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Artistic Advancements

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

 

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

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

 

Flipping The Switch

Today while sorting through the reams of paper clippings I have, I came across quite a few clippings of words and phrases. I love words, and particularly quotes. I cut them out to use with some collage pieces I had planned on doing. Those collages were part of a past project, one I began years ago, one of many half-hearted attempts at trying to figure myself out, both artistically and in my entire life. Like those “I’ll start Monday morning” diets I keep referring to, these collages were meant to jump-start self discovery because I felt so lost. I have a box of words, hundreds of them, I probably made four collages. I kept finding words that I thought would reflect my new outlook, or that would inspire my art. Like so many other projects the collage project was over before it started. Life is funny. I spent years trying to lose weight, twenty years of on and off dieting, and then one day I did it. I lost quite a bit of weight and although I’ve gained and lost a few pounds, I have for the most part kept my weight down for eight years. I don’t exactly know what flipped the switch, what got me to the place where I cared enough about myself to lose the weight. I find myself bewildered once again. I’ve been trying to discover who I am as an artist for most of my life, and I have the books and supplies to prove it. I may have mentioned that the book that started this blog happened to be one I already owned when I purchased a second copy. I didn’t buy a second one on purpose, it’s just that I have so much stuff I don’t know what I have. The difference is that this time I actually opened the book and read it. What got me here I don’t think I’ll ever be able to pin point exactly, but I’m grateful for whatever it is. I wish I had figured “it” out, whatever “it” is years ago. I can’t go back, I can only move forward. I’m liking so much of what I’m producing these days. That being said, I’m running on empty, not enough sleep, worried about my Dad and my sisters, and of course our situation here at home, so for this evening I did a little watercolor of some beautiful wildflowers that I photographed in San Diego when we went hiking. A tiny project from a very tired woman,8 19

 

Speaking Through Art

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

 

 

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One More Word On Perspective

Last night I requested prayers and good karma for my Dad. He came through everything fine, so thanks to all.

 

My own words came back to haunt me when I got up this morning and saw the news. I’m talking about perspective. My husband is still out of work, my Dad is in the hospital, and in the last month our dishwasher went on the fritz, Dan needed work done on his car that ran us five hundred dollars we didn’t need to spend, I lost a diamond chip out of my engagement ring, I had pneumonia, and my oven blew out, another two hundred dollars. Woe is me right? Not so much. I looked at the news of what is happening in Egypt right now and consider myself lucky. I don’t usually write about politics or world events, but when I thought about what I had written last night, and then saw the horror going on in that country. I have to say something, it altered my perspective on what is going on in my life. Yes, some of it sucks, but I have so much to be grateful for. I told my son this morning that there isn’t a mother in this world who loves her children less than I love mine. I don’t care what the political issues are, I don’t care what your religion is, or about the color of your skin, what I do care about is allowing a mother to raise her children in peace. Maybe we can all send out the good karma and prayers to those people tonight, and to the millions of others who find themselves in similar, horrific situations. My Dad has a philosophy about religion that I love. Everything in his life relates in some way to soccer. He said to me, “Religion is like soccer, I don’t care which team you play for, as long as you play the game.”

Tonight I have a few things to post. My friend Emily (the 4 year-old) found out today that she is getting glasses. I still remember when I got mine, I was thirteen. I needed glasses for at least a year and a half before I got them. My Mom was convinced that I wanted them only because my cousin had them. I couldn’t see a thing. She finally realized that I was telling the truth when I couldn’t find something for her in the pantry. When I got my first pair of glasses the thing I remember most is my Mother’s face. I had forgotten how many freckles she had. For Emily tonight two little gifts, a new “Emily” cartoon with glasses, and a bookmark for her bedtime stories.

I also spent time finishing my cabinet door chalkboard, and a small pen and ink.

A very busy day, but again, I spent it with Dan in our beautiful home, and in my little corner of the world there is no war outside my front door. Lets all pray for peace.

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Sanford And Daughter

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The title of tonight’s blog is what my Mom called my Dad and I. We collect things, no Precious Moments, no Hummel’s, or God forbid clowns, but every scrap of wood, door hinge, nail, screw, door knob…you get the idea. Everything has a purpose, everything can be put to use. It’s not as if my Dad or I keep house like the hoarders you see on television, we are highly organized individuals. In my Dad’s basement workshop you will find old baby food jars and box after box of nails, screws, nuts and bolts, all sorted by size. My studio is much the same. Although I will say that my garage sorting is lacking, my Dad was very upset with us the last time he looked out there. Every time he would see me throw out an empty jar he would point out how I could be using it. I have already written about my litter obsession, I hate waste, sometimes something so ugly, or something that is headed for the garbage can be turned into something useful and beautiful. All it takes is a little elbow grease and imagination. We live in a throw away society, and I think that is so sad. Maybe that’s why I love antiques. Someone loved something, or appreciated something so much that they took care of it. Most of my family is in Ireland, I have few family heirlooms, having the treasures of someone else means something to me. The history of a piece means something to me. I like breathing new life into something that otherwise would be taking up space in a landfill. Tonight I don’t have a finished project to show for today, but rather the beginning of a project. My dear friend, Theresa has just finished remodeling her kitchen. Yesterday Theresa offered me her old cabinet door fronts. I’m thrilled. I already have a few finished pieces in my head, one of which I started today. I will post what I have begun, but also post a few pieces that I’ve worked on over the last few years. The next time you have a piece of furniture, an old wooden box, or anything that you think you are through with, take another look. Sometimes you will be amazed at what you’ll see.IMG_9715This was an old hall bench that a friend no longer wanted (thanks, Theresa), I took one look at the lines and thought baseball. It so happens that my new son-in-law is a NY Yankees fan. That Christmas he got this…IMG_9761I found an old silverware box at the thrift store…Acrylic paint projects (51)and my friend received this as a birthday gift.Acrylic paint projects (1)Acrylic paint projects (8)So today I began the process of turning my treasure of old cabinet doors into new things.8 13 (2) 8 13 (3)Old door, new tricks! Stay tuned…

