two kitties

Thomas Allen: Uncovered

Twenty-one percent of Americans surveyed in a 2006 BBC news poll said they received more spiritual guidance from Oprah Winfrey than the leader(s) of their respective religious communities.

I'm not sure about THAT, but I loved the Thomas Allen illustrations in this month's O Magazine. This photo is a scan from the issue. Worth a few bucks just for Allen's art, which graces a whole section on memoir. Perhaps my favorite piece was the one written by Lorene Cary.

Allen creates three dimensional collages from books found at thrift stores. The work is then photographed and printed on 4 x 6" paper. The photo is as important as the thing, in other words. Kind of like the way Andy Goldsworthy approaches his work.

You can purchase Allen's book, Uncovered, from the Aperture Foundation. Allen worked with long-time collaborator Chip Kidd on the cover design of his own book.

Fire in the Blood: The Observer's Paradox

..."the family, friends and neighbors -- people sometimes not seen in years but who suddenly turn up, like corks bobbing to the surface, each one awakening the memory of quarrels that started back in the mists of time, past loves, former grudges, engagements broken then forgotten, inheritances and law suits...such a gathering of ghosts! In big cities, people either see each other all the time or never, it's simpler. Here...Corks in water, that's what I say. Hey, presto, there they are! And what a stir they cause, how many old memories they dredge up. Then down they go again and, for ten years, they're forgotten..."

-- Irene Nemirovsky, "Fire in the Blood"

Lately, it seems that everyone I encounter is either gathering up old hurts or trying to push them down. Death, illness, broken friendships, memories of the old self in the old life gladly left behind. Like it or not, it's the pull of the planets forcing us to look back, present yourself, try to forget; be forgotten.

The really interesting stuff happens, of course, when the old life bobs up within the new. Sylvestre, the narrator of Irene Nemirovsky's "Fire in the Blood" makes this observation at a wedding reception, watching the interactions between locals and city relatives rarely seen.

I thought something like that myself when I attended my cousin's wedding a few weeks ago. I guessed it had been eighteen years since I'd seen some of them. I wondered which awkward memories they would dredge up for my new-ish husband. And then the questions they won't ask me, but might ask each other, like "What happened to the other guy?" I'd like to hear the answer to that one, actually, since the most interesting bits are the ones I have always kept to myself. Mostly, anyway.

But really, no one asked me ANYTHING, and in a way, I was disappointed. The network of family observers had gotten there first and their version, I guess, was considered as valid as my own. Even though the odds are that it's probably pretty far from the truth I would tell. It's funny when someone (mistakenly) thought I was practicing medicine in Wyoming. Not as funny when they don't seem interested in the right answer.

This social dysfunction touches more folk than just my family. No one seems allowed to tell their own stories anymore - just consider the drama around "memoirgate." The crisis of representation that brought cultural anthropology to it's post-modern knees is the same logic that has fed the radical growth of accusations and personal memory. Truth turned on it's ear.

You can remember your life however you want to, but ultimately, your family, friends, colleagues, even the building janitors have more ethnographic authority about your life than you ever will. Just a small part of the conversation I've been having over at Citizen Reader about truth in non-fiction.  

Creativity by Committee: The Public Art Projects of Smaller Towns

I hate murals. I also hate 99.99999% of all other public sculpture projects funded by small arts councils. Now, mind, I'm not talking about the street art of  Philadelphia or Pittsburgh, I'm talking about Bend and Spokane.

By the time the concept has been fabricated for the street, it's been stripped of anything that might be deemed controversial by the constituents of local officials. Art like this is expensively, expansively, uninteresting. And more often than not, public art is poorly cared for. Neglected after installation because of limited city budgets, sculpture deteriorates under the elements; it's aesthetic sometimes simply expires.

In Bethesda, Maryland, where I used to live and work, there was a piece I actually kind of liked. I would pass this forest of aluminum "trees" just outside the metro stop each day. The piece, by William H. Wainwright, had holographic leaves that creaked in the wind though I think they were supposed to be moved by water pumped through the trunks. It was almost pretty. It could have been, if the fountain had been clean and filled with water. It really says something when even the photo on the artist's website shows a dry, empty, pool.

