Off Kilter

Did you ever start a project that seems so simple and straightforward, but then it turns into a never-ending nightmare where things keep going wrong? It happens quite a bit when you fly by the seat of your pants, and when your brain is a little muddied with stress. Feeling no control in you life when you are a very controlling person can really throw you off your game. I’m also one of those people who never measure. I eyeball everything I do. It drives Dan crazy. He measures and then measures again, and then he will recheck his rechecked measurement. I just do it and if it doesn’t work out I do it again. This of course leads to multitudes of nail holes, lots of wood putty or spackle, and lots of sanding. Twice as much work just so I don’t have to use a ruler. (I swear it’s because of math. It ruins my life) I spent the day working on my grandfather clock/bookcase.  It’s coming along, but as always it’s not quite right, but I like things a little off kilter, just like me.

Not ready to reveal the clock project yet, my entire day seemed to be a series of mishaps, but I did do a watercolor for this evening. I will say this, when I paint the stress melts away. Just another of the many reasons I should do it more often.11 9

Not Music To My Ears

I’ve been known to air a pet peeve or two here on this blog. I do it for a number of reasons, the first of which is that I sometimes get tired of myself. I began the blog a little on the “woe is me” side of things. I realized that I could only continue to feel sorry for myself for so long. I was boring myself. I wanted to give the people who were kind enough to follow along something interesting to read, and finally because as I pointed out a long time ago, this is my blog I make the rules. This gives me the right to yell to the world about what in life I find annoying. As always I add a disclaimer. This is my opinion, and for me that makes it right. I firmly believe everyone deserves the right to feel what they feel, and I have the right to feel that they are wrong (just kidding…sort of). Today I think I may stand the chance of being agreed with by all. Why? Because today I am going to rant about music. I love music. Not all music. I really hated Country for a long time, but more and more cross over artists have swayed my opinion just a little. I still really dislike some of it, but the torch has been passed. Reggae now reigns supreme in my most hated music category. Can’t stand it, nails on a chalkboard for me. In general my biggest issues tend to be not with the music (except for Reggae, I hate everything about it), but rather the lyrics. I’m a word person. I really listen to the words. When my daughter was a teenager I lectured her severely on the purchase of an Eminem CD. I read the lyrics and was horrified. She received a long lecture on the history of the Women’s Movement, the sacrifices made, rights earned, and how she as a woman should be outraged. I’m sure in her mind she was rolling her eyes, but I felt that strongly about it. What started my little rant today was a phone call that Dan made. He called about an electronics product that we had repaired. The repair isn’t the issue, it was the horrible music he was forced to listen to as he waited. I’m not one that enjoys the loop of the “We will be right with you” robo voice, but I think I would have rather have listened to that. Several weeks ago I was in the Ladies Room of a national restaurant chain, forced to listen to the lyrics, “She got red so now I got the blues”. Kill me now. And in the bathroom no less, no escape. Earlier in the year I actually complained to a very high-end clothing store, again a national chain, because the lyrics I was forced to listen to while on hold were so offensive I wrote them down in order to repeat them to the operator. Does anyone listen to the tracks they are putting on these phones? I’m sure some people would assume I’m a cranky old lady, I’m not. I think I’m the only Lady Gaga fan in the house. It’s just that I want to choose what to listen to, not have it forced on me by some anonymous computer. I also again respect your right to listen to what you want while you drive, but could you turn it down at the stop light? Please? Aren’t those the songs that become the “ear-worms” that you can’t get out of your head? So now I have that rant off my mind, but there is still that song stuck in my head…She got red, so I got blue. Can you hear the sounds of me smacking the side of my head?

My pastels were still out on the table from last night, and I had some beautiful sunflowers from Emily, so Ta Da!  (or is it Ta Dah? who knows?) A project for tonight. A pastel and pencil sketch of my flowers. Perspective is questionable as always, but then it wouldn’t be mine if the perspective was perfect, would it?

