This summer, I've spent a little time looking at figurative painting, portraiture and still life. I'm trying to gather information for insight into some of the flailing I've been doing in the art studio over the last year or so.
I'm 38, and I've never, in my entire life, had any ability or interest in figurative work. Until now. All of the sudden, I want to paint portraits of people - real and imagined - and paint bodies.
Last year I resolved to acknowledge the birthday of each and every
friend with something special or handmade. If you were born in the first part of
January, you probably received something pretty amazing. By the end of January, something personal but rather hastily assembled. By February I had mostly
given up and spent the rest of the year feeling guilty. Perhaps I should release the guilt and focus on re-gifting instead.
People do it. According to Kitty Kelley, Nancy Reagan was an enthusiastic "re-gifter" during her years in the White House. The problem with re-gifting is that, inevitably, mistakes are made. Reagan made a birthday present to
her step-grandson. Cameron, of a teddy bear that had been recycled from the White
House gift closet—the same bear Cameron had lost there a few months
earlier.
I received a beautiful bowl from friend just after I was married - with a card to and from someone else at the bottom of the box. I might have thought nothing of it if the accompanying linens hadn't been stained and worn. There is vintage, and then there is vintage. Even stranger is the habit of putting bland, identity-less objects in storage to pad last-minute gifts. You know what I'm talking about. Dollar store coffee mugs, decorative napkins, or knick knacks you might display as 'decor' in your bathroom.
Perhaps I'm being unfair but, for me, a gift is an expression of love and care. I put quite a bit of thought into what I package up for my friends and loved ones. I do have things in storage, but only because I think of you all year long, wherever I am. If I'm shopping in San Francisco and I find something I think you'll like, I put it in a box in my closet that has your name on it.
I was touched to learn that Neil Gaiman writes stories as gifts for friends. What more could you ask for on your birthday? I may try that next year.
How do you feel about regifting? Have you ever received a regift? Have you ever given one?
I love, love, love, this idea. I have an antique chair frame sitting on the deck right now - but haven't been able to decide what I want to do with it. I think I'll spray paint it vamp red and plant it in the woods.
For whatever reason, I can't link to the original post, but you can find it - and many other interesting thoughts - on http://www.shedstyle.com
I've been wanting to make handmade paper for years. It wasn't until I moved to Montana that I really had the right space to make paper at home. My sister and I set up in the orchard, just outside the art studio.
Earlier this year, I shredded my old journals to ready myself for summer pulp. I had the idea to make seed paper. My friends were horrified that I'd shredded my memories, but honestly -I kind of liked the idea of all that mid-twenties angst being planted in the soil and becoming something a little more green and new.
But, of course, when you have the time you never have the seeds, right? So we just soaked it in the bus boy tubs and then obliterated the chunks in a blender. The pulp was a pale blue from ink.
Hours and hours of writing done during my commute on the DC Metro.
I used a mould and deckle I bought from someone off ebay. I'm kind of underwhelmed. The slats on the back of the deckle don't allow me to use my wet/dry vac to suck out the extra water from underneath. That means it takes a lot longer to dry. And it is pretty much the only reason I bought the wet/dry vac.
But it does give me that nice Tibetan peace flag feeling when it hangs on a line in our orchard.
I found this little gem while browsing the bookstore. Basically a 'how to' book for using ventriloquism in difficult situations - like during a drug intervention for your best friend. The possibilities are mind boggling.
Or this. A wreath made from recycled paper. Vague instructions are here, and photos at the Rag & Bone Book Art blog. I am forever grateful to Craft Tutorials for introducing me to Rag & Bone.
Gwen Stefani's wedding dress was designed by John Galliano in 2002. I count this dress as one of my all time favorites - simply for the pink ombre blush that creeps up the hem. Love it.
"Too often, people confuse power and love. They may think they are in a love relationship with another person, when in reality, they are locked in a power dynamic, wanting to gain control, manipulate, blame, or judge. Power and Love are two different things." -- Marion Woodman, Jungian analyst.
I love Evgen Bavcar's Dream of Motion. A white bicycle on a black background, with five swallows being pulled through the air by a floating hand.
"Sight Unseen" , an exhibit at UCR/California Museum of Photography pulls together the work of twelve blind photographers from around the world.
Yes. Blind. Not experimenting with the camera, but highly skilled artists bent on capturing what they "see" in the world around them.
The artists interpret "sight" broadly. This isn't straightforward documentary work - pointing a camera at something that seems like it might be interesting for gallery visitors. It is, as often, an attempt to pose, stage, or create a scene that comes from inside the artist's mind. So we can see how the blind see.
Designer Tejo Remy makes the Rag Chair by bundling old clothes together with polyester packing straps. The chair sells for $4300 at Droog, a website worth checking out just for the sake of it. Remy will accept bundles of your old clothes, for your custom order.
The chair has something in common with a small, but lovely book I read last summer called Love, Loss and What I Wore. A collection of memories organized around by what the author, Ilene Beckerman, was wearing at different moments in her life. Sometimes it was the moment that mattered to her, at others, it was the person - often her grandmother - who sewed the dress for her.
It would be interesting to go through the process of bundling up all those significant moments and then...watch a stranger sit on them.
'Edith, you are a romantic,' he said with a smile....
'But why must I be called a romantic just because I don't see things the same way as you do?'
'Because you are misled by what you would like to believe. Haven't you learned that there is no such thing as complete harmony between two people, however much they profess to love one another? Haven't you realized how much time and speculation are waste, how much mythological agonizing goes on, simply because they are out of phase? Haven't you seen how the light touch sometimes, nearly always, in fact, is more effective than the deepest passion?'
'Yes, I have seen that,' said Edith, sombre.
'Then, my dear, learn to use it. You have no idea how promising the world begins to look once you have decided to have it all for yourself. And how much healthier your decisions are once they become entirely selfish...you must learn to discount the others. Within your own scope you can accomplish much more. You can be self-centered, and that is a marvellous lesson to learn.'
'But if you would prefer to share your life?' asked Edith.
My 20th high school reunion was this past weekend. I didn't go. Some of my reasons for not attending were good ones. Maybe not as good as the excuses I used for the 10th. I wish I had attended both.
If you want to gain insight into someone's mind, lean across the table and say "high school reunion." You'll definitely get an interesting response. What comes into your mind when I say "high school reunion" to you?