Saying yes...

One Day...

I know it's not Christmas yet and we shouldn't even be discussing Christmas, but the commercials have started in earnest and I remembered something I wanted to do, but never did... something that would have been ideal in a ratty old apartment, where you didn't mind messing up the walls. I wanted to cover an entire wall (or maybe an entire bathroom) in pine branches. Real would be ideal, but fake probably would have worked better... I'd staple 8 inch pieces of pine branch all over the wall, layering it like shingles (now I've got Shingle Bells in my head)... and then run lights back and forth and hang decorations all over it. A whole WALL of Christmas tree!!! Or even better... a whole ROOM of Christmas tree. I'm thinking it would have been amazing and disturbing all at the same time.

Adhesive of Choice

The Youngest Lamblet is going through her Scotch Tape phase. She's been in it for awhile, but it has grown in intensity. Anything she constructs must be held together with HUGE AMOUNTS of tape... preferably of the Scotch variety.

Items that might be taped together include the usual paper towel tube, Kleenex box, straws... lots of straws... This latest round of creations has included the Wheat Thins Laptop, The Kleenex Box Retro Movie Camera, some sort of slingshot/trebuchet gizmo, and a regular camera made out of an empty Scotch Tape dispenser. I love that one. The Eldest Lamblet did a similar thing when she was younger. She made a faux camera and then drew the "photos". I still have the photo book she made. I think the camera is still hanging up in her room.

But back to the the youngest... aside from the recognizable things, there are a number of other things that I can't figure out other than the fact that they contain a disposed of item which has been reconfigured and held together with LOTS OF TAPE. Yesterday, while picking up various items... I found a pair of her socks taped to a piece of paper.

I. Have. No. Idea. What. That's. About.

I'm not even going to ask. I merely removed the socks and chucked them in the laundry room... some tape projects can and should never be explained. I can honor that.

I remember my Scotch Tape phase, which overlapped with one of my sisters. We used to love to make reeeeeally long fingernails out of it and then paint them.  My mother hated it, her tape always gone... Looking back, my sister and I wondered why she didn't just get us a ton of tape, thus ensuring that we'd leave hers alone. I did this for a nephew. One Christmas, when he was in the thick of his tape phase, I bought him $20 worth of tape. All his. I'm going to have my sister return the favor this Christmas for the lamblet, which I know she will gladly do.

No, the tape phase doesn't worry me, however, the apple not falling far from the tree, I caught her eying some of Grizzled's epoxy... then asking, with a gleam in her eye, "Mom, what happens when you mix those two tubes??"

I think we'll keep her stocked up in tape for awhile...

Guest Poet: Another Kiwi

A week or so ago, when the normal filters were down, the sun was shining in, and I was revved up with coffee, I put up a post about artistic endeavors, failings, and victories. There were many wonderful comments with an unexpected one coming in from Another Kiwi.

AK said:

Great post Jennifer! All my life I have known that I could write and have treated as you describe, sort of a hobby that one has enthusiasm for intermittently. It is only in the last two years that I have started to do anything about it and by my standards I have been successful though it has cost my more money than it will ever make me, ever. But I have two poems that I wrote that I love and two short stories the same. Lots of wreckage in between them, of course.
Power to your painting.

I love comments like that and not just because it said, "Great post Jennifer"... I like it because I believe we've all got a hell of a lot more going on than we usually show.  I usually see Another Kiwi's comments over here (no, he doesn't have a blog, or if he does... he's not sharing)... he's bawdy as heck and I appreciate that, but who knew there was a poet lurking beneath the bawd and the quit wit?!?! I asked him if he'd be willing to share... said I'd post them if he liked. Well, what do you know... the poems arrived today. I'll save my commentary for the comments... He already saw my commentary in an email.

Power to your poems, Another Kiwi!

Unprompted poem 2.

 

Angles of incidence and reflection.

 

The light bounces off the film,

And is reflected cleanly away.

Or is absorbed.

Could not the light bounce off,

the film and carry some memory away?

 

And as it makes a movie, might not the lens,

change the light as it passes through?

Not hugely but enough,

So that the memory wasn’t true?

 

True to what?

