Bad day today. Still battling something, not sure what, but woke at four with a headache, then again at five, and finally gave up at about six fifteen this morning. Worse yet I was battling some inner demons. Remember “not good enough”, the evil little tormentor that resides inside my brain? Well he made a return appearance today. I haven’t heard from him in a while, but he must have managed to slip out of his hiding space while my head was pounding. I started out the day investigating print and matte prices in order to sell my work. I was feeling confident, and artistically self-assured. I took a break to take Brian to urgent care. (Sitting in a cesspool of illness I’m sure did a lot for my already not feeling good self) I came home with an even more horrible headache. I decided to look at local art groups with the idea of joining one. I began to look at the work of some of the members, and worse yet began to look at their credentials. That’s when the self-doubt began to creep in. I read the educational pedigrees of these artists and felt inadequate. I thought I was past the chip on my shoulder, but I think maybe I had just learned to turn a deaf ear to the voice inside my head. Today it was loud and clear reminding me that I have had no training. Shortly after that exercise in self-destruction I began to organize my work from this project. I opened a separate file on my computer and began to sort through what I felt was “good” work, and copy those pieces into that file. I came up with forty-eight. I have been working on this project since the thirteenth of April and could only come up with forty-eight pieces that I felt were worthy. I went to Dan and told him how disappointed I was in myself. He immediately disagreed, and told me how much he admires what I have been doing, and that the work was good. After I talked to him I revisited my work, the number grew to one hundred and four. I have come to understand that my new-found artistic confidence is more fragile than I realized. I need to remind myself every day that I have talent, that not every piece will be perfect or turn out the way I want it to. It was a long struggle to get where I am, I’m not willing to lose the progress I’ve made. Tonight I attempted a watercolor portrait that honestly I am not that happy with. It falls under the “I should have left well enough alone” category. It seemed to be headed in the right direction, and then…self-doubt. Not good enough, add more paint, try to subtract more paint (tough with watercolor), in the end I added ink, in the end I think I should have left it alone. Tomorrow is a new day, a day to start over and remember that confidence I was building. One step back, two steps forward.
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Moody Inspiration
I had intended to do a much larger piece of art today, but I have a sneaking suspicion that there may be a flu in my future. Several friends have been sick in the last few weeks, and although I did get a flu shot, I am feeling slightly under the weather. My head is feeling quite a bit heavier than normal, and it aches as well. Let’s just hope its a travel hangover from the weekend. I did work quite a bit today, but that was on (I hate to say it) fairies. Don’t get me wrong, I love them, but they do spread quite a mess throughout my house. We are still suffering a glitter containment issue from Christmas. I have quite a few new ideas that I am working on, so glitter it is. For my blog tonight I did a little experiment. A few years ago I saw a photograph in a restaurant in shades of browns and blacks. I have done a couple of black and shades of gray watercolors before, I wanted to try something similar with the browns and blacks. Inspired by the photo I saw I painted a portrait of a woman’s profile. I like the effect, I do wish I had used a different weight of paper. This is a much more textured paper and I had a difficult time blending. In the end I am pleased with the portrait. There is a moodiness to it that I like. (Maybe because of how I’m feeling!) I think I’d like to attempt one in oil. Before I get to that I do have a number of half done orphans in my studio. Time to do a little catch up, that is if health permits tomorrow. For now, short blog, early to bed, hoping my head feels better in the morning. 
