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The “P” Word, Yet Again!

 

Perspective. Just the sound of the word makes me freeze in horror. No, I am not admitting defeat. If you read last night’s post (and twenty other posts about it) you know that my evil nemesis had thwarted my plans to do a painting with perspective. Yesterday I had this grand plan to do a complete series of gates, windows, and doors. Then last night happened. I’m truly not giving up, just giving myself a break from the aggravation and frustration that I experienced last night. What you might find at the very least mildly amusing, is that I actually spent a good part of my afternoon beginning the panels for a paper doll house for a very special little friend of mine. Several weeks ago I did a pastel chalk of Emily. I turned that portrait into a paper doll, complete with wardrobe. Emily the paper doll needs a home, a friend, maybe some pets, probably some furniture for her paper house…..getting carried away here. There is no better thing in this world than the smile on a child’s face, I wish I could do it for every kid. I said I needed to do some catch up on my project, Emily’s house will be part of that. It might not be “fine art”, but quite frankly it’s so much fun I can’t wait to get back to it. I love design. As a child I didn’t really enjoy playing with Barbie dolls, I did however really enjoy designing their house. I have three sisters, and we never really had one of those factory made Barbie houses. We had random furniture, some Barbie, some generic doll stuff. My doll’s house was fabulous! I used a checker board for my flooring, (still love a checked floor) my mother’s jewelry box as an armoire, and her good Waterford crystal bowl as my pool, complete with color tinted water, that was accomplished by taking apart markers and dragging the inside material (not even sure what it is. Felt?) across the water to dye it to my color of choice. When my daughter was young and I worked at a grocery store I brought home empty cardboard cartons, which I then turned into individual Barbie rooms. Wrapping paper wallpaper, carpet sample flooring, artwork cut from magazines, and real fabric curtains. Eventually two stories high along a wall in her playroom. Barbie had quite the pad! I did stop playing long enough this afternoon to do something else for the project, a pen and ink drawing of a Day-lily. The ink sketch is what I will be posting a photo of tonight. Emily’s house is still under construction and will have its own special reveal, hopefully some day later this week. As I said, mildly amusing, the girl who can’t do math, and hates perspective, is creating an architectural doll abode. I guess even when you really don’t enjoy the process, (at least the perspective part) in the end it’s who and what the project is all about that makes all the difference. I guess you might say it puts things in “perspective” ( I know, insert cringe here).7 2

Broken Promises

Did I break the promise I made to myself last night? Of course I did. The last thing I wrote last night was a promise to myself to start my day with my work. As usual I let everything else get in the way. Cleaned my house, ran errands, you know the “anything I can put in my way” stuff. Are you like me? Do you keep your promises to everyone, everyone but yourself? Why is that so easy? When I say I’m going to do something I do it. Sometimes I don’t even feel like it but I do it anyway. Like telling someone you will call them when in fact you really don’t want to talk to them. I call. Or agree to help a friend do something, and then you are tired or lazy or just don’t feel like it? I do it. I have a sneaking suspicion that Catholic guilt plays a role, and I’m a woman. Women seem to feel bad awfully easily, at least I do. But if it’s for me, bottom of the list. I think I need to do a “Stuart Smalley”, remember Al Franken on SNL? I need to sit in front of a mirror and repeat, “I’m good enough”. But only after I clean the house, right?  I did finally sit down to do some art.  “And what time was that?” you ask. Well, if I’m going to be honest, about 7:30 this evening. By that time I was quite frankly ready for bed. Still unbelievably tired, but I was upset with myself last night. I did last-minute, under pressure homework for this blog last night, and it was crap. I really didn’t even want to post it, but I did say I would put up everything, even the crap. So as tired as I was tonight I was determined to put up something to be proud of.

When Dan and I went to Paris in 2009, I took in excess of two thousand pictures. The most beautiful, in my opinion, were the ones I took in Giverny. Every home and garden were spectacular. I looked through those photos today and pulled a few of my favorites. I believe I have mentioned my odd love of gates, windows and old doors. (If I haven’t then here’s the scoop. I take many, many photos of old doors, gates and windows. I never, ever take photos of people, except for Dan, who is of course my favorite human) I chose a photo for tonight of a gate I liked because of its color. Watercolor on paper. It was sort of last-minute, but its work I like, not something that I will feel bad about in the morning. No promises as far as a schedule for tomorrow, only the promise that I will put up work that I am proud to put my name on, and I will try really hard not to put myself last…I’m smart enough…I’m good enough…

 

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Catching Up

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Long day today. Still battling some fatigue, of course very high temperatures outside don’t help. We did spend some time in our beautiful garden this morning before the sun grew too hot. I shared some photos along with my usual art work this evening. One of the fountain we designed and the other of my grapes. I am ridiculously excited about the grapes. I’m a city of Chicago kid, grew up next to the El. Growing grapes make me very happy.

