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Artistic Advancements

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Caught your attention didn’t I? Artistic Advancements. What marvel of artistic achievement could I possibly be speaking of? Did I paint a masterpiece just waiting for the call from the Getty? Not so much, although as I said last night, I always do what I say, so I did work on Jessica’s portrait. I am really pleased with my progress. I am finally losing the flatness that has plagued my work in the past. I have also learned at last to just step back. Even now as I write this I want to be back in the other room fixing all the issues I see. I am an impatient artist, I want the painting where I want it to be as quickly as possible. Art doesn’t work that way, at least oil painting. That led to many, many muddy messes. That of course led to frustration and the inevitable resignation, and the declaration of “you aren’t good enough”.  I feel like I’m learning to let the work speak to me, knowing when to put the brush down, put the painting to the side, and return when its had time to dry a little. That is where I am at with Jessica’s face. I worked on it for a couple of hours this afternoon. I made very few changes, only following a few suggestions made by my “in-house” art critic, Dan. Yes, there are a couple of areas I’d like to work on, but I’m happy to wait until the painting is ready for me.

 

Dying of curiosity yet? Several blogs ago I referred to my extremely bad habit of painting where ever, wearing what ever, ruining many pieces of clothing in the process, not to mention a piece of furniture or two. There is also the olive-green carpet that was christened with a squirt of hot pink acrylic. My huge artistic advancement? When I decided it was time to paint today I was wearing a white t-shirt and a beautiful blue and white floral skirt. I set up my paints, my easel, and was about to pick up my brush when I stopped myself. I thought, “What are you doing?” I went upstairs and put on an old t-shirt, a pair of jeans (the victim of a previous paint), and went back down to go to work. When I mentioned to Dan that I felt like I’d made an advancement in my art, he took one look at me and laughed, he knew exactly what was different. Maybe not the most exciting news that you’ve heard today, but for my husband probably the best news he’s had in a while.

Jessica in progress. I’ve posted a “before” and “after”. You may notice a change in hair length. I took the photograph I’m working from a few years ago, Jessica has since grown her hair longer and I think it looks beautiful, so long hair it is.5 30 2 (2)8 21

 

Speaking Through Art

Do you ever have one of those days where you are so over tired that you accomplish nothing? I had a day like that today. We’ve stayed up far too late the last few nights and are both exhausted. I ended up working on a lot and nothing at the same time. I grabbed an orphaned painting from my studio intent on finishing it today, but changed my mind about finishing the painting. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the idea of it, trouble is it wasn’t my original idea. The painting was based on a photograph from a magazine ad. I loved the pose of the woman and the style of the photo. It was one of the many paintings that I started and stopped due to my fear of judgement upon completion. That was then. I am finishing my work these days. Not all and I need to remedy that. I have roughly four half done oil paintings sitting in my dining room right now. This one I had intended to finish, but as I have also mentioned before, I no longer want to base my work on anything other than photos I take or what comes out of my head. Everyone who has seen what I had completed on this particular piece has said they love it, but I just can’t do it anymore. I want ownership of what I do. I studied the photo today to figure out exactly what appealed to me about it. I realized that it was the way the woman was almost holding herself. I don’t even remember what the ad is about, but the photo evokes a feeling of grieving in me. The posture of the model and how she seems to be holding herself reminds me of when my Mother passed away. There is a loneliness in the loss of someone you love so much. You often hear people say that we all die alone. I think we grieve alone too. Dan was as always compassionate, loving and sensitive. He held me countless times as I sobbed, and continues to be there when I have a momentary sense of loss. The truth is though, that no one can feel my pain and my loss. Even my sisters, because we all had our own relationship with her, and with my Dad I couldn’t relate at all. I said as much to him, that he knew what it was like to lose a parent, I had no idea what it meant to lose someone you have been with for more than fifty years. This photo inspired all of that in me, and as I said, I don’t remember the ad, but I know it wasn’t for something sad. All of this caused me to rethink what I wanted to do. I decided to finish the painting, at least the essence of it. The woman was in bathing attire, I am changing that, her hair, her face, only the position of her body will remain. It is in the position of her body that speaks to me, as if she is comforting and holding herself. I’ve had those moments, I’m sure we all have, moments where you feel so very alone, and in that moment you hold yourself. I want to create my own work that speaks, I want someone to see something I’ve painted and feel. It’s that simple, happy, sad, nostalgic, whatever, I just want to speak through the work.There isn’t much to see as of yet. I began to mess about with the painting before I really knew what I wanted to do. Small preview tonight, and since it is sort of on topic, an artist card I made a few years back that I put a poster edge filter on.artist card, broken heart.jpgposter edge