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Setting Sun

Steps in the right direction today. We did make the move to set up our home office for our business, and I made an effort (again with Dan’s support) to get to a project earlier in the day. I had planned on working on my grandfather clock, but  need to get a few supplies for that, so I instead had planned on a watercolor. Then I went out as the sun was setting behind the Santa Rosa Mountains. The mountain’s silhouette edged in rose and gold, the sky still clinging to its vibrancy as the sun set over the Pacific. I love watching the sun set here. Unfortunately for me the mountains stand in the way of witnessing it more often, but I’ve seen it enough to imagine how magnificent it is. The rose and gold gave way to an almost turquoise, fading into a deep ultramarine blue. The moon was a near perfect circle edged in white, but forming a crescent to one side. As soon as I saw the sky I knew that my project had changed. I will never have an ego big enough to think I can do justice to Heaven’s palette, but I felt inspired, and knew I needed to try to capture what I saw. I thought about oils, but I decided to give pastels another try. These are soft pastels, chalk like (note to self: Do not use soft pastels while sitting on white couch!) I think I might like to try this same drawing with an oil pastel as well. There have been days during this project when I have struggled with what to do that day. Not feeling inspired, or just being plain lazy. I love feeling inspired and knowing exactly what I want to do.11 5

As Scheduled

I finally set some time aside to make my art a priority, sort of. The truth is that Dan made me do it. We went out for breakfast for our daughter’s birthday. (Happy Birthday to my beautiful, talented, and oh so smart daughter!!) We did a little grocery shopping, and then I came home and began to clean. Dan stopped me. He told me there was nothing I was doing that he couldn’t do, that I should do my work. (Now you know why I love him so much!) I did at least have a plan. I began implementing some of it today, and beginning tomorrow we will be working on a schedule for me, for my stuff, and together for our business. We have an existing home office which happens to be across the hall for my studio. We will officially be setting up shop tomorrow. I think there are times when life isn’t going as expected when you sort of lose your way. You can get swallowed up by the events that you have no control over. I think we’ve been drowning in it. I think like many people we have been waiting for things to return to the way they should be. I know how smart my husband is, and I know how hard he works. It seems so obvious to me. I never thought he would be out of work for this long. I think we have been holding back on moving ahead with a lot of things because in some way it would be as if we were raising the proverbial white flag, giving up, admitting that things will never be the same. The truth is I don’t want things to remain the same. I want to move ahead to the future I know awaits us. Time is a wasting, and we need to focus.

I am really excited by ideas that I have to do with my grandfather clock project. I worked on several pieces tonight. They are currently in my oven. I won’t give away too much yet, but I think when it is finished it will be pretty cool. So for tonight an older piece. An altered art piece I made for Jessica’s birthday a few years ago. Altered art is difficult for me because there are no rules. I’m a rule girl. I don’t break the law, I don’t color outside the lines, at least I never used to, trying to get past that. I may have to add a little something to tomorrow’s list of what I need to accomplish.

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Almost There

A very short post tonight from a very tired woman. As I mentioned last night, I’m a worrier. For last night that meant not being able to sleep until after two thirty this morning, and when sleep finally did come it was short-lived. My neighbor decided to turn on his garden lights at five thirty. I was done sleeping after that, needless to say I am exhausted. I will post and head to bed.

I get a great deal of satisfaction when something that I have a vision for in my head becomes a reality. A few posts ago I wrote about a little antique cabinet that Dan gave me as a Christmas present. As I said then, from the moment I saw this cabinet I thought grandfather clock. Dan built a bookcase for me last week. I tried to match the stain for the bookcase to the stain on the old cabinet, but it just didn’t work. I gave some thought to painting the entire piece, but I really didn’t want to paint the cabinet. It is a beautiful piece, and I really couldn’t bring myself to do it. I left the project unfinished until today. I looked in our garage to see what we had on hand. I came across a can of a lighter brown paint. I had an idea that I wasn’t sure of but decided to give it a try. The problem with the unfinished wooden bookcase that Dan built was that the wood was different from that of the cabinet. By adding a light coat of paint to the cabinet, it allowed the wood to be sealed but still show the wood grain. I let the paint dry and then went over the entire piece with a dark wood stain. Amazing results. The wood of the bookcase is incredibly close to the wood finish of the cabinet. I still have some work to do on the piece. I need to add a back panel, and something really special, the words of the nursery rhyme, Hickory Dickory, Dock. Of course that means I needed a mouse to run down my clock. I used Sculpy to make a mouse, painting him when he was finished baking. I also want to add some trim, a bottom panel, and finally some feet. Hopefully I can get to that in the next few days.The finished piece will be for the children’s section of our store. I want the shop to be as inviting as possible. A few photos, before and after, and of course my mouse. That’s all for tonight. I need sleep! Goodnight.10 22

