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My Ruby Slippers

Some good news today, my Dad Is doing a little better.  I had more than one nurse tell me over the phone today how charming he is. It’s the brogue, does it every time. I’m still really worried about him, but he can be quite funny, and knowing he is up to his usual goofy behavior makes me feel better. I’m still praying for him, anyone else who wants to join in is more than welcome.

I spent part of the day working on the logo which is giving me more trouble than I expected. It’s tough to create a piece of art that will reproduce well in a two-inch size.

For tonight a little trompe l’oeil. It’s been years since I’ve done it, but tonight I came across a small wooden art box in my studio that I’ve been meaning to do something with and decided to play with that. I painted a pencil on the lid tonight. but want to add a few other items to the top. I had really intended to do a lot more today. I’m about a third of the way through this project. Seventeen weeks in to be exact. I had planned to celebrate with some fabulous piece of art, it just didn’t come to me. I think part of what is getting between me and the logo project, and the work from tonight and from last night, is worry. Things still don’t seem to be going our way around here, and then with my Dad getting sick on top of it…let’s just say that sometimes its tough to stay positive. I am worried for my Dad, for Dan, for myself, and our family. There’s a Death Cab For Cutie song called, “What Sarah Said”, it is a song that has a great deal of meaning to it. It’s as though someone was watching in the ICU when my Mom got sick. There’s one line, “And it came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to father time”, I’m not even sure I can explain how that line resonates with me. I have wasted so much time in my life focusing on the wrong things, or being angry about things that really don’t matter, and especially not taking care of myself. I think about my Dad, soon to be eighty-one, and I know he has his own little prayer for more time. This entire project where I am discovering myself as an artist, might not have been necessary if I had stopped worrying about the crap, and focused years ago on the one thing that could really make me happy, my work. I did a little altered art card, not a good one, a very early attempt at Photo shop, but you will understand it when you see it. I made it a year or two ago, and the message was right there, I wrote it, but I still didn’t get it. It’s a little sad to discover, like Dorothy’s ruby-red slippers clicking together to bring her home, that I had what I needed all along. So here I am, with my prayer to father time, trying to discover who I am, and what I am capable of, in the Fall of my life. Grandma Moses jokes aside, it is more than time to be who I was meant to be. Small work tonight, but its about all I can manage at the moment.8 9

 

 

Artist Jackie

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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A Breakthrough

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OK, so last night I was bemoaning my self-assigned fate, struggling under the weight of my self-imposed sentence, a year of fine art. I have to admit I was really struggling, I felt like I was in an artistic rut. I have definitely posted a few pieces as of late that I wasn’t proud of, material of the “last-minute homework” style of art. Last night I gave myself an out. I wrote myself a blank check of excuses so that if I didn’t feel like doing what I set out to do, I could get away with it. I believe that my inner “not good enough” voice has gotten very clever. I haven’t been hearing it too much lately, so it devised a way to mask itself and get into my head. Well, not so fast. I had a good day today, actually a great day. I finished about 95% of last night’s painting. There are things I want to add and to change in minor ways, but I need to let it dry for a bit first. I had planned on finishing a few other half-done projects but then I had an epiphany in my garden. We have a wood burning pizza oven. The guy who built it didn’t put any doors on it so we added our own. We made them out of wood, and then lined the inside with copper sheeting. It looked totally cool when we finished it, but then we attempted to make pizza and the door started to go on fire. Lesson learned. We haven’t changed the doors out yet. Today when I was watering the garden I opened the oven door. It’s beautiful. The copper has taken on a variety of colors. I saw those colors and knew I had to paint them. Not an exact replica of the door, but a piece inspired by it. I will admit here and now that I am not a fan of most abstract art. There is actually quite a bit that I dislike immensely. I guess I never understood it, even though in many cases the name is implication enough of what it is about. When I saw the door it made me think of the earth’s creation, of chaos in the heavens, of the earth’s elements coming together. I Never, Ever thought that I would paint abstract. It goes against every perfectionist molecule in my body. Not today, I couldn’t wait to get that brush on the canvas. It came pouring out of me and into my painting. I felt exhilarated because I finally feel like I’m free of so much of the weight of my own self-doubt. Like I found the keys to the kingdom. And all before dinner. That’s right, two paintings (well, one and a half, since one was started last night), in one day, and on a day where I gave myself the time to work. I couldn’t be happier.

