A Momenteous Occasion (For Me)

Tonight is my 100th post. What that means for me is that I have stuck with doing something for myself, not something I’m accustomed to doing. It has only been ninety days since I began my blog, the other ten posts were of photos, and I actually haven’t posted one hundred pieces of art as I had hoped to when I reached this point. Life has a way of deciding for you what will work out. In this small span of time so much has happened that I didn’t take into consideration when I started out. There are people in my life who have had the joy of birth, the sorrow of death, loss of a job, and as for myself, illness, twice, that I hadn’t counted on, new friends, reconnecting with family, and in particular discovering who in my life really care enough to support me and my dreams. I have changed, I am finding my artistic voice, I am growing confident in my work, and I am producing more art than I have in my entire life. I always said that I never figured out what I wanted to be when I grew up. I still haven’t, there are far too many ways to fulfill my desire to create and I don’t want to limit myself to one. I know I don’t have to. So, I will continue on this journey and hope that it continues to be as satisfying as it has been thus far. I mentioned several posts ago that I realized that some projects will take more than a day, so that meant that at the end of this year I might not necessarily have three hundred sixty-five pieces of work. The project of using up everything in my studio over the course of this year has evolved, and as I stated before, it is my project and I make the rules. It is true that I don’t have an individual piece of art for every day because some things do take longer, but now I think I want to add that challenge to myself, to complete three hundred sixty five pieces by April 13th of next year. That’s a lot of work, but I feel confident enough to try.

For tonight I was inspired by a lovely day with friends in La Jolla. We had lunch within sight of the Pacific, it was an overcast day with an unusual sprinkling of a few rain drops. For some reason it left me feeling nostalgic. I have application on our home computer called Poladroid. It is a program that lets you change digital photos into what looks like an old Polaroid. I love it. As I was looking through my photos for inspiration tonight, I came across a photo I had added the Poladroid to. I stayed true to my promise of an attempt to paint in acrylics, and using my day as inspiration, and the idea of the old Polaroid in my head, a beach scene. I still have a hard time with acrylics from a blending standpoint. I know there are additives that can help, I may look into that. However, I am happy with my painting.

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Inspired Day

I had a really productive day today. I started my morning in our beautiful garden taking photographs. I should say I tried to start my day that way. One of our cats, Mia, loves to come outside with us. We have three, all indoor cats. By mutual consent Mia has agreed to wear a leash and collar. (OK, maybe not so mutual, but I follow her upstairs by demand to turn the faucet on in the tub so she can drink, there isn’t anything mutual about that decision either!) Mia loves a good cat massage, particularly on her face. She followed me around the garden mewing until I gave in. I spent a good twenty minutes petting her until she decided she had enough. After Mia’s session was over, (no tip) I finished photographing the garden, and then I began finishing up last night’s portrait of my Mom. I really wasn’t happy with it last night, much happier this evening!2013 garden (24)

I wasn’t sure (as usual) what I wanted to do today. I was uploading the photos out of my camera and decided to use one of my photos for inspiration. Before I began working I looked at my daughter’s Facebook page. Jessica had posted some photographs from a trip to Venice Beach with her husband John, and their dog Otis. There was one in particular that I really liked, so that became my project. I have been really dying to get back to my paintbrush, but until I get an OK from the doc that my lungs are clear, watercolor will have to suffice. The painting of John and Otis didn’t take long, and I felt terrific doing it. I even commented to Dan how relaxed I feel in my work these days. Despite my evil nemesis, Perspective, and the unusually quiet “you’re not good enough” voice in my head, and my stubborn refusal to read direction of any kind, I feel like I am making leaps and bounds in my artistic confidence. So much so that when I finished John and Otis I decided to jump right into another painting. (I do want to catch up on those lost sick days) I looked through the photos from the garden and picked one of my Echinacea. I love the color, and wanted the challenge of painting the prickly tops. Success! By the time I was finished and looked at the clock it was after six. I need more days like today.

