Turning over a new leaf. Again.

It seems I'm always coming up with some scheme of how I plan to do things differently, but then I end up limping along doing what works or just abandoning the plan.  But this time is different!  No really.  I'm just going to give myself 2 months of this and I figure I'll re-evaluate at the end of the 2 months. 

There was a point in the process of putting up all my work on the walls of the studio for the tour where I had to view my work as how others might see it.  It's an odd assortment of random images some done well, some well, kind of clumsy, but in all of them there's a consistent dedication to the 'real' image.  And this is odd, because I'm not a huge fan of realism.  It's archaic really, to slave over an image trying to reproduce something that a camera can do lickety split.  (I think this is a side effect of being married to an engineer - it's so much easier to not have to explain what the painting is of.) 

There's something beautiful about the process, a dedication to the craft, an old school stubbornness - but if I'm going to do this thing, I need to go all the way. For 2 months I'm not going to work off of photographs.  It's either still life set ups or portraits, and I'm going to discipline myself in the work of measuring and proportions.

The tricky bit about this is that when I get enough of a break from chores/kids/ect and I have the itch to paint I usually don't have much patience to prepare before I dive in.  Matter of fact the real trouble I've had lately is choosing which image to go after and committing to it rather than just changing my mind when it doesn't come together right away.  What I should probably do is set up a still life that's not going to rot if I neglect it and tackle the image from different vantage points/sizes/perspectives.  - The other catch is that I'm picky about still life set ups. 

It's amazing I manage to get anything done considering all my quirky stubborn views on this business of making art. 

What I mean about the still life set ups is that I hate to see them looking all contrived.  Ooh, I happen to have this bowl of fruit laid out on a flowing wrinkled tablecloth with a seasonal bouquet and an antique vase - poof - a painting.  I feel like a good still life should be a little slice of life, real used objects, discarded little things that are beautiful in study, but usually overlooked.  Seriously I almost did a painting of the dirty dishes in the sink soaking in soapy water, or the edge of a scrabble board in the midst of play, but the composition or the lighting didn't come together just right.  - That and my friends laughed at me.  You know, I love them enough to appreciate their opinions and still not listen to them.  I mean these are the same guys that thought I was nuts to paint steak - but one of those paintings sold.   

So what to set up for a still life?  I'm going to aim for found objects that tell some kind of a narrative together.  You might start to understand why I've used photos so much when you see how much over-think I put into this stuff. 

Anyhoo.  There's the other business of the novel.  A friend of mine has devised a great plan to finish our novels by Christmas with horrible consequences and mockery if we should fail.  Since I'm in an absolute and total denial of how close Christmas actually is, this still doesn't seem impossible to me yet.  I've been revising/re-crafting this thing for eons - If I don't push it forward to a final, final version soon I might have to reconsider how serious I am about writing.  - And that's the weird thing!  This whole time I've been telling myself that I'm a writer, who's painting at the moment.  I think my writing is much more creative and fresh than my painting - But I do what I do, and apparently my efforts lean towards where I have success.  So anyone with the hopes of reading my writing in published form should develop a dislike for my artwork.  Hmm.  But I just wrote a ton of paragraphs about painting - what does that say? 

Studio? Done.

     Can't help but be a little impressed with myself and the garage renovation.  It's still a little hard to believe I'm done.  I finished Thursday night and then the studio tour was that following weekend.  That's why it's all done up so pretty with all of my friend Meredith's wonderful pottery.  I still haven't actually christened it by hanging out and knocking out some paintings yet though.  Something about the process of putting all my paintings up on the walls and seeing it all together, explaining what I do to so many folks, I feel like I need to take my paintings in a new direction.  

     It's a failing of a lot of self taught artists that I've seen where they strive too much to be realistic.  It's a trap that I'm pretty sure I've fallen into.  I can work from a photo, and come pretty close to what's there, but what am I saying with paint that the photo didn't say in the first place?  

     I'm also in a weird state of mind in general.  Little bit of a funk?  Winter's closing in on us.  I'm getting older.  Blech.  This is also the down side of the way I work. Furious chunks of time where I'm very productive, followed by breaks where I do something else.  But if the time between stretches out a little too far and it's as if I'm suddenly shy in front of the canvas, afraid that I've forgotten how to paint.