This week, while visiting Spokane, I spun past this David Govedare sculpture in Expo Park. I wouldn't say that I love this piece, or even like it, but driving next to it in a car, you did get the feeling that the runners were moving. That's something, at least. You can take a virtual walk through Spokane's sculpture garden here. I'd love to hear what you think.

Pollyanna. Ish.

We spent a lot of the wedding weekend hanging out with Bill, "The Dentist." He's a long time friend of the family and is always there to celebrate or mourn with us - whatever the case may be.  It was strangely comforting to realize that, over the last thirty years, Bill has met and talked with most of my family - all but six of them now dead.

After spending a few days with him I came to envy his way with people. Bill has a unique ability: he can pull out the positive in each and every personal interaction. And it's genuine, not learned, forced or contrived and is simply, positively, unflappable. It's the way he perceives and navigates the world.

It goes without saying that I wish I had that skill. We did have a short conversation about the downside of what happens when you always see best in people. I used to be that way.  Selectively, anyway.

Over the last few years I've trained myself NOT to do it - sometimes an a**hole is just an a**hole. Stated more intelligently - we agreed that seeing the best in every situation leaves you susceptible, unsuspecting, to characters and environments that can really cause hurt.

But I'd rather be like Bill, given the chance.

New Year's Resolutions: The Half-Way Checkpoint

The other day two friends (who don't know each other) asked me how my novel was coming. Ummmm......

I thought it might be worth circling back to my New Year's resolutions - to refresh my memory and see if I've made any progress toward my goals:

1) Buddy and I have not taken the therapy dog exam yet. I need to attend a weekend training workshop and I haven't managed to move to the top of the wait-list.

2) I loved my New York City Ballet Workout classes. It's great to be so old that the teacher is happy if you just "hop" instead of grand jete.  Now that I'm back in Montana, I have the DVD from Netflix but haven't tried it yet. Lots of long river walks with Buddy and serious yard work instead.

3) I am still working on a website for my consulting business after a few stops and starts.  I did design a new banner for my website, all by my own self. Not perfect, but o.k.

4) I did finish knitting my first sweater, and it turned out o.k. Not perfect, but o.k. I sent it to the artist Debra Tomson Williams as a Valentine.

5) My book. I went through a spurt of writing in the winter, took a leave-of-absence, set it down, and haven't picked it up again. It's time. I'm comforted by Anne Lamott's comment to an interviewer that it takes her a first draft just to get to know the characters.

6) I'm over the cookie thing. I still eat them occasionally, but I'm not baking as a comfort-process anymore.  I'm feeling so much better after this surgery that I keep busy enjoying work, gardening, art or something else.  I didn't make the list of more peaceful times but I don't feel like I need to either. So that's good.

7) I wanted to start drawing, but in six months I have not picked up the proverbial pencil.

So....about 50%, really. And still time to keep going.

Art On Crutches

1. by all means necessary, 2. Photocopier /Printer, 3. Best name for an art store ever, 4. Steamcleaner Punk, 5. Slide madness, 6. Figure 5.4: Tripod Specimens A and B., 7. Short circuit, 8. Book Mountain, 9. Simon Cowell

The power went out the other day while I was working in the studio. This happens more often than you might think.  We have one line running south from town and all it takes is someone to crash a car into a utility pole or a dead tree to take down a power line. 

In this particular instance, I happened to be rubbing some crayon on a photo printed from my inkjet. I was curious to see what would happen to the crayon if I blew my heat gun on it - would it give an encaustic effect?  But then I remembered I couldn't use the heat gun - no electricity.

So I busied myself with some other projects. As the minutes ticked by, I realized I wouldn't be able to iron the fusible interfacing to my fabric book. And on this rainy day it was a little bit darker in the studio than I like it. My frustrations gathered. Intensified.  I wasn't going to be able to make art on an otherwise appointment-less Saturday. It is the year 2008. And I had NO ELECTRICITY.

