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Merry Christmas

What was I thinking? I said last night that I would possibly make some art for myself today. I think not. Not after all of the cooking, and the cleanup. A few weeks ago I filled a special request for a personalized ornament. I couldn’t post a photo of it because it was meant to be a surprise. So while I technically didn’t create art today (or did I? Pork Roast, gravy, spinach and garlic bread pudding, homemade chunky applesauce, green beans, mashed potatoes, chicken and spinach lasagna, and a Frango Mint Cheesecake, all of which was made today…) I am going to use my special order as my project for this evening. Long day on my feet. I’m tired, off for some sweet dreams. Merry Christmas to all! 12 25 1

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Feeling Merry and Bright

Dare I say it? I’m feeling just a little merry, as in Christmas. We went out today to get our tree. It’s really sort of a non event for us. We don’t have little ones who are excited. There is also the fact that as we chose our tree I was taking photos in the garden center at Home Depot to torture my sisters with. (Come to think of it that made it worth the trip.) I knew it was snowing in Chicago and it was eighty-four here. The temperature also affects the way I feel. When you grow up in the Midwest you want a white Christmas. The only snow I see here is on the tops of the mountains which are more than an hour away. I’m not complaining. I’m getting older, and I am getting to the age where every injury I have sustained in my life is tapping me on the shoulder to say, “Ha, forgot about me didn’t you?” I hurt in multitudes of places depending on the day. I can only imagine what some nice icy weather would do to me. I think I miss the idea of a white Christmas more than anything else. Didn’t I say I was merry? Doesn’t sound like it, but I am, really I am.

There is also this, before we moved to California we cut down our own tree. Our home was outside the city and we lived only a few minutes from a tree farm. I have fond memories of going with the kids in the cold picking our tree, coming back to the house and drinking something hot, and decorating the tree. The experience isn’t quite as picturesque at the home improvement store when I’m too warm to wear a jacket, but once the tree is in the house, and the boxes of ornaments come out, I’m in full holiday mode. I am a very sentimental woman, I remember nearly every ornament and when we got it. My favorites of course are the goofy ones that the kids made, and one that my mother in law made. It is in the tradition of the old German ornaments made with cotton and cloth with the exception of a cut out from a photo of Jessica’s face. It was really cute when it was new, but as the years have gone by it has gotten really creepy looking. I make sure to put it front and center. The tree wouldn’t be complete without creepy Baby Jessica.  Every year I am also reminded of an ornament I made a very long time ago. It was in the third grade. When I was a kid there weren’t many of the current safety regulations in place. We created an ornament with a Styrofoam ball, toothpicks, paint, and glitter. I remember mine was orange. We had to stick the toothpicks all around this ball, dunk it in paint, and then again in glitter. It wasn’t an ornament, it was a deadly weapon. Like a giant porcupine ball, or some Medieval instrument of torture. (Possibly a craft idea inspired by the Inquisition?)  I can’t imagine a school these days allowing kids to make anything close to it.  Of course once the ornaments come out, the snowmen come out. I’ve mentioned my dirty little collecting secret before. I haven’t taken them out of the boxes quite yet, they are awaiting my attention in the morning. (Photo tomorrow night)

Tree trimming in our house usually starts with Vince Guaraldi and the music from Charlie Brown Christmas. It sets the tone perfectly. Dan really likes Charlie Brown Christmas so a few years ago I made him a Charlie Brown tree and painted an ornament red for him to hang from it. I also painted a few ornaments for him as a gift.  They will have to suffice as my art project for the day. I spent the morning creating my Dad’s five Irish fairies. (Much thanks to my cousin Lorna in Ireland for giving me the correct spelling of Merry Christmas in Gaelic.) One of the things I truly love about the artistic abilities I have is that when I want to make something special for someone, I have the skill to do so. It makes me very happy…I mean merry.12 17 (3)

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12 17 (2)And finally, a few Irish fairies.

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Can You Spell W-I-M-P?

