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A Never Ending Day

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The piece of art I have to post tonight is drawn on the back of a list of patient rights from one of our local hospitals. We spent the day first at an urgent care facility, and then in a hospital emergency ward waiting room. Our son was complaining of a pain in his right side, amongst other complaints, so we immediately thought appendicitis. The people at urgent care agreed with us and sent us to the hospital. Seven hours later we are home with Brian, still having symptoms, no diagnosis other than they think there is nothing wrong with him. It was a frustrating day to say the least. When I questioned why he was still having pain if there is nothing wrong with my son, I was asked by a nurse if I wanted to read the CT Scan myself. I am more than a little worried that something may have been missed, and feeling as though Brian was treated as less than because he currently has no insurance. I am actually pretty angry at how we were treated today. If there was any possibility that my son had appendicitis, a seven hour wait is ridiculous. Now all I can do is pray that he feels better tomorrow and that no one made a mistake.

OK, breathe…didn’t I say last night that I didn’t want to be mad anymore? That was of course before someone didn’t do right by my kid. Nothing lights a fire in me more that. Second opinion, first thing tomorrow morning.

On a more pleasant note. A few years back when I was really struggling artistically, my wonderful husband who does not paint, sat and painted with me, we both painted the same flower. I’m posting mine. I love the painting, and what he did for me that day. Feeling better already.IMG_1042

 

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Waiting By The Phone

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A few days ago I wrote about the prehistoric times of my youth when phones were attached to walls with cords, an inconvenience when you were trying to have a private conversation with your boyfriend/girlfriend, and your parents wouldn’t leave the room. I got to thinking about that today and the expression “waiting by the phone” came to mind. It’s what I’m calling my piece of art for tonight. I sat my twenty-two year old son down and explained my work to him. When I was a teenager if a boy said he was going to call you, you waited in your house, usually in your kitchen for that phone to ring. You didn’t go out with your friends, pleaded with your mother to let you stay behind instead of accompanying her to the grocery store, you sat and waited for that phone to ring. It would ring, and your excitement was palpable, you would rush breathlessly to be the one to answer, trying in that moment to sound careless and mature, and it was…your grandmother, or your aunt, or your mom’s best friend. A piece of you would die as you silently pleaded with your mother to hang up, how could she not realize that your entire existence relied on that call from that boy? Didn’t she remember what it was like to be young? Of course not, parents were never young. No call waiting, no answering machines, no cell phones, your entire romantic life depended on that phone, and to think he might call and get a busy signal was devastating. What if he didn’t call back? What if he called another girl because you didn’t answer yours? I realized that my children have never and will never experience that. I see six-year olds with iPhones. In this instantaneous world we live in with tweets, instagrams, and Facebook, our children are losing a little of the romance of the phone. Sure it’s still a thrill when that call comes, but think about having your entire world revolve around that call, when you had to sit and patiently wait to hear the voice on the other end of the line. There is a romance in that, unlike the call that comes at the mall when you are hanging out with your friends. Our kids are so accustomed to instant gratification that they are losing out on some of the best times, the best memories. Years ago Brian asked what we did when we were kids. He assumed that we were bored, no DVDs, no video games, no iPods or iPads.  We told him we were never bored, we had our imaginations, the same imaginations that we used dreaming, waiting for the ring of the telephone.IMG_1020

 