And then I had kind of a grand-mal moment when all my excuses stepped out of the shadows - the light switched OFF so to speak - and I could see how I was using things - materials, equipment, space -  to enable my creative insecurity. In the dark, I made a list of my crutches:

1. Scanner Crutch: "I'd like to use this image of an apple in my collage, but I want to scan it first, in case I want to use it again and develop a theme." It never gets scanned, and of course, the original is never used either.  I have mountains of images I am 'saving' in this manner. What's worse, is I have the project already sketched out in my head. So the images can't be used for new projects either. Kind of like saving seats in the school lunchroom for a friend - you send away all the other people that also want to sit next to you.


2. Photocopy Crutch: "Before I can wax this image, I need to print it using thermal toner." I must pass the UPS Store about ten times a week but never seem to make it in the door to copy the images I have set aside. Or I fret about the kind of toner and process the UPS copiers use and whether or not it will be friendly to encaustic. Even though I know it is thermal and I haven't heated up my wax in nearly six months.


3. Photo Crutch: "I would submit this piece to the show if I had slides." I used to say I didn't submit my work to gallery shows because I don't have a slide portfolio. Now everyone accepts digital images, so I use the excuse that I don't have a consistent body of work. Which matters most if you're seeking gallery representation, but even so, is a little more than lame as excuses go.


4. Sewing Machine Crutch: "I really want to do some freehand embroidery on this book before I call it finished." I bought an expensive machine to use for mixed-media and fiber art projects. Instead, I got totally high sewing stuffed sheep for, like, a year. And that's fine, I love them, and the sheep love me. But I get hung up on an art piece thinking I need a certain color thread, or wishing I had a particular fabric that it is in the closet at my other house in Oregon. 
   


5. Art Supply Crutch: "Before I finish this, I need to get some beads/pigment/astroturf/resin/thread/paper/gesso." Shopping for art supplies is not the same as making art. I'm always buying supplies and never using them. When I clean my studio I'm astounded by the interesting stuff I have in there. Quite frankly, I don't even know what I have in there.

You see where I'm going with this?

It is a kind of perfectionism, and in my case, it's a fear of finishing. Once things are finished, they will be judged. And when it comes to criticism of something I've put my heart into, I'll admit I'm weak. Even though the business side of me knows that what I see on artists' websites are the best examples of their work - not the work-in-progress, the experiments that resulted in failure, and the simply ugly that happened along the way.

My goal for summer is to finish the projects I have started. This one. This one. This one. This one. And that's just a start. It is an ever-growing mountain of unfinished art. And if I can do that, I will have enough work to photograph and submit to shows. No excuses.

Things I miss about the Big City....

Things I miss about living in a big city:

• Salad bars, and other quick and healthy food stops.
• $25 pedicures.
• Sipping on an Iced Skinny Latte while browsing through a good book store.
• Movie houses that show independent films.
• Good Mexican food.

Things I don't miss:

• The endless search to find a parking spot every time you move your car.
• Ridiculous rents and crappy apartments.
• Never being able to relax when you're sitting by yourself on the beach or walking at night. 
• Lawyers, "models", and other high maintenance neighbors.
• Corporate get-togethers.

Indexed by Jessica Hagy

I have to hit the streets today hoping to find something acceptable to wear to a summer wedding. Ten weeks post-op I still have swelling that will have to be taken into account. This pouch doesn't just blend in with the rest of my fat - it has it's own moods and opinions about what "we" do and wear, growing and shrinking depending on what I eat, how I exercise (yard work is o.k. - but it doesn't like hiking), and the comfort of my clothing. Yes to the Eileen Fisher pants, NO to the Calvin Klein jeans.

This morning I spent a few minutes on Jessica Hagy's website, "Indexed." This card seemed to express exactly how I feel at the moment. I'll buy anything I can find that makes me, and my swollen belly, look acceptable. Wish me luck.

Prayers to the Wind

Prayers to the Wind, originally uploaded by louise.stringer.