     This would seem like a great time to finish the novel I've been slugging away at for so freaking long.  Eh.  I'll be like this for a while, till I get frustrated enough with myself to do something amazing and then I'll get back in the swing of it all I hope. 

Making Awesomeness.

As I may have mentioned, the studio has been bothering me.  Don't get me wrong, it's been wonderful to have space to paint and get messy and work into the wee hours - but it's also been less than ideal.

In winter I piled all my paints into a dresser drawer, spread a painter's tarp on a corner in the basement and worked down there. But when the kids would play there I'd worry about folks bumping into something in progress.  Also, the lighting was either too dim or too bright.

In the summer I've waited until the kids were in bed, opened up the rolling door, and cranked up the wobbly fan to keep the skeeters off.  I know, it sounds like a pain in the ass, and it is, but I've found I'm generally a much happier person if I at least make one painting a week.

So, little by little I've been improving it.  And now, I'm in the home stretch - and it's very close to amazing.


The biggest problem has been the lack of heat or cooling, but without insulation, there hardly seems much point in wasting the energy does there?  It's a metal garage on a concrete slab.  The previous owners had started to insulate it, but didn't quite finish the job.   The interior walls were chip board with metal studs that were set back a bit from the board.  What do you do with that?  Insulation and dry wall would have been crazy expensive, just painting the chip board white didn't work.  I can't even fully explain how much I've wanted to make the walls of this place uniform and clean.  It might go back to my years of living in a dungeon of wood paneling at our old place. And then my crazy ideas all came together in a stroke of genius.  Or at the very least, a pragmatic use of my cheap streak.

There are these spray cans of foam insulation. You fill in whatever gaps you have, it swells as it dries and you cut away the excess with a knife afterwards.  So a foaming I did go.  It's not perfect but it works and it cut off all of those drafts.  Then I bought this paintable wallpaper with a beadboard wood pattern and I wallpapered over the chipboard/foam combo.  Then I painted.  - And this is where my favorite paint guy and the Home Depot saved the day. - He stopped me from getting a water based acrylic paint.  Because water based could re-activate the glue and paste in the wallpaper and undo all my hard work!  Instead I used the cheap oil based primer from Kilz and had it tinted to the color I wanted.  Funny enough the color is called Artist Canvas, and even funnier it perfectly matches the free kitchen cabinets my friend Gina gave to me and helped me install.  - Could life get any better?  I submit that it cannot.

The next parts of the project are to put wood trim around the windows and at the top and bottom of the walls.  Partly because that makes with the pretty and partly because it will cover up any residual foam and help keep the wallpaper tacked down.  - Speaking of which, another (I thought very smart) part of my plan was in the application of the wallpaper.  It was fairly straight forward prepasted wallpaper.  You cut the strips, soak them for a moment in water, fold the underside over itself to activate the paste and then apply.  But I had read reviews of folks having a tough time with the adhering.  I happened to have a gallon jug of Elmers Glue.  I mixed it with a bit of warm water and painted that onto the chip board before I put on each section.  Since chipboard is such an irregular surface I think it really helped to hold it all on there.

Now the final stage of the studio will be to get some french doors to replace the rolling metal door.  Ages ago I did a huge painting for my friend Cindy and we worked out a trade where rather than paying me she would give me the value - 300.00 in labor.  Just so happens she knows how to frame in walls and doors.  I buy the door, take out the old one and she works her magic. 

I'm not going to waste your time with photos of all the little things.  It's probably not even interesting to anyone but me.  Once I'm done though, or nearly done, I'll post pictures and you can ooh and aah then.  In the meantime I have to get back to work.  Tootles. - A

Caught up in the struggle

first night, foundation work

I had it.  Or I was on the edge of it.  I was carving out the image, making bold choices, building something where one choice would dovetail into the next and it was all coming together.  Then I stopped for the night and totally lost my momentum.  The next night I was fighting with myself second guessing and trying to get back to where I'd been headed.  Ah well.  The mojo, she has left me.  I'll keep working on it, slower now trying to find that sweet spot. 

second night, argh

In the meantime, great opportunity to switch focus and tackle the writing with a little more determination.  Funny enough I met with a good friend the other day and she asked me what my ultimate goal was.  And though I have a lot of things I want to be able to do, getting this dang book published is at the core of it all. 