Quitting While I’m Ahead

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No, I’m not quitting my blog, or abandoning my project. What I am referring to is my project tonight. I wrestled with the devil, by that of course I mean perspective, and I caved. I am in the midst of planning a birthday gift for my Dad’s eighty-first birthday, which is a week from Thursday. It involves many photos of his favorite subject, which happens to be him. I feel slightly guilty making fun of him since he isn’t feeling well, but he has a great sense of humor, and I kid because I love, and he loves…himself…I really can’t help myself. I’ve mentioned the Natalie story (for those of you who may be unaware, short story is I look like my Dad, so I look like Natalie Wood. His idea, not mine). If you are as old as me, or have studied ancient history, you know that at one time in the history of man telephones were attached to walls, and had cords…gasp!  Imagine being a teenager and wanting to talk to your boyfriend, you would stretch that curly cord until it was a straight as possible as you pulled it taut to get around a corner, out of parental earshot. My Dad pulled it tight as well, not so that we couldn’t hear him, but so that he could look at himself in the bathroom mirror as he talked. We of course, being the family of merciless critics that we are, made fun of him for it. He didn’t even try to deny it. He would just get a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Back to our regularly scheduled project…my painting for this evening. As I was looking at all the old family photos on my computer I came across one of my Mom that I love. In 1957 my Mom and Dad were married in Toronto, Canada, and had their honeymoon at Niagara Falls. It was really beautiful then, of course the Falls still are, but the area around them hadn’t yet been developed by Ripley’s Believe It Or Not, and Madame Tussaud’s, and the endless souvenir and t-shirt shops. In this particular photo my Mom, who never had a shred a of confidence looks like the coolest chick around. She was really cute. My Dad, not so much at the time. He grew into a handsome Clint Eastwood look a like later in life when he actually gained a little weight. I told my Mother that she was way too cute for him, thankfully she didn’t share my opinion or I obviously wouldn’t be here. I’ve never been the “cool chick”, I was the clumsy chick, the nerdy chick, the artistic weirdo (my Dad, once again), I was never a cheerleader, or a sorority girl, I was just me, always striving to Never be like anyone else. Being an individual is important to me and always has been. My Mom looks like she could be Rizzo from Grease in this photo, or at the least one of the Pink Ladies. I never saw her that way, I saw a lonely, very wounded woman. I like looking at this picture of her and thinking about a time in her life when she felt empowered, or at the very least that she thought she looked really cool.

In high school one of my artistic classmates did a painting of herself and her little brother using only shades of gray, with the exception of a fish, the fish was painted green. I loved it, still do when I think about it. I always wanted to do a painting in those shades, I think hers was oil, mine is watercolor. It was a little more difficult with my watercolors, but it captures the essence of my Mom.  Where I quit was the background. I mapped it all out, sketched it in, it was an elaborate cement rail with pillars, and I screwed it up again! Watercolor isn’t always the most forgiving medium, had it been oil or acrylic I could have fixed it, so I quit while I was ahead. I liked the way the figure looked, and quite frankly was afraid I would ruin the painting. Perspective-1, Me-0. It doesn’t mean I’m giving up the fight, just the round.9 1

A Worried Mind

Tonight was a struggle. I started and tossed aside several drawings, unable to find my artistic mojo. I spent the day on the phone with my sisters, our Dad is still having issues from the fall he had last month, in the last twenty-four hours he has been struggling with a great deal of confusion. In the end we discovered that he was suffering from several of the side effects from a new medication. I find myself again feeling frustration, guilt, and a tremendous amount of worry. It is frustrating not being near when my Dad is not well, and as I have mentioned previously my sisters are carrying a heavy load, I feel terrible that I am not there to help. When we made the decision to move to California we didn’t imagine what the future would and could hold. All of that worry got in the way of my creativity. As the evening wore on I tried several ideas, what I ended up with was a simple line drawing of a pot of flowers, and another quite small recycling project. Several weeks ago I had purchased some goat Brie cheese in a circular wooden container. When we were through I kept the container, it’s a bad habit of mine, again with the “I’ll do something with it” notion in the back of my head. As I was putting my pen away I saw the container, which is circular, and thought, “Man in the Moon”. I scanned it into my computer and added a few effects. Not sure what I’ll do with it, but it was fun and took my mind off things for a bit. My second passion, which is cooking, comes easy to me and relaxes me, so a photo of a small plate that we snacked on this evening.  Homemade pesto, peperonata, and sun-dried tomato pesto, with a goat/cream cheese mixture and some crostini. Delicious! Hopefully my Dad will be more himself tomorrow, and I can get back to work.8 31 (1)

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My Head Is In The Clouds

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8 30 13 (14)Here we go again, but when you see the photographs I took today you won’t blame me in the least. I actually took more than one hundred (although I will only post a few), and to tell you how wonderful my husband is, Dan drove me around to find the best shots. I did thank him for his support of the Arts. Incredibly I was here in Temecula taking photos of the sky outside the library when I received a text from my sister, Colleen, outside of Chicago, it was actually a couple of photos…of a beautiful sky. Although in her case it was the beginning of a bad storm. Colleen and I are only fifteen months apart in age (good Irish Catholic parents), we have been called Irish twins, we are also the two middle children, so I think we somehow ended up on the same wave length. Later in the evening they had a spectacular sunset so she sent me a photo of that as well.