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I finally took some time tonight to really sit and think about art for a minute, not craft (sorry fairies, you are art in your own special way, but….) I just haven’ t have the time. I’m still working towards Saturday’s show, and of course etsy sales, but I am craving the smell of oils, and even the frustration of the quick dry time of acrylic. I do however still have my watercolors. To be honest I am couch bound, old medical crap rearing its ugly head, so I am forced away from my workshop (formerly known as my dining room). It gave me the luxury of really thinking about what I wanted to paint tonight. Before I talk about the work and it’s inspiration I need to poke a little fun at myself. Regular readers know by now that I grew up in Chicago, the “Windy City”, and although that name actually came about not from the wind, but rather some boastful politicians and a World’s Fair, it really is windy there. When I was in college I found myself battling the wind as it caught the edge of my very large portfolio and spun me around. As I write this we are watching Monday Night Football, Chicago Bears vs the Dallas Cowboys. (The Bears annihilated the Cowboys in case you were wondering) I just checked the temperature, it’s eight,that’s eight degrees, and that doesn’t include the wind chill. Earlier today I was talking to my sister in Chicago and she said it was cold there. I said, “I know, it’s cold here too.” A light bulb went on, that’s when I said to her, “You’re probably about forty degrees cooler there aren’t you?” It was 50 here, yes 50, it was 10 there. It’s really, truly official, I am a “Wus” (is that a real word?), anyway…I was so cold earlier today that I was actually shivering, and it’s 50. I remember when I moved to California and made fun of all the “locals” who wore sweaters when it was 60. We had to run out for a doctor appointment earlier, when I felt the cold and the wind I announced to Dan that I can never live in Chicago again. I love Chicago, and I would of course have to amend the “never living there again” statement were I ever to be able to afford that downtown loft I’ve always longed for. Even then I would live in my loft for spring and summer only. I am so acclimated to the warmth of Southern California that I can no longer handle the cold. Yes, Wimp, that’s me.

It was very windy here today. (Really, not just because I’m a wimp)  When I thought about what I wanted to do tonight I remembered a photo that Dan had on his iPad. It was a man, a lone figure struggling in the wind. it became my project for tonight. It seemed appropriate considering how cold I am. I’m wrapped in my giant terry cloth robe, and sitting with the heating pad, and drinking hot chocolate… Hey, it’s 43!12 9

 

In Need Of A Fix

I write every day. I have written every day for 204 days now with the exception of the lovely case of pneumonia I contracted last June when I missed one. I never really know what I will write about until I sit down at this keyboard. There have been one or two occasions where I sort of knew ahead of time what I wanted to say, and very early on I got sick of my “woe is me of the no art lessons” stories, sometimes I talk about the work, but I really don’t get into it in-depth. I just write. I have a friend who has asked on more than one occasion, “Why?” She says that she is fascinated with how my brain works, my thought process, the whats and whys of the piece of work I am currently creating. She has brought this up more than once. I don’t really have an answer for her. Much like I sit down here night after night and words begin to flow, I do the same most days/nights with my art. It is second nature to me to create. I don’t think about it all that much, I just do. I cook, I write, I sculpt, I paint, I design, I never stop creating. When I have an idea I go with it. I went to my nephew’s apartment in LA the other day. He is a chef, a very busy, talented chef, and he is relatively new to his apartment. He needs a decorator. It’s a small place, two rooms, kitchenette and bathroom, and I can’t wait to get my hands on it. That will come to no surprise to those who know and love me, as well as those I annoy to no end. I’m a girl who loves a project. I have so much to do with two shows right around the corner, Christmas cleaning and decorating (although the glitter issue has me way ahead on that!) I have to shop for Christmas, get a tree, rescue my snowman collection from its garage prison, and write those Christmas cards that will never see the inside of a mailbox. (Story for another time) What is on my mind? John’s apartment. If I didn’t need the money I would forget the shows and be there now, paintbrush in hand. It’s as though I’m in need of a fix, it is that bad. To know that somewhere in this world there is an apartment laying in wait is killing me. My home is done, several times over in fact. My sister once said that I paint my walls more often than she changes her sheets. Sad but nearly accurate. About two years ago I painted the kitchen three times in three days. (Dan only had to help the first two times) It’s an illness, but the color just wasn’t right. The ideas for John’s apartment will not let my brain rest. I have to wait at least another eleven days until after my second show. I don’t know how I will get through it.

