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Happy Birthday…To Me

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Another year passes by. Another year older, and hopefully wiser. I’d like to think that I’ve become a better person this year. I made the decision to not be angry, and for the most part I’ve remained pretty level-headed. I also, thanks to this project and blog have been trying to make myself a priority for the first time in my life. I’m still struggling with it a little, still putting too many obstacles in my own path, but they are getting fewer and fewer as time goes by. Here is my birthday wish, I want my children to be healthy and happy, and I would like to find myself a year from now buried in work with Dan at our business. Nothing spectacular, just simple wishes for health and happiness.

Today could have been a better day. Dan and the kids went above and beyond in making the day as special as they could for me. Unfortunately some other people in my life seemed to have forgotten that this should be a good day. There was also a very troubling incident in our life this morning. Dan took me for coffee, set his iPhone down and forgot it for a minute. Someone stole the phone. I have written before to remind people that you never know what is happening in the life of another person. To the person who stole Dan’s phone, I don’t understand taking something that doesn’t belong to you. Every action has a reaction. My husband has been out of work for six months. He was waiting on a call about a job, the call is supposed to come to that number. You didn’t just take our phone today, you took some hope along with it. You made what was starting out to be a nice day into a day to be upset. You had a hand in ruining my birthday. I hope it was worth it.

Every single day is a workday, today was no exception. A little drawing for myself, and to use in our business. Pen and ink.

10 26

Scar Of The Heart

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Nothing funny about my words tonight. They are inspired by my own life, and something that has been in the news and on my mind. There has been a story in the news lately about a young girl who killed herself. She was being bullied at school, reached a breaking point, and threw herself off a platform at an abandoned cement plant. I am the mother of two, I cannot imagine the anguish and pain of that girl’s family, but what haunts me more is the desperation that would drive a child to do what she did. I cannot stop thinking about her. The anonymity of the computer has allowed people to distance themselves. It is easy to write something awful when you don’t have to look the person in the face. It saddens me to the core to think about that little girl, she was only twelve. I wish it were just a matter of closing Facebook accounts, or shutting down emails, but it isn’t. It is amazing to me how thoughtless people can be with what they say, or how they say it. Insults cloaked in “jokes”, as if somehow calling words funny lessens the pain. It doesn’t. Saying something spoken doesn’t mean anything, you are wrong, it does to the person hearing it. I have had words spoken to me, or about me, that are well in the past, but live in my heart and mind as if it were today. It isn’t about holding on to the past, it is that the words hurt enough to brand themselves into my heart. I was bullied, I know that girl, I could have been her, any of us could be her, any of our children could be her. I have heard words spoken that cause me pain as they are inflicted on someone I care about. I feel powerless in their presence, there is no weapon in hand for me to knock away, I can only stand and listen as the air around me is poisoned. Don’t speak, stop and think. Parents need to choose their words carefully, think about what you say to your children, because they are yours does not give you license to inflict pain. You are the foundation of your child’s self-esteem. Even as we age we look to our parents to approve, to respect, to love us. Physical wounds may heal, but scars of the heart are permanent. I don’t believe that we can ever harden our hearts enough to make them invincible, or that we can ever grow old enough to not want to be loved, or cared about. Words are an easy weapon. Be watchful in anger, or in frustration. Choose your words wisely, when there are spoken words, an apology cannot erase them, and written words once read speak as well. Remember that what you say could very well be the last thing you say to someone. Living with words that were used to hurt another can scar your own heart as well.

For tonight there are words. Hateful, nasty, awful words, branded into the heart. I love words, but not those I have written here. Once again I turn to the words of another.

The Unspoken word never does harm.

Lajos Kossuth

This is dedicated to Rebecca Ann Sedwick. I didn’t know you, but you were worth far more than you realized. Rest In Peace.10 25

One Foot After Another

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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.10 24

The Reality Of Making A Plan

A few definitions courtesy of Google.

Plan

1. A detailed proposal for doing or achieving something.

2. An intention or decision about what one is going to do.

Reality

The world or the state of things as they actually exist, as opposed to an idealistic or notional idea of them.

This is my life. There are plans, and then there is reality. Today is Wednesday. It is the day that I set as a deadline to work on my portrait of Jessica. It was a plan. The reality is that I have too many projects occurring at the same time. This does not matter to Jessica (the portrait, the real Jessica is lovely and patient), I feel the portrait of Jessica giving me the evil eye. I made a silent promise to it today that I will visit soon, and before Halloween when this whole thing would be just too creepy.