Because what we see is reflected light,

maybe altered by reflection, yes?

Changed by incidents and reflection.

 

Unless there was another light,

Unfiltered, bouncing cleanly,

Unchanged by lenses,

Making images that are true.

 

Some sort of light

Like a memory ore,

Scraped clean,

illuminating the truth.

Prompted poem Unit 3

 

On Learning of the Death of an Old Friend.

 

It is high tide on the rocks,

of the headland.

Where the Earths broken brittle spine.

Spikes, shattered, into the sea.

 

The landscape here is recorded time,

rasped by sea and carved by wind.

With one gauntly ancient tree,

sharpened on the sky.

 

There are no paths to follow,

but we heard the locals say.

Spirits leap from that tree,

As they travel home.

 

This might be a portal,

between us and the other side.

Where travellers turn to look,

At those in the cold new day.

 

Yet out of all the times we stood here.

We only ever saw,

rusted coastal trawlers,

leaving from this bay.

The protective filters are down and the mouth is open...

I was talking with a friend a number of weeks ago, I don't remember the progression of the conversation, but do recall ending up talking about what artistic projects I was working on when this little nugget came out... He said, "It's too bad you haven't been successful with your artwork."  He said I had not made much money, or if I had, I had not been consistent.

I sat silent for a moment, confused... It was so strange because in my heart of hearts I could reel off a hundred ways in which I had been successful with it and they were very important ways, ways that meant the world to me. The money part seemed so insignificant at that point. I was thinking instead of my artistic victories; it was so odd to hear someone sum up my entire creative path in terms of money. I understand how he could have done that. I've done that at times, many other people have done that, but when it came right down to it, too much had gone well for me to dismiss it. 

I've treated my artistic abilities like a loyal pooch. No, that's not true, I'd treat a dog better... I've treated them more like a high school boyfriend... there when I need it, dismissed as soon as something more intriguing comes along... and there again when something intriguing doesn't call or live up to the hype. You get the idea.

I don't think I ever set out to have a serious artist career (to be said in deep booming voice!). I love painting, but never wanted to be Julian Schnabel. I always liked Pop Culture a little more (yes, I said it!)and would have been happy making one silly thing that the masses embraced as a touchstone.  And I wasn't even sure of that.. other paths were often more intriguing, but when they paled or life's direction changed, art was there waiting for me. Sometimes I treated it as dismissively as a party trick, other times I realized I might have underestimated it. As I've gotten older, I've relied on it more and more... appreciated it more and more, taken it for granted less and less. I've slowly realized it's not a separate part of me, but was just me... me needing to make things, needing to capture things, needing to express in various ways.

I've made a lot of discoveries over the years. They haven't stopped, if anything, they've increased. I think back to the artistic person I was in high school and in college and then as a young adult, times when I thought I had reached all there was to reach, that my vision was complete, and I laugh because I've realized over the years that I will never stop learning new ways of seeing things, new ways of experiencing things, and with these new ways will come new ways of expressing. It's never-ending, thank God.

I felt I was all that in my 20's... but my 30's held creative changes I never would or could have expected. My 40's have been just as eye-opening. I keep moving forward, keep feeling and seeing things on different levels, which is why it was so funny to hear my entire artistic success summed up in terms of the bottom line. It's ironic because looking back, I probably made more money on things that were nowhere near what I am capable of today. I'm almost ashamed I took money for them...

No, my artistic success cannot be summed up in mere dollars. If anything, my lack of consitent earnings over the years has proven I've failed at marketing and business. Or I've failed at being concise and knowing exactly what I've wanted to do or be when I grew up.  I haven't failed in art, I've failed at making money, I've failed at focusing and choosing. I haven't failed at what I've created or how what I've created has evolved and how I feel about it. I haven't failed in how I see things or feel things. I haven't failed at having ideas, THANK GOD. You have permission to shoot me should my imagination ever give up on me and leave. No, I just honestly could not say I had failed. It was nice to see it like that, to feel it like that, probably for the first time ever.

Drawing Assignment

Update at the bottom:

A few days ago, Zombie Rotten McDonald and I got into a drawing conversation. I believe it started with him saying, "I don't draw enough anymore" or something to that effect. Somehow it ended with both of us saying we'd do some impromptu drawings. For all of the roughs I do, I don't really draw anymore either. Drawing is always a means to an end, not an end in itself.