Art On The Move
I’ve got it figured out, the way to make time for art. I simply need to be confined to a moving vehicle with a set of watercolors and a bottle cap (for water, in case you were wondering). We are on the road today, on the way to Phoenix for my mother in law’s birthday. It’s only 1:35 in the afternoon and I’ve completed an art project. (I wont be able to post this until later today because the art is for her.) As always I travel with too many supplies. There is barely enough room for me in the front seat of the car. Books, magazines, paper, pens for pen and ink, pencils, and two sets of watercolors, and I’ll be back on Sunday. I’m not even sure what clothes I grabbed to wear, and I have two pairs of shoes, the ones on my feet, and a pair of tennis shoes for walking. That’s the stuff I don’t care about, well maybe I care a little, I brought four shirts for two days, but what I do care about is being prepared for whatever inspiration strikes. Of course oils and acrylics are back at home, but I can always lay down an idea in watercolor and revisit with another medium later. I did get up this morning and clean the house, but here I am sitting in the passenger seat with nothing to distract me, nothing else to prioritize, no excuses. I know many a passenger would just enjoy the view or fall asleep, (Brian’s been out cold since we left) but I am one of those “ants in your pants” people. I hate, hate, hate sitting still. I always need an activity. For my last five knee surgeries I prepared an activity cart ahead of time, that way I could order my man-servant (Dan) to wheel it over. I had to have something to do when sitting on the couch. Morphine drip in one leg, paint brush in the other hand. To say I have ants in my pants doesn’t nearly cover it. After one of my surgeries I sat looking at our family room fireplace, within a week I had dragged myself over and tiled the front of it. Captive in the passenger seat I thought about what was at hand. Watercolor paper, paints, and a photo of Lulu my mother in laws dog. yesterday I told Dan not to buy a card that I’d make one. I never had the time, but as we take this five-hour drive time is all I have. A portrait of Lulu as a card. This isn’t my first expedition into art in a moving vehicle. I painted almost the entire eleven hour trip on Air France as we returned home from a very belated honeymoon, and I’ve seen more than one trucker do a double take after glancing down into our car.
Lulu in watercolor. Joyce’s adorable Yorkie, Happy Birthday Joyce!
An Opportunity
I could take last night’s post and rerun it again. Another day when I found myself unable to get to the art I wanted to do. This one brought on by myself. I volunteered to make a cake. Did I invite Betty Crocker or Duncan Hines into my kitchen? Of course not. Dark chocolate with homemade raspberry filling, and chocolate ganache, then wrapped in a coat of dark chocolate frosting. Yum, right? I’m sure it is, but after tasting and tasting and tasting all day I’m done. All made from scratch, everything has to be tasted, I know you’re thinking, “tough job”, but when you taste it over and over, yuck! I actually felt sick. It looks amazing, and I’m sure once my stomach has a chance to recover I’ll be in love with chocolate all over again, right now we are on a trial separation. We would like to remain friends.
Larger art projects will have to wait, I didn’t finish my cake until near dinner, and I have a busy weekend ahead. Of course before I made the cake? Oh, I cleaned the family room, my bedroom, two bathrooms. Did I leave time for art? No I didn’t. By the time seven in the evening rolled around I was upset with the world, but in all honesty its my fault. I am making the choices, no one is holding a gun to my head, yet I keep putting myself off. A few years ago I talked to my daughter about how I saw the women in our family. My Mom never did things for herself. There are times when I think of her now and am filled with sadness for the girl she once was. We have one photo of her where she appears to be twelve or so. She looks so happy. I sometimes wonder who she could have been given the right encouragement and opportunity. I see some of that in myself as well. My Mom gave everything of herself to my Dad, myself and my three sisters. I have followed very closely in her footsteps, and sometimes I feel my daughter on my heels. I told Jessica that I don’t want her to follow in this long line of people pleasing. I want my daughter to step out of my shadow and do things for herself before she learns to regret the time she has lost. I also realize that I need to step out of my own shadow. I have regrets about lost time and opportunity, but my life is still ahead of me, I have an opportunity here to show her it is possible to love your family, but to love yourself as well.
I decided to do one of my favorite types of paintings, every day objects. Right in front of me was a collection of brushes in water. I grabbed the largest one. “Tool of the Trade”, in watercolor.