My Grandfather clock/bookcase. Another plan. The reality is that I need Dan to help me with it. Dan has hurt his back. (Just a little for those of you who care) The reality is that I should not be allowed anywhere near power tools that may remove appendages from my body. I actually like my fingers. I am a smart capable woman, I am also a complete klutz. Any project that requires a saw shall remain undone until my partner is feeling better.

Plan B

A watercolor of some Hollyhocks.

Reality

Boring. Been done, no need to repeat.

No plan. I begin to wander the house looking at the messy piles of art supplies that are now in every room. No plan. I make my way into the garden, sneaking by portrait of Jessica and hope she doesn’t see me. (I believe I’m developing a phobia) There are supplies in the garden too. They are neatly arranged, because Dan neatly arranges them. I see a piece of wood. It is a cast off. Too small for a shelf or much else. I have an idea, something that has been on my mind for several days. I think I know what I want to do, but then I begin to use watercolor on the wood. I wasn’t even sure it would work, but it does, beautifully. My intention was to paint the wood to look bruised, it doesn’t look bruised, it is soft, it flows gently into the grain. The wood has plans of its own. There is a knot in the wood. The plot thickens, my project changes. I have made it known that I am just a little intense about trash and recycling. It occurs to me as I watch this scrap of wood begin to change, that it might have ended up in our trash. It was too small for anything, well anything except art. I use a lot of paper. I recycle all of it. Would I throw away this much paper? No, that would be a crime in my house. The knot in the wood appears to me as an eye. A living thing. This piece of wood was a living thing. The evolution of a piece of art. No plan, just the reality of all that we, that I, waste. This simple piece of wood that began its life as part of a beautiful tree. Reborn. Making a statement. Sometimes I don’t have the words, and then I look to those who are wiser than I. Thank you Mahatma Gandhi.IMG_1848

 

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.10 22

10 22 1

 

Distressed

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I’m not really distressed, but my project will be by tomorrow night. The marriage of my two pieces finally took place today, but we aren’t quite at the honeymoon stage yet. The crib panel is too large in proportion to the height if the seat. I have a number of solutions in mind, one of which I may attempt tomorrow. For now the piece is painted, but even that isn’t where it will end up. You may have noticed in the before photo that the color is similar to the color I started with, that is purely coincidental. I am trying to work with what I have on hand. That color was in the garage. The finish will look different tomorrow when I have my way with it. I don’t like new and shiny, never have. I love vintage and time-worn. There is very little in my house that is new, most of what I own is vintage. In my armchair psychologist best I believe it has to do with my longing for family connection. Growing up many of the kids I knew had grandparents, I didn’t. My grandfathers had both passed away when I was very young, and both were living in Ireland, as were my grandmothers. I met my Mother’s mom several times, and we stayed at her house in Ireland for a few weeks when I was thirteen, but we were never with her enough to really get to know her. I knew my other grandmother slightly better. She had tried to live here in the States but only lasted a few months. I was only five or so at the time, the thing I remember most was that she sat in my rocking chair all the time and I wasn’t happy about that. When I grew older I wrote to her, and on my last visit to Ireland in 1983, I spent some time with her at the home she was living at. She died a year later. I think I’ve spent my life searching for that connection to the past. I know there are people who hate antiques. For me I appreciate that the piece has a history, a story, that it was loved enough by someone to still be around. When I finished painting my bench it just looked too new. So, after all my hard work of stripping and sanding, and adding a fresh coat of paint, I grabbed the sandpaper once again and went to work distressing. Tomorrow I will be taking it a step further by adding an antiquing glaze. I love that aged distressed look, kind of like me.10 19

IMG_1829

A little extra project tonight. I was having fun doodling with my fine line markers. Tomorrow another marriage of sorts.10 21

Velocity

Where is my finished project from last night you ask?  If you read last night’s post you know that I was to marry together a few old pieces of wood into something amazing. I had promised the photos for tonight. If you must know, the groom got cold feet. That old crib headboard was a tough nut to crack. I stripped and stripped last night, and then today I sanded, and sanded, and sanded, and… it’s not finished yet. That charming little headboard hung on to its vintage paint for dear life, and with all the curves and nooks and crannies, it was quite frankly a pain in my… you know where. I was finally finished sanding to satisfaction when the sun went down. My fingers are worn out. We have a couple of small sanders, and I have a detail sander, but again, those vintage spindle legs don’t allow for such modern conveniences. I am happy to say that it is ready for paint, and to be joined in matrimony to its partner, but the event has been moved to tomorrow. The are also two additions. (Before the wedding! Scandalous!) The piece has a back, and a seat, but had no legs in the front. (You will understand the entire project when it makes its appearance tomorrow.) What to do…of course, the pack rat archives. In the recesses of the garage are the bits and pieces of my life, a.k.a. “I’ll do something with those some day”. I was quite proud to tell Dan that I was using two of the legs from an end table that we threw out about fifteen years ago. I loved the legs on the table and couldn’t bear to part with them, and now they have a new home. It just proves my point. There’s always a reason I save things. It may take a while, but I’ll use it. All that work on the crib left me no time to finish the other project I started last night. It requires a little daylight to finish, so that too will have to wait until tomorrow.