Brush away all the fluff around what I do for money and you'll find that, at heart, I'm a cultural anthropologist. My degrees confirm it, too, but I don't do fieldwork for a living - at least not really.  I still do fieldwork every day though. I can't help it. It's my second nature. I'm always looking, always observing and finding patterns.

Lately, I've been making notes about the ways that people make prayer physical. I came across Louise.Stringer's photo on Flickr of a prayer tree on a Russian island and it reminded me of one I see here in Montana. My husband and I like to drive up to the east side of Glacier Park, the side that borders the Indian reservation near Browning.

There is a 'prayer tree' in a grove of aspen just off the back road headed for Two Medicine. The grove is at the edge of a cow pasture filled with wild, untamed grass. Stretches of dry, golden prairie in the background rather than big, tall trees like you find on this side of the park. It's lonely there. Windswept and almost abandoned. I often think about this prayer tree and wonder if it is one pilgrim - or many - who visit there. Next time I go by, I'm definitely going to take some photos.

There are other ways I've noticed people making their prayers physical:

I've read about a cowgirl that ties a piece of paper to a tumbleweed and lets it roll in the wind.

In the movie, Lost in Translation, Scarlett Johanssen's character visits a shrine in Kyoto and ties a prayer to a cherry tree.

In Falling Angels, the third daughter - the fat one that everyone ignores - takes up home improvement. Before she nails the final wood panel on the wall of the rec room, she crafts a shrine to her dead baby brother  - the one no one talks about - and hides it in between the studs.

Tibetan Buddhists hang prayer flags and spin clicking prayer wheels as they walk along the street.

The writer Anne Lamott uses the drawer in her nightstand as God's "Inbox." She writes a prayer down on a slip of paper and "files" it there. 

If you know of other good examples, drop me a comment!

Our waterfall.

It's been a magical few days here. The rain stopped suddenly and brought enough sun to start melting the snow on top of the mountain.

We love this time of year. The snow melt floods the creek underneath our windows. The rushing water is so loud it reminds us of being at the ocean.

When we bought the property in 2004, it hadn't been lived on or tended for several years. The previous owners had used the creek as a garbage dump. After we finished remodeling the house in 2006, we hired three guys to help us clear brush, remove trash and make trails through the woods. 

The guys cut a trail from the house up to the art studio that runs right next to the creek. We put in several stone bridges and a bench or two along the way. I wish you could see it the way I see it, this video just doesn't even begin to tell the story.

NO.

And I mean just say NO. Uuuuuuuuuuggggggly. There is no imaginably good reason for you to wear an amphibious high heel.

Spokes.

Bike Wheel in Cemetery, originally uploaded by smwarnke4.

I've been working pretty steady in the art studio the last few weeks. Not exactly marathon sessions, but at least a couple of hours each day, and I'm making art, more than craft.

I've been working on two handmade books this week. I find that I am obsessed with bicycle and ferris wheels - a thread picked up from some work I did a few years ago but hadn't looked at until more recently.

Some of the structures were inspired by work I saw in Esther K. Smith's book. She does beautiful work. It's hard to keep going when I compare my work to hers.

Sometimes I wish I had a printing press, but then again, you can do many things with a piece of office paper and a color photocopier. I went to a workshop back in 2000 that was entirely about how to use the photocopier in the construction of artist books.  The two day class was taught by British artist Sue Doggett at the Minnesota Center for Book Arts.

Many of the photocopy techniques are published in Doggett's book, along with other ideas for making artist books. (Did you know you can preview entire chapters of books on Google?)

Sappy Mushrooms

Sappy Mushrooms, originally uploaded by twokitties.typepad.com.

These mushrooms are growing on a ponderosa pine in the woods next to our house. I like the really intense orange against the purple-blue bark.

Confession: We're Sunday Drivers

I'll be honest - I haven't been very blog-inspired the last two weeks. The weather here in Montana has been positively, unusually, dermatologically, sublime  and we've spent more time out of the house than in it.