I wasn’t completely happy with my painting last night. I rushed once again, when what I should have done was just laid the groundwork. That’s what I’m doing tonight. I did a pencil sketch of a painting that I want to do, based on one of the photos from today. I had mentioned a couple of months ago that I realized that I didn’t need to get a piece fully completed every day, the purpose of this project is just to create every day. I seem to be fine doing that with non-painting projects, but with most of my paintings I am still struggling to find the patience that I need to build things slowly. That has to be my focus from now on or I won’t like anything I do. I also felt like my style was improving, and last night the work seemed too “old school” me. I am going to let that painting sit for a few days and take a second look at it. For once the feelings I’m having aren’t about not being good enough, but rather feeling disappointed that I didn’t see the growth in that piece that I’ve seen in others. But I guess that realization is growth enough in itself.

And now for a few photos from today.8 30 13 (132)

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Damaged Goods

It’s been some time since I’ve discussed my complete lack of coordination. Many people who know me believe that I am sick quite often, which actually isn’t true, I’m just injured a lot. I think it has a lot to do with my very active mind (previously known as Monkey Brain). I am always concocting something, could be a new recipe, or I may have seen a piece of junk I am re imagining in my head, or maybe it could be a piece of art I’m working on. All of this thought apparently occupies so much of my brain that I fail to see curbs, steps, and open doors, this of course leads to bumping into things, bruises, and in my case the six knee operations I have previously referred to. There is also the accidentally slit wrist (the gory details of that little episode are in a past entry), two sprained ankles, two broken fingers, an almost severed Achilles’ tendon, and an almost broken nose. There is so much more, but I’m sure everyone gets the general idea. It’s amazing that I don’t spend my life in a cast, or worse yet live like John Travolta in The Boy In The Plastic Bubble. I know it sounds pathetic, but I guess for me it’s just part of who I am. I have a tremendous amount of creative talent, so I guess the lack of coordination is the price I pay. I bring all of this humiliating information to the attention of everyone that reads my blog because I injured myself again today, and as a result I am posting a piece of art that I painted last year. I am also, in anticipation of tomorrow, giving a sneak peek of elements of tomorrow’s project, which hopefully I will be able to create, (that is if there isn’t some other spectacular event in the uncoordinated Olympics).  I am hoping to be up to working on yet another cabinet door. So what was today’s calamity? How did I manage to hurt myself once again? I hugged my husband. Seriously. Dan is about six-foot one, I am currently five-foot four. I say currently because much to my surprise I have lost an inch. No, not osteoporosis, my bones are good, it’s all those knee surgeries. Anyway, this morning I hugged Dan, and somehow upon disentangling myself from him I pulled something in my back. I have been dealing with scar tissue from a head on collision for a few years, and now who knows what I did. Who ever knows what I do? Maybe it’s Murphy’s Law, I am 100% Irish, could it be that Murphy is a not so distant relative? Maybe it has to do with my continual lack of sleep. Monkey brains don’t turn off easily, so sleeping is and always has been an issue. I’d like to believe that all that sleep deprivation fuels creativity, even if it does cause me to do idiot stuff like walking into walls, or God forbid hugging my husband. Hopefully tomorrow I will be a fully functioning klutz once again, and I will have new work to post.

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My Skewed Brain

We all know that perspective is my arch nemesis. Maybe my brain is skewed. All I know is that if I don’t draw some kind of guideline everything goes to the right. That includes my handwriting. If I write on an unlined piece of paper, it will inevitably start climbing towards the right edge of the paper as if it were trying to make an escape. Tonight’s watercolor is a perfect example. It looks good as I’m sketching it, but when I pick up the paper and hold it away from myself it is definitely veering to the right. Its frustrating. Of course I know the answer to the problem, practice, practice, practice. I should be drawing daily. I also might try watching that perspective DVD I own. I think I may have mentioned it a few weeks ago. I did take a major step towards watching it then, by that I mean I took the wrapper off. I seem to have an aversion to actually learning how to do anything with help, but if I want to be a better artist I need to bite the bullet.

