gentlemen, Finally, today’s work of art! (And actually since it was for yesterday I still have to work tonight. But, I will be home in California, and there will be color!).

And since this writing this in the car and can’t figure out how to attach my photo, I will post it on its own.

So there I was again last night, trying to think of something to do for this blog. It was after seven and I hadn’t even begun to figure out what I wanted to do. Why is this? Let’s see, oh yes, the refrigerator repair man was coming yesterday. That’s right, and of course there is the chance that he might be bringing the cleanliness inspectors. He said any time between ten and two, that’s a big window, and I woke before six, but I cleaned until he came. I mentioned being my father’s daughter the other day. Well, this is where I am my mother. No one, and I mean no one, gets into the house if it isn’t impeccably clean. Because as you all know that is how it looks all the time. The honest truth is that I am messy. Not dirty, there is a HUGE difference, but when I cook the kitchen is a disaster. When I paint, there is paint everywhere, including almost always on my face. If I could recreate a tree from the amount of paper in my house I could make a redwood or two. So art was pushed aside in pursuit of a clean kitchen floor. I then chose to work on a picture for a friend, it was Winnie the you know who (and, for the sake of legal crap will not be making an appearance here). She has a niece coming to visit and I wanted to contribute to the decor. Another friend has just become a grandmother, so I needed another gift. When that was done there was a trip to the post office, stuff to return at the store, grocery shopping, you get it. I put everything ahead of the project at hand. It isn’t that I don’t want to work on my art, I have just become so accustomed to putting it and myself last that I don’t even think about it. This self imposed pressure that I have created by starting this blog will hopefully change that.

Earlier in the day I had been looking through a box of words that I have. It is a box filled with magazine clipping of single words and quotes. I love words, I love quotes, and my intention with all of this was to create collage, and do some art journaling. (Notice the word intention, I have a lot of intentions when it comes to art, I just don’t follow through on it.) I came across a scanned photo of myself from kindergarten. It is a bad, pix-elated photo that has scratches in it. As I looked at that photo I wondered about the little girl I used to be, and how I ended up so full of self doubt. So I drew me, at least the me I was a very long, long time ago. I’ve never done a self portrait, and again I tried a different approach to sketching, but I am fairly happy with the results. That led me to a quick drawing of a lemon at 4:30 this morning (absolutely insane, and I know it). Here are my drawings.

By the way, the fridge is fixed, my house is still somewhat clean, but I will be traveling today. What does that mean for art today? Who knows? There is the distinct possibility that I will be up late tonight in a hotel room frantically sketching something.Art, Illustration, sketching, thoughts

I started a blog a few years ago because my mom died. I felt this overwhelming need to let the world know that she had been here. She never valued herself enough. I stopped because it became more about my dad…enough said. I have begun again, except this time it is a blog for me, because like my mom I never valued myself enough. I am an artist, I was born one, but I was afraid to expose my talent for fear of being judged. It is my time now, I don’t want my daughter to feel the need to blog about me.