So why the heck am I out in the garage whacking away at these canvases if being an author is a serious goal?  Good question. 

I mean, painting is certainly more immediate.  It's the same problem solving but all in one place and it has a definite end, whereas the writing is more murky.  But maybe it's that cliche stuff like being afraid of finishing the book and failing at having it published.  Eh.  Who knows.  I just need to be more disciplined in doing each thing every, or every other day.  These painting binges can be exhausting and the writing really suffers from the stop and go.  So, steady.  That's my new mantra.  Each day, making progress with each.  This is quite the internally directed babble, but there you have it. 

Lat cow painting

When the mojo goes away I get all introspective.  But enough of that I have a book to write.  Scene 1 Chapter 4 and Go.

Holy Canoli

I'm on fire painting wise.  Each and every painting I enter into lately I feel like I'm learning in leaps and bounds.  The only hang up I'll have is when I stop for the night and enter back into the image.  It loses some of the spontaneity and if I'm not careful I find myself just picking away at it rather than making bold choices. 

Tonight I finished up another cow painting.  It was in a dead spot and though the image read okay, there wasn't any love to it.  So I went in and made some high contrast changes.  Shadows that had been in a place holder sort of a state while I worked out the value got loaded with deep rich colors.  I'll post pics tomorrow on that one.  Then using only one large brush I blocked in a portrait of Tully.

Now as you may or may not know, portraits were a sticking point for me for a long time.  Never mind how difficult they can be, but since my mom was so good at them, they intimidated me.  That's part of why I'm so excited about my progress tonight because none of that was happening.  My friend Jeremy inspired this painting.  He's been doing an incredible series of paintings.  Each one is a new take on, or version of a John Singer Sargeant woman.  All women.  I had been toying with the idea of taking a photo of a little woman, in a Sargeant like pose and sending it to him to see if he'd be interested in tackling it. 


First I found this photo of a young girl

Then I took some shots of Tully in a similar pose.

Then I fell in love with the image and blocked it in and had a blast working my way through it.  It's far from perfect but I'm learning a ton by working this way.  Fast and focused with no diddling around on small details.  Argh yummy yummy paint.  So satisfying.  Pictures of my work tomorrow.

And now before the coffee wears off I'm going to tackle writing.  I've pushed past whatever block I had going on before and now I just need to keep up with myself.  

Poor neglected blog tries desperately to revive itself

So incredibly busy, but you'd hardly know it if you tried to look for any measurable progress in any of my various projects.  There are paintings that have been painted.  Blocks and dice that have been made.  Prints of my artwork that are printing.  But most of these things are half done, or not posted or photographed.  Argh. 

This is one of a series of fish paintings that I'm trying to make prints of.

And then there was the set back of the driveway bridge that washed out.  It's surprising how much time an inconvenience can take up over time.  Picture here many trips up and down the driveway carrying groceries ect. 
But now it's spring break.  No rushing them off to school or trying to keep up with their schedules.  Hopefully I can find a good balance between activities for the kids and catch-up for myself.

Part of a series of three, plan to make prints of the series with all of them together

And in the process of catching up I'm trying to get back on track with my writing.  The novel floundered for a time and I lost hope that I would ever pull it together, but once again my writing group came to the rescue.  I have a blueprint now, a structure and I'm back on track.  As long as I can put a disciplined effort forth each day towards it there could in fact be a time where I can say, I wrote a novel, past tense.

Discipline Dice.  A revolution in parenting techniques that has yet to catch on.

How are you response dice.  12 options of possible responses.  Social interactions solved.

And this measly little blog is part of that.  This is where I need to shake out the sillies, get my fingers cranking, and just talk on the page.  I don't know how it reads for observers but this is where I'm trying to hold myself accountable and keep track of how I'm doing with all my goals.

No Mas!

If only my hands could keep up with all the ideas my brain has for them lately.  I'm trying really hard to set a goal and complete one project before moving on to the next, but it's so hard!