On a much better note, I love my gift for Dan. I actually ended up turning the cabinet door over and using the other side. The trim is flat instead of rounded and just worked better with the painting. I mixed a little flat black with a metallic gun metal and painted the door. I am also a huge fan of a worn edge, so I sanded the edges down. I glued the cut canvas down to the recessed area. It looks great. I do need to add a little trim inside around the painting. I may also add a finish coat. Dan and I also discussed putting a piece of glass over it. Not sure yet, but I’m really happy with it, and Dan loves it. When I think about it painting a cabinet door is the perfect gift for him. He is continually closing them behind me, and also shutting drawers.  Its not really my fault, it’s really because my brain is skewed.IMG_0828

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Art Of Reinvention

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Reinvention:

1.Bring back into existence.

2. To remake or redo completely.

3. To make as if for the first time something already invented.

Reinvention, it’s about more than the cabinet doors that I post tonight, it’s about myself. Like so many women I have spent my life in a number of conventional roles, daughter, girlfriend, wife, mother, and eventually grandmother (no pressure kids, seriously). In all of that I failed far too often to see myself. I was so busy playing the roles, good daughter, great girlfriend, etc…I was so focused on being the best I could for everyone else in my life, that I didn’t do the best for me. I mentioned last night that for a while I didn’t even have a dream, and that is sadly very much the truth. I realized tonight as I was working on these old doors, doors that could have been cast off and thrown away, that I have been throwing myself away for years. My daughter reads this blog, and I want her to learn from my mistakes, not repeat them. I should have been taking time for my art, for myself years ago, but I had learned from my mother to put everyone else first, a lesson I took to heart. I started this blog more than four months ago, and it has been an incredible tool in helping me lift myself out of the rut I put myself in a long time ago. There is so much work that I have produced that I am really proud of. I feel like I’m reinventing myself as much as I am reinventing these doors. Finally becoming the whole person I should have been all along. I am still a daughter, a mother and a wife, but now I feel justified in calling myself an artist and a writer, and quite frankly just being myself. There are still days when I feel like I’m juggling too many balls in the air, and scrambling to get work done, but I’m doing it. I am still managing to care for my family and my home, and still carving that niche out of every day for myself. There are days when I allow myself more time than others, and there are days when I am falling asleep as I type this blog. Life is a balancing act, the trick is to realize that occasionally its OK to drop one of the balls, you can always pick it up again, but to always remember to keep your eye on the juggler. If you don’t take care of yourself, if you don’t love yourself, if you don’t allow yourself to dream, life will pass you by quicker than you can imagine. You may just find yourself wondering where your life went. I’m a little late to the party, but its far from over. I found this quote that I really like.

Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.

George Eliot

As I embark on my future artistic endeavors, as well as a new business with Dan, I know I am more than capable, I know we can succeed. I have reinvented myself, my life, and oh there are these doors…the first photo is one of the doors unfinished.IMG_0767This door has been “reinvented” as a child’s chalkboard.IMG_0773The second door as a serving tray with a chalkboard center. (Theresa’s suggestion, thanks for a terrific idea)IMG_0775

Daring To Dream

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Aside from my artistic aspirations I have always had another dream, and that is to go into business. I don’t think when I was younger I knew what kind of business I wanted, I just knew that I wanted one. I also always swore it would be by the time I was forty. Well, if you haven’t figured it out by now, forty has come and gone. I am unfortunately one of those people who let far too much of their life pass by without believing in them-self enough to achieve their dreams. Actually, there was quite a bit of time when I didn’t even have one. The time has come. I finally have enough faith in myself to dare to think about what I want for me. I have had more than a few moments of deep sadness about the past, but regrets don’t move you forward, they only dig the hole deeper. What makes my dream even more attainable is that I will be doing it with Dan at my side. We work amazingly well together. More than a few other people have commented on that, particularly my Dad. The last time he visited I mentioned again my dream of opening a place, and he was incredibly supportive. He told me that he believes in me, in us, that he has seen what Dan and I can do together. He is right. We have a very warm and welcoming home, and are embarking on bringing that atmosphere to a business of our own. I can’t say yet what it is, the people closest to us know, call me suspicious, but until things are a little more secure I don’t want to reveal too much. Dan is still without a job, and we both think that all signs are pointing to this being the time for us. It’s risky, we are nervous, there are a few non-believers who think we are crazy, but I believe in us, it actually goes beyond belief, I know we can do it and do it well. Between us we have quite a skill set, there is nothing to stand in our way but us. We are ready to start our future.