Daily Detours
Despite my best efforts my daily life continues to get in the way of my art. I start each day with the best of intention, but there always seems to be things that get in the way. I had intended to continue work on my cabinet door project but never found the time to sit down and paint. I’m not complaining, I spent my day being quite productive from a two-hour hike this morning, a little house cleaning, and a wonderful afternoon baking and cooking with my nine-year old friend Gabby. We made banana muffins, and frozen fruit pops from a children’s cookbook I bought her for Christmas, made soup for my family and for my lovely Theresa who is very under the weather. There was also forty-five minutes on the phone with my eighty-one year old Dad, who was trying to explain to me how he wants me to make a house for two little figurines that I gave him years ago that resemble my children. I’m still not sure what he wants, but he is going to send them to me and I’ll come up with something. So here it is past seven in the evening and I am searching for a project. I did start a watercolor painting, at least the rough sketch, but it is a gift for someone so I can’t use it until Friday because it’s a surprise. I do have another small upcycling project in my bag of tricks, so that may be it for tonight…
Three hours later…I’m back with a finished??? project. I question the finished part because I’m not sure if I am happy or finished. It’s late, I dragged my feet on this one. Honestly, I didn’t feel like working tonight, but I made myself do it. I was afraid that I took one night off it would turn into two, or three. This project has given me so much, but I still struggle with the day-to-day of making time for art. I’m worried about giving up on myself. When this year is up I most likely won’t be writing every day, but I hope to be working every day.
Tonight a hat stand. An old wooden spindle, two pieces of craft wood, and some paint. I upholstered the top and trimmed it out. Not sure I like the trim, but it’s late, and I’m too tired to make decisions.
Don’t Go Breaking My Heart
I was definitely over optimistic about this door project. It is taking me much longer than anticipated, and will most like turn into a four-day project. I’m really enjoying the process, but it is definitely time-consuming. I applied two coats of gesso to the fabric, but the texture is definitely rougher than using a canvas that has been factory prepared. I’m using some Folk Art floating medium which is certainly helping. I started with only Titanium White and Yellow Ochre on my palette, initially thinking that I wanted to work in only two colors, but I wasn’t achieving the depth I was looking for. I added some Folk Art Metallic Taupe to the mix and it was perfect. I didn’t really have a particular design in mind when I started, sort of the “flying by the seat of my pants” work I enjoy. Here’s my problem now, it’s a problem I often encounter, I’m falling in love with this piece. I have a very intimate relationship with much of the work I produce. I’ve denied my artistic soul for so long that I often fall head over heels for the piece of the moment. The thought of selling my work is something I have yet to come to terms with. I’ve been selling things for years of course, but mostly the kind of craft stuff that I just don’t care that much about. I sold my first painting at fifteen, and not much since then, but I can’t keep everything. I would also like to earn a living at this, I can’t do that if I can’t let go. Many years ago in response to my Dad giving my work away, I began to give my work to my boyfriend. Then we broke up. It meant I broke up with my paintings as well. I heard through the grapevine that his apartment was robbed, and to add insult to injury the thief or thieves put a knife through one of his paintings, my painting. I was heartsick. I really do put so much of myself in my work, even the craft stuff that I claim to not care about. The thought of selling my work and never seeing it again kills me. (Do you think I could arrange for visitation?) I know I will have photographs to look at, but it just isn’t the same. I’ve agonized over it here in this blog before, I still haven’t bitten the bullet, but I will. I took the first step by opening a Facebook page to begin showing the work. I’m hoping to start listing prints on etsy soon. As for original pieces (I think I just felt my heart drop) those are next. Someone will break my heart and take my babies away. This is assuming anyone wants to buy them. Maybe I’ll just be happily ensconced in my piles of work by the time I hit my seventy-fifth birthday. I’ll leave all my work to my kids. (They had better like it, it’s all they’ll be getting)
The door, day two…
Beginning The Countdown
As I contemplated what to do tonight the old 99 Bottles of Beer began to sing in my brain. You know, 99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer…except my version has something to do with 90 more projects to do. I’d write out the whole thing but:
A. You really don’t want to read it
B. It makes no sense at all.
Anyway, I’m feeling a little pressured these days. The three hundred sixty-five day project is three-quarters of the way through. As much as I have accomplished, and it is a lot, my studio is nowhere near cleaned out, which was in the beginning the idea behind cleaning out my “artistic refrigerator”. I still have multitudes of supplies, and worse yet I bought more! I also feel like I didn’t get to enough drawing, or oil painting in the last nine months. Both are things I’d like to spend a little more time on, but there is also the random supply crap. You know, the bits a pieces that one might pick up along the way and say, “Don’t throw that out, I can make something with that.” I have lots of that stuff. The unfortunate thing is that with my random stuff it tends to be on the larger side, like Theresa’s kitchen cabinet doors. Remember those from a few months ago? I took a stack, did a few projects, had a lot of great ideas, and never followed through. I have decided I need a list of what I hope to accomplish in these last three months. I’m going to work on the list tomorrow…what’s the line from the other song? “I love you tomorrow, you’re always a day away…(I think the blood may have pooled in my brain from the two hours I spent in the dentist’s chair today)
Tonight I decided to grab one of those cabinet doors and do something with it. One of my favorite pieces of the last few months was the reproduction of a business card I did for my husband. It was from the restaurant in Paris where we celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary. The piece now hangs in our kitchen. I took a larger cabinet door, some drop cloth fabric, glue, and gesso, to turn the door surface into something I can paint on. I prefer turning the door over where the trim is a flat panel. I glued the drop cloth down, not cut perfectly, but I plan on trimming it out anyway, and right now I am waiting for the first coat of gesso to dry. At this moment I’m not even sure what I will be painting on it, but I have drying time to brainstorm…Brainstorm is over. Valentine’s Day ahead, I’ve got an idea. A heart, not a cheesy red Valentine, but a tone on tone, thinking sepia, in the center, a lovely quote, again tone on tone, and random crap to be added to frame. Unfortunately the gesso isn’t dry, and it still needs another coat. Looks like a two-day project. While we wait for that to dry (Because aren’t we all waiting for me to be finished?), I have another project. Years ago I picked up a vintage souvenir box from Mount Vernon at an antique store. The box was trashed on the inside. I redid the inside with some beautiful moss-green velvet. Tonight I replaced the top with one of my photos from Paris (note to Dan…Dear Dan, I must return to Paris, running out of photos to use, must return to replenish my supply…) The top had some flaking on the inside of the glass frame that I chose to keep, I like the patina of it. I think it came out really nice. Definitely one for etsy. Tomorrow I will return to my cabinet door. I hope to add an additional coat of gesso before bed tonight.
Before photos…
After photos…
The Cluttered Attic
I’ve been working for nearly a year now on this project, and while I feel so much more empowered as an artist, there is an area where I am still seeking to find myself. In my fearless artistic youth I wouldn’t look at a photo, or anywhere outside of my own mind to find inspiration. I would paint what was in my head. I guess when you are fourteen or fifteen there isn’t yet a lot of clutter in your head. When you are over fifty with two kids, a mortgage, injuries (too many to list!), an elderly father you worry yourself sick over (because you live thousands of miles away and can only help so much by phone), and you’ve spent most of your life ignoring yourself in pursuit of the happiness of everyone else that you love, inspiration gets lost along the way. The attic of a lifetime that resides inside my head is filled with way too many boxes. I search daily through the thousands of photos I’ve taken in a lifetime of “some day”, or the hundreds of photos torn from the pages of far too many magazines admiring the work of others and hoping it lights something inside me, all in pursuit of that moment when I know what it is I want to put on the paper, the canvas, the piece of wood. If you are an adult lucky enough to still hold onto childish dreams I admire you, I think I was born responsible. I’ve spent my life being just a little (a little?) uptight and self-conscious, always afraid to draw attention to myself, yet here I am putting myself out into the world. I guess my days of hiding are coming to an end. Maybe it’s time to turn into one of those people who forget to act their age. Maybe I need to risk attention. Maybe I need to act just a little silly, or better yet embarrass my children. (Fair warning Jessica and Brian) I need to shed a little baggage, clean out the clutter in my brain, and open myself to looking at what’s left in there when I’m finished. Could be there might be some little gem hiding in a dark corner.