I've moved the painting operation inside for the time being since the winterizing of the studio hasn't quite panned out yet.  With a little desk and the right lighting I'm working my way through with acrylics.  It's a struggle, like trying to speak with an accent but I'm making progress.  Picture me painting the same image again and again saying "hamburger" like Inspector Clouseau.

I'm working small and doing a number of pieces on the same subject.  I'm playing with the idea of transitions, small changes in the images and how they relate to one another.  I'm going to take them to the printer and hope to sell them on Etsy grouped together.


I've also got a lot of plans for using a dremel when I get my hands on one, but that has to wait for project 1 to get finished. 

And finally, I'm getting a small business permit and I've started an account just for the business.  Lots of details with this, such as getting all legal and paying taxes, but it's worth it to me.  The way I'm figuring this will equate with a part time job income, but still allow me the flexibility I need with Eric's travel and work schedule.

And as often happens, the painting surges forth and the writing flounders, or visa versa.  Trying to keep on an even keel this time though and stick to a steady schedule.  It helps to have such a wonderful writers group that I've been so lucky to join.  For anyone interested you ought to check on Anna-Marie's site where her novel's first draft is evolving online.  Her website is http://www.steampunkfamily.com/ and the story is called, Antafrica.  Be sure to start at the beginning, you don't want to miss any of Bettina's antics.

And in other news, the kids are back in school, the goats are in the field, the squirrels are still nibbling on my porch and there are reports of loose cows in the area.  All seems as it should be.

Xmas Chicken

I've never been too skilled in wrapping gifts.  Either a person can tell immediately what it is, or they tilt their heads with a confused look and ask, "It's a gift?"

If you play your cards right, this image could be yours -on a card even!  A whole set of them, with envelopes!

Yeah. I have no idea.

I don't know how you're supposed to give this to someone without offending them.  Maybe I should have the image made into a fridge magnet instead?

Inside the fishbowl

You think things are so peaceful and tranquil in there, but really it's complicated.

Shameless self promotion continues.  Go to the Etsy shop and buy some. 
If it's any comfort to you I have learned my lesson and will never again try and make something seasonal.  I feel like my little cards are going to spoil like milk after the 25th. 

You didn't know you needed this till now

I made Christmas cards.  Lots of them. 
I was like the little red hen, I thought of the picture, I sketched the picture, I drew the picture, I painted the picture, I glued a little bit of origami paper in the shape of a pile of poo to the picture, I wrote the snarky quote in the picture, and I had the picture printed on nice card stock to make with the Christmas happy.
Now who's going to buy my picture?
Seriously.  Limited offer.  Clocks ticking, get with the clicking.  Go to the Etsy site and order yours.  Love me.

Circles.

Moving in many directions simultaneously sounds busy and productive but it probably means I'm just moving in circles.  November was a whirlwind of activities but I'm not sure what they all added up to. 

The writing goals, well I didn't meet my goal word count wise, but I did manage to reshuffle things and re-invision the story better I think in my lastest revision.

Painting wise, I went on a bit of a bender while I still had some heat out there in the studio and I've made small 5x5 paintings from cut up pieces of scrap boards that a kind neighbor gave me.
I also worked out a set of 12 illustrations with pencil, pen and ink and watercolor.  I've had these printed up in to cards, with the hope of selling them.

On the crazy Alice front, I've started taking meds for ADD.  I don't know.  I think I have an easier time focusing, I can handle distractions a little better now.  It's unfortunately not the magic pill I had hoped for, but that's a little silly to hope for anyway.

I've decided to cheat

Besides the constant insanity and pressing demands of children, married life, ect, there's one thing that really bothers me and always sets off red flags in my mind, and that's when I catch myself saying "I can't".

I'm a big proponent of choices, and 'can't' doesn't fit with my paradigm so to speak.  If you can't do something then you've made choices that determined that.  You see?  So, there really isn't any such thing as I can't, just regrets from poor choices and being stuck with the consequences. 

Think about it, let it soak in a minute.  Here's an example: I can't make it to school in time.  -Well that would be determined by prior choices right?  Like when you set the alarm, how many times you hit snooze.  Yeah.  Can't and I, we don't jive.