He suggested I do something out of my comfort zone... i.e., no plants! Harrumph.  He suggested something from real life or possibly something architectural, perhaps The Bean. I was in the city yesterday and thought about The Bean, but I like to scribble and I wasn't sure how *scribbly* and *the bean* would workout. I had a feeling I'd be tempted to smudge and I couldn't forgive myself if I did that. So, no Bean.

I thought about doing something from real life and then I thought I might do a zombie. :) And then... after realizing the tenor of the day, I figured a self-portrait would fill both the real life and zombie bill. I haven't done a self-portrait in eons... I set up a mirror and tried to do the dance between the mirror and paper and how I was kind of envisioning it. Eyes are of course the hardest since I didn't want to be looking right at myself, but off, onto something else, say something I look at ALL THE TIME... the computer screen.

This was done fairly fast. I gave myself a limit of 45 minutes, not wanting to get too obsessed with details, but also, not wanting to correct too many of the accurate details... sags, sour mood, distorted face from leaning on hand, etc.

I messed up the angle of the eye on the right from dicking with it too much so I stopped dicking and will let it be as it is... looking like one of those stress dolls. The ones with the eyes that bulge out when you squeeze their necks.

Zombie- here's my assignment. I'll await your "Flying Monkeys Baking Souffles"... or whatever you decided to do.

The Eldest Lamblet just got back... I asked her if it looked like me. She said I looked like I was pursing my lips like I do when I'm judging something. She also said the eyes looked *off*. Probably because they are! But the last thing?? "Mom, you're not that wrinkley!" :)  Bless her wonderful heart. I'll have to do something nice for her. My mood was probably that wrinkely today.

I decided to crop. This one looks much more accurate.

Update:

 For Karla... a seriously LARGE EYE. :) The subject matter for many of my doodles over the years.

Also- word has it ZRM has posted his drawing assignment. I have seen it. It's wonderful. He actually did two. Both are wonderful, but then he chose a subject matter close to my heart.

Cheater!

The gelatinous state of creation

I was just having a side discussion with somebody about what we enjoyed more... the journey or the destination. I do like destinations, but have to say, I really like the journey, both literally and figuratively speaking. I like being suspended between endpoints.

I told this person that I liked being in the gelatinous state of creation.

This reminded me of a conversation with another person earlier this summer. We were discussing a trip this person had just taken... a trip to a wonderful locale. I had taken a trip recently myself. The location was pleasant and familiar, but what caught me off guard was my return trip home:

When we were driving back home through NW Indiana and Eastern Illinois, I was taken by the fact that this was a drive I’ve done so many times in my life… and for some reason, I was just paying more attention on this trip… part of it was trying to see if I had told a nephew the correct routes of various trains, part of it was trying to keep my mind off of other stuff, but it was probably the first time in a long time that I was really looking at it all and it all seemed very vibrant… I remember being aware of feeling like I could stick my arm out the window and drag my fingertips through the scenery much like water and that the scenery would ripple. Along with that was the feeling of expectation… of things to come… not sure what, but it was an excitement and I was wondering if it was all that is possible, but you just have to decide it’s going to happen. I remember being aware of that feeling and thinking I’d like to keep that handy… keep it with me in a bottle I can open when needed…

I keep wondering if it's possible to live in that state with occasional stops along the way.

Frank Sent This

Found via aif on Facebook. Listen to all of it. It's worth it.

Blogger Help/Contest/Opinions, Etc, Etc, Etc!!@!

This dear blogger has decided to open a Zazzle store to offer up some of her more quirky art offerings... This blogger has done a lifetime of piece work and labor intensive stuff... some serious, some fun, but is ready to embrace the offerings and convenience of this not so new digital age (I'm still resisting my digitizing tablet, but one step at a time...).  As I said, I plan on offering a number of things that I've done over my blogging career and before, including various ways to sell individual letters (on coffee cups, etc) from the Snag Alphabet so that Snag and I might make enough to go get a drink.