For tonight I decided to push myself a little. I am still struggling with a bad case of the “its supposed to look like” blues. I have done only one abstract since starting the project and decided it was time for another. For years I didn’t “get” abstract art. I would look at it and honestly think, “What the hell?” I am learning that it means to go beyond the obvious. To put emotion and thought on canvas. Both are abstract concepts when you think about it. I piled colors that I love in thick layers of acrylic paint randomly placed on a canvas, and then I grabbed the palette knife and scraped it off. In the remnants I found inspiration. I saw movement. I grabbed the palette knife and dipped into the paint that I had scraped off and swiftly spread it across the canvas. I thought to myself, “How would I illustrate movement?” I grabbed more color and then some metallic gold. I began to enjoy the process and forget about any rules, Movement is abstract. I pushed the paint across the canvas away from me, I felt like the paint was gaining speed, expressing energy. In the end, Velocity.10 20

 

I’ve Got No Time For This

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I’m one of those people who almost always follows the rules. I often joke that I was born responsible. Throughout my life I have always tried to do things the right way. It doesn’t mean that I haven’t had some major league failures, but I try hard, always give my best effort, and crucify myself with guilt if I fail. (Catholic, remember) I never had a teenage rebellion, always did what my Mother asked, at the moment she asked, and could probably be labeled a “goody two shoes”. (An odd expression, who comes up with this stuff?) I think my only rebellious streak applies to the a fore mentioned failure to read the rules.  I’m a very smart woman, really smart, apparently so smart that I think I can do everything without reading the instructions. I mean, who are “they” to tell me how to do something? I bring the “not following the rules” issue up because I had a moment today when I thought about my biggest faults as an artist.

1. Failure to read instructions, or to take classes. In my defense, I have been doing things my own way for so long that quite frankly other people annoy me when they tell me what or how I should do something.

2. That dirty word, Perspective. Hate it, wish I didn’t have to care about it, and generally it gives me nightmares. It is equal to the horror that is geometry.

3. Impatience. I’ve touched a little on this in the past in regards to oil painting, but it really applies today. As I write this I am waiting for paint stripper to take effect. Herein lies the problem. I don’t want to wait. I want the paint to fall off right now. I’ve mentioned before that I have artistic vision. In particular when it comes to painting, recycling, upcycling, reupholstering, and re-imagining furniture pieces. In my head the piece is done. It is painted, stained, distressed….and so on, in my head. Therefore I want it done now. Not in thirty minutes, or even fifteen. I want what is in my head standing in front of me.

4.  Procrastination. Once again, putting myself and this daily project on the back burner. Poor Dan has spent more than one night falling asleep on the couch waiting for me as I type my blog late at night. Starting paintings after dinner is not the way to go, it’s just that I am ingrained with the notion that everyone else comes first. It’s only four in the afternoon here in Temecula, a fact I proudly brought to Dan’s attention. The truth is I’m only writing because I have to wait for more stripper to work! Sixteen more minutes until I can scrape again, its killing me. Maybe I need to work on consecutive projects, that way I’ll fill every minute.

Much, much later…

I took my own advice, and thrilled that I did. Stripping my wood piece is taking much longer than I planned for. As I was looking for pieces to add to my project I came across a small piece of vintage decorative wood I bought years ago. I have been meaning to do something with this piece for the longest time. From the moment I saw this piece of wood it reminded me of church windows. I have several gravestone photos from Richmond, Virginia, one of which I used in a previous altered art project. I changed all the photos to black and white,  then I cropped and printed my photos on vellum. Attached inside the frame and lit from behind using battery operated candles, it’s beautiful! I have some finishes to add in the morning, as well as continuing with my furniture piece. It is now ten at night. I know, I started this blog hours ago, but in the interim I had a very romantic evening with Dan in the garden. First a wonderful dinner, and then a movie. A few years back we built our own outdoor screen. Tonight we watched Midnight In Paris under a full moon. Sometimes the blog can wait.