I was really, really tired today. One of the lovely advantages of having a cluttered brain is lack of sleep. An hour and a half last night, what a treat! I wasn’t sure I would be up to anything, but I grabbed the box of “inspiration photos”, and the watercolors, and just let things develop. I ended up with two pieces. One is from a beautiful sunset over the nearby mountains, the other, a wild flower I took some time ago on the plateau. 
One From The Archives
Tonight I am posting an old one, so old in fact that I don’t remember when I drew it. I had as always fully intended to create something new for tonight, but we are having friends come for dinner, and we have hardwood floors and cats, and worse yet the Ghost of Christmas Crafting is still in the house. Glitter in every crevice of my hardwood floors. One of my dinner guests is a former Marine, I’m not sure he would appreciate leaving my home sparkling. I cleaned for about four hours, shopped, cooked and baked. Needless to say I’m tired, but I’m also out of time, they will be here in a half hour. I was organizing some of my work today and came across this drawing, as I said its been around for a while, but I mentioned a few weeks ago about my plan to do menus for special occasions, and here one is. These are guests that I promised dinner to a year ago. Yikes! What a year, but a promise is a promise, and I really do enjoy their company. So for tonight I combined my old sketch with my new plan, and I have to say I am quite happy with it. I’m off to final preparations, and for once to try to be ahead of the game and relax and enjoy my evening. In case you were wondering, I came through yesterday’s hike with flying colors, nary a pain in sight. We will be going again in the morning, hopefully with the same results.
Asking For Trouble
I know that there are times that many people in my life think I’m a major league whiner. I of course feel that my complaints are perfectly legitimate. I have many, many injuries, most, well OK all, are my own graceless fault. I have been warned by the doctor not to do certain things in my life, mostly things that require coordination, but do I listen? No, why would I do that? I may piss and moan now and then because things hurt, but they hurt because I never, ever intend to give in to an injury. I complained after our long New Year’s walk of six miles over a little bit of rough terrain. It took me a couple of days to get over it, but I was back out within a few days walking in the neighborhood, and back out in the plateau day before yesterday. Today I did it again, pushed myself hard, pushed through the pain and injuries and went hiking with Dan. We hiked a trail alongside Lake Hodges in San Diego. I’m not exactly sure how many miles we hiked today, we were out there for two and a half hours, but I do know that we hiked up the side of a hill to an elevation of 2620 feet. Two or three times as we walked along Dan offered me an out, I didn’t take the offer. I love walking, I love being out away from our worries, I love being with my husband. We could see that some of the trail ahead of us might be difficult, but thanks to a terrific walking stick that Dan found for me, an ankle brace, a knee brace, and a helping hand from my loving husband, I did it. (Of course getting back down those steep, narrow paths wasn’t quite as much fun) We sat on some rocks and spent a little time just breathing it all in. Spectacular views, peaceful sounds, and wonderful company. There isn’t a better way to spend a day. That being said, we will have to wait to see how I’m feeling tomorrow. I asked for it. I predict a little whining.
I didn’t rest when I came home, or ice the weak spots, (Again, why would I do that, sensible woman that I am…not) I continued the organization of my studio. By the time I actually sat down I was too drained to be very creative. I started to sketch a scene from today, but I looked across the room to see Brian passed out in a chair. I have to admit I was a little jealous. I decided to give myself a break tonight and just do a quick sketch. Of course Brian hadn’t moved for an hour, until I began to draw. l think I need to follow his example and pass out in my chair. A rough sketch of my son is all I can manage tonight.
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