I know I have some art to catch up on, but I also have a million things in my non-artistic life that I have fallen behind on as well. By the time I sat down to decide what to do for an artistic project this evening, I was exhausted and at a loss for what to do. Everyone tells me to take it easy, but those who know me well realize that sitting still is difficult for me. I unfortunately didn’t leave myself much energy for my project. I am making myself a promise that tomorrow it will be the first thing I do. I sat here on the couch and just looked around the room for inspiration. What I ended up with was a small leaf study in watercolor from a plant on my table, and when I opened my husband’s iPad there was a beautiful photo of a silhouette of a tree against a sunset, small painting number two. Both are small, no more than a few inches, nothing I’m crazy about, but it was enough to stretch my artistic muscles for the evening. Better things in the morning…promise.IMG_9724

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Recovering

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I’m back, and I hope this time it’s for good. This pneumonia took an awful lot out of me. I don’t ever remember being this tired. I had every intention of posting yesterday, but early in the day I overdid it, and by evenings end I was in no shape for anything. My dear husband stepped in as I drifted off on the couch.

I’ve missed being here. This blog has done so much for me and my creativity. I’m feeling more at ease and creative than I ever have. It really has changed my life. I’ve spent most of my life being a “next Monday morning dieter”, and I did make several good attempts, but I would always fall back on my old ways. I was the same with art. Many, many false starts, but I never stuck with it til now. In the last several days as I struggled with illness I was afraid that when I tried to come back, when I tried to work again, that it would be another failed Monday morning. I’m sure your all familiar with it. You do one wrong thing and then it’s a private conversation in your head, goes something like this, “Well, I blew it now. I’ll just eat whatever today, and start again tomorrow.” Tomorrow never comes, or it doesn’t come for another six months. It took me so long to get here, and trust me there were days when I came really close to letting myself off the hook, but I didn’t, I followed through. I’m proud of that. I’m not giving up. I am a few days behind of course, three hundred sixty-five days, three hundred sixty-five pieces of art, I need to play a little catch up. I’m not worried, I know I can do it. I am however going to be realistic. I have been sick, very sick, and I need to take it easy.

It was very hot here today and our house felt like an oven. We decided to sit in the garden tonight where it was cool. I grabbed a couple of tomatoes off the vine. Tonight’s very simple exercise is a watercolor of my tomatoes. I’ll be back tomorrow, hopefully with something a little more ambitious. For now I’m tired…again. Goodnight.Image

Something Old And A Little Something New

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This will be a very short post tonight, it’s Father’s Day and my attention needs to be elsewhere. I did a very, very quick sketch, and I did a little work on my wood burning project for my friend. I won’t bother to show the project tonight, not enough to show. I actually thought that I might take the day off, but I can’t. I read someplace that if you exercise for six weeks it gets in your system and you want and need to do it. (It never happened for me) I have been writing my blog for about eight weeks. I have to admit it, I’m hooked on the project. I have to keep my promise to myself. I feel incredibly good and positive about the direction this has taken me.  So here is just a little something new, and since it was so quick, a little something old, an oil inspired by the area I live in.DSC03388

What Makes An Artist?

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I’ll begin tonight with a definition. I of course have my own theory, but I will give you one I googled, and found on The Free Dictionary.

Artist

1. One, such as a painter, sculptor, or writer, who is able by virtue of imagination and talent or skill to create works of aesthetic value, especially in the fine arts.
2. A person whose work shows exceptional creative ability or skill: You are an artist in the kitchen.
3. One, such as an actor or singer, who works in the performing arts.Nov 17th (4)