 

8 6 (3)Yesterday’s piece inspired by a visit to Balboa Park…

 

 

 

 

…and today’s piece, “Chaos”

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A Change Is Coming

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My last two posts were basically a write off. As I mentioned in previous blogs, when I committed to this project I didn’t take into account things like birthdays, anniversaries and illness. I failed to mention that I might get sick of the project, actually sick of myself. I am well aware that I did this to myself, and also aware that there are no blog police coming to crack down on me. I wanted to commit to doing something for myself mostly I guess to see if I would actually follow through. I rarely do things that are just for me. I am very maternal, a nurturer to the core…for everyone but me. When you lack self-confidence it is easy to direct all of the attention outward, that way you don’t have to look in. I can also say in absolute truth that I really don’t have a selfish bone in my body. Writing a blog daily is very me, me, me. Narcissism run amok. That’s not who I am, so I find myself being just a little bored of myself. Sometimes I just feel overwhelmed, and sometimes I actually have other stuff to do. This weekend I felt tremendous pressure to produce, and all that did was provide half-ass, half-finished work, that I quite frankly am not proud of. So here we go again, my blog, my rules.  When I have a guest staying overnight I might just post a photograph. Photography is as much a passion for me as painting, as is cooking. I have posted a few photos of food which people seem to love. I guess I’m saying that as I head further into this project it may expand just a little. I promise no toilet paper cover projects, just a little more variety so that I can look at my posted projects and not feel bad about myself. That unfortunately comes way too easy.

We had a lovely afternoon on Sunday, part of which was spent at Balboa Park in San Diego. There is a beautiful pond with Koi fish and waterlilies, and a few plants that I quite frankly don’t know the names of. I took a lot of photos, and today I decided to paint one of them. It’s oil, and you can see it isn’t finished, but it is ten o’clock and I’m tired. No “Misha” here, (see last week’s blog) I promise to finish tomorrow. I actually have a few projects to get to, and I will.

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Join The Club

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

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

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

Oils, I Have Missed You So

Of course my plan to get out first thing this morning to do a little oil painting never happened. This despite my gushing over how happy I was to have them back. As always I had things to do in the house. I think maybe what I need is a set of horse blinders, you know so I can’t see dirty dishes, dust, or the cat hair tumbleweeds that have been known to travel through my house. By the time I sat down to work it was no longer daytime, but actually about 8:15. I’m just about a third of the way through my project and time management remains an issue for me. That is, I manage to find time for everything else but my art. I will again attempt to make a promise to myself that my art will become a priority, but I think we all know that it still falls under the ” I’ll start my diet Monday” category. I’m beginning to think that it won’t happen until it is supposed to. By that I mean that we all make promises to ourselves and others, and despite our sincerity when we make them, the promises go unmet until the planets align, or the earth spins the other direction, or our brain just kicks in. I’m hoping that one of them happens soon. I find myself so tired by the time I start that sometimes I don’t feel like working. I can’t keep letting that happen.

I did eventually work tonight, in oils, indoors (don’t tell Dan). I had a small square canvas I painted black some time ago. I grabbed it, not sure of what I would paint, but as I walked out of the studio I noticed one of the boutonnieres from my daughter’s wedding sitting near the door. It’s been nearly four months since the wedding and I somehow have ended up in possession of two or three bridesmaids bouquets, three or four boutonnieres and the bride’s bouquet. Actually, I am keeping Jessica’s bouquet because otherwise her pug, Otis the mini-terror, will have his way with it. (He is very cute, but oh so naughty!) I love the look of the dried roses and hydrangea, so I decided to paint those. My canvas is only about four by four, and I really did only a quick study, but I do like it very much, and I LOVE having my oils back! Oils, tomorrow we shall meet again!

By the way, isn’t it Superman that can spin the world backwards? Does anyone know a guy with tights and a cape?

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Clean Bill Of Health

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I went to the doctor today and I am happy to say that my lungs are clear, let the oil painting begin! That means I can begin work again on my portrait of Jessica, and numerous other painting ideas that have filled my head since the pneumonia of a month ago. Dan is insisting I paint outdoors, he is still concerned about my breathing. Either way, I’m happy. I have enjoyed using watercolor, and the few acrylics that I have done, but oil is and always has been my preferred medium. I had already begun a watercolor this morning so I finished that for this evening, but I plan on getting outside first thing in the morning before it gets too hot outside to get a little oil painting in.

I was just thinking how alike we all are as humans. So often we have something at our disposal, and don’t give it a second thought until it is taken from us. It is unfortunately true with some people and relationships too. We all need to learn to appreciate the people around us, in particular the ones that we love, but also people we interact with on a daily basis. One of the things I taught my kids was that when they went to school they needed to remember that the teachers were people too. They had no idea what was happening in that teacher’s life outside of class. Maybe if the teacher wasn’t their favorite it was because she or he wasn’t happy at home, or maybe had a loved one who wasn’t well. I also told them that for me part of being a mature adult is to try to look beyond the surface of people. I have known some women who were not very nice, only to find out later that they had a horrible childhood and learned to build protective walls around themselves. Otherwise known as “bitches”. When I look at my own life I can see why I became who I am. I know why I’m so compassionate, why I can laugh at myself, etc… Everyone has a story, some of those stories are not so pleasant. For unknown reasons to all of us, some people seem to be followed by a lucky star, and others spend their lives suffering and living in abject poverty. I think we need to all give each other a break. I worked in customer service for eighteen years. I cannot tell you how many times I changed someone’s day by remembering them, complimenting them, or just treating them with respect and a smile. When you are treated well remember to say thank you, and the next time you see someone and you think they look nice, tell them, or even offer a smile, it goes a long way to changing how someone’s day goes, and maybe it will even cause them to pass along that smile.

