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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

 

Don’t Drink And Draw

My wonderful husband was reading last night’s blog this morning and sneaking glances at me. Why? Because last night’s self-portrait was way off the mark. I am hereby instituting new self-imposed rules for my project.

1. When there is so little light that you can barely see you might want to reconsider drawing.

2. Don’t draw and try to watch one of your favorite television shows at the same time. (I couldn’t help myself, the Newsroom is so good)

3. Two glasses of wine and self-portrait drawing don’t mix. I admit it, I’m a total lightweight.

4. Mixing all of the above activities might cause you to look at your work from the night before and say, “WHAT?”

My first attempt at drawing me. I never liked the idea of the self-portrait, I really think it has to do with the teeth issue, but I went for it. I guess I figured any self-respecting artist does it sooner or later. Dan said all he could do while looking at it was look at me. He wasn’t getting it, and justifiably so. I set about correcting the drawing and quite frankly, it was one of the hardest drawings I’ve done. I couldn’t get my own nose right, much less the fractured tooth. It took me hours, meanwhile subjecting Dan to countless critiques. “Is it right yet?”, “How about now?”, “Is this it?”, you get the idea. I think maybe there is a reason I always see portraits of artists looking in mirrors to draw themselves. You see yourself differently in a mirror than you do in a photograph. It was torture. I’m done, I’m really glad I’m done, and we won’t be seeing another for any time in the near future.

Aside from hating my face for most of the day, I actually did finish one project that was long overdue, made another invite for my special four-year old friend, Emily, and started another painting. Amazing! For tonight the real me (I think, and if you know me and see a problem with the sketch, please don’t tell me for at least a week), Emily’s invite, the beginnings of a painting of an Angel’s Trumpet, and Theresa’s (she of the pear fame) finished gift.8 128 12 18 12 2IMG_0681

Lost Weekend

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I have another very small piece of art for tonight. We had a lovely weekend with a friend that was visiting from out-of-town which unfortunately didn’t leave much time to work. A lot of cooking yesterday as well as a visit to one of the local vineyards. Today breakfast quiches, followed by a visit down to the San Diego Museum of Art, then dinner at a fantastic restaurant in Little Italy.  So, needless to say I didn’t have much time to draw or paint this weekend. Last night I whipped up a little something in the garden, little being the operative word.  I played with a little watercolor and pen tonight. I also took quite a few photos this afternoon,  just another extension of my creativity. I’m posting the little bit of drawing and painting from tonight, but also a few beautiful photos. I’ll be cracking that artistic whip tomorrow and actually produce a full piece of art. Sometimes you just need the weekend off!  8 4IMG_9747IMG_9753

Join The Club

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I unfortunately didn’t even get visitation with my oils today. We made a trip into LA for business and it ate up most of our day. Three hours to drive eighty-four miles. Traffic was moving so slow that we were in danger of becoming intimately acquainted with the people in the adjoining vehicles. MS DOT  E  would disappear by either falling behind in traffic, or suddenly moving quickly ahead. I began to develop a strange affection for her, it was like seeing an old friend when we were unexpectedly next to each other in traffic. Of course I’m sure she barely noticed us…fickle.

What is this club I have asked you to join? Actually, it’s more like a movement to give identity to all those unfinished projects out there in the world. Projects like my orphaned art. The club has only a few members at this point in time. The current members all lived in the same apartment building on Artesian Ave. in Chicago. Essentially it consists of my family, Dan, our kids, myself, and our downstairs neighbors. We lived in what’s known as a three-flat, we were the top floor, our friends on the second floor, and finally our landlords on the first floor. The landlady was a lovely woman, spoke several languages, and was married to Misha. Misha is responsible for the movement. We lived in that apartment for six years, and in all of that time I don’t think any of us quite figured out what Misha did. What we did know is what he didn’t do. Actually it was more what he didn’t finish. He began to trim the bushes in the front of the building, he got half way across and stopped. Not for a break, or an hour for lunch, or a day. He stopped, FOREVER. The bushes remained that way. Christmas decor put up later (I mean after Christmas), and not taken down until much, much later. My favorite is the hallway. It was off-white, and then Misha began to paint it a very bright yellow-green. He painted the main hall, up the stairs past his apartment door, and then up the next flight past the second floor, and then…and then…nothing, he stopped. He stopped mid roll. A vibrant steak of green promise on the wall reaching for us, but sadly it remained there for more than a year. We had a party for our son, Brian, our guests passing the half-finished hallway with the green streak.  A year later we were having another party for Brian, and the hallway remained half painted. We had of course inquired during the year to see if it would be finished anytime soon. Empty promises were made. Finally Dan went down and confronted Misha. The night before Brian’s party, at around eight, we could hear Misha out there in the hall mumbling and painting. I’m ashamed to say we were on the other side of our front door laughing. I think he may have been up all night. To this day when we have an unfinished project it is called a “Misha”. When we see our former neighbors/friends we feel the bond that only the Misha experience can bring (Well, there are also “Uncle Clyde pants”, but that is a story for another time). I have given an identity to my unfinished work! It shall hereby be known as “Misha”. Have a half-finished project you have been meaning to get to? Its a Misha! I invite you to join the movement.