All of the above being said, I intend to follow through on my blog, on my art. Over the next few weeks I may be producing pieces of art that will serve a dual purpose, they will be for both this project and our business. Today I revisited Jessica for only a minute, I literally had to force myself to step away. I was thisclose to muddying up her face. I have work to do on it, but I need to gather all of my patience and wait. I pulled myself away and began to work on not one, but three projects. All of them involve the reuse of old materials…that’s right! The recycler is back. Two of Theresa’s old kitchen cabinet doors, serving two very different purposes, not enough to bother posting tonight, you’ll have to wait for those until tomorrow. The other is a piece of scrap wood from our garage. I decided I wanted to wood-burn our upcoming business logo on it and turn it into a sign. Alas, I can’t find my wood burner! Me of the extremely organized studio. I’ve looked everywhere (well, obviously not everywhere or I would have it), so I sketched the design in pencil, and then beat the crap out of two inexpensive ballpoint pens carving the design into the wood. When the wood burner comes out of the witness protection program (I burned myself last time, and have no doubt I will again), I will burn the design in. It isn’t finished. If you’ve ever been insane enough to carve wood with a pen you will understand how much my hand is hurting. I’m quitting for the night, will finish tomorrow, and all will be well with the world, unless of course the wood burner makes an appearance, and then it’s a whole new ball game.

Work in progress…to be continued.8 22

One More Word On Perspective

Last night I requested prayers and good karma for my Dad. He came through everything fine, so thanks to all.

 

My own words came back to haunt me when I got up this morning and saw the news. I’m talking about perspective. My husband is still out of work, my Dad is in the hospital, and in the last month our dishwasher went on the fritz, Dan needed work done on his car that ran us five hundred dollars we didn’t need to spend, I lost a diamond chip out of my engagement ring, I had pneumonia, and my oven blew out, another two hundred dollars. Woe is me right? Not so much. I looked at the news of what is happening in Egypt right now and consider myself lucky. I don’t usually write about politics or world events, but when I thought about what I had written last night, and then saw the horror going on in that country. I have to say something, it altered my perspective on what is going on in my life. Yes, some of it sucks, but I have so much to be grateful for. I told my son this morning that there isn’t a mother in this world who loves her children less than I love mine. I don’t care what the political issues are, I don’t care what your religion is, or about the color of your skin, what I do care about is allowing a mother to raise her children in peace. Maybe we can all send out the good karma and prayers to those people tonight, and to the millions of others who find themselves in similar, horrific situations. My Dad has a philosophy about religion that I love. Everything in his life relates in some way to soccer. He said to me, “Religion is like soccer, I don’t care which team you play for, as long as you play the game.”

Tonight I have a few things to post. My friend Emily (the 4 year-old) found out today that she is getting glasses. I still remember when I got mine, I was thirteen. I needed glasses for at least a year and a half before I got them. My Mom was convinced that I wanted them only because my cousin had them. I couldn’t see a thing. She finally realized that I was telling the truth when I couldn’t find something for her in the pantry. When I got my first pair of glasses the thing I remember most is my Mother’s face. I had forgotten how many freckles she had. For Emily tonight two little gifts, a new “Emily” cartoon with glasses, and a bookmark for her bedtime stories.

I also spent time finishing my cabinet door chalkboard, and a small pen and ink.

A very busy day, but again, I spent it with Dan in our beautiful home, and in my little corner of the world there is no war outside my front door. Lets all pray for peace.

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