All of that because I missed my oils, and they’re back, I’m immensely happy about that! image

A Different Vision

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

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

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Recycler Turned Upcycler

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Before I begin writing about tonight’s piece of art I wanted to share a little something. It has to do with the subject I brought up a few days ago, that is my monkey-esque brain and prayer. I suggested that maybe God couldn’t hear me because of all the noise in my head. I happen to be rereading Elizabeth Gilbert’s “Eat, Love, Pray”. It is a book I read a few years ago that I got a tremendous amount from in terms of making me think about a few things in my spiritual life. Elizabeth and I share the same affliction. Minds that don’t know when to quit, although I believe by the end of the book she has hers in containment. I am in the middle of the book where she is in India, and it is where she is searching for and exploring her spirituality. Meditation is difficult for her, and near impossible for me. Someone suggested she focus on someone she cares about. I tried that this morning, I focused on Dan. I focused on my concern, my worry and my love for him while I prayed. I also asked for a sign, anything, anything at all. (Bueller,Bueller…tell me that doesn’t pop into your head every now and then…) I got one, I mean a sign, I actually think I may have gotten two. I won’t go into them, those closest to me know what I’m talking about, mostly because I haven’t stopped talking about it all day. I am grateful to Elizabeth for sharing her struggle, because as I said there was a lot of misunderstanding about what I wrote, and I think if I were to talk to Elizabeth she would get it. So, thanks Elizabeth, and thank you God, not necessarily in that order.

Tonight a completely different piece of art. I mentioned my freakish recycling obsession, symptomatic of that is my inability to throw things away. I always think I can use them in some way. My tombstone (if in fact there were one, but I don’t believe in it, think burial is a waste of land, told my kids to cremate me, mix my ashes up with Dan when of course he is available, and use me as fertilizer on a garden. Actually, considering my acidic tongue, hydrangea always were a favorite, particularly blue which needs a more acidic soil…) where was I? Oh yes, my nonexistent tombstone should read, “Don’t throw that out, I can do something with that!” There is my a fore mentioned ability to see things and turn them into other things in my brain, I would imagine this is where my monkey-esque brain comes in handy, because monkeys are very clever. (There is obviously one on the loose in my brain right now) We had a couple of pieces of scrap wood in the garage, I had some old wood appliqués I got from my dad before I moved West, and a couple of cool, old vintage frames in my studio. Dan was kind enough to use his router to shape the edges of the scrap board, and patch and sand where needed. I didn’t prime the wood, too impatient, I spayed the wood, the frames, and the wood pieces in a silver enamel spray paint that I had in the garage. When it was dry I gave it another light sanding, and then painted it using a few different shades of metallic acrylic paint. I printed out one of the photographs I took in Paris, which I had previously changed to sepia, and colorized in Photoshop to the size of one of the frames. I removed the glass from the second frame and added a mirror from the dollar store. I attached the appliqués, and the two frames to the board. Ta-Dah!  Landfill averted. I’m very pleased with the results. I plan to hopefully sell it on etsy. Not bad for a bunch of scrap.

By the way, as much as I love “Eat, Love, Pray”, I did not enjoy the movie. Sorry Elizabeth, the sensory delights of your book were lost in that film. Love Julia, love, love Javier Bardem, but really didn’t like the movie.

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Back On The Road

The road block took a hike, I barely started the last of the three portraits I wanted to finish when I let “life” get in the way of my creativity. Tonight I happily sat here (yes, on the white slip-covered couch, but it is watercolor), and am pleased to say that Kylar is just about finished. I am also very happy to say that I’m not sweating this one. When I say “just finished” I mean just that. I’m out of good light for the evening so I will need to finish in the morning. I feel like I made a giant leap in my progression towards artistic confidence here. There was a time where I would have just given up, put half-finished work face down in the studio, never to be seen again. I let my guard down due to stress and my alter ego “not good enough” took advantage and got inside my head. I’m finding it easier to banish it to the basement of my brain. I over worked the last portrait, but it is still good work. With this portrait I could feel myself feeling confident. It’s an amazing feeling to see something develop from my hands. I never take my talent for granted, I know it is a gift, and I appreciate all that I can do. Of course I’d still love to have a great singing voice, or know how to dance, but you can’t have everything, although a little coordination would be greatly appreciated. Despite my minor moment of melancholia the other night, things are good. These are difficult days at times, but there are moments in each of them that bring a smile to my face and lightens my heart. There is of course also the benefit of living with the best friend you’ve ever had, especially when he does goofy things just to see you laugh. The journey continues, and it is never a straight road, sometimes it curves, and sometimes it is has road blocks, but it wouldn’t make for a very interesting life without them would it?

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