Anyhow, here's the deal. No, I'm not asking you to pony up, what I need is help with the name. I thought I had it. It had been in my mind long before there was a Zazzle... It was Sn'Art. It might make sense to some of you, but what's more important was that it made sense to me. I was 99% sure that this was what it was going to be, but asked a couple of people what they thought and did they like the apostrophe or not...

I had Googled Snart  spelled in a variety of creative ways and saw nothing that seemed prohibitive... until kind Google Guru fish informed me yesterday of THIS! Ok, I can have an immature sense of humor along with the best of them and as I said, this store will be for less *serious* stuff, but I don't think I want it associated with a sneeze/fart...

I had mentioned to fish that I was tired and really didn't want to come up with a new name... I liked it better when they just popped into your head in the middle of the night... perhaps I'd call it Cottage Cheese... no, that wouldn't work. fish was kind enough to offer up a number of suggestions

Ouis in Art? (Made me think of the Piss Christ although I liked it when he said it rhymed with Cuisineart.)

Straight to D'art?

D'art of the Possible? (This has possiblities)

Thelma's Truck Stop? (Wha??? While Thelma could outdrink a trucker, she's no truckstop gal...)

And while I'd take almost anything coming from fish, this didn't necessarily strike me as *it*. fish then suggested crowdsourcing. My first thought? Hell no! I don't want anyone to know about this!!

Ok, ok, I saw the silliness of my ways. He was right (you're not always right, fish, so don't let it go to your head.)

So, if you would, please put your minds to work and see if you could offer up something quirky. It would be nice if art were in the name somewhere, but that's not manditory. It also does not need to have Saying yes... in it. If we come up with a winner, I'll send you some of Pinko's Blueberry Whoppers. :)

As the Painting Class Turns: Gratuitous Pat On the Back Edition

While out back with the poochies last night, the youngest lamblet came out to tell me X was on the phone. First words out of my mouth? Take a message.

As I stood there, taking in some of the first true summer evening smells we've had this year, I thought, this can't be good. X never seemed to care for me. X busted my chops every chance she got. X was pretty passive-aggressive so I'd usually just meander into these interactions that would leave me wondering what had happened.

I was not excited to return her call... for a couple of reasons. I was thinking someone had probably died, many in the class were on in years.  I was also wondering if she had finally stumbled upon previous blog posts and was now going to let me have it. I was also a little afraid that they might ask me to come back. I did not expect good to come from this call, but left the comfort of the backyard for the cold reality of the phone call. 

She answered right away... darn... told me it was so good to hear my voice and that she wondered what I had been up to. Oh no... the trap was being set... But alas, there was no trap, she then awkwardly segued into the fact that a member had indeed died and she thought I would want to know. She was correct. I was not surprised when I heard who it was... a woman who was in her middle 80's and who was in failing health when I was in the class. She was a very mild mannered woman with a silly sense of humor. She never did any of the exercises, etc, that I had planned, but used the time as studio time which was fine with me. I had said in the beginning that since this "class" was not for a grade, I would allow people to paint whatever they wanted, but would also have something planned for those who needed a little more. She was fine with her own course, only asking for occasional help with something that had her stymied.

My chat with X soon veered off of topics of death, I think we were both grateful, and back to our lives, and then of course, back to painting. She asked me if I was finding time to paint, I asked her how class was going, if she was enjoying it.  There was a long pause before she found her words. She said class was fine and the new instructor was very nice, but that he was very *technical* and they really missed my imagination.

I nearly kissed her through the phone.

This could not have come from a better person... the person I locked horns with the most... the person who bucked nearly every class I had planned even if I said she was more than welcome to do her own thing. She was/is a talented painter, but even though she was a woman of advanced years, she was not she was not finished learning. She could still improve. We never stop learning, we never stop making discoveries and those discoveries or lessons can come from anyone, even someone 40 years younger...

I was not surprised to hear that the new instructor was more "technical". He had taught many classes and his claim to fame was knocking out a step-by-step painting in one class or less. It's not my style, but I thought it might be what they needed... what they wanted. Apparently that's not quite right either. Apparently they've looked back and realized there was a method to my madness and it had it's benefits.

