two kitties/small city

Agnes Richter: Agnes's Jacket

Agnes Richter was a seamstress before she was committed to an Austrian mental institution. She spent her days embroidering secret messages into the linen of her uniform. The coping mechanisms of the insane is the topic of a new book by Gail Hornstein, PhD, called Agnes's Jacket.

in honour of the fact that life is short: Danielle LaPorte

in honour of the fact that life short

 

wear your white shirts. get them pressed.
use your good dishes — everyday.
shave on weekends.

do not wait for special occasions.
do not tuck your best away in the drawers, in the back of the closet, in your heart.
don’t wait for holidays or invitations.

declare that your today is the special occasion.

call instead of emailing. (it feels so good to connect.)
go for coffee.

quit.

renounce your glory days. you’ve told all of those stories more than twice.
focus forward.

wear perfume for yourself. toss your only-wear-around-the-house clothes and let your good clothes graduate to around-the-house status.
intend to feel good all of the time.

write your book.

launch.

make great sex a priority. (this alone will make you more creative and free. on your death bed, you will think about all the great sex you had this lifetime.)

burn your to-do list.

write poetry. One a day.

make a point to be as encouraging as possible, as much as possible, to everyone possible.

don’t look back.

if you feel like you’re always failing, consider that this is part of being an artist. let it be a divine inclination. keep going.

enter.

leave.

eat real food.

often refuse to be in the presence of people who make you feel repressed, anxious, or pull your frequency down.

do not entertain haters.

send light to the haters.

give it away. you probably don’t need it and someone else does.

turn off the tv.

let it be easy.

burn candles. during the day.

fall in love. with yourself. with the person you’re with. with the persons in your orbit.
because no one is perfect, but you can let the love be perfect for the both of you.
because everyone — everyone — is a doorway to God.
because you can get there from here.

because life is short.

--Danielle LaPorte

 

Go in Peace. And think about everyone -- everyone -- being a doorway to God. 

Christina Bothwell:: Obsolete

I came across Christina Bothwell's work via Pinterest. Sometimes I think Pinterest replaces the style of my old blog. "You don't need me anymore. You can find your own interesting stuff."

And then other times, I think, "You'll never see this unless I share it on Two Kitties/Small City."

Centaur, 2011, cast glass, raku clay, oil paints, found objects, 21" x 21" x 11" (CB112)  

 

Kundalini, 2011, cast glass, window glass, raku clay, found objects, oil paints, 11" x 5" x 4" (CB114)  

A Manifesto for the Next Ten Years.

Source: brainpickings.org via Elena on Pinterest

Deep Thoughts.

Found on Pinterest. I like Nos. 1, 3, 9, 11-20. Well, ok...all of them. I live by number 17. And I'm wrong a lot. Except about number 21.  I was never able to make my mother proud until I stopped trying.

Source: dishfunctionaldesigns.blogspot.com via Linda on Pinterest

Time Wasting: 101

A friend on FB introduced me to this site. You upload your face into one of literally thousands of stupid templates. I made this one of my and my BF:

Brene Brown: The Power of Vulnerability

 

On the topic of authenticity, sharing your real self on blogs (or elsewhere), I wanted to share Brene Brown's TED Houston talk:

 

Art-Based New Year Resolution

I've been mulling over a 365 Challenge a la Cathy Cullis for a few weeks now. I thought for awhile that I might do an abstract watercolor painting-a-day. Or a collage/journal entry.

But then I decided that it was enough to just make the commitment to be in there. Every day. Without imposing any rules or restrictions; just being and doing. Maybe some days I will simply sort, toss, organize. Others? Pick up unfinished projects or start those I've always had planned. Or something totally new.

I went in today for a couple of hours. Cutting a path toward the back where my table sits.

Lots going on in here, as you can sort of see. My camera is in the car and it's too cold to go get it. J would totally go get it for me but he's doing paperwork and watching football and I don't want to bother him with one more thing today since I already made him a) nail a window shut to keep the wind out; b) pour some orange house paint into a smaller jar for me so I could take it up to the studio; c) meet me at Books-A-Million for coffee; and d) put up my IKEA lamp and then "go get a cat" so I could see how the kitty would react to the new light. (He did go get the kitty; she does like the light.) He went to the store and cooked dinner, did the dishes, and then moved my car to a better parking spot  - but that was on his own initiative so I am not counting that stuff on my list of demands. Still, I'm not really in a position to ask him to get get anything else right now.

But back to the 365 project. Still haven't recovered from the move, in studio terms. Lighting is a problem all over the house - our wiring is from the 1930s and it was never brought up to the third level, i.e. the ceiling of this room.Which doesn't explain the bare light bulb situation, but I actually prefer the bare bulb to the shade the came with this [inherited] lamp. So.

There is crap everywhere. I have pieces of paper I've saved for collage for ten years. TEN YEARS. This 365 thing means that if I don't use it by the end of the year for something; anything...it goes. Unless it is really special - like my handmade cyanotypes. The paper that was packed in a Crate and Barrel mail order package I received nine years ago? May not be a keeper.

But no matter - I will eventually get it sorted. Because I'm going to be working in there every day this year. I putzed around in there today. Cleared off the side table and then made it messy again; painting the sides of a set of collage boards (orange) I've been working on off and on for...oh...three years at least.Painted the inside of an old drawer white - in preparation to make it a shadow box. An idea I've had since 2004. I've had all the stuff since at least 2006. I just have to execute it.

These orange-sided collages are pages from an old book on ocean life, stitched with neon embroidery thread and then waxed with orange crayon; glued to board. Not sure what happens next. Some gold leaf text, I think.

I made J hang up the gold museum frame with the scissors on it (ooh, forgot to include that in my list, above). I made it awhile back; just an old thing I had in my Montana studio. This way, I know which scissors are for art vs. sewing. Museum frame = art scissors. "Ophelia" painting hangs to the left; she is being looked at and thought about. Next layer is probably white over her skin.

I started this painting a couple of summers ago. I promised to sell it to a playwright in LA when it's finished. That was in June. I've done a few things to it but not sure what I want to do next. Wax and hair is tempting. Not even sure if the playwright cares anymore. Whatever - for now I will just leave it in a prominent place so I can meditate these important questions.

Finally, I hoovered.

Better pictures (and grammar!) next time, I promise.

Shell: Art Installation by Susie MacMurray

UK artist Susie MacMurray installed 20,000 mussell shells in the hallway of a mansion in West Sussex, England. The shells were salvaged from a local fish restaurant, bleached and scrubbed, then lined with impossibly expensive silk velvet. 

The mansion, Pallant House, was built in 1712 for Henry Peckham (a wine merchant) and his wife Elizabeth. The Peckhams commissioned the house with great enthusiasm and a love of fine materials. They hoped the new Georgian style would make its "mark" on Chicester.

Unfortunately, the Peckhams failed to replicate that love and enthusiasm within their marriage. It was a sterile union; the only joy the two could share was in the creative work that went into the house. They abandoned the home shortly after it was finished. It is now a gallery for site-specific art work. 

 

Tanja Hollander: Are You Really My Friend? Facebook project

I read about "Are You Really My Friend?" Facebook project by photographer Tanja Hollander on etsy.com. This portrait is one of almost 600 of Hollander's FB friends. It's so much deeper than that, though, and the article stayed in my mind for a few days, especially since I just recently met one of my good blog friends [in person] for the first time. Read it.