If you are someone who has followed along my journey since the inception of this blog, you know that within weeks of my taking the steps to finally find something for myself, my life took a drastic change. My husband lost his job. As I have been spending these past ten months searching for my artistic self, my incredible husband has been on a search of his own. My obstacles are self-imposed and personal, Dan’s obstacles are imposed by the world and its prejudices. Somehow in this society who we are and what we have to offer becomes minuscule in comparison to our age. He has a fountain of knowledge, incredible skills, intelligence, and is hardworking and loyal to the core, yet here we are nearly a year later. We got more bad news yesterday, and then again today. I find myself feeling a little hopeless today, and worse yet I see it in Dan as well. It has been a roller coaster of emotion for months, more so for me because as always, Dan protects me and denies his own worry as to not upset me. We try to hold each other up, we try to assure each other that all will be well. To be honest I was in no mood to create today. My heart and mind are heavy. I have not given up on prayer, but maybe a little on hope. So many times in the last ten months we have had a glimmer of hope only to have it snatched away. The one consistent throughout is our love for each other, we are in this together no matter what the outcome. Tonight I drew a small sketch in an effort to express what I’m feeling. We are two broken hearts, each holding on to and supporting the other as the chaos of the world swirls around us.
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Learning To Let Go Of What’s Right
Tonight an exercise in thinking outside the box. I am someone who has spent their entire life trying to do things the “right” way, for the most part I have been successful. I’ve touched on this subject once before, many, many blogs ago. That need to be right and do right interferes with my creative process. When you are a person who is compelled to follow the rules, creativity, which by nature has no rules, can be difficult. Obviously I have skills in traditional art, I can draw, I can paint, but what I can’t do is get past my own limitations on the “right” way. It is an issue that I struggle with on a continuing basis. Paintings that get ruined because I think they aren’t “right” or “perfect” enough, so I change something organic and beautiful into a muddied mess. I’ve completed only a few other altered art projects along the way in this blog, and tonight decided it was time to face my demons once again. I look at the altered art pieces of other artists and absolutely love them, in fact I think the more nonsensical the piece the more I love it. There’s a childlike freedom in altered art. I would define it as art before you were told what art was “supposed to be”. Composition is of course as always important, but other than that there is freedom of expression, sort of “everything including the kitchen sink” art. I have several photographs of my grandmother Florence, that I love. The one in this project is from a costume party when she was seventeen. The original is in sepia tones so I colorized it in Photo shop. An old tin box from some postcards (recycling once again!), a photo of the window that faced our apartment in Paris, a couple of my multitude of sky photos, and butterflies, lots of butterflies. I’m not finished, a day that found me with a bad headache once again, so the components are here, the pieces will come together in the morning. It’s coming along nicely, very different for me, and something I think I need to force myself to do more often to loosen me up a bit creatively speaking.
A Life Reflected
Something I wrote last night sparked some interesting thoughts in my head today. Last night I made reference to my half painted canvas, which upon a coat of paint, was fully clothed. I thought a lot about that today. Sexuality is a subject that makes many people uncomfortable, not me. (Just ask my horrified children.) To be human is to be a sexual being. To give birth is a sexual experience. When I look at that “virginal” white canvas that I started with yesterday I cannot help but think how much life it gains when paint is laid upon it. I give birth to my art. It becomes vibrant and alive. Think about it. How much great art has been produced through the ages due to love, to lust, or because of frustration? The human condition immortalized in paint, in charcoal, in photograph. The Mona Lisa’s smile, the lusty vivacious work of Georgia O’Keefe, even the loneliness of strangers in a diner in Hopper’s “Nighthawks”. The virginal blank surface that has yet to experience life, it is the artist who is tasked to recreate emotion through color and image. The connection between the work and the artist as a human is singular. As I thought about these things today I realized that my own hesitancy, my own cautious approach to laying the paint upon a surface as a young artist has been replaced with a love for richness, for texture, for color. All reflective of the life already lived. I was timid in my younger self, afraid to put too much paint on the surface, afraid of revealing too much of myself. There is a confidence in aging, a wisdom that the young artist can never have. Even the most skilled artist as a youth will find that the work will grow as the life experience grows as well. Love, heartbreak, loneliness, regret, laughter, joy; the list of emotion is endless, the effect on the artist is immeasurable. I need to respect my own process, my own growth and life experience, to leave more of myself on the canvas.