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One Of My Favorite Things

I apologize. For what you ask? For last night’s rant about the collections of mass-produced “stuff” that other people have in their homes. I was plagued with Catholic guilt for the better part of my day in the off-chance that I may have offended someone I like. Forgive me, in my defense I believe I was so traumatized by the death of Bambi’s mother that I have a phobia of Disney characters. There is also my deep-seated rage caused by the song “It’s A Small World.” I don’t know of a single person that can hear that song and not want to commit murderous destruction of a marionette. (Puppets also creep me out. Topic for a later post). An ear worm of the worst kind. I can almost visualize it, like the earwig in The Wrath Of Khan, (Star Trek movie). So forgive me, it must be obvious By now that I have issues.

Last night I also wrote about my own collections. I had intended to paint today, but other pressing pumpkin carving issues got in the way. I looked at a few of my collections, and trust me there are many, and finally settled on a hand-held mirror that I have owned for about twenty-five years. It was a gift from my mother in law upon my engagement to Dan. It is one of my absolute favorite things. One of the things I appreciate about vintage items is the workmanship. These days of mass production just don’t make items like this mirror anymore. I actually own four hand-held  mirrors, but again, this is my favorite. A pen and ink, along with some pencil shading. I am thinking it might be just the thing to put on the door of the Ladies Room at our new place.10 29

A Matter Of Taste

OK, so I once again made an empty promise to myself. I didn’t begin working on my project until after seven tonight. As always I had the best of intentions….no excuses, just didn’t get to it. I did however spend a great deal of time putting my work in my new presentation portfolio that I received as a birthday present (thank you Dan). My old portfolio is at least thirty years old, the plastic pages were cracked and the zipper quit years ago. Over the last few months I have accumulated quite a bit of work and it needed a home. I still need to get extra pages for the new one. I am proud to say it is full right now. For my project tonight I began another acrylic painting. I so loved the results of my vintage shoe form painting from the other night that I have decided to do a series of paintings based on some of the vintage collectables I have. Warning: If you collect anything thing that has the name Bradford Exchange, Village 56, Thomas Kinkade, etc., you might want to stop reading here……………….. Have they gone yet? I mean the Disney people, the Precious Moments people, the people who collect any of the previously mentioned highly collectible, mass produced…crap. Sorry, I just feel that way. I don’t want to acquire number 121 of 500 of this year’s Christmas Village. I would never deny anyone the right to their own taste, but I really just don’t get it. I have seen just about every Disney movie because I have children. I love the classics, I particularly like the Genie in Aladdin. Robin Williams was great. I love Beauty and The Beast, The Little Mermaid and Cinderella. The Seven Dwarfs creep me out, particularly Dopey, he reminds me of a friend of my Dad’s when we were growing up. (Let’s see if my sisters know who I’m referring to.) My favorite character has to be Winnie The Pooh. No reason, just look upon him fondly. He was our high school mascot (be nice, it was an all girl Catholic high school, Pooh was as manly as we could get) I like Piglet, Eeyore (who I believe may be part Irish. I believe this based on my previously mentioned theory of glass not half full, not half empty, shattered on the floor because I’m Irish), and love the rest of the crew of the Hundred Acre Woods too, but not enough to have them on my fireplace, or on my toaster, or my bath towels, or God forbid, my pajamas. I had a Pooh collection once, but I was seventeen not forty. Again, I will defend your right to personal taste, but Precious Moments, really? I’ve been in houses where it looks like the gift shop at Disney World. I’m sure that these same people would come in my house and look at my vintage wooden shoe forms, and my McCoy Pottery, and the rustic industrial stuff and think it is…crap. That’s OK. Actually my Dad said something years ago about my house. He said it was full of shite (Irish for, well I think you can figure it out) I heard this from one of my sisters. He found out that I heard it and called to apologize.  I was quick to agree with him. I said, “Yes Dad, I know, and it’s my shite and I like it.” I don’t think he knew what to do with that. I ‘m not offended if someone doesn’t look favorably on my taste, its mine, remember the “no peer pressure” I wrote about last night? I meant it. I like being different, I don’t want to have the same house with the same stuff as everyone else. I hope I haven’t truly offended anyone. (I feel Catholic guilt creeping into my brain as I write.)  Anyway…I have some very interesting, well-worn and well-loved pieces. I think they deserve to be preserved for all eternity, or at the very least until my grandchildren throw them away. I only managed to color block a canvas for the painting, nothing worth posting, so I decided to throw another old favorite piece of art on the blog. Many, many years ago I came across a photo of Donald Sutherland in a magazine, his face was emerging from the dark. I loved it. A pencil portrait.