There are things that I won't tackle or I'm afraid to try, but I try to be honest with myself about what the problem is.  If I can figure out what the obstacles are, than I can make different choices.  Simple enough, not to belabor the point.

So November is on the horizon and Nanowrimo is coming.  For those of you not familiar with it, Nano is the awesomest thing ever.  It's an amazing community of like minded crazy fuckers all struggling and striving to write a novel, to complete a rough draft of 50,000 words in 30 days.  You can learn more about it, here What is Nanowrimo?  I would encourage anyone with even the fainest aspirations of writing to dive in and try it.  The biggest benefit is that it will push you to write a novel, rather than talking thinking or dreaming of doing it.  Once it's done you can decide if it's for you.  You can choose to revise or trash what you create, but you can rest in the knowledge that you did it.

So, I love the process.  I love the community, the sense of drive, of push towards a goal.  But as November begins I'm knee deep in a revision that flounders.  An idea that I love, but struggle with, a plot that has flaws, characters that make me question their motivation.  It doesn't feel right to bail from this endeavor just when I'm in the thick of the struggle, but it also doesn't feel right to say that I can't commit to nano this year.  Recap, Can't =red flags, ect.

So I've decided to cheat.  I'm going to keep on with my revision and log in my word counts and push towards the goal of 50,000 by December 1st.  Real winners of nano will be turning in completely original works written during November.  I however will be working and reworking the words I've already made in order to, hopefully, have a finished workable draft by December.

So I'll be logging in my word counts and enjoying the pep-talks and write ins as much as possible but aiming for a different goal.  I think it's a compromise that works.  I'll stop just shy of declaring myself a winner if I make it but I'm excited to add the powerful engine of community and peer pressure to my efforts.

That and, I have to keep painting!  I was so lucky to find someone who likes my work enough to work out a great barter.  One big painting for a wall with some french doors for my studio.  She has building experience and the know how and it will go such a long way towards winterizing the studio.  Very excited to make the space even more functional.

Also, found a place for my latest article here, I Am Modern feel free to comment on their site!

Assorted bouncy thoughts

Been on a bit of a bender painting wise.  Last week I painted two radish paintings, two pear paintings, one road, a cow, and an avocado.

Today I tried to follow that up with an oxen and a goat but the paint was moving wrong on the canvas and I was too eager to solve the problems than to work through them and build solutions. 

The latest theory I'm kicking around is that I might have ADD.  To me this is ground breaking revolutionary thought.  Maybe my brain doesn't have to bounce around inside my head like a little ping pong ball.  People that know me are less wowed with my self diagnosis.  Writing a novel, a blog and a humor column, painting every random thing that lands in front of me, forgetting appointments, losing things and having a hard time sticking to any kind of a schedule.  It's amazing I didn't think of it sooner. 

I think the reason painting feels so satisfying for me, is that I'm using different parts of my brain simultaneously, or in a bouncy kind of way.  Just drawing I have a hard time, but in painting I'm measuring and balancing tonal values and finding colors and balancing the composition all in one big push.  It's manageable, but it's also everything at once.

My writing is progressing at a snails pace now.  I hit road blocks, tried doubling back and got all discombobulated.  Thankfully I have a wonderful writing group and if they can't help keep me on track I'm surely a lost cause.  Writing books is tedious, confusing, complicated stuff.  I'm going to try and fit in a visit to a book store this weekend.  There's something encouraging about walking down aisles and aisles of books by people that actually succeeded in doing it. 

Kids are settling into the school schedule and starting to explore different extra-curriculars.  Cub scouts and art club for Felix, Girl Scouts for Emer as well as a girls running program called, Girls on the Run.  -Besides just focusing on fitness, the program is designed to help girls develop a healthy body image before they plunge into the abyss of puberty.  Tully is going to be in the Daisies, Girl Scouts lite, and she's taking a dance class offered through the PTO after school.  She has no inhibitions and her dance style shows it.  To say she loves it is an understatement.  She danced all the way to the car afterward. 

Goats are happy goating.  Paintings of goats are sure to fill the shop soon. 