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

Hello, It’s Me

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

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

Out Of Focus

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An emotional roller coaster of a day. I said last night that my Dad was doing better, and he is as far as his injury. At least they have figured out what the issue is, or so they think, tests on Thursday will hopefully answer the question. The hard part is his confusion and fear. Shortly after my Mom died a friend said of my Dad, “What happened to the strongest man in the world? Samson has lost his Delilah.” My Dad is old school macho. He has very definite ideas of how a man should be. He does of course have a soft side. It’s just difficult to hear the confusion. Lots of phone calls back and forth from the hospital today. I am grateful to my sisters for being there. Someone has been with him all day. I just wanted to say “Thank You” to them.

I had a difficult time today thinking creatively. I looked at doing several projects, but nothing was really speaking to me. I printed out a handful of photos from my files, but just couldn’t find the motivation. I finally decided to work on one of the many wooden boxes that I have laying about. I have a very quirky confession to make. I so often speak of the “not good enough” thoughts that seep into my brain, but I realized tonight that it only happens when I am going to paint on canvas. When I work on “craft” projects, or painting furniture, I’m fearless. I never second guess myself. I think that I somehow in my twisted brain I have elevated painting on canvas to the epitome of artistic greatness. It’s ridiculous. I have done some beautiful painted wood pieces, but I never think of them as real art. I belittle the stuff that comes to me mindlessly, and the stuff that I imagine is harder, I condemn myself for not being good enough. (This is where everyone forms a line and takes a turn slapping me, all the while asking, “What the hell is wrong with you?”) There is nothing that I do that I don’t give every ounce of myself to. So why am I placing more value on one over the other? I don’t have an answer, and if anyone reading this has some armchair psychology that they want to pass on, please do. I am at a loss to explain my own way of thinking.  Its got to be the monkeys in my brain messing with me.

Another wood burning project, and those amazing Martha Stewart Pearl Paints. Love, Love, Love them. Project isn’t finished, much intricate work to do tomorrow.8 10 (5)Before with initial sketch

8 10 (1)Half finished project8 10 (3)And Mia, one of my cats, I don’t think she understands me either.

 

Cashing The Check

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

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

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

 

Alias Grandma Moses

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For years I jokingly told Dan I was going to be the next Grandma Moses. I didn’t actually think it would take me this long to get back to painting. I am of course not in my seventies, and based on the photo I saw of Grandma Moses on Sunday at the San Diego Museum of Art, Arnold Newman exhibit, I don’t look anything like her either. (Thank God and good nutrition) I am however in my fifties, an age where, at least in this country, many women are written off. I feel like I am just beginning. I actually look decent for my age, but more importantly, by this point in my life I understand that it isn’t an egotistical thing to say that I am good at something. It’s simply a fact. I find that I have gained a certain amount of self-confidence, it actually sort of crept up on me. We have a friend (thank you Wayne), who said there was something about turning fifty that gave him the right to say what was on his mind. (I’m paraphrasing here.) I am feeling the same way, and I’m definitely feeling it in my work these days. Expression is coming easier, it’s almost as if the paint is flowing easier. After yesterday’s breakthrough I had a moment earlier today, a momentary panic actually, that today’s work would pale in comparison to what I had achieved with the breakthrough. And then my fifty something brain kicked in, it said loud and clear, “who cares?” This is a no regrets project, I’ve said it before, warts and all, everything gets posted. But you know what? I have the beginnings of something really nice. No it isn’t garnering my astonished “Oh My God, I did that”, response of yesterday. And that’s OK. Breakthroughs don’t happen every day, if they did they wouldn’t be so spectacular. What I do have tonight is something that I entered into with fearlessness, and that is a great thing for me and my future as the next Grandma Moses, with of course much better hair and makeup.

Tonight, oil on canvas, orchids from a photo I took on Sunday in San Diego. My favorite color combination, green and purple. Not exactly where I want it to be yet, drying time frustrating me yet again, before I can finish what I want, but I’ve got a good start.

 

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