Photos of the beginnings of a project. Roughly fifteen years ago I purchased an antique headboard from a crib with the intention of doing something fabulous. It never happened. It was the height of my ignoring myself. Today I decided to do something with it. The second piece happens to be the top off of a small dresser from my Mom. The dresser fell apart, but since my Mother gave it to me I needed to keep some part of it, and it happens to be a perfectly good piece of wood. The two shall marry tomorrow, all are invited to the reception. The crib still needs a little work. (So I guess that makes it the groom…just kidding) Also the photo from the second project from today. My candle lit gravestone piece. Much to do tomorrow….stay tuned.10 19

Before stripping10 19 1Dresser top

10 19 2The almost fully stripped piece

IMG_1812Gravestone piece in progress, back-lit with candles.

 

Driving Towards The Future

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There’s a lot to be said for two people who can spend ten hours enclosed in a metal tube alone together and still be speaking. I’m kidding of course, but five hours on Tuesday, and five hours today is a lot of driving. Fortunately after more than twenty-seven years together there is no one that I’d rather be with than Dan, and I am assured he feels the same. We take turns listening to his and hers in the music department, do crosswords or trivia questions, and generally feel the same sort of road rage for inconsiderate drivers, although I am much more vocal than he. ( Don’t worry, its all talk and only to each other.)  We laugh and talk and plan for the future, and sometimes relive the past. It can actually be a very intimate time when two people who are so connected, and really know one another, take the time to just enjoy each others company.

Back in our own little corner of the world, we love to be home. Dan loves going to new places and seeing new things. I do as well, but I’m a little less enthusiastic. I believe I have mentioned that the only safe plane would be the one that I would be flying personally. Of course I would need a pilot’s license for that. Boats? Not so much. There is a ferry that crosses Lake Michigan, it travels across from Wisconsin to Michigan and back. We took that ferry once, I was fine when the sun was still out and I could see land, but as the ship moved farther and farther away from the shore and the sun dipped below the horizon, basket-case, that’s all I can say. Claustrophobia at it’s finest. Thank God for my loving husband. If only Captain Kirk could beam me into my own bed at night. If that were possible I’d travel the world. No matter how beautiful the place, or how wonderful the people, nothing beats putting your head down on your own pillow. There is some sort of comfort that comes from being surrounded by your own things. Basically as people we are all the same. We all have our funny little quirks, and our own way of doing things. Our homes are our sanctuary where we can be at ease with ourselves. I also miss my cats and my kids. (I realize I put the cats first, the cats miss me too, as for the kids???)

Today on our drive we talked about what we still need to get organized for our upcoming business. I can’t wait. I believe in us and what we can accomplish. I think my Dad put it best. He said, “I’ve seen what you two can do together.”  He couldn’t be more right, together we are invincible.

For tonight something for the business. A pen and ink for our children’s menu.IMG_1799

Ghosts Of Projects Past

I had another one if those inexplicable moments of inspiration today. My mother in law gave my husband copies of some old family photos, one of which was her mother as a child. I love it. Alice, an adorable little girl in a Victorian era dress, but for me it was the her expression in the photo. There is a petulance and stubbornness in her face that I love. I haven’t quite captured it yet, the photo is a copy, and isn’t as clear as I’d like. I more than likely won’t get back to it tomorrow because we will be traveling home, but Alice deserves to be finished.

No sooner did I type that Alice deserved to be finished, I heard the essence of the portrait of Jessica calling from my dining room back home. I started Jessica’s portrait in May? I think? I think I started it in a moment of bravado. Feeling empowered by how well things were moving along with this blog I started that portrait, and in my defense returned to it once, but we all know what is going on here. That portrait is my Christmas Carol. It screams of my “not good enough” past. I have been doing so well in my “present”, working daily on my art, feeling confident, and hopeful. There is also a “future” in the works. I am currently planning to attempt my first show. No ghosts in those closets, but as for that portrait I’m feeling those old ghosts. I feel uncertain in my approach, it is after all my first attempt at a full portrait. There is the…dare I say it?….possibility of failure. But what is failure in art? Perhaps my imperfect perspective? When you think about it I guess the only failure in a portrait might be that the subject looks nothing like the finished work, but I will say that so far it does look like Jessica, so what is my problem? Me as always. This new-found artistic confidence is still on somewhat uncertain ground. There are still far too many issues I skirt around. So here is where I once again make the “I have to do this because I said I would because I’m Catholic and I’ll suffer eternal damnation, and endless guilt if I don’t do what I said I would do” promise. Got that? A vow here and now to revisit Jessica by Wednesday of next week. Did you notice I gave myself some time to play with?  So Wednesday it is, at least as a deadline. I think I can hear Jessica say she would like to appear much sooner that that.image