 

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Catching Up

Long day today. Still battling some fatigue, of course very high temperatures outside don’t help. We did spend some time in our beautiful garden this morning before the sun grew too hot. I shared some photos along with my usual art work this evening. One of the fountain we designed and the other of my grapes. I am ridiculously excited about the grapes. I’m a city of Chicago kid, grew up next to the El. Growing grapes make me very happy.

I know I have some art to catch up on, but I also have a million things in my non-artistic life that I have fallen behind on as well. By the time I sat down to decide what to do for an artistic project this evening, I was exhausted and at a loss for what to do. Everyone tells me to take it easy, but those who know me well realize that sitting still is difficult for me. I unfortunately didn’t leave myself much energy for my project. I am making myself a promise that tomorrow it will be the first thing I do. I sat here on the couch and just looked around the room for inspiration. What I ended up with was a small leaf study in watercolor from a plant on my table, and when I opened my husband’s iPad there was a beautiful photo of a silhouette of a tree against a sunset, small painting number two. Both are small, no more than a few inches, nothing I’m crazy about, but it was enough to stretch my artistic muscles for the evening. Better things in the morning…promise.IMG_9724

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Using The Gift

I never quite understand people who,because they have a particular talent believe themselves to be better than others. I have a gift, an artistic one, but so do millions of others. I have often said, “Sure I can draw, paint, cook, do pretty much anything creative, but the laundry list of what I can’t do is ten times longer. There are those who can dance and sing, talents that I would love to have. I am sorely lacking in the coordination department, which essentially cuts out pretty much any athletic prowess. I bring this up for a number of reasons. I have had people suddenly become interested in being my friend because they see what I can do, and trust me, I can spot those ones a mile away. I have had more than my fair share of snide comments from other women who see my abilities as competition. I don’t feel that way about things that other people are good at. I admire what others can achieve. I will admit to having a little “hair envy”, basically mine sucks and always has. These days, much to Dan’s amusement I comment on how nice other women’s knees look. (If you saw mine you’d understand..six surgeries have done some damage) Do I wish I were thinner,richer, or more accomplished? Sure I do, I’m human, but I am more of the mind-set that when someone else looks better, or does something better or different from what I do, I applaud them. I had the conversation that I wrote about earlier in the week, the one that took a swipe at my self-esteem. Then yesterday I saw a neighbor, a woman who I at one time considered a friend. I did a lot for her. I foolishly gave and gave of my artistic self, doing things for her and her kids. She turned into one of the women who made the snide remarks. I’ve been accused of “showing off”, all because I made a beautiful dish to bring to a neighborhood gathering, or gave a hand painted piece of furniture as a gift to a neighborhood child. (Believe me, I was invited to the party for every kid on the street) My point, the reason I write all of this, is that I don’t show off. I never think I am better than anyone else, and I shouldn’t let someone else who has a ridiculous issue about me, (envy) to cloud my thinking, to get in the way of my art. I have given myself a stern talking to, and have had encouragement from a number of people in regards to that post.

Back to the “gift”. The best thing about having the ability to do everything I can do is that I can create something special for people I care about. I have a very dear friend in the midst of a horrible problem. She means the world to me, and other than letting her know that I am here for a shoulder to cry on, there isn’t much I can do to help her situation. We are good friends because we are much the same, nice, decent, thoughtful women. We accept each other, we share our lives, we support each other. We love our husbands and our children. We joke that we get along so well because we are both middle children. She is one of the finest people I have ever known. I can’t fix what is happening in her life, but I can use what I have, my artistic gift, to let her know that she is loved and thought about. So tonight I decided to make my project for her. She will be mad at me, she says I give her too much, but she is wrong. She has given me through her friendship more than I can ever repay. She loves pears. To eat, to wear, (her favorite pear sweater), she has pears all around her house, I think she needs one more. I raved about the wood burning and the pearl paint when I did the table. I’ve been anxious to try something else. I have some scrap wood in the garage, so I drew a quick sketch of some pears, and pear flowers, and grabbed the wood burner. I have barely begun to paint it, but it is late, so I will post part of the started project. I know my friend will read this, she is so very supportive of what I am doing, so I don’t want her to see it all yet.