Tonight a face. I love faces. I didn’t want to sketch a recognizable face, but to draw for practice, for the enjoyment. This is a woman who doesn’t exist, created by my hand.
“As The Brush Speaks”
I did it, well half-assed did it. I put two things up on my etsy site, neither of which was my “fine art”, by which I mean paintings, drawings, or prints of those. I do intend to follow-up on those, but am still in the “how do I do it?” phase. I need to find a print shop to get prints made, and I need to find an inexpensive place to order mats from. As for other work that I was going to put up, it’s the shipping that is delaying me. Just when I think I have it all figured out I go to the post office and find out I charged too much for shipping and need to issue a refund. It happened to me several times over Christmas. I don’t care if it’s a dollar less than I posted, I issue a refund. I have too much Catholic guilt to hang onto money that belongs to someone else. Flat rate shipping sounds fabulous in theory, but I found it was cheaper to send things first class. I also need to find boxes to fit things that I want to ship in. Basically my life is a postal nightmare. I wish everyone who liked my stuff lived down the street and I could just drop it off. Just one more problem to solve.
I feel like I had a decent artistic day. I started to work on one of the orphans from this project, feeling all guilty that this little painting was sitting upstairs half painted, like some half-clothed Dickensian character. I sat and began to finish the piece, hating every minute of it. Why? Because I never really liked it in the first place. So I changed my mind, painted over the whole damn thing, and I didn’t feel a bit guilty. (after all fully covered in paint is fully clothed right?) I prepped the canvas to do an entirely different project tomorrow. Meanwhile I grabbed a new canvas, and just painted. Another episode of “As The Brush Speaks”. I didn’t think about it, I just worked. Eventually something began to appear as though out of a dream. I am a great lover of fog. Yes, fog, always have been. I think it is because I always liked hiding. Hiding is good when you are shy. I read a book when I was a kid called, “Fog Magic”. It was about a little girl in New England who could step back in time through the fog to Colonial Days. There were times as a kid that I wanted to disappear. Fog envelops everything around it like a cloak of secrecy, it appeals to me. On the canvas a secret forest of fog and color began to appear, I began to think of fireflies, and bright spots through the haze. A place of peace and tranquility. Once it began to take shape I continued the path. I think I came up with a place I would like to be.
Labor Of Love
I am still in the midst of the project of last night. As so often happens to me, I have fallen in love…with this project. I am spending entirely too much time on it to ever see a profit, but I honestly don’t care. I love creating, I love drawing, I love painting, I even love sanding wood. When I find a project that really appeals to me I can very easily get lost in it. Dan often remarks to me that I need to consider my time when I am calculating a price on a piece that I’m going to sell, but it just doesn’t work that way. I never think of myself as an “hourly” employee when I work. As for price, well, every piece is priceless to me. I probably won’t ever get paid back for all of the time I’ve spent on art, but I earn so much more in pleasure and satisfaction. Some things are so invaluable that they can’t have a price. There is no cost to be placed on my thoughts, my visions, my inspiration, there is only in the end the work. My satisfaction comes from knowing that someone else buys the work, loves the work, and shares the work with the people that they care about. Somewhere out in the world something I created is possibly the thing that someone else in the world treasures, and that is payment enough. For this piece I can only hope that it speaks to some romantic soul who wants to express them-self but doesn’t have the words, or the creativity.
Speaking of romantic souls (me), I met my husband twenty-eight years ago today. It was like a bolt of lightning then, and the sparks are still flying now. I’m calling it quits for the night. A romantic dinner for two at one of the local wineries awaits me. It means my project won’t be finished for another day, but for now my priorities and expressions of love are elsewhere.
Photos of project in process, one finished card, and my beautiful flowers from Dan from this mornings Temecula Farmer’s Market.