So little time, but a promise is a promise. A tiny painting (about 5×7) of a not so tiny subject. A watercolor pig, because Dan liked the photo.

A Different Vision

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The thing about being in the middle of not great stuff happening in your life is that the really important things, the things that really mean something, start to stand out even more. I think we as society get so caught up in work and money, and the race of every day life we sometimes tend to only look at the big picture, and lose sight of the small things, and most of the time those are the things that mean the most. I have a beautiful home, and it’s full of beautiful things, but these days I find myself not caring about “stuff”.  Instead I find myself appreciating what it means to have a home when so many people don’t, and being grateful that we had a little money when trouble hit. I have been married for twenty-four years, and have been spending every minute of every day for the last three months with my husband, and what has come out of that is the really, really important stuff. Such as? Despite troubles, a lot of support, a lot of understanding, a lot of worrying together, surprising to some, a lot of laughter, and most of all a lot of love. I was thinking about that earlier today and it inspired what I did tonight. I was in the mood to something different. I have a couple of photos I’ve taken over the last few years of hearts. Not the typical Valentine heart, but just noticing the shape in structures, in nature, and weirdly in a tar formation in a parking lot. inspired by what is the focus of my life these days, and the photographs I’ve taken, I wrote a verse and created a collage. Collage is definitely outside my comfort zone. The randomness of it is at odds with the perfectionism issue I have.

I only know this, whatever happens in our life we will always have what’s important, and that is each other.

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The Art Of The Plate

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My only artwork for today happened in my kitchen. We actually started our day at 6:00 with a garage sale. Someone needs to remind me the next time I say I’m going to have a garage sale how much I hate it. After that a quick house cleaning, and then we had friends come for dinner. That’s where today’s creativity kicked in, handmade ravioli with ricotta, Parmesan, green onion and crispy pancetta, served with a brown butter sage sauce, with mixed greens dressed in a twenty year old aged balsamic and olive oil. Main course, macadamia nut crusted tilapia with mango purée, mango lime butter sauce, and pineapple salsa, served with rice and fresh asparagus. Finally for dessert, puff pastry crust, brushed with white chocolate, that had a touch of almond extract added, with pears, sprinkled with sugar, cinnamon, and ginger, served with homemade vanilla sauce, and a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Have I painted a picture in your mind yet?

I actually did one small piece of art. One of my guests was my friend Emily. She is four and a half. I promised her an invitation to play would come in the mail. I started working on it as soon as she left. I may not have painted a masterpiece on paper tonight, but I definitely had a creative day. Back to the drawing board tomorrow.

 

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Thank You

Before I begin my post tonight I think I need to clear something up. I think there was an awful lot of misinterpretation of my blog last night. It was after midnight when I wrote that piece. I was tired,and yes suffering from a little melancholia, but I had just finished a wonderful meal, shared with good friends, in my beautiful garden with my amazing husband. I am concerned and worried because my husband lost his job, or as he puts it, “his job lost him”, but I am not a lost sheep. When I spoke of not hearing the voice inside me I was speaking of my own voice. I was kidding when I spoke of my monkey-esque brain getting in the way of prayer, thus the use of the word monkey-esque. When I spoke of being impatient and my prayers not being answered it was in a humorous moment with Dan. I do find myself searching and wondering, but it is not because I find something lacking in my soul. I’m human, I’m worried, and despite the postings of a wife who is concerned for her husband, I have not lost faith. While I truly appreciate the thoughts and prayers sent my way, those of you who know me know that I am rather fond of finding humor in my life, particularly when talking about myself. My faith life is and always has been a private and personal relationship. I can be a bit of a loner, and it suits me to be that way in my spiritual life as well. Yes, we are going through hard times, but that is out in the world, at home I have no empty space to fill. I am a very loved woman, and in that luckier than most.

I decided tonight to post something I wrote several months ago with the intention of sending it to my local paper. Shame on me, I didn’t send it, but maybe this is better, this platform that reaches far beyond my local community. If you want to know where I live my spirituality then you need to read this.