Dysfunctional fundraising. What it lacks in logic it doubles in fun!

I’m not a fan of fundraisers.  There’s something disconcerting to me about setting kids up to sell things by the side of the road.  Granted, it can provide a valuable life lesson by helping them see first hand the pitfalls in a life of crime, the humiliation of pan handling, but it makes me uncomfortable to see them beg. It’s just begging with props.  The humiliation they have to experience to endure the whole process is a bonus, but hardly one that warrants the price.

In the younger age brackets there are the girl scouts in front of the grocery store with their boxes of sweets.  What’s the underlying message there?  What are we teaching these girls?  It’s okay to accost total strangers with promises of a sweet, guilt laden pleasures as long as they get paid?  Even worse is the financial lesson of selling something and giving such a large cut to your pimp, I mean Girl Scout Cookie Central.  I think when my girl gets suckered into this, I mean volunteers, I will wear a long coat, platform shoes and a hat with a big feather in it as I supervise.

I know there are other parents just as uncomfortable with the idea.  Trying to save their girls from the humiliation of a life on the streets they strong arm co-workers into paying exorbitant fees for cookies.  Do me a favor, okay?  If you need money to pay for your daughter’s extra-curricular, have some balls and just ask for the money outright.  Don’t bring some innocent cookie into your financial troubles.  Don’t taint the loveliness of baked goods with prices that hint at extortion.

Boy Scouts, already at a disadvantage with no cute skirts or jaunty berets, are left with the undesirable task of selling popcorn.  40 dollars for two boxes of microwaveable popcorn?  And you’re not even going to come over to my house and push the buttons on the microwave for me?  How much does that break down to per kernel?  Not to push conspiracy theories, but has anyone checked to see how many lobbyists for the corn industry have kids in the boy scouts?

The high school fundraiser is usually a car wash. Attractive high school students, predominately female, jump up and down holding signs.  Young pert nubile ladies bouncing in their white shirts, as if to say, “I have no idea that white clothing becomes transparent when wet, and my school spirit is abundant!”

To their credit though, I suspect these ladies are merely a lure, that drivers follow the bouncing signs around the corner behind the Denny’s to find band members and math club geeks doing the hard work of scrubbing grime off of bumpers.  This is especially torturous for said geeks.  First to catch the unchecked expression of disappointment on the driver’s face and then to have such close proximity to the harsh soaps required to clean a car.  I’m just saying it’s bound to aggravate their acne.

This past Saturday I drove into Purcellville and encountered a new kind of fundraiser all together.  One that has filled me with wonder and awe.  Clusters of kids with signs, as well as big swirling flags.  In one group there was a kid playing a bugle.  In another there was a tuba.  These kids were really trying to attract attention.  And they were successful, to an extent, with me.  I couldn’t look away.  I read the signs, but I still don’t understand why they were advertising a mattress sale at their school.

So many questions.

Who decides to buy a mattress as an impulse purchase?  Who is waiting for the perfect school fund raiser to come along so they can replace their current mattress?  Do you really want to encounter these types of people, in the hard light of day? Is there something I don’t know?  Is there a bed bug infestation running rampant in Purcellville?  Did they actually sell even one mattress?

Who thought this was a good idea?  At what school board meeting did they discuss the poor state of funds and look at this as a solution?  Who, in that meeting, is in bed with a mattress salesperson, and how did they talk everyone else into the hopeless scheme?

And the children.  Think of the children.  Never mind that they were given an impossible sale, they put forth such a valiant effort.  Flags and musical instruments?  Really?  “You know, I wasn’t planning to buy a mattress, but that boy is twirling that flag in such a compelling manner. . .”

The only bright side I can imagine to this fiasco is that these kids will have something to talk about at their reunion.  “Hey remember that time we sold mattresses for the school fund raiser?”

“Yeah, that was so much better than the next year when we sold blank VHS videotapes.”

Comics

So, Felix has been reading a lot of comic books lately, and then Emer seems to have picked them all up and read through them as well.  The down side to their shared interest is an excess of comic books strewn about on the floor.  In the process of picking them up I've become distracted with the visual incongruities.

