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Desperate Times

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Still in Chicago with my Dad, and that essentially means I get no time to myself. I’ve been scrambling to produce art at the last second for the last few days. Tonight it became a real issue when he decided he wanted go to a movie. Don’t get me wrong, I’m only here for a few days and my Dad doesn’t get out much these days, but I have to keep at this project for myself, it has come to mean so much to me, and has done so much for me. We were sitting in a restaurant having a quick bite before the movie and I searched my purse for something to sketch on. I found a manilla tag, and used it to draw a quick picture inspired by yesterday’s walk in McDonald Woods, and then as I looked around the restaurant I saw a man who I thought was interesting. No more tags, but I had a napkin. A quick napkin sketch and I had a second piece of art. Neither piece of art is the best work I’ve ever produced, but the drive that produced them is what matters to me. Tomorrow I hope to have a few minutes to produce a finished piece, but there will be art, oh yes there will be art.image

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Out Of My Element

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Ten years ago I left Chicago for Temecula. For the first year all I did was piss and moan about how my life was horrible, Temecula was so boring, I even wrote a four page love letter to Chicago, waxing poetically about the wonder that she is. On occasion I took it out on my poor husband, blaming Dan for moving me away from the city I love so much. That was ten years ago. Don’t get me wrong, I still love Chicago. It is an amazing place, and if I had the kind of money that would afford me the life I dream of, there would be a downtown loft in my future. That being said, Temecula is my home now. Southern California is where my children are. It’s a beautiful area where I have a beautiful home. There are also all those wineries, the gorgeous weather (for the most part), and I have made some friends, the kind that you know will be your friends forever. Of course my family is still here, and I miss seeing them regularly, but I’ve made a life in California, and right now I’m missing home. I think some of that has to do with the fact that my son isn’t feeling well, my inner mother is really feeling guilty, I also think that whatever he has, I’m getting. I want to be in my own bed with the covers pulled over my head. I’m also a little discombobulated with my art. I never travel without supplies, and this trip is no different. I do have watercolors, markers and pens with me, but I think being away from home disagrees with me. I am definitely a homebody. I’ve told Dan on more than one occasion that I’d travel anywhere in the world as long as I can sleep in my own bed at night. We went for a walk in the incredibly beautiful McDonald Woods this morning, and normally I would feel inspired. Instead I am sitting here watching the clock, waiting anxiously to go to bed.

A while ago I mentioned that Dan and I have a little, actually not so little, project in the works. We are going into business together. We are beginning to put together the pieces. Tonight I was working on an idea for a sign that will be in our business. A little pen and ink on paper. I think I’m headed in the right direction, something that looks a little vintage…like me.image

Turbulent Sketching

I’ve survived the flight! Actually two flights since we had an hour plus layover in Phoenix. I was up a half hour before the alarm this morning. I don’t believe it was preflight jitters, I’m one of those odd people who don’t need an alarm. If I know that I have to be up to go somewhere, I’m up with time to spare. The flights themselves were uneventful, although there was just a bit of turbulence. I took my xanax, grabbed a sketch pad and relaxed for the flights.The only real issue I came across was the inconsiderate behavior of one of my seat mates. I admit it, I freakishly like the middle seat on the plane. (I guess so that I’ll somehow be cushioned in the fall from the sky). Dan was on the aisle, and this very tiny woman came on board after us and took the window seat. Small woman, big space hog. For the next two and a half hours I was elbowed, hit in the back of the head, and had her stuff pushed on top of my feet. To make matters worse, when we exited the plane I went into the lady’s room, the tiny one came in right after me. As we waited for an open stall she gushed about what a gentleman my husband is because he helped her with her bags both getting on and off the plane, and then she cut in front of me in line. I was about to say something, but remembered my vow not to get mad, so I didn’t. Do I feel better for not saying anything? Not at the moment. But I’m sure I’ll move on….in about a year or until someone else aggravates me.