                                                                                                                                                  MY FRIEND
I am an immigrant. No, not the kind that seems to be of great concern to everyone, the other kind, a pasty white Canadian with parents straight off the boat from Ireland. No one seems to care if I am legal (I am), but that really isn’t the point. For those of you who live in the Temecula area we suffered a significant loss recently. Most of you aren’t aware of it, particularly those who don’t attend our marvelous Saturday Farmer’s Market in Old Town. There amongst the fruits, vegetables, and restaurant fare was a man selling flowers. He wasn’t the only flower vendor, there are two or three others, but he was a gentle man with a lovely smile, and he was an immigrant. He was the immigrant you are all so concerned about, the Mexican kind. My husband and I attend the market weekly. There are many vendors there that recognize us on sight, and with those vendors we exchange pleasant greetings. The flower vendor was different. Week after week we would buy flowers from him and exchange a smile and a “Thank you”. His English was poor, our Spanish is nonexistent. The language barrier didn’t matter, or that we didn’t know his name, and he didn’t know ours, that gentle smile on that weathered face said everything. We became friends. Eventually he began to give me an extra bouquet, something he chose to add to whatever my husband was buying for me. In return I began to bring him a little something I baked, and the gift of a watercolor painting I had done of one of his sunflowers. He disappeared for a while and there was a great deal of concern for him from the people who attend the market every week. I knew this because when we asked about him, his niece told us that her uncle was recovering from surgery, and that it meant so much to her that so many people cared for him. A few months ago he returned. He looked older and a little feeble, but the smile was still there. I know that there is so much anger and even some hatred for immigrants in this country, but there are also those of us who understand who and what they are. My dad came here with a pregnant wife and two daughters because he wanted a better life. I don’t condone illegal immigration, but I wish everyone in this world could have the opportunity that we all have. I don’t know if the flower vendor was legal, I do know that by looking at his rough hands that he probably worked hard all of his life. Maybe we can all set aside a little of our hostility and stop and really look at one another. Many of you couldn’t or wouldn’t do the kind of work that would give a man hands like that. There has to be a better solution than anger. There needs to be compassion and understanding. Two weeks ago when we attended the Farmer’s Market we saw a picture of him surrounded with flowers. The flower vendor has passed away. For those of us who saw him weekly we will miss that smile. I will miss my friend.

For those of you that were lovely enough to offer the gift of your faith, your church, I thank you, but I have found mine in the face of humanity.

Tonight I am working on the last of the three portraits that I’m doing, but instead of posting the work in progress, I am posting the sunflower I painted for my friend, it’s brilliance could never match his smile. God bless you my friend.May 2011 199

Kindred Spirits

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If you are really lucky in life you will have one really good friend. I consider myself very fortunate in that I have four or five women in my life that I know without a doubt could be called upon for any occasion, good and bad, that would be there for me without hesitation.  I am also blessed to have a husband who without question is the best friend I’ve ever had. I’ve always loved Lucy Maud Montgomery’s book “Anne of Green Gables”. Anne finds her kindred spirit in Diana. I have three sisters, but I believe I may have found the fourth. Twins, possibly separated at birth. ( It just might be possible, we were both born in Canada)   Theresa is my Diana, my kindred spirit. Dan always says that he doesn’t know what we would do without each other. I think he is right.  We have leaned on each other quite a bit in the last few years. When I first came to California I didn’t know a single soul, it was lonely and I missed my family terribly. I of course gradually met people, some of them the same irreplaceable, wonderful women I mentioned above. The story of how Theresa and I became friends is really quite lovely. Her son, Zachary is a friend of my son, Brian. Zach was at our house quite a bit and was often offered something to eat. I’ve mentioned often in this blog how much I love to cook and bake. Zach would often ask me if he could bring a little something home to his mother to try. When he got home he would tell Theresa that I sent food for her to try. Sneaky plan, but so wonderful! Eventually Zach told his mother that we should meet, he thought we should be friends. Zachary is a very intuitive young man. Today is Theresa’s birthday, and because she is such a light in my life I wanted to give her a little light in return. My project today is a hurricane lamp. I printed four panels vellum using photos of my paintings. All four paintings were floral, I had considered using pears because she does have a (dare I say it?) pear fetish. It is an addiction that I usually feed, but today I wanted something different for her. The panels are applied to plexiglass, and then attached at the corners. I trimmed the corners out with color strips I printed on canvas paper and copper tape. Throw a candle in the middle and it looks pretty cool. I just might have to make one for myself. Happy Birthday my dear friend.

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Using The Gift

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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