In addition to tonight’s post is a quick pen sketch. I had a lovely day in the vineyards with Dan. As we sat on the terrace of one of the wineries I drew the scene in front of me. I have photos of this same location and think it just might need to become the inspiration for a painting.leoness photo

Letting Go Of Perfection

I never know from day-to-day what I am going to create, much less what I will blog about. Both projects are discovering themselves as my day goes on. I will have to be very honest here, both the art and the writing are on the top of my daily “to do” list, but both are the last things I do at the end of the day most of the time. Why? I’m still struggling with putting myself first and letting go of my duties as wife/mother. I’m still making sure the kitchen gets cleaned in the morning, and that there are meals on the table, and every other thing I can think of in between. I’m working on it, but without much success. I will continue to figure this out, and at some point (hopefully) I’ll learn to ignore that the floor needs to be swept. (Disclosure: I can’t eat at those restaurants where they have rude wait staff and peanut shells on the floor. I cannot stand rudeness, and absolutely cannot eat in a place that has a dirty floor. I don’t know why I feel the need to share this, except that maybe it lets you know me just a little better. One might think by reading that, that I am a neat freak. Far from the truth. My house is clean, very clean, well at least as clean as a house with three cats and a twenty-two year old male can be, but I’m messy. I think I mentioned that before, I mean the me being messy part, again for no particular reason…)

I brought all of the above up because I (as regular readers might know by now) am struggling with not being good enough or perfect in my art. Tonight I had a little breakthrough. I didn’t work earlier today because of anything more than it was really hot here today, and unusually humid. Hot plus humid equal lethargic for me. I just wasn’t in the mood. Not that I didn’t try. I made a few pathetic attempts at something with clay, and although I promised to put up all work, warts and all, I didn’t even come up with something I could photograph even as an attempt. So at the magic hour of seven p.m., which seems to be turning into my starting time, I began a watercolor painting. My breakthrough was that I didn’t sweat it at all. When I do a rough sketch for a painting I worry over every little detail. I measure and fuss over the drawing being just right. I didn’t measure tonight. I just sketched, and then I just painted. In a moment I had the thought that the reality is, unless I am painting a well-known monument, the people who see my work are more than likely to never see the photo I use as inspiration, or into my brain to see where ideas spring from there (God forbid!). I started out tonight feeling like I was doing homework again, but then I relaxed, I let the process and my enjoyment of it take over. The finished project, a watercolor and ink inspired by a photo I took in Carmel, California, isn’t perfect. The perspective isn’t perfect. I am not perfect, and I’m learning to be content with all of it.

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A Wonderful Day

I had a wonderful day today. We decided to head out for a hike in Torrey Pines State Reserve this morning. It is in La Jolla, California, near San Diego. The trails run alongside the Pacific, and it is spectacular. Very inspiring to say the least. I took more than two hundred photos.  I thought about painting one of them, but I have been anxious to get back to the portrait of Jessica. I am still working on blocking in and building color. As I have mentioned before I feel like my work lacks texture, appearing very flat. The last few paintings I’ve done are better. I want to do the same with this one. I also want to take my time and build it slowly. I was pleased with the progress that I made today.  Although I did find myself adding too much paint and muddying it in the process. I have again put the painting aside for a few days. I am also working on my patience. In the past I would have rushed to finish this painting. I’m not really sure about how, or why I do that. To do the kind of work I want to do I need to learn to slow down and take my time with it.

I also did a little watercolor of a lemon, really for no other reason than I felt so inspired by our morning. I find walking so relaxing, and doing so in such a beautiful place left me feeling stress free and more than happy to get back to painting. Now if I could only live right there…5 30 5 30 2 (1) 5 30 2 (2)

Sometimes You Need To Read The Instructions

Yes, it is after dark, but today wasn’t about putting myself last. I spent the morning getting supplies to make greeting cards, and sorting through my computer photo files. I barely made a dent. I mentioned the over two thousand photos I took in Paris, there are also the hundreds and hundreds of photos that I take every where I go. They are somewhat organized, but choosing what to use took time.