On Saturday, Mike and I drove down to Missoula to see Junior Brown in concert. To see Junior live was Mike's dream come true. And he is an incredible guitarist - if you've got time, have a look at the video clip. The show rocked.

On Sunday, we wound our way back home through the back roads from Missoula towards Polson. We drove by this barn outside of Ronan - probably the most photographed barn in all of Montana.

The barn is on every calendar. Step back ten feet and you would see the houses and farms that surround it, but just like this - it's the stereotypical image everyone has of old Montana.

There are lots of babies around.

And we passed through St. Ignatius, which has a Mennonite community. I have a pretty bad You Tube video of a couple Sunday driving in their horse and buggy posted here.

I just liked the way the pasture horses were so interested in the buggy. Not much happens out there in a day, I guess.

My Theories: Some Proven, Some Not.

A short selection. Don't worry - more felt, fabric, and needlework coming up this week...

1. Stretchy pants make you fat.

2. Hotel soap is not pure soap. It is actually just a piece of cardboard dipped in a waxy, white, soap composite type material.

3. If you shorten your jeans, they will shrink. If you don't, they will always be just a leeeettle too long.

4. Animals know what we're thinking. If you have something you need your pet to understand, think it in your head, don't say it out loud. This also works on cats and dogs you meet on walks, or pass by in cars next to you on the highway.

5. I always try to look nice when I go to the doctor and when I am traveling. I believe that doctors and airline check-in staff determine how to treat people by the way they look. 

6. Chiropractors work, but you can never stop going. It's a forever deal.

To be continued....   

Making bad art.

Dang. It was one of THOSE days in the studio.

I threw harpoons at Lou Beach's whale and it wouldn't die for me.

Nothing worked.

I hated what I made.

I wasted precious and rare materials.

I wanted to give art up for good.

I've spent the rest of the day trying to convince myself that process really is as important as product.

That's what I tell everyone else.

And I believe it when I say it to them. But that logic isn't working on me.

(Lou Beach illustration)

Art Studio: Reuse and Recycle

Happy Earth Day!

I've been thinking about my garbage today. In fact, we think about our garbage every day. You would too if you had to drive your bags five miles to the dumpster each week! 

And, Montana doesn't have recycling. Not even cans. Everything goes in the bin.  So I've learned to reuse things in all kinds of ways.

Up in the art studio:

• I use old plastic containers and lids to store little things, or for messy tasks like mixing dye, paint or glue. And since my studio doesn't have running water in winter, I find you can never have too many on hand filled with water for cleaning brushes or hand washing.
• Smaller plastic packages in interesting shapes make great forms for casting resin.
• Cardboard from food packages can be used as book boards covers. I also use cardboard to scrape paint on a canvas or clear up messes.
• Styrofoam meat trays make excellent paint palettes.
• Interesting cardboard boxes are saved for "shrines."
• I use old magazines to test-fold hand-made books and pop-up elements, protect my work table from glue, and of course, collage.
• Paper from the shredder and dryer lint can be used to make pulp for handmade paper.

Down at the house:

• I make what I call "deer salad." Any vegetable that is past its prime goes into a bowl and is thrown into the far end of the orchard for animal munching. You can't call it compost because the food is never there the next day. Except for celery. Deer won't eat celery. And that's the only thing in the world a deer won't eat.
• I cut fruit in half and put it on a tree stump for our favorite squirrel, "Roy."
• Food that is still good can be thrown into soup and frozen for our lunches. We eat lots of soup since we both work from home.
• Instead of paper towels, I have a liberal supply of yellow Costco brand microfiber cloths on hand. People make fun of me because I have so many of these yellow things, but they clean so well with hot water, you don't always need chemical cleaning products.
• Incoming cardboard boxes are cut flat and Styrofoam peanuts go in a big trash can in our garage for future mailings.
• Jars are saved and sterilized to pack cherries at the end of the summer. The summer 8,000 pounds of our cherries went unsold was the summer I learned to can.