Did anyone think to tell the Hulk how unattractive that shade of green is?  And is it a coincidence that much of his demeanor seems like roid rage?  And all the women of these comics have the perky well rounded breasts.  It's not fair, or realistic.  I was at my most stupid and least focused when my breasts were in that condition.

Superman, the Hulk, even Spider man, all scratch a fantasy itch of sorts, a kind of justice for the awkward geeky boys.  So where is our heroine?  Where is the saggy-breasted, down trodden mother figure's alter ego, and what would it be?

Or better yet, what if there weren't an alter ego?  What if her super power was her previously perceived imperfection?
Sagorilla and the swinging pendulum breasts of doom.  With a quick turn of her shoulders, whole armies are decimated.
Or Stretchmark Sally, the bluish white glare of sunshine bouncing off her scars blinds people while simultaneously making them appreciate that they'll never have to see that again.
Nagalicious.  Her constant nagging and reminders lull unsuspecting victims into a sleep-like stupor.
Refrigor-raider.  She empties refrigerators of all but the most rudimentary and unpleasant condiments while failing to cook any palatable meals.

There might be some material there to work with.
Any resemblance between me and the fictional characters mentioned is just unfortunate and sad.

Various thoughts and imperitives

Be daring, be different, be impractical, be anything that will assert integrity of purpose and imaginative vision against the play-it-safers, the creatures of the commonplace, the slaves of the ordinary. Cecil Beaton

I have the studio cleaned and organized better now.  I'm focusing on making the space as functional as possible.  I'm fired up and ready to go in September -painting and writing, writing and painting.  I'm determined to make something worthwhile.  I'm so tired of feeling like I'm spinning my wheels.

"When there's nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire."

I have the kindling and the match at the ready.  All I need is time.  A month of summer left.  I want to enjoy the time with the kids.  I want to make the most of it, but the fighting between them all is driving me crazy.  

More and more trouble getting along with, relating to, Felix.  I feel almost like he's slipping away from me behind all this unpleasant behavior.  I've got a number of doc appts to try and track down what's going on with him.  Allergies, Acid reflux, Asperger's syndrome, Tourette's -there are a lot of possible explanations but I'm just hoping for some better guide to know how to help him.  

And then underneath that, there's this lingering fear that if something is misfiring in him, that maybe that comes from me.  Maybe there is a reason why I am this marginally functional creative weirdo.  

And to bring it full circle, that's why I feel more determined than ever to get something done, made, pushed to better.  I just really need to feel like I'm pushing towards better at something rather than stuck in mediocre.  

That's all I have for now.  Oh, and also I need to blog more frequently.  -We'll see if I can. 

New road

A good friend with a body of artwork I really admire gave me some great advice and I'm taking it.
I know.  Me, taking somebody's advice.  Strange times.

Whatever skills I have as a painter are wasted with my crazy love of everything.  What I needed was a theme in order to develop my voice, to explore different styles while staying within the confines of the theme.  It doesn't hurt either to have pieces that make sense viewed together.  I mean horses and toothpaste are fine, but it's kind of embarrassing trying to explain away the lack of focus there.  It was pretty obvious that I was just randomly choosing images that caught my eye or copying other artists.

I'm into the second week of the experiment and I'm still pretty excited about it.  Every painting is either a road or a view from the car as I drove on a road.  And in a nice parallel I feel like I'm traveling down a new road myself.  Trying to build up something unique from a blah image, trying to develop a visual voice of my own instead of copying the styles of others.  I'm getting there.  Lots of experiment, tons of fun.  Focus is good.

The first week's paintings had a tentative quiet look.  This week's work is bolder with higher contrast looser strokes, even some palette knife work.  As always my favorite painting is the last one I did.  Keep an eye on the shop, they'll be up as soon as they dry.  The heat is helping with that and I have a fan blowing on them as well.  I still need to work on photo quality though.  The paintings that are on Etsy look washed out.  

Now, of course I had to make some exceptions for my crazy.  I'm not painting anything that isn't a road, but I am experimenting with different printmaking methods, graphic design, and illustration to put on the silly wood blocks I'm making.  It feels really good to be divided.  My funny quirky goes here, my series effort goes here.  There.  Everything in its place.