I took a day off from fairies today. My back was pleading with me, and as I mentioned last night I am exhausted. Something simple tonight, another book-plate for the business. A pen and ink, computer tinted in photo-shop.12 4

Focus

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I thought a lot about what to write this evening. The night before Thanksgiving, except I’m not feeling very thankful. It’s been several months since Dan lost his job. It has been a roller coaster of feelings around here, but there’s nothing like the beginning of the holiday season to bring emotion to the surface. I really struggled at the grocery store today. This time a year ago I was shopping for food to donate to the food pantry. Don’t get me wrong, we are nowhere near that kind of problem, but it hit me hard that our life has changed so much inside this past year. I think I took a lot for granted. Not the people in my life. I make a point of telling and showing them how much they mean to me. I did however, take for granted that Dan would always have a job, that we would always be OK. So for now my plan is to focus on what’s right in our life. We love each other, we have good kids, we have a wonderful new son-in-law, who makes our daughter very happy, our families are for the most part doing well, and we have some really wonderful friends. I also have a couple of children in my life who have had tragedy strike their lives much too soon. Focus. Focus on what is good in life, focus on what is important, focus on what you have not what you don’t have. Tomorrow I will be grateful to be with the person I love most in this world, there are far too many people who don’t have even that.

My project for tonight is an ornament, but not a Christmas one. It is for Emily. Tomorrow she will be five. She loves mermaids, so a mermaid it is. Also a box to put it in, another of my painted soap boxes. Emily is one more reason to be grateful tomorrow.IMG_2625IMG_2627IMG_2626IMG_2628IMG_2632

Once Again, Only Me

One of the pleasures of living in Southern California are the November days. Today was a beautiful day. The kind of day that can lift a mood, just the kind of day I needed. Dan and I walked for about forty-five minutes this morning, and it was…painful. OK, I don’t mean to ruin the lovely picture I just painted, but I’m getting old. If you are older you will understand, if you are younger, beware! Every single injury I ever incurred in my life is coming back to haunt me. If you know me then you know that there are quite a few injuries to feel. I won’t bore you to death with the list, but it does bring to mind an “only Me” story. Ten and a half years ago we were preparing our home in Illinois to sell in order to move here. I was painting in the powder room, Dan repairing something in the living room. He was hammering, I don’t recall what, but the vibration was bad enough to knock the mirror off the bathroom wall. It landed on my ankle, my Achilles Tendon to be exact. There are no words to describe the pain. I have given birth to two children, naturally, no drugs, nothing, this pain was right up there with pushing a human being out. It instantly swelled and turned black. Fortunately my tendon didn’t snap. About a year ago my doc looked at it and said I have atrophy of my tendon. Atrophy. A lovely word, right up there with decrepit. Words that begin to appear as you age, like my all time most hated “ma’am. The ankle pain comes and goes when it chooses, and today it chose to visit. I try not to let these things get to me. I own a hospital supply closet (it also happens to be where we keep our clothes), I have every imaginable wrap, brace, elastic bandage, and splint. I also own three canes and three sets of crutches. One was mine, the other two were left on my doorstep by not so funny neighbors when they moved. I grab the corresponding brace or bandage, for the corresponding ailing body part and off I go. I refuse to give in. For the last few days we have seen an elderly woman pushing a walker, the kind with a seat attached, near our house. The kind I keep pointing out to Dan that I will need some day. She was even out there in the rain. I want to be her. I want to be that old and still walking and giving it my all.IMG_2551

Inspired by the lovely sounds and sights of our morning walk, a photo taken on the walking path in our subdivision, and a watercolor dedicated to the lovely sounds we heard.IMG_2582

A little creativity in the kitchen tonight as well. A Devil’s Food cupcake with a Dulce de Leche butter-cream, drizzled with dark chocolate ganache, and topped with a caramel and chocolate dipped pretzel. Just one of the many treats we hope to have in our cafe.IMG_2579