If you are curious about the food photo, the explanation lies ahead, and at the end of this paragraph a photo of our bedroom, all in an effort to prove a point. I bring this up because of the conversation that I wrote about the other evening, (OK, I’m obsessing. It’s a problem of mine) but I also had an encounter a few months back that stuck with me. I was having coffee with a friend at Starbucks, we ran into two women, one of whom I had met before. I was introduced to the other woman as an artist. I didn’t bring it up, I usually don’t unless asked what I do. Many people, including family, refer to me as a “housewife”. Let me begin by saying I have no problem with the housewife label, I don’t work outside the home except for occasional odd artistic jobs. But I am first and foremost an artist. My entire home is a work of art. There isn’t a single square inch that hasn’t been creatively transformed by me, including my garden. I work hard every single day, and every day I do something artistic. For me creativity is as natural as breathing. If I’m not working on an art project, I’m photographing something, or I’m cooking a meal that would knock your socks off, and that meal would be very artistically arranged on a plate, a particular plate since I have way too many plates, all white, in an effort to display my food in the most beautiful manner possible, and more than likely taking a photo of that meal. Whew! Long sentence, but all true. (So that’s why the food photo) When I was introduced as an artist to this woman I was meeting for the first time, she turned and said, “An artist? Are you a real artist, I mean do you sell your work?” Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that unless I turn a profit I’m not a real artist. She apparently never heard of all of the great artists whose work was worth zip until they were six feet under. The conversation of the other night was headed in that same direction. No, I don’t have training, and yes, I have nothing hanging in a gallery for sale, but I am an artist, just one without a profit sheet.Master (2)

For tonight I revisited another orphan tucked away in the studio. I chose this one in particular because tomorrow is Father’s Day. My father-in-law passed away five years ago in July. He was a really lovely man who I liked very, very much. Last year I decided to paint a vignette of some of his belongings as a gift for my husband. Like so many other paintings before it, I gave up. I have felt bad about not finishing it, but I wanted Dan to love it, and I didn’t feel like I was good enough to paint this painting. I was at times sorry that I started the project because for me, (and I never told him this) I thought that the fact that it was unfinished only proved to Dan that I wasn’t good enough to do so. He has never shown anything but complete support for me, I was putting my crap on him. So much of the world around me has not given me the respect I deserve for my work. No schooling, no paintings currently for sale, but I have more talent than many of the “professionals” can claim ownership of. I don’t care for a great deal of modern art. I am entitled to that opinion, but I would never dare to say that the people who paint them are not artists because I dislike the work. When I spoke to Dan about this subject earlier this evening he said, “A baseball player is a baseball player, not just because he plays in the major leagues.” To use his analogy, I have “major league” talent, but I skipped spring training, much of the season is past, but I think I’m beginning to realize that I might just play in the all-star game and possibly the world series. I am feeling more confident in my painting daily. Dare I say it? Even a little fearless.
Oil on canvas, and I am proud to say it is almost finished. (Only because the Hawk’s are in the Stanley Cup, and we went out to watch the game. Maybe I should have used a hockey analogy instead)
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Back To The Drawing Board

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I never did get to putting the pages of my box/book together. Not surprising, I know, but other pressing matters, such as my overgrown garden took precedence. I realize that it is just another obstacle I created for myself. All I can say is I’m working on it. Some of you may be saying, “Where’s Jessica?” I know, I haven’t gotten back to my full figure portrait. It isn’t really that I’m avoiding it, I just haven’t been sleeping well, and when I don’t sleep well I tend to screw things up. I also get frustrated more easily, and I really want the portrait to turn out well.

I worked so hard today that I have a couple of blisters on my right hand.That would be of course that I, who rarely stops to think and just jumps into the creative pool head first, always work without gloves. The garden looks beautiful, my fingers hurt, and I’m very tired.  So what seems to have become the norm happened again. I cooked dinner and then set off in search of a project. I thought about a small painting, my usual, a watercolor, but then when I looked at the shelf where I keep paper, actually it’s shelves, many shelves. I have over the years purchased a great deal of paper, and received quite a few pads of a paper as gifts.  Many, many of them are regular inexpensive drawing paper, and following through on my promise to use up my supplies, I decided to practice my drawing skills. I had intended to do a few quick sketches, but that didn’t happen. I only did one drawing, as I was leaving the studio I noticed a new package of charcoal that was sitting on my table. (I am ashamed to admit that there are a lot of new, unopened art supplies, some that moved there with me ten years ago!) I decided to use the charcoal. It turns out that the charcoal is actually “black chalk lead”. What? Do I know how to use this stuff? No. Did I read anything before I tried to use it? Of course not. It’s me, the artist who flies by the seat of her pants. Let the frustration commence! It doesn’t erase! My drawing was going along very nicely until I got to the hand. Attempt number one was a mess, way out of proportion. I tried to erase and it didn’t work very well. I tried again with no success. I finally got smart and grabbed a regular pencil, sketched it in, and then ran it past my in-house critic, Dan. Satisfied that it would work out I went back and finished with the lead chalk. I’ll play with the lead chalk again, but I think I’ll save it for a little free form sketching. I am glad I got at least one finished piece from my efforts, and it is one I like. Not too bad.6 13 (7)

