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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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.
One Foot After Another
The title of my blog tonight is reflective of both how I have been approaching this project, and also happens to be the title of tonight’s piece of art. In terms of the blog it has to do with the many days and nights when something gets in my way. Whether it is housework, illness, holidays, family commitments, or just me getting in my own way, I just keep plodding through. On days when I feel defeated because my work isn’t coming out as I want it to, or days when I feel just a little lazy, I put one foot in front of the other and work through it. I realize that there are nights when someone might look at my work and think “Really?’ I know its true because there are times when that person is me. I know when I’m not at my best, and I know when I am producing just to produce. I made a promise to myself today to start earlier in the day. I know I’ve touched on my procrastination in the past, but I woke this morning feeling very out of sorts and in need of getting my act together. I’m getting tired of myself. Lots of ideas, not as much action. I think we have fallen into a funk around here. Time to take charge.
Although there are times when last-minute homework comes out really well. I started the piece for tonight at about five this evening, I stopped to make and to eat dinner, I think sometimes I work well under pressure…
One Foot After Another. We have a collection of vintage shoemaker forms (I think I read The Elves And The Shoemaker too many times), and some really cool iron pieces that I assume were used to hammer on the soles of the shoes. It’s a collection we never set out to have. I found it piece by piece. My favorite is the small shoe form. I walked past them today, as I do every day, but today I felt inspired by them. I actually have been looking for a project to do on a long narrow canvas I have. It is 8 x 24. I love odd sizes of canvas, of course framing is an issue. Thank God my husband loves me so much. Dan is always the one who ends up doing the framing. He is lovely and patient just like Jessica. Acrylic on canvas.
Just Say “Hello”
I have decided that there are two kinds of people in the world. There are those that say hello, and those who put their heads down, or avert their eyes, all in an attempt to not acknowledge their fellow human beings. We live in Temecula, which essentially means we are living in a tourist destination. I don’t mean that in a bad way, there are some pretty beautiful places in the world that have been turned into living nightmares of junk and fast food, Temecula is not one of them. We have I believe over 60 vineyards here, and our Old Town, a place that still has wooden sidewalks and historical plaque on nearly every building. Beautiful weather nearly year round, and settled in between San Diego (less than sixty miles), and LA (roughly 85 miles), an hour from Disneyland, less than that to Legoland, and about thirty miles to the Pacific Ocean, although there is that pesky mountain range in the way. In other words, we have it really good here. We should all be walking around feeling pretty lucky. Now I realize that stuff happens, it is still happening in my own life, but basically we Temeculan’s (new word, just made it up, clever right?) are very fortunate people. Dan and I walk every morning. We walk through our subdivision and one across the street from us. We walk anywhere from thirty-five minutes to an hour. In the course of those walks we run into a handful of people. There are some people who greet us with a smile and say, “Good morning.” There are those that suddenly become very interested in their phone, their dog, a speck of dirt on the walkway…anything to avoid looking at us and having to say hello. It’s strange. We are not bad people, nor do we in any way resemble the extras on The Walking Dead, we are just regular humans. What really puzzles me are the ones that do say hello, but say it in the most begrudging fashion, as if we have forced them to do something against their will. We saw a woman this morning on our walk. She couldn’t really avoid us. She didn’t appear to have a phone handy, or a dog to use as an avoidance prop, she did have a few small children walking ahead of her, but too far ahead for her to use as a shield, so she had no choice but to say hello. The look on her face said it all. We bothered her. Somehow we offended her. All we did was smile (the horror!), and say “Good morning.” I have no way of knowing what is happening in that woman’s life, but she was walking down the beautiful streets of Temecula with some pretty cute kids, on an absolutely gorgeous morning. Like I said, I think there are two kinds of people, the kind that ignore you and the kind that don’t, but if you can’t return a smile, I guess I’d rather you find a sudden interest in studying cement texture in the sidewalk than looking at me as if I have a problem. OK, now that I got that off my chest….art.
Two years ago for Christmas I received a beautiful little cabinet from Dan for Christmas. It was a great gift, it was the kind of gift where I saw it in a store and…bought it, called Dan, and said, “You can give it to me for Christmas.” Like I said, it was a great gift. From the minute I saw this little cabinet I thought, “Grandfather Clock”. Now that we are embarking on our business I am taking all the ideas that have been laying in wait in the recesses of my brain and putting them into action. The crib/ bench was one of them. The next idea is my Grandfather clock/bookcase. The cabinet appears to have had glass in the door at some point in its life, but when I bought it the frame on the front was empty. My partner in life and in creativity, aka Dan, helps me bring my ideas to life. We went to the store and purchased wood to create a bookcase to put under the cabinet. Today we made that bookcase, and then laughed our behinds off. The bookcase is fine, but when you put the cabinet on top it becomes a clock for the Jolly Green Giant. It has to be eight feet tall. What can I say, sometimes I just don’t think. We need the bookcase, so it won’t go to waste. (Without the cabinet on top it is six feet tall.) Tomorrow we will be returning to the store to create the four-foot bookcase we need. Dan also cut a panel from MDF for the frame opening. It is my project for tonight. The clock face for my cabinet. I can’t wait to make the smaller bookcase in the morning and add it to my cabinet. I have some really great ideas to finish it off.