I wondered today what more I could learn from other artists who reuse materials in their studios. I've still got plenty of things going in the garbage that could be recycled....   

Low Price Lines from Top Designers

For years now, I've been a subscriber of W magazine. Check out Cairo. No one sells clothes like W.

Except for maybe V magazine (seriously), which I first stole from my Miami hair salon six years ago and now can't live without. It's a wilder version of W. The images above are from V's "Beauty" section.

After a careful read-through, I rip the magazines apart and alter the images for my art work. Along the way, I glean valuable information.

In this month's W, I was happy to see that 80's fashion icon Norma Kamali has agreed to launch a diffusion line at Wal-mart.  The line will launch in select stores in Fall 2008. She is already selling diffusion lines through Everlast Activewear and Spiegel.

Kamali follows a parade of designers reaching out to the low-price market. Check out Vera Wang at Kohl's; Ralph Lauren's American Living at JC Penney; and of course, Target's Design for All initiative. 

Japanese "Tie-Dye": Arimatsu Shibori Techniques

Lately, I've been thinking alot about Shibori. Probably because I just bought this skirt, and the family teenagers have been begging me to organize a Spring tie-dye session.

But, actually, tie-dye is to Shibori what paint-by-numbers is to Rembrandt. Shibori is a centuries old, traditional technique for embellishing kimono fabric. You'll see in this video how thousands of tiny, hand-tied knots create a dye resist on the fabric's surface.

I've heard it said that some women spend their entire working lives tying the same knot, over and over, all day long. Though this video is in Japanese, I think it gives a better introduction to the techniques and products of Arimatsu Shibori than I ever could. 

Heading Home.

Deschutes River, near Bend, Oregon, originally uploaded by twokitties.typepad.com.

By this time tomorrow, I'll be snuggled up in my bed in the lodge. The sounds of the creek beneath my window singing me to sleep.

If I'm lucky, the weather will be snowy. My husband starts a wood-burning fire on cold mornings and keeps it going all day. All year, he sets aside special logs for our fires. Lots of pitch means lots of crackling noises - and we love that.

Knitting group on Wednesday and walks with Buddy the dog, but other than that? I'm free.

Two Kitties Turns One!

Somewhere in all the flutter, Two Kitties had a birthday.

I started Two Kitties a year ago after stumbling upon Bella Dia .It was the first blog I'd ever read and I'll I could think was: HOLY SMOKES. I signed up with Typepad that same day.

The first few months were lonely. My sister, D., and Shalondra stuck with me through thick and thin. A year later, I get hundreds of hits every week from all over the world. I have a regular reader in Ankara, Turkey. 

A few of my all-time favorite posts are: Fiberart International 2007 ; Lee Ming-Wei: The Letter Writing Project; My before and after pics of my art studio; How to Explain Pictures to a Dead Hare: Joseph Beuys, and What I Know For Sure. Just to name a few.

Some of the most popular items on the site surprise me. "Felted Sweater Projects" is the most often read category of Two Kitties. The posts that get the highest number of Google hits are: Free Vintage Embroidery Patterns and this piece on Paint by Numbers. About two hundred people each week find me by Google Image Search and look at the paint-by-number painting of a deer I found at Goodwill for $2. Most of them are German!

Some posts seem to bounce into nothingness, but become increasingly popular over time. Like this piece on Botticelli's Virgin and Christ Child.

The web is fickle. Your work stays out there indefinitely, and so readers trickle in, flood in, flood out, and also slowly melt away.There is nothing quite like having 20% of your subscribers dump you because you wrote a post about your own life instead of felted wool.

It still makes me nervous when I spend a lot of time on something and literally no one reacts. Positive or negative. Sometimes, after the fact, I lose my confidence and delete things. Just as often, I delete things that I worry don't communicate exactly what I wish to say about art or an idea. 

And so I still struggle with the identity of Two Kitties. Sometimes I wish I had named it something else. That I'd chosen just Art or Craft or Life instead of trying to put them all on the same page. Mapped out my online identity like other bloggers do. Kept it focused on one or two of these popular ideas and just beat them to death until I created my own Heidi "brand", complete with etsy shop.