About today’s work…I looked around the studio again, this time I spied a watercolor canvas that I bought to try. Unlike watercolor paper it’s a wrapped canvas. I had printed out a few photos this morning that I wanted to paint. I sketched it out on the canvas and began to paint. Disaster ensued. The paint just sat on the surface going nowhere. I wiped it off and tried again.  No luck. It then occurred to me ( genius that I am), that maybe I should have read the little pamphlet that was attached to the canvas. It seems that the canvas has to be wet heavily and let sit for ten minutes before you paint. I had of course, as always, jumped in head first. I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t measure things, I am a “create by the seat of my pants” kind off girl. I have the ability to look at a piece of furniture and see it in five different colors in my head,  When I buy something at the flea market I know from the moment I buy it what it will look like when I’m done.  However, I can read the same instruction booklet twenty times and still not know how to do things. I’ve owned a kiln for more than two years and I’ve yet to use it. Why? Because I am waiting for Dan to read the instruction book and show me how. Yesterday he figured out my very expensive printer that has been gathering dust upstairs for…you guessed it…two years. Logic and I are strangers. I quit interior design school because I was too intimidated by drafting class. And as anyone has read this blog knows, I have never had art lessons, I do however own an instructional book on just about every form of art imaginable. Here’s a novel idea, maybe I could actually start reading them, and then I will have less days like today.

I tried for a third time and then I gave up on the canvas and switched to paper.

I may have mentioned that I have a thing for doors and windows. ( Some deep-seated need to escape?)  This painting is a watercolor of a door I came across in Monterey, California.

I’m not sure what I’ll do tomorrow, most likely something with no instruction needed!

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Riley

It’s late, nine here in California, and I again find myself putting my project off until the end of my day. Today it had nothing to do with avoiding the project at hand, but because it was a hard day for us here. Issues beyond our control came to a head. It was a long emotional day, one that I will be glad to have over.

I grabbed my sketchbook tonight, as always not sure what my subject might be. I started a drawing of some flowers, but I chose the wrong paper for the pencils that I was using and couldn’t achieve the correct amount of blending. Therein  lies the biggest issue I have with not having had lessons. Materials are foreign to me. I still have a painting that I completed in my early twenties. It is large and a little abstract. I gave it to a boyfriend. His friend who also painted was curious as to why the background of my painting, which was entirely black, was painted using both matte and glossy paint. Matte? Glossy? I had no idea that paint for art came in different finishes. I was of course familiar with the terms, my dad was a house painter, but for art? I thought black was black. I know of course I could read books, and believe me I have more than a few, or I could take a class. Classes don’t work for me either, too judgmental. I did take a stab at art in college. My first fine art class was a drawing class. Within days I felt out-of-place. Remember I started drawing around the age of five. There I was at eighteen with thirteen years of bad habits that I had obtained, at least as far as the teacher was concerned. But I liked how I did things, and as I pointed out to her after she told me I had to use the oval with the lines to draw portraits, my portraits were better than hers. Mine actually looked like the people they were meant to look like. I dropped the class. (Long story to make a small point. I seem to do that a lot.) By seven-thirty or so I was gaining that familiar feeling of frustration. I decided to look on my computer to see what I had photos of to inspire me. I came across my file of photos of our cats. Spouncer (who sadly passed away, but was named after an art tool), Riley, Mia and Sophie. I decided on a photo of Riley. I used a combination of the photo and real life model, who unfortunately was more interested in swatting my pencil away. So here is Riley. I don’t  do much in the way of drawing animals, but I’m happy with these results.

OK, so I know this is getting long-winded, but it reminded me of a painting I did as a teenager. A very nice man I worked with asked me to paint a portrait of his poodle as a gift for his wife. I didn’t really want to do it but it was a job. I had just finished the painting, it was oil, when I knocked it off the easel onto the floor. My bedroom floor that was covered in carpet. There were fibers stuck to the paint everywhere. I could have cried, but just blended it into the paint. He loved the painting. In particular the “texture” I had given to his beloved dog. He paid me more than I asked.

My mother was not so happy, how could she possibly fail to see the value of sacrificing the carpet for my art?

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