Regaining Control

I woke this morning and realized I had a decision to make. I could either continue on my current course and find myself falling deeper and deeper into a depressed state about my work, or I could change myself once again. I am seven months into this year-long project, seven months that have changed me in countless ways, not only artistically, but on several levels. In the last few weeks due to things here at home, my Dad’s fall and subsequent issues, Dan’s unemployment, and our business, I found myself feeling anxious and somewhat depressed. I was beginning to lose ground on everything that I have achieved for myself. As excited as I am at the prospect of having our business open, I’m also feeling tremendous pressure, and then what do I do? I add more pressure by signing up for a show. I realized this morning that I was pulling away from my new-found confidence and falling victim to my own self doubt. I have made about thirty-five fairy ornaments in the last three days, but haven’t been doing any art. As I explained to Dan today, while I care very deeply about everything I do, these ornaments I’m working on don’t have the same meaning for me as my other fine art does. I called them “crap” today, which is wrong. They are beautiful, and I truly do spend entirely too much time on them, they are art, but not the art I want to do. I had a little meltdown yesterday. I was working on the ornaments feeling anxious about not having enough done, because I really want to make money for Christmas, and feeling pressure to produce for my project, and of course the million other pressures I put on myself day after day, and I began to cry. I went to my room and just sat quietly for a moment, then came down to tell Dan that I needed to get out of the house for a while. I just needed to clear my head. As always he is wonderful and understanding, and he took me out for a cup of coffee. I came back feeling a little better, and went back to work on the ornaments. I did take time to create the gift certificate I posted last night, but I was still unhappy. It wasn’t by any means my finest work. This morning’s decision was to not give the power back to the me that was never good enough. I do need ornaments for the show, and to hopefully sell on etsy, but I need to give myself the time that I cheated myself out of for far too many years. I took an hour this morning to sketch, and then I worked all afternoon making fairies. I quit at six, Dan and I made dinner together, and then I painted while we watched a movie. A jam-packed day, but a far more satisfying one. I just need to make sure that when I’m juggling too many balls I make sure I’m the one on the top.

I mentioned a few weeks ago that I like drawing and painting ordinary objects. I have a nice collection of depression glass. In that collection I have a couple of really cool kitchen pieces. The one I painted tonight is an old ice breaker. It still has its original green glass bowl. A watercolor.

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Phoning It In

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I admit it, I should have taken the night off last night. Apologies to all who read my blog. I really should have named this post “burning the candle at both ends”, because that is what I have been doing. We are heavily into the early stages of our business, and I signed on to do the craft show which is only three weeks away. I’ve been stressed and worried, and not sleeping well. There is also the issue of my knees. One of the wonderful side effects of all of my knee surgeries is the intense pain that decides to make an appearance in the middle of the night. It happened at about two o’clock yesterday morning. I woke feeling as though the creatures who live under the bed were taking batting practice against my right kneecap. I couldn’t get back to sleep so I wound up on the couch watching The Color Purple at 3:15 in the morning. I fell asleep about an hour into the movie, but then woke on and off until I finally gave up around 6:30. I started my day very soon after, and worked until dinner. I attempted to do an art project afterwards, but quite honestly I was done. By the time I wrote last night’s post I was seeing double. I put in another full day of fairy making today. I found myself really stressing out today, and part of that was this project. I haven’t had time to do much other art aside from stuff for the show. I was missing it. Doing something artistic every day has become a habit, and while I consider my craft work to be very artistic, it just isn’t the same. I made sure to take a little time to do something, and since we are getting closer to opening our business I decided to do something for that. We were working on the business plan today and talked about gift certificates. I made designing that my project for this evening. It may be rough for the next few weeks as I juggle starting the business, the holidays, and my project, but I’m going to do the best I can as always.