Then I remember that I started the blog because there was, literally, nowhere else for some of these thoughts to land. And then I found a whole community of people who love what I love. Some of them read it all and some just take a quick sip.

Whatever it is that brings you here, I hope you'll stay. I'm really glad you've found something meaningful on these pages. THANK YOU for reading Two Kitties - I'm looking forward to what comes next.

Japanese Obento Boxes

I love this website. It makes me want to go on picnics, or even start commuting to a desk job again.

Life Lesson No. MCMVIX

I'm just going to give it to you straight:

The way to get ahead is to do exactly what your employer asks of you. And then some.

I first learned this the hard way back in 1993 on a trading floor in Washington, DC. I could work like a machine, but I was still young (read: kinda arrogant and immature) and didn't realize that it wasn't always appropriate for me to give my input on every single item on the 'to do' list.

Toward the end of my years there, J. P.N. III said to me, [in frustration], "Just once, Heidi, I'd like to be able to ask for something, have it done, and not hear any crap about it!!"

But don't think of JPN as a jerk -  he isn't -  and we're still friends today. I was the jerk in this story.

Anyway. I never forgot that moment, but I don't think I really understood it until I became someone's boss. No - wait.

I didn't really understand it until I owned my own company, and my financial livelihood and professional reputation counted on employees being able to step up to the plate and fulfill a client's wishes. On non-negotiable deadlines.

I acquired this wisdom the hard way, but I'd like to share it with you for free.

Here is my advice:

1) From 9 to 5, put your own interests (and your personal appointments, cell phone, and PDA)  aside. Spend your time doing the best job you can, checking things off the 'to do' list your boss has given you. You should do this whether you are the trading floor assistant or Vice President of the company.

2) You can give input when you have truly gained the experience and skills that you need to go off on your own with clients, the trust of your employers in hand.

3) Assume there is something to be learned by every task, no matter how menial. Humility, patience and respect might be just what you need.

Related life lessons?

"Treat your boss like a boss first, and a friend second. And maybe not a friend at all."

Also - "No matter how smart and successful you are, you will still find yourself standing in front of a photocopier on a regular basis. Get over it."   

(photo credit: Flickr user: danielbeunza)

The great thing about little kids....

is that you can do things with them that you can't do with grown-ups.

The Noticing Project

(Photo credit: Nat Hansen)

My senior year of college, I took a short painting course from a professor who loved to work al fresco. We painted scenes of Georgetown in watercolor for three hours every morning and I loved every minute of it.

When you take art like a vitamin - every day Vitamin A -  you develop muscles you never knew you had. Your eyes really see what you are looking at; breaking it down into bits that the brain can translate for the hand that hopes to place it on a page.

You don't see just a house anymore, you see patterns of light and shadow on brick, sixteen different greens in the embrace of a tree. You begin to notice everything.

To this day, every time I smell bacon I am reminded of the day I worked on the roof of the art building on a painting of the monuments, looking down the Potomac. Breakfast was cooking at Mother's down below.

From my vantage point, I watched as two of DC's professional panhandlers changed shifts at 10:00, one taking over the milk crate the other had kept warm. I passed by them every day but, until then, it had never registered that they worked on shifts.

During graduation week, I walked by the two panhandlers on the opposite side of the street. I was on my way to mass and hidden in the folds of my black gown and hat. One yelled across, "Congratulations Painter Lady!"They had been watching me watch them and they could recognize the real me under all that stuff.

Today, visit The Noticing Project or 3191. Both are collaborations between artist-friends. Both make visual explorations of their every day surroundings. It is amazing, even inspirational to have someone show you what they see.

Fierce Bunnies: Recycled Sweaters or, How to Deal with Turbulence

I first learned about Siamese twins Lori and Reba Schappell in the BBC documentary Sisters of Hope. Like all conjoined twins, the Schappell sisters have to negotiate each of their individual desires and tastes within a shared body. One twin became a Mormon, the other a country western singer.

