two kitties/small city

Kate Chopin: The Awakening

I've been looking for quotes or poems about the sea - thinking I would like to finish off these silly boards with some gilt text. It has been much harder than I thought to find something I like. Then, I thought of Kate Chopin's book, The Awakening. 

"The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clearing, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in the abysses of solitude; to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation. The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace." 

 The famous story. She is married to someone who drains her spirit; she has an affair; she swims out to sea at the end of the book (sorry to ruin it...) and never returns. A suicide in the deep