I'm still struggling to find the same focus in my writing.  The novel.  Everything should be going into it, my funny, serious, weird.  But that book would be too long.  I'm going to work on revising two chapters each week.

In revising it's harder to set deadlines and goals.  I don't have a word count to push for.  I just have to keep plugging away and push through the fear of getting lost.  So my new commitment on that front is to print out the chapters and the beginning of the week and mark it up, take notes, do free writes all on those chapters.  It shouldn't be just a tinkering with what's already on the page.  I need to re -vision what's there. 

Hubris tastes like tabasco twinkies.

He was my bear.  For the moments I stood there in disbelief taking pictures. For the day following as I mulled over what it meant to have him out there.  He was mine.  

As much as he could be any one's that is.  I mean look at him.  He's suave, debonair, he obviously gets around.  He's a player.  I was a fool to be seduced by what we had together.  

Two mornings later there was evidence he'd been at Kaarin's house up the drive and across the road.  And I knew he would never be my bear again.

Her cooking is much better than mine.  Once he's tasted the refuse from her gourmet table, he'll never come back to my paltry offerings.  What are a few stale oreos in the wake of her muffoletta?  Even if he were to come back my way, it will be with a dissatisfied air.  You call this arugula?  His upturned snout will seem to say.  

It is amazing though, how spotting a new animal like this recreates the world.  I love the wilderness here.  I don't take it for granted. I still think it's special to watch a deer bound across my path, or a rabbit run for cover.  Even my ongoing battle with the porch eating squirrels is an entertaining novelty.  But now, the dark shadowed places in the wood hold more than shade.  Is it Promise?  Excitement? Danger?  Maybe a little of all those things.

I take it seriously.  I'm putting the trash where he shouldn't be able to get it.  I'm watching the kids more closely outside, telling neighbors and such.  But it's as if the encounter has forced a different conversation with the environment, one where I'm not the only speaker, where I can't dominate the conversation.

 

It's easy to wax poetic about the beauty of nature.  Some people read the Emerson in the comfort of their A/C and feel connected.  Others tiptoe in the mud to catch frogs.  But to live in an area with bears you have to form a different respect for nature, because it could actually kick your ass.  All the recycling and good intentions in the world are not relevant when you're sharing your space with a 400 or so pound wild animal.

For example, in the course of conversations someone shared the idea they had heard, from a friend of a friend, that a good solution for a trash loving, too close to home kind of bear was Twinkies soaked in Tabasco sauce.  It sounds good doesn't it?  Being a higher mammal it doesn't seem like it would take much more than some engineered food products and spices to solve the dilemma. 

A little research though proved that this was an exceptionally bad idea.  Apparently there is a kind of pepper spray actually intended for and marketed to repel bears.  It works like mace.  Sprayed in the eyes it does no permanent damage but it deters the interest of the bear.  Well as it turns out, like all things higher mammal, some people haven't been reading the directions on the cans of repellent.  After spraying this stuff it's strongly advised that you leave the area because the bear, though he doesn't like having the stuff sprayed in his face, is attracted to and likes the taste of the spray and will come back to an area and lick the leaves where it's been sprayed.  Bears like spicy. 

Operation Tabasco Twinkies was aborted in the nick of time.  The good news is we have lots of engineered food products to nibble on as we sit in the A/C and think about what it means to live in and with nature, rather than just on the land.

While we're cooped up, we can follow the news of the gulf oil spill and wonder about the implications.  Our hubris, our confidence as higher mammals, as the stewards of the Earth might be shaken enough to force a new conversation.  Knowing that nature, or our mistakes with it can rear up and kick our ass might force a level of respect from us that we've lacked and our relationship with the natural world can be recreated.

Related links

Here's a link to a good reference to dealing with black bears

http://www.bebearawaresw.org/

Here is a link to an interesting article about bears being actually attracted to repellents

Bears attracted to repellents

My new favorite poet.

My Mom, 

by Felix

She is as warm as a fireplace. 

When she smiles it warms my heart like a fire warms me.

She is best when she is listened to. 

But watch out! If you sass back at her she is like a exploding bomb.