I had planned to do a watercolor on the plane, but I found myself instead drawing Maddie, she is a very dear girl, and getting prettier everyday.  I’m not quite finished, I need to look closer at the photo in better light. That I will do tomorrow. But not bad on Xanax and turbulence.image

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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The Core

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Several months ago I had made the decision to not be mad any more. As simple as that. Life is too short, and far too often we allow ourselves to be upset about things that just don’t matter. I for one could care less about the condition of my toothpaste tube, I also don’t care which way the toilet paper hangs (as long as it’s there), and I don’t keep score on who does what around the house. I am choosing to focus on being happy, making sure the people I love know that I love them, and feeling like I make a difference in the world. There is of course my relentless recycling, but beyond that in little ways, with individual people, particularly children, I want to feel like something I did touched their life. Much like my Myra and Emma story, I’d like to be the “lady” that a child remembers from their childhood, I don’t even care if they recall my name. These days however I am trying to be to be the rock for a number of people in my life. It is definitely easier with some than with others. Stress, tension, worry, and exhaustion can cause people to lose sight of what is important, they speak without thinking, fly off the handle at nothing, and what ends up happening is the fracture of otherwise loving relationships. I’ve mentioned that Dan is out of work. I can honestly say that these past few months have only proven how much we care for each other. Some weeks are like a see saw, he’s up, I’m down, and vice versa, we support each other through the bad days, and are currently planning for a future business together. During our troubled times I have also been trying to be as much help as possible to two friends who find themselves in very different, but also very difficult situations. Then there is my family, my Dad was injured and then had a bad reaction to some medication. My sisters are worn thin, and again I am trying to be as much help as possible from thousands of miles away. Tonight when I tried to work I found myself unable to concentrate on anything. I started and stopped several pieces. I thought I had given up. I sat at the table and worked with my watercolors, swirling paint on the paper thinking that I was just playing with color. Something began to happen, my swirls of paint began to speak to me. I began to add intended shapes to the page, and in the midst of all of the chaos a solid core. It’s what I feel like these days. I am trying to be what the people in my life need, someone that they can count on in the middle of all of their problems that they know will listen, offer advice, or just offer some support and understanding. Through it all I am trying to maintain my new philosophy of living happier. Sometimes it’s difficult, but what always makes it easier is having Dan by my side.

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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 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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Unsolicited Advice

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When my friend Theresa offered me her old kitchen cabinet doors I was thrilled. I’ve already mentioned how much I enjoy re-purposing things. We already have multitudes of stuff in our garage, things that I’ve picked up over the years, always with some purpose in mind. Unfortunately there are too many pieces that I haven’t gotten too. I hesitated to take on the doors because I knew I had other projects I should attend to. I’m glad I did it. I only took four, there are several more for me to pick up, and I’m anxious to get to them. I’m working on the fourth one tonight. Before I let you in on what I’m doing with this one, I’m going to hand out a little free relationship advice.

I’ve been with Dan for twenty-seven plus years, married for twenty-four. What makes things work is this, think about each other, and then actually follow through and show it. Tonight as I was working Dan put on a movie that I love, just because he wanted to do it for me. Each day, in the smallest ways, we show each other kindness and consideration. He knows there isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not thinking of him, and I know the same. I had suggested that he pick a movie to watch because I was working. I brought it up because as he was choosing a movie, not for himself to enjoy, but one for me, I was using that last cabinet door to make a gift for him as a surprise. That’s how we work, always thinking about each other. A few years ago at Christmas we were opening gifts with our children and much to my surprise I received an Easy Bake Oven from Dan. I had mentioned to him that I had always wanted one as a child and had never gotten it. That same Christmas he unwrapped “Rock em Sock em Robots” from me. He had told me once that he had loved playing them as a kid with his brother. The kids were way beyond the getting toys years, and both of them laughed at us, but it was for me another reason why we are so happy together. We surprised each other that Christmas, but it just goes to show how two people who really care about each other end up thinking the same way. The movie Dan put on tonight was “Life As A House”, it stars Kevin Kline and Kristen Scott Thomas. A very meaningful movie about what’s really important in life. It was a good choice. I know what’s important in my life, my family back in Chicago, my kids, my friends, and in particular my husband. Four years ago Dan fulfilled a life long dream of mine, he took me to Paris for our twentieth wedding anniversary. Tonight when I was trying to decide what to do with the last door I decided to use it as framework for a painting for Dan. We went to a restaurant in Paris near the Moulin Rouge for dinner the night of our anniversary, Le Moulin De La Galette. The restaurant is housed in the only other existing windmill in the Montmartre area in Paris, and has been the subject of many great works of art. I had grabbed a business card on the way out the door. Dan loves the card, so I decided to reproduce it on a piece of canvas for him. I actually ended up rescuing a damaged canvas as well. An old canvas in my studio had been bent out of shape, I stripped it from its frame and cut it to fit the door. For tonight only the figure is done, I need to paint in the rest of the info from the card. As always it is late, and I will finish in the morning. I promise a finished photo for tomorrow night. So here we go again with a work in progress…for my husband, I love you.8 24 (1) 8 24 (2)