While we were flying through turbulence, I remembered the Schappell twins saying that they could go "invisible" when it was needed, to allow the other twin privacy and space to pursue their own interests.

They said they go inside their own minds, calmly unavailable and emotionally distant to the other twin during individual involvements. A mammoth compromise for two people joined at the head.

I tried to do this while we were flying, to keep my nervousness inside so Mike could pilot without having to deal with my emotional freakouts. It worked for me, but it confused him when I got so quiet, and really weirded him out when I tried to explain it to him later. One of those things that should never be said out loud, I guess.

So it was no small comfort when I came across these "Fierce Bunnies" made by Canadian artist Sonja Ahlers.

They speak to me, not only because of what I'd just been thinking about siamese twins, but because they are made from recycled angora sweaters.

That's the ultimate re-use: returning the bunny to the bunny.

Between the Moon and New York City

Four years ago in April, I met Mike at Smith and Wollensky on Miami's South Beach.

That night, I told him two things: 1) I never wanted to get married again; and 2) I'd never get in his airplane.

I'd never been to Montana but I'd heard about it, the way you hear about West Nile Virus or string theory.

So the point of this story is, last week I flew with my husband of three and half years in his airplane from our house in Montana down to New Mexico.

To avoid some weather, we cruised east towards Billings and then dipped down into Wyoming. We wound up in a kind of no man's land, where the only thing considered notable enough for our aviation maps was "numerous sand dunes."

It was still a little bumpy, but I kept from nervous barfing by concentrating on trying to find The Pioneer Woman's ranch.

She never says exactly where she lives, probably because folks like us with small airplanes would just drop on by. I figure (because of the wild mustangs) it has to be eastern Montana or Wyoming.

I never did find her but it helped me immensely.

Making Tracks

We spent last weekend at our house in Montana, the first time I've seen it in three months.

Everything was quiet, snowy, and peaceful.

With Buddy the dog left behind in Oregon and our resident bear asleep for the winter, the animals have once again claimed the woods as their own.

These are their tracks: deer; wild turkey; raccoon; rabbits, and squirrels. 

We built a fire in the big fireplace and kept it burning for two days. No one knew we were in town. I finished knitting the sweater and remembered the cherry vodka in the fridge downstairs.

It reminded me of the first summer we spent there - before the remodeling started. When we let our cherries fall to the ground and our biggest responsibility was to decide whether or not we would spend the day floating on the lake or hiking in Glacier National Park. Most days we floated.

Sorry to Wake You From Your Nap.

Seal at Pier 39 SFO, originally uploaded by heidirettig.

Just a little while ago, my new neighbor stopped by to introduce herself. The first thing she said when I opened the door was, "Sorry to wake you from your nap."

The problem? I wasn't napping. In fact I'd been awake for hours. I was willing to let it go until she said it again. And then a THIRD TIME.

So does that mean I am puffy-faced and disheveled even during the day?! Like this seal from Pier 39 in San Francisco? Mike says I should let it go but I can tell I'm going to struggle with it....:)

The Key to Happiness in Marriage: Learn to Be Alone.

I've lived all over the world and in many of those places, never stayed long enough to grow strong roots. I realized at some point that I was going to have to learn to be comfortable being alone. Somehow knowing that if I waited for a hand to hold, I was going to miss out on doing and seeing some of the things I really wanted to experience.

And that revelation has been totally liberating. Over the last fifteen years, I've traveled by myself all over the place; I can go solo to a movie or museum without a twinge; I've got projects on my art studio table that will keep me busy for years.

But it's dangerous too. In past relationships, my need for quiet time often eclipsed my need to be with the person. That's how I know Mike is my one and only - I'm happy to let him distract me with togetherness of any kind, and I'm just as happy to hear him tinkering out in the garage to the sounds of Country & Western, with a silent agreement that I'll just let him be for a few hours. 

That's a skill - to have enough within yourself so that your happiness isn't fixed minute-to-minute on someone else's star. Only then can you offer someone your love free and clear.