Small Packages
Back to one of my favorites yet again. I came up with an idea this morning for a Valentine Day project, it involves my paper burning technique, as well as many other smaller components. It’s again one of the small cardboard soap boxes that I saved from the recycling bin. I used the burning technique on the box, I also took the original hole in the front of the box and cut out an additional piece to create a keyhole. The inside is still a work in progress. Inspired by a gift I made for Dan a few years ago. I made him a small book of the 100 reasons that I love him. It was filled with photos, poems, small copies of some of my work, and little pockets will notes inside. The inside of this box will be a series of cards that pull out in an accordion style. The cards will also have small illustrations, quotes about love, and space for personal thoughts. My plan is to finish the piece tomorrow and place it on etsy. I think any time a gift can be made so personal it makes it that much more special. I want to create a gift that can have some beautiful art, inspiring words, but to also give someone the opportunity to add their own creative touch. A small gift packed with a lot of feeling. I’m not a jewelry girl, or for that matter any expensive gift. I love the gifts that my kids make, a music compilation, a drawing, a photograph that they took, and from Dan, letters. There is nothing I love better than thoughts on paper. Tonight the beginnings of what I think will be a really great project.
Home
No ruby slippers to instantly transport me home, so another five-hour return drive in the car. No watercolor paintings this time. I was busy taking photographs. I began to play with my phone taking pictures as we drove through the Arizona desert. We’ve made this same journey several times before, and I have taken hundreds of photos along the way both coming and going, but I wanted to play with the filters on my iPhone. I have always loved black and white photography, and there is a filter on my phone named “transfer”, the colors were really different, very vintage looking. I went crazy for both. I shot more than five hundred photos. I couldn’t wait to get home to unload my phone to see all of them. I had been checking through them as we drove and was loving the results. Then I unloaded my phone. Not one photo appeared in my computer with the filter on it. I have been having issues with the phone, but not with the camera. I was devastated, of course me being me, I deleted all of the photos before really looking at them to see that they had unloaded without the filters. I checked with my local tech gurus (that would be Dan and Brian, husband and son respectively) but no one seemed to have an answer. I finally googled it. To my dismay it seems that there is no way to save them with the filter unless you email them to yourself. Ridiculous if you take as many photos as I do, and I had already deleted them. I called the help line (Jessica) who is always quick to help her not so tech savvy mother in a pinch. I followed her instructions and emailed myself one of my photos back out of my desk top, applied the filter and then emailed it back to myself. Success! Now I only have hundreds more to do. (Just kidding) I’ll have to take a good look before I decide which photos are filter worthy. To say I am annoyed with the entire process is a major understatement. However, I did manage to take quite a few photos today that I love, so I will be busy emailing myself for the next week. Because I have nothing better to do.
You have probably guessed by now that I am home, happily ensconced in my nest, and I am. As wonderful as new experiences can be, as lovely as visiting family can be, as intriguing as exotic destinations are, there truly is nothing like the feeling of walking in your own front door, putting up your feet, and letting out a sigh of satisfaction. Our girls, Riley, Mia, and Sophie were glad to have us back to do their bidding. Mia in particular knows exactly what she wants. She walks towards me with determination, hops onto my lap, and demands to be petted as she purrs away. I was tired today, ten hours of travel between Friday’s trip to Phoenix and the return trip today, and my usual restless hotel sleeping, I decided that tonight I would do something just for fun. A watercolor of my Mia. It’s also been quite a while since I threw in a little photography. Some desert shots, one in its original color as nature intended, a black and white, and a before and after with the filter applied (thank you Jessica!) Back to my life tomorrow, with bigger and better art to come.
As nature intended…
Black and white Photo Shop
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.
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.
Outside The “Vortex”
While most of the country is suffering from “Polar Vortex” we lucky people in Southern California are enjoying beautiful weather. Dan and I hit the trails for a hike. Back to the Santa Rosa Plateau to walk in the Sylvan Meadows Trailhead. Not quite as challenging as our New Year’s walk, this trail is much more level, no climbing, and full of little surprising pathways. We walked for an hour and a half. Peaceful, quiet, with the exception of the birds in the trees. most everything on the reserve is the dried remains of summer and fall, but every now and then we would see a patch of bright green, or a small stray flower. As anyone who reads my blog knows, the last several months have not been easy. Today as we neared the end of our walk I said to Dan, “No matter what else happens in our life, no one can take this from us.” There are those moments in all of our lives that stay with us, however small, however fleeting, that are ours alone to treasure. Today we had more than a fleeting moment, we had more than an hour where our worries were somewhere else, where we enjoyed each others company, and the world around us. I took some photos with my phone, I’ll share a few here, but I also was inspired to do a little watercolor, an ode to our beautiful morning.
To my family in the midst of the “Polar Vortex”, miss you all but….
I love Southern California Winters!
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