Back To Normal

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Last night I posted a page that was part of a larger project. Several weeks ago I published photos of other pieces. A box that I covered with book pages, the inside cover had a copy of a page from an old drawing book. I also created a page with a photo of myself as a child, again with words and phrases that were of significance to me. That was as far as I had gotten, I put it to the side and considered it a work in process. I had created another page that I hadn’t posted. It is a page with a photo of me as a twenty year old, and again there are words. What this box has become is a journal of sorts. Each page I have made thus far has been on a day when I was struggling with my project. I am using the pages and the box to express some of what is going on in my head on those days. I decided today that I will continue to work on the box over the course of the project to help me express the difficulties and the good days too. I will be attaching the pages to the box tomorrow. For tonight a simple drawing. Pen and ink of a tree. I love trees and the texture of bark. I really enjoyed drawing tonight. I’ve stopped obsessing about the conversation of the other night and I’m back to the reason for all of this, Art! image

Mind Games

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I love words. I love quotes. I love the way the manipulation of a few characters of an alphabet can change the course of a relationship, can propel a person to success, even sadly, when used to break a heart. I decided about two years ago to take up collage. This again for me is an exercise in frustration, collage really has no rules to follow, and how can one be perfect when there is no guideline? But what I do love about collage is that it is a place for me to add some words, some phrases, and a quote or two. I have a very different piece of art for tonight. Last night was a tough one. I promised myself that I wasn’t going to let things get to me. I promised that today would be the day where I put my art first. Did I? Of course not. We had plans this evening for dinner at our daughter’s apartment. I needed to bring something so I baked brownies. Then my son told me that while we were out he would be having friends over. You know what that means. On the chance that even one of the twenty-somethings would notice, I cleaned, and cleaned, oh and then, I cleaned some more. We were leaving at three. What time did I start my project for today? 2:45. On the forty-five minute drive to our daughter’s I sat in the passenger seat of the car sorting words. I mentioned above that I love words. I have a box of them. Single words, phrases and quotes cut from newspapers and magazines. All cut out with the intention of working on those collage projects. (I actually did do three or four small ones) Hundreds of little pieces of paper, each one speaking to me, and almost all of them having to do with changing my life. I had decided that for tonight I would use some of them. I’ve been cutting them out for years, and they waited for me to get where I am now. That was the first part of the project, choosing words. The second part was deciding how to use them. It came to me as I looked through the box.  I find that I have taken quite a few photos of fire escapes. (Dan believes it is symbolic of how I felt about myself, I think I agree)  When I looked at this particular photo, which had somehow found its way into my box of words, it seemed to be exactly what I was looking for. This isn’t a completed project, it is actually part of a larger piece I started a few weeks back. Tomorrow I will marry them together, but for tonight, and particularly if you read last night’s blog, you will get it. I hope. Image

One Step Back, One Step Forward

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Tonight I am angry. I mentioned here in this blog not more than a few days ago that I didn’t want to be “mad” anymore. That changed earlier this evening. Who am I upset with? That would be with myself. Today I had a conversation that I let worm its way into my head. I let it wake the beast, the “not good enough” beast. Today is day fifty-nine of this project, just a day short of two months, and in those two months I have felt myself growing and changing…for the better. I felt myself growing less timid about approaching my work. I felt excited about some of the work I produced, and really hopeful about what I will produce in the future. I let that be taken from me today. When I tried to paint tonight it was nothing more than an exercise in frustration. Three times I put paint on a small canvas, and three times I took a rag and wiped it off.  I am so upset with myself for giving that power to someone else. Every day of the last two months I have been making progress, every day working to lose the chip on my shoulder, learning to turn off the voice in my head that told me I wasn’t good enough. All it took was one conversation to make me feel as though I hadn’t moved ahead at all. I gave up on the painting, and gave up on myself, and I’m sorry I did that. I’m sorry I didn’t push past the insecurity, and to turn a deaf ear to that voice in my head, (and to the “ghost of the past” that came knocking). On a positive note I didn’t completely lose the day. I went back to the studio and picked out another orphan, another painting labelled “not good enough”, I think we commiserated today, my painting and I, both feeling the sting of  feeling like a failure. Unfortunately in my funk, I failed to do a “before” photo of the orphan, so there is only an “after”. I can say this, the brightness of the finished painting makes me feel better. Finishing a painting I had given up on makes me feel better. I just need to tune out the negative. I need to trust the people who truly have my best interests at heart (Dan in particular. I love that you always support me), but most of all I need to trust myself.

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