One thing I tried to do no matter else what else was going on was to set up an interesting still life. Being stuck indoors, there are only so many things you can paint and even though this group had cupboards filled of props amassed from over the years, they had painted them one too many times. I would bring in new items each week that I had chosen to work a particular area of their expertise that they might not know was being worked. Not everyone worked on the still life, but it was there if no other options were.

Apparently not one still life has been set up since the new instructor took over some 14 months ago... Instead, they're supposed to follow his steps as he paints his painting. As I said, we can learn from everything and I'm sure he's got plenty to teach them, but the fact that they're being this regimented kind of breaks my heart. The more petty part of me had to say a little, "So there... you got what you wanted."

Still... it makes me feel more sadness than glee. Not enough sadness to want to go back... :)

This morning while discussing this with my sister, she wrote:

Loved it that your painting class was distinguishable by your students from the paint by recipe approach.  One of these approaches involves a genuine interaction with the real world and an interpretation of it.  The other is simply following steps.  They might not have been as happy with their results with the former approach - at FIRST - but if they had pursued it, they would find that they knew how to fish (instead of just having one fish.)  Real teaching.  Authentic experience.  Sometimes these things become apparent in retrospect.

And I'm glad it did become apparent. There were many, many days when I felt like I was banging my head against the wall, feeling like they were getting nothing from me. I was glad to hear they did. Especially glad to hear it from the hardest nut in the bunch. I gave myself a small pat on the back for that victory. There are many technical aspects to oil painting, many rules that can't be broken, but heaven forbid it ever be devoid of imagination. Heaven forbid anything ever be devoid of imagination. 

Non-Post #3 or #4... Or Something...

It's June 10th and there's a windchill... it's 59 out, but feels like 53. Did I mention it's June 10th? I thought the weather in zone 5 was not allowed a windchill after the full moon in May. It's June 10th. No more windchill, ok??

Speaking of June 10th, it's insanely bright in the wee hours during this time of year which is nice since I'm usually awake in the wee hours. It might as well be light out. Tomorrow is the youngest lamblet's b-day (It's also aif's b-day. Happy early B-day, aif!!!) and since today is the last full day of school, she took her b-day treat with her today. She decided that she needed Dunkin Donut Munchkins which was fine with me. Our school still allows homemade treats so I was actually happy I didn't have to crank out 24 monkey cupcakes ala last year. Munchkins it would be, but I knew I had to get them first thing... I wanted them to be fresh and wanted to get them before the run on donuts began. Since Grizzled and I were wide awake by 5... did I mention it's insanely light in the morning during this time of year... we ventured off to the DD to make sure we scored enough Munchkins. I expected a line, I forget that not everyone is wide awake at 5:30. I was kind of worried ALL MUNCHKINS WOULD BE GONE!!! I forgot we had an advantage by being early risers. There were only 2 other cars in the parking lot, one of which was a police car... there oughta be a law...

But enough about Munchkins... I'm currently working on some sketches for some paintings. The ideas for these paintings came about during a side conversation and actually have nothing to do with the final subject matter. Anyone looking at the final work will have no idea what the initial seed looked like or what the initial conversation was about. The final paintings will be images of a metaphor, but no one will know but me (well, and a couple of other people). It had me wondering though if as science, etc, advances, if there might be a way for us to find out. Could you grind up the painting, put it into a solution and then break down the componentswhich would also ultimately reveal the original inspiration?? Wouldn't that be interesting? Pretty soon museums and galleries, etc, could show not only the original work, but the original idea that led to the final piece. Who knows what you'd see! And I wonder how many of the original seeds would have absolutely anything to do with the final piece? I'm guessing very few.  And of course, ultimately the original idea means nothing to the viewer because the viewer is the final "decider". The viewer is the one who decides what it means to them. The rest may be interesting, but doesn't really matter.

Still... I can't help, but wonder if the original idea that led to these paintings will affect how I go about them. Will they look different than had I approached them with a different thought in mind? Will that original thought be perceptible on some level that we aren't aware of?? Will there be some cell, somewhere in the viewer's body that can pick up on the subtle path from start to finish? Or does it just matter that they are finished and connect with something in the viewers mind...

I'm finished. End of non-post. I need to find a sweater.