My Ruby Slippers
Some good news today, my Dad Is doing a little better. I had more than one nurse tell me over the phone today how charming he is. It’s the brogue, does it every time. I’m still really worried about him, but he can be quite funny, and knowing he is up to his usual goofy behavior makes me feel better. I’m still praying for him, anyone else who wants to join in is more than welcome.
I spent part of the day working on the logo which is giving me more trouble than I expected. It’s tough to create a piece of art that will reproduce well in a two-inch size.
For tonight a little trompe l’oeil. It’s been years since I’ve done it, but tonight I came across a small wooden art box in my studio that I’ve been meaning to do something with and decided to play with that. I painted a pencil on the lid tonight. but want to add a few other items to the top. I had really intended to do a lot more today. I’m about a third of the way through this project. Seventeen weeks in to be exact. I had planned to celebrate with some fabulous piece of art, it just didn’t come to me. I think part of what is getting between me and the logo project, and the work from tonight and from last night, is worry. Things still don’t seem to be going our way around here, and then with my Dad getting sick on top of it…let’s just say that sometimes its tough to stay positive. I am worried for my Dad, for Dan, for myself, and our family. There’s a Death Cab For Cutie song called, “What Sarah Said”, it is a song that has a great deal of meaning to it. It’s as though someone was watching in the ICU when my Mom got sick. There’s one line, “And it came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to father time”, I’m not even sure I can explain how that line resonates with me. I have wasted so much time in my life focusing on the wrong things, or being angry about things that really don’t matter, and especially not taking care of myself. I think about my Dad, soon to be eighty-one, and I know he has his own little prayer for more time. This entire project where I am discovering myself as an artist, might not have been necessary if I had stopped worrying about the crap, and focused years ago on the one thing that could really make me happy, my work. I did a little altered art card, not a good one, a very early attempt at Photo shop, but you will understand it when you see it. I made it a year or two ago, and the message was right there, I wrote it, but I still didn’t get it. It’s a little sad to discover, like Dorothy’s ruby-red slippers clicking together to bring her home, that I had what I needed all along. So here I am, with my prayer to father time, trying to discover who I am, and what I am capable of, in the Fall of my life. Grandma Moses jokes aside, it is more than time to be who I was meant to be. Small work tonight, but its about all I can manage at the moment.
Separation Anxiety
I took some time today to print out a wallet size photograph of all of the art that I have completed thus far. I’ve actually accomplished far more than I realized. I also discovered a few unfinished projects that I started as a result of this project and didn’t complete. With the exception of my oil painting of Jessica, I plan on finishing them all this week. I really want to work on the oil painting but have two weeks to wait for that doctor appointment. Many of the pieces I have done are small, very small, a few were artist cards, but there are also a few that I know I could sell. Therein lies my dilemma. I have sold at art/craft shows for years, small wooden painted pieces, folk art, some holiday ornaments, and have also worked as a muralist. What I have not done a lot of is sell my paintings. To be honest, I’ve sold only one painting. I’ve sold drawings, portraits to be exact, where I was hired to draw someone in particular. I sold my first piece of art when I was fifteen. That was the one painting I sold. It was before I stopped believing in myself. I actually began painting at about fourteen. Back then it was sheer enjoyment, I didn’t know enough to know that I didn’t know anything. I have loved art as long as I can remember. The absolute rush of emotion I get when I have finished a piece that I love has been with me my whole life. When you are a shy kid, have no friends, you feel very small, you feel bad about yourself, you feel nonexistent. Art was my friend. It is my safe place. No matter how unhappy I was I could lose myself in the creative process. Despite everything I have written in this blog about not being good enough, not feeling good enough, I still hung on. It has been for me in my life, a lifesaver. I did a lot of work I didn’t care about, not that it wasn’t good, I always do my best, but it was the craft show stuff. I don’t intend for that comment to demean what anyone else does, I just knew that I was capable of so much more. I am beginning to do the work I have waited a lifetime to do, every piece I do means so very much to me, but I can’t keep them all, despite the fact that each and every piece of art is like one of my children. I also feel like I need to prove to myself that I can be successful at this. I realize that money doesn’t mean success in art, at least it doesn’t for me, but my family has found itself in a difficult situation and it would mean the world to me to be able to help our situation doing what I love. I know I can make prints, or keep photographs of my work, reminders for myself. I just need to send my “kids” off into the world, and just like my daughter and son, hope they find someone who loves them as much as me.
Acrylic again this evening. That shy little girl still lives inside me and she really loves a good hiding place. Maybe that explains my love of these old secret garden gates.