 

 

8 18

Nothing But Trouble (In A Good Way)

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I had a very special project in mind for today, a birthday gift for my new son-in-law. I don’t normally like to paint animals, I guess that has more to do with my perfectionism than anything else. With all the hair there aren’t definitive lines. If you were to look back at my blog and its accompanying artwork, you would see that one of the worst pieces I posted was of my own cat, Mia. Mia is white with caramel and black swirls. I made two attempts at that drawing and never felt successful. I did much better with Riley, she is a dark striped tabby which was much easier to sketch. John and my daughter, Jessica have a mischievous puggle by the name of Otis. They also have a cat whose name is Dexter. Poor Dexter lives in the bathroom sink, the only spot where Otis can’t reach him. Otis is roughly the size of a bag of sugar, but packed solid, and rules the house. He runs continually, like a spastic toddler let loose in a candy store. Fond of walks on the beach, stealing and eating intimate garments, and terrorizing Dexter. We joined them for dinner one evening at their apartment, as we were eating I looked down to see Otis chewing a piece of Double Bubble still in the wrapper. The little devil had gone in my purse and helped himself. Jessica spent the next five minutes chasing Otis around their coffee table trying to take it away from him. He finally swallowed it. Five minutes later I caught him pulling the bag of gum out of my purse. Roughly fifteen pounds of solid amusement and trouble. You can’t help but laugh as he runs circles around their one bedroom apartment. I wasn’t sure what to get John for his birthday since money is tight, but decided to give him a painting of Otis. I waited until this morning to paint it, because I didn’t want to post the painting prior to giving it to John. Happy Birthday John (a few days late), thanks for making Jessica so happy.

Otis in all his glory, in watercolor8 17

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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The Power Of Perspective

If you’ve read my blog you know that perspective is my nemesis, but that is artistic perspective.  There is the other perspective, the kind I try to use in my daily life, the kind I use when I want to stop myself from being judgmental, when I try to put myself in the shoes of someone else.

Today was a tough one. I posted last week about my Dad having an accident, and although he is out of the hospital things are not well. When you are weeks away from your eighty-first birthday and sustain a concussion it really takes its toll on your brain. Dad has been with my sister for a few days and while he has moments where he seems his old self, more often than not he is confused. I am still hopeful that he will regain some of his memory and cognizance. What worries me as well is the rest of my family. I have three sisters, each with our own families and health issues. The stress and burden of caring for an aging loved one can take its toll. It isn’t about not loving someone, there is a great deal of that, but just how much it can break down communication between siblings, between couples, destroy families. I talked to my sister earlier this evening and told her how I felt. We all need to be respectful of each others lives and needs. Two of the girls are carrying the weight of what is happening to our Dad. I live hundreds of miles away. Yes, I can sympathize, I can and do make phone calls for them, but the reality is that it is their lives that are affected. I have said often in the last few days that it is easy for me to suggest something because I am here, and they are there. I told both women today that I don’t want this to come between us, most of our family is in Ireland so there is just us. If we want to truly honor what our father and our mother would want, then we need to stick together. Everyone needs to recognize that what is important to one isn’t important to another. Perspective is a powerful thing. When we as the individual suffer we see it only through the prism of our own lives. When we feel pain, it is no more or no less than what someone else might feel, but it is our pain, and for that it should be respected. In situations such as the one we find ourselves in now it is easy to look at someone else and think that something is trivial, or less important that our “stuff”. It’s not. I want to make sure that throughout this process that no one of us feels alone, singled out, or less valued. Relationships can be damaged beyond repair with a single sentence. I love my Dad, but I love my sisters as well. I would like to get beyond this and be able to look back, say we did our best, but that more importantly, we remain as sisters, as friends. Tomorrow my Dad is back in the hospital for a test that could lead to a pacemaker. Wishes for good karma, and prayers are appreciated.