The gift certificate has our business name blocked out for the moment, (also I cropped it just a wee bit off for this post) but will be revealed soon enough.#2

Hello, I’m Brian’s Mother

As I said the other evening, I am always honest in my blog writing. Full disclosure here. The very funny remark I attributed to my son last night about glitter being the herpes of craft supplies, should actually be attributed to the very funny Jim Gaffigan. When I told my son tonight that I had quoted him in my blog he was horrified. First because he said if I had told him I was going to quote him he would have told me the line was from Mr. Gaffigan, but I think even more so because I am exposing his secret to the world. Yes, he has a mother. When Brian was a little boy he was very attached to me. So much so in fact that Dan thought Brian didn’t like him. How quickly things change. By the time he was nine Brian was distancing himself from me. How I missed those cuddles with my little boy. It was in those years that the head bob began. This was Brian’s way of allowing me to kiss him. I’m not exactly sure when he passed me in height, but as soon as he did he began the practice of bowing down just enough for me to kiss the top of his head. I had spent years doing an annual art project with Jessica’s class. Brian stopped me by the fourth grade. Things have improved in the last few years. My little boy is now a man. He still doesn’t seem to want his friends to know I exist, but he has grown a little more affectionate with me. About a year or so ago I did him a favor. I don’t even remember what. What I do remember is that when he came over to hug me in thanks, I freaked. It had been so long since he came near me I wasn’t sure what was going on, I could say so much more, but I know without a doubt that he won’t be happy with the little bit of him that I have exposed here. All in love my son

I spent my day making fairies once again, so another ghost of projects past. I took an old flatware box and gutted it. Turned it into a box for pretty writing materials for a friend. She loved it. Hopefully tomorrow I can get back to some art that is just for me.

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Finding The Right Words

There are many nights as I sit and write this blog where words fail me. I can’t quite think of exactly what I want to say, or exactly how to form the sentence to convey the point I’m trying to make. Eventually something comes to me, and for the most part I am happy with the outcome. Last night in my description of the glitter issues that confront my family I consulted a thesaurus looking for synonyms. I was trying to express just how defenseless we feel in the war against glitter. Tonight as Dan, Brian and I sat at the dinner table it became apparent that the glitter was already taking the upper hand. Each of us was sparkling. While that wasn’t surprising for either Dan or I, as we were both in the middle of the mix of my supplies all day in the dining room, but for Brian who had only passed through to be sparkling just proves my point. That’s when Brian came up with the words I was looking for last night. He called glitter the “herpes of craft supplies”. I couldn’t have said it better. I laughed at him and asked where he was last night when I needed him.

Dan as always is my extra pair of hands. He is doing all of what he calls the “grunt work”, but it is of immense help to me as I try to crank out as much work as possible. I  shouldn’t say “crank out”, I actually spend far too much time on each piece. When I stated last night that I don’t charge enough for my work I wasn’t exaggerating. I will fuss over the smallest detail, but I care so much about what I do that I can’t help myself. When it comes to pricing I agonize over it. I’m always sure that I’m charging too much…wait, not enough, but no one will pay that much, I wouldn’t pay that much, but it took me this (insert minutes) long, then there is “There’s always a kid with $5 , I need to have something they could buy”.  Years ago in Chicago I had my own business painting murals. My first clients lived a half hour drive from me. They wanted their “Hey, Diddle, Diddle” border reproduced on the nursery wall in a much larger scale. Get ready to groan, shake your head in disbelief, have your jaw hit the floor, I charged $250. That’s all. A week’s work, an hour drive daily, including supplies, for $250. Dan tried in vain to talk me into a price that was reasonable for the amount of work I was doing, while being fair to the clients. I couldn’t do it. As I explained to him, the wife was a social worker, and the husband worked at a grocery store. He tried to talk some sense into me, explaining that they hired me, that it wasn’t my problem what they could and couldn’t afford. I didn’t change the price. Apparently I have many issues, and much in the way of my favorite scapegoat, Catholic guilt.

We had other company in the dining room. Our cats are particularly happy. There are many small items for them to steal and bat around, or string to run off with. Mia loves it most of all, so much in fact that she likes to join us in the center of things, like the middle of the table, in the middle of my supplies.image

Tonight another upcycled project. One I like so much I may never sell it. An old box that I bought for a few dollars. Painted, decoupaged with one of my photos from France and some scrapbook memorabilia. Acrylic paint projects (12)

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IMG_2177But then again, I need the cash…now if I only knew what to price it at…