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My New Year

I’m not a New Year resolution kind of girl.  The whole new year to start over by making promises that I and the rest of the world won’t keep, just doesn’t work for me. I was never a person that went along with what everyone else was doing. Peer pressure? I don’t get it. Even as a teenager I got angry when someone else tried to tell me what to do. I have always liked being an individual. I decided today that I will make my new year from birthday to birthday. I feel like I’m well on my way to making change and progress in my life. I’m six months into my 365 project, and at over two hundred posts and art projects, I think I’m finally fulfilling a lifetime of empty promises. My resolutions for this next year? To see this project through. That’s an easy one. The other is to open our business. That is a huge project. We are under no delusions about the amount of work ahead of us, but we are both in the mind-set that we need to move ahead. Yesterday’s stolen iPhone was just the cherry on top of six plus months of not great luck. Dan and I are quite talented together and I think it’s time to begin making our own luck. That and there’s nothing I love more than a new space to decorate, I’m itching to get my hands on our shop. We have some small pieces ready to go, and some roughly halfway there. This is the first week of getting our act together. I’m excited about this next year, and hope to make this next twelve months the best of our lives.

Today I saw a photo in The New York Times that really appealed to me, but since I have vowed to only use my own photos for my work, I instead asked my always supportive husband to pose for me. The photo in the paper was a woman, I have instead painted a man. There was an anguish in the body language that spoke to me, as I said we haven’t had great luck lately. Maybe I should have painted a picture of me hunting down the thief that stole the phone, or of Dan and I sitting in our business. ( You know, for visualization purposes) Funny thing is I’m not even angry anymore, I’m ready to move past it. As I said yesterday I’m trying to let stuff go. There’s always something else to focus on, like being happy. And on that note, in my woe is me I had a crappy birthday post, I failed to mention that Dan cooked an incredible Greek dinner for me, and that he and the kids gave me lovely gifts, but what’s more important, they wrote very supportive words of love and encouragement for my art. There’s always a silver lining.10 27

 

The Reality Of Making A Plan

A few definitions courtesy of Google.

Plan

1. A detailed proposal for doing or achieving something.

2. An intention or decision about what one is going to do.

Reality

The world or the state of things as they actually exist, as opposed to an idealistic or notional idea of them.

This is my life. There are plans, and then there is reality. Today is Wednesday. It is the day that I set as a deadline to work on my portrait of Jessica. It was a plan. The reality is that I have too many projects occurring at the same time. This does not matter to Jessica (the portrait, the real Jessica is lovely and patient), I feel the portrait of Jessica giving me the evil eye. I made a silent promise to it today that I will visit soon, and before Halloween when this whole thing would be just too creepy.

My Grandfather clock/bookcase. Another plan. The reality is that I need Dan to help me with it. Dan has hurt his back. (Just a little for those of you who care) The reality is that I should not be allowed anywhere near power tools that may remove appendages from my body. I actually like my fingers. I am a smart capable woman, I am also a complete klutz. Any project that requires a saw shall remain undone until my partner is feeling better.

Plan B

A watercolor of some Hollyhocks.

Reality

Boring. Been done, no need to repeat.

No plan. I begin to wander the house looking at the messy piles of art supplies that are now in every room. No plan. I make my way into the garden, sneaking by portrait of Jessica and hope she doesn’t see me. (I believe I’m developing a phobia) There are supplies in the garden too. They are neatly arranged, because Dan neatly arranges them. I see a piece of wood. It is a cast off. Too small for a shelf or much else. I have an idea, something that has been on my mind for several days. I think I know what I want to do, but then I begin to use watercolor on the wood. I wasn’t even sure it would work, but it does, beautifully. My intention was to paint the wood to look bruised, it doesn’t look bruised, it is soft, it flows gently into the grain. The wood has plans of its own. There is a knot in the wood. The plot thickens, my project changes. I have made it known that I am just a little intense about trash and recycling. It occurs to me as I watch this scrap of wood begin to change, that it might have ended up in our trash. It was too small for anything, well anything except art. I use a lot of paper. I recycle all of it. Would I throw away this much paper? No, that would be a crime in my house. The knot in the wood appears to me as an eye. A living thing. This piece of wood was a living thing. The evolution of a piece of art. No plan, just the reality of all that we, that I, waste. This simple piece of wood that began its life as part of a beautiful tree. Reborn. Making a statement. Sometimes I don’t have the words, and then I look to those who are wiser than I. Thank you Mahatma Gandhi.IMG_1848