I don’t have the finished “up-cycled” cabinet door to post as of yet. I am putting multiple coats of the Martha Stewart chalk paint on it. I had done two yesterday, but upon closer inspection earlier today I sanded the corners down and redid the paint. It is a project that I am hoping to sell and want it to be perfect.

What I did accomplish today is a watercolor. We spent part of our afternoon in the Temecula Valley Cheese Shop, one of my favorite places. The owner is a friend, and was kind enough to spend time with us as we consider opening a place of our own. We had some wine, and a plate of cheese. It was a little respite from my worried and troubled mind. Inspired by our afternoon, I did a painting of a cheese plate that I put together. Too bad I can’t share.8 14

 

Hello, It’s Me

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OK, I figured it was time to bite the bullet, the self-portrait bullet. I’ve never actually done one. I did of course earlier in this blog do a kindergarten portrait, but I’ve obviously changed quite a bit since then. It’s getting late (what else is new?), so I will have to finish tomorrow. I actually did do art work during the day today, I have several projects that aren’t finished, actually too many, and decided to spend some time on finishing work. I didn’t begin the portrait until after seven tonight. The most troublesome spot in my portrait is my mouth. I have already mentioned my Osmond sized teeth, but what I failed to mention is the chip right in the front. Many, many (too many to mention) years ago, I in all my gracefulness was walking up the sidewalk tossing a ball in the air, my sister, Marion was sitting on the ground putting ants in a jar. Why? I have no idea. Anyway, I didn’t see her, fell right over her and landed on my mouth. Saved my parents a fortune in braces in a single fall. Prior to that I looked like a could have been David Letterman’s long-lost cousin. A few years ago when I moved here to California, more than one dentist spoke at length to me about how they could “fix” my teeth. I wasn’t interested in changing them. I didn’t grow up in the perfection obsessed culture that exists today. I feel for all the young girls who are daily assaulted with altered images of perfect models. We all know that I have my not good enough issues, but I like my teeth. (Well OK, the Osmond size is just a little disturbing)  I don’t love everything about myself, both physical, and there is that steel rod of self-righteousness that runs up my spine, but that doesn’t prevent me from loving myself. I think that age has a lot to do with my attitude. After a while a lot of the nonsense just doesn’t matter any more. I am who I am, although there is that twenty pounds I want to lose…

In my not quite finished glory, me, in pencil from a photo taken about two years ago.8 11

Cashing The Check

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A few days ago I had issued a blank check to myself in order to give myself an out when I needed it from my project. The following day I thought I voided it. Today however, I find myself without something to post. I did indeed work on a piece of art today, but it is a logo design that my daughter and I are working on together. Jessica is an amazing graphic designer, but since the client wants something that looks like a vintage fruit crate label, I am doing the artwork. I have been working on a final proof all day, but since it is for professional use I cannot use it here. I would have tried to finish a smaller piece to post, but it has been a very difficult day. For those of you who don’t live close to your family, I’m sure you can relate, my Dad is in the hospital. It is a horrible feeling to be so far from someone who you love and not be there (Chicago) to do what ever you can. I have spent the day worrying, crying, and waiting for texts and phone calls. He is an almost eighty-one year old with a bad heart. He fell this morning in his home, and there are now serious issues that have arisen from that fall. He is in a good hospital, in ICU, and I have spoken to him a few times today. I told him that I love him, but that doesn’t replace being there, and having him know that you are just outside the door, or a phone call away. Yes, he can call me, but it is a more than four-hour flight to get to him. Six years ago I got to see my Mother for just a minute, one last time before complications took her from us, arriving straight from O’Hare Airport to her hospital bedside. I dread the thought that I might not have that chance with my Dad. So it has been a day with a heavy heart. The work I did today on the logo is not my best, my mind was somewhere else. It isn’t finished, I’ll do that tomorrow, when I will hopefully get a call saying that for now everything will be OK.

When looking through past work to post with my writing tonight I decided to post a few portraits that I’ve painted, on cakes, with food coloring. One is my son, Brian. It was for his 18th birthday, and yes, it does have a halo, that was a last-minute addition at the request of one of his friends. His only comment? “This says far too much about what I think of myself.” The other is my mother in law as a little girl, painted for her 75th birthday. Her only response? “I always hated that picture of myself.”  Sometimes you just can’t win.

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Jan 2010 050

Finally, one of my Dad and I from my prom night. I love you Dad, sleep well.Jackie & Dad Prom.jpg #1

 

For Mom

It’s early evening here in Temecula and I haven’t attempted anything new for the day. Busy work in the garage, and to be honest a little stressed about stuff I can’t seem to let go of. There is also this, I know I mentioned it earlier in the month, but today is the sixth anniversary of my Mom’s passing. Never an easy day. I inherited “not good enough” from her. She never realized how fantastic she was. I am hoping that this project will eventually free me from myself, and maybe in some way she will gain something through me. I also realize that my daughter has a hint of the “not good enough” and I want to vanish it from her life too.

Speaking of “not good enough”, I mentioned it last night, and boy was it back this morning. I worked on Kelsey this morning because I wasn’t happy about it last night. The other issue is that I wait so long in the day to work that by the time I’m finishing up its dark outside, and I’m tired, and I don’t work with enough light…excuses, excuses, but all true. The stuff I can’t let go of? Perfectionism. I wrote last night of how Kelsey’s portrait didn’t give me any trouble. That was then, this is now. I worked that little baby’s portrait over and over, I almost ruined it by dropping a big blob of water on her poor little face. I finally put it down. I spoke to my daughter Jessica about it later in the morning. She said, “Mom, if they just wanted a picture they’d take one.” She’s right. I need to get it through my stubborn Irish skull that I’m not a Xerox machine (if you are too young to know what that is, google it!) I am an artist, I am evoking a feeling, or an essence, not a Sear’s portrait. I took on the garage stuff today because I needed to shake this off. I was doing so well, progressing and feeling confident. I’m not sure what happened that set me back…ding! Light bulb just went off. Most of the art I have been producing these last few months wasn’t for anyone. There were one or two pieces for Dan and Theresa, but they are like my other halves. It is because it is for someone else. My new family. Do I think they are going to get the portraits and put a big red check in the middle, or publish a bad review in the local paper, of course not. But I’m me, and I want them to love the portraits of their children. I’m sure they will, because this isn’t about them, it’s about me and my issues. I’m sure I’m slightly insane, and that all will be well. I just have to remember that “not good enough” is very sneaky, and will find the crack in the door if I leave it open even the slightest bit.

Two hours later…

I talked to Dan about how I was feeling, and of course his words pretty much echoed Jessica’s. I was in fear of being judged, thus the “revisiting”. Finally I just began to cry. It’s a hard enough day, and I make it harder on myself. In the midst of all of it another light bulb moment. There is always a root for every problem, and sometimes the person who planted it doesn’t even realize they are doing it. When I was a little girl, and had already begun to show talent, my dad handed me a photo of John Kennedy and asked me to draw it for him. In my recollection I was around five, but at the very least I was seven, because I still remember where I was sitting when he asked. He walked away and I cried because I didn’t know how to draw that picture and I didn’t want to let him down. Who knows what he was thinking. It’s a sad memory, but Dan said at least now I know where my lack of confidence started. Maybe I should rename the blog “365 Days to Psycho Analyze Yourself”, lots of stuff going on in my head these days. I want to say right now to my two children, if I have ever said something that made you think you weren’t good enough, I’m sorry. You have both always been amazing and the joy of my life.

Tonight, something for my mother. When she died her coffin was covered in yellow roses ordered by my dad. I don’t remember yellow roses being her favorite flower, they are his. I know that because my mom told me so. I remember lilacs, and that she smelled like Heaven Scent when I was young. I had some small pieces of wood, left overs from something, they aren’t even cut straight. Lilacs in acrylic on wood. Love you Mom.

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Finding Solace And A Lifeline In Art

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I had intended today to return to the full figure painting of my daughter, but as usual I got side tracked. Nothing horrible, but something I had intended to follow through on years ago.  Six years ago on  July 22, my Mother died. In the horrific three weeks that she spent in ICU, I passed the time by painting and drawing. I did a series of small, 5×7 paintings that I hung around her hospital bed. All of them painted with her in mind, two of them depicted the area in Southern California where I live, both inviting her to visit when she recovered, which of course she never did. There were two others, a get well card signed by all of us, my Dad, my three sisters, all of our husbands and her eight grandchildren. The other was a vase of sunflowers. I wanted something pretty for her to see when she woke. She did wake, but had sustained a brain injury, so our Mother, as we knew her, was gone. When she passed away and we were taking her things from the hospital, my Aunt Rita asked me if she could have the painting of the sunflowers. I said I would send it to her, I never did. I had intended to mail it as soon as I got home to California from Chicago, but I couldn’t send it. It was one of the last things I did for Mom, and I hoped that on some level she knew about it. I was recently messaging with my cousin Lorna. She has been wonderfully supportive of this artistic and self-searching journey I am on, she is also Rita’s daughter. It reminded me of that painting and I told Lorna I would send it to her Mother.  Two of the other paintings are hanging in my studio, the get well card is framed at my Dad’s house. I have looked for the last several days for the sunflowers and I can’t find it. I know it was there, it has been for six years. Dan said that maybe I’m not supposed to give it away. So today instead of working on Jessica’s portrait I worked on something to send my Aunt Rita. Something pretty, something I hope she will like.

All of the above got me thinking about how often in my life I have taken refuge in my art. As I have pointed out in my earlier writing, in all the years I neglected myself I always did something creative. It has always been my lifeline. As a painfully shy child it was my companion. When my Dad has had surgery, and there have been a few open heart surgeries, I am at the hospital with my pad of paper, pencils and watercolors. I take those same items with me whenever I travel. I don’t sleep well away from home, and I will sit on the floor of a hotel bathroom, drawing in the middle of the night. When I had my last five knee surgeries (I know…you don’t have to say anything), I prepared for them by organizing my “art cart”.  A three drawer plastic cart on wheels, each drawer filled with pencils, markers, paper, paints, and whatever else I can think of, all to fill my recovery time. Propped up on the couch, painkillers and ice close at hand, I ask my family to wheel over my supplies. I am never bored when I have something to create with, and I can create with just about anything.  When my Mother died I came back to California and made a small piece of art dedicated to her. For me art is so much more than what you see on the paper, on the canvas, in the photo, or the sculpture. It is my lifesaver, my friend, my rock, my comfort. I am only sorry that it has taken me so long to appreciate the gift I have been given. And sorry too that it has taken me six years to fulfill a promise.

5 29

Deadlines!

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Long day yesterday. We spent the day doing our taxes which I can tell you doesn’t inspire much in the way of creativity. We didn’t finish until after six last night. I threw together a quick dinner, which for me means spaghetti carbonara, and then hoped to relax for the evening. As I ate dinner, I repeatedly told my husband that I needed to do something for this project. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, but I honestly feel so compelled to follow through on this that I couldn’t let it go. I looked around in my studio to see what I had at hand that would be quick. Feeling the “night before homework is due” pressure, figuring out what I could “hand in”. I didn’t want to do another watercolor, I didn’t want to do another small artist card just to get something done. I decided I was going to draw something. As an artist my biggest downfall is perspective. With never having had art lessons I don’t have many of the fundamental skills. Actually it contributes to another huge issue for me, the need for things to look like they are meant to look. As if I am a Kinkos copy machine. When I paint or draw I criticize myself horribly for it. I know, ridiculous right? I like other people’s work that isn’t “perfect”, so why do I expect that of myself? At this point I think I don’t have a chip on my shoulder but a rather large boulder. So after that long therapeutic rant, I will finish my story. I grabbed a couple of photos that were taped up in the studio, figuring I would draw one of them. I sat in my family room trying to draw but it just wasn’t coming. By this time it is after eight. I flipped through a few magazines, tried another drawing and again nothing. I told my husband that I was going to draw him. I have little to no experience in figure drawing so I thought I would at least try. The thing is when you want someone to model for you it is probably a good idea to tell them not to move. I didn’t, he did, and the drawing was finished before it got anywhere. Again I looked around for something, anything to fulfill my commitment. Behind me on a shelf was a photograph of my grandmother, Florence. I love faces, to look at, to study, and to draw. Florence became my project. I drew for roughly an hour, thought I was done, but then this morning I got up and looked at her, and decided she deserved better. Another hour or two this morning and I think she is done. I may revisit after my eyes uncross, but I’m happy with the results for now. Somehow I managed to reach both my deadlines yesterday, amazing! Art and taxes!Nana 1 (2)