 

Just Say “Hello”

I have decided that there are two kinds of people in the world. There are those that say hello, and those who put their heads down, or avert their eyes, all in an attempt to not acknowledge their fellow human beings. We live in Temecula, which essentially means we are living in a tourist destination. I don’t mean that in a bad way, there are some pretty beautiful places in the world that have been turned into living nightmares of junk and fast food, Temecula is not one of them. We have I believe over 60 vineyards here, and our Old Town, a place that still has wooden sidewalks and historical plaque on nearly every building. Beautiful weather nearly year round, and settled in between San Diego (less than sixty miles), and LA (roughly 85 miles), an hour from Disneyland, less than that to Legoland, and about thirty miles to the Pacific Ocean, although there is that pesky mountain range in the way. In other words, we have it really good here. We should all be walking around feeling pretty lucky. Now I realize that stuff happens, it is still happening in my own life, but basically we Temeculan’s (new word, just made it up, clever right?) are very fortunate people. Dan and I walk every morning. We walk through our subdivision and one across the street from us. We walk anywhere from thirty-five minutes to an hour. In the course of those walks we run into a handful of people. There are some people who greet us with a smile and say, “Good morning.” There are those that suddenly become very interested in their phone, their dog, a speck of dirt on the walkway…anything to avoid looking at us and having to say hello. It’s strange. We are not bad people, nor do we in any way resemble the extras on The Walking Dead, we are just regular humans. What really puzzles me are the ones that do say hello, but say it in the most begrudging fashion, as if we have forced them to do something against their will. We saw a woman this morning on our walk. She couldn’t really avoid us. She didn’t appear to have a phone handy, or a dog to use as an avoidance prop, she did have a few small children walking ahead of her, but too far ahead for her to use as a shield, so she had no choice but to say hello. The look on her face said it all. We bothered her. Somehow we offended her.  All we did was smile (the horror!), and say “Good morning.” I have no way of knowing what is happening in that woman’s life, but she was walking down the beautiful streets of Temecula with some pretty cute kids, on an absolutely gorgeous morning. Like I said, I think there are two kinds of people, the kind that ignore you and the kind that don’t, but if you can’t return a smile, I guess I’d rather you find a sudden interest in studying cement texture in the sidewalk than looking at me as if I have a problem. OK, now that I got that off my chest….art.

Two years ago for Christmas I received a beautiful little cabinet from Dan for Christmas. It was a great gift, it was the kind of gift where I saw it in a store and…bought it, called Dan, and  said, “You can give it to me for Christmas.” Like I said, it was a great gift. From the minute I saw this little cabinet I thought, “Grandfather Clock”. Now that we are embarking on our business I am taking all the ideas that have been laying in wait in the recesses of my brain and putting them into action. The crib/ bench was one of them. The next idea is my Grandfather clock/bookcase. The cabinet appears to have had glass in the door at some point in its life, but when I bought it the frame on the front was empty. My partner in life and in creativity, aka Dan, helps me bring my ideas to life. We went to the store and purchased wood to create a bookcase to put under the cabinet. Today we made that bookcase, and then laughed our behinds off. The bookcase is fine, but when you put the cabinet on top it becomes a clock for the Jolly Green Giant. It has to be eight feet tall. What can I say, sometimes I just don’t think. We need the bookcase, so it won’t go to waste. (Without the cabinet on top it is six feet tall.) Tomorrow we will be returning to the store to create the four-foot bookcase we need. Dan also cut a panel from MDF for the frame opening. It is my project for tonight. The clock face for my cabinet. I can’t wait to make the smaller bookcase in the morning and add it to my cabinet. I have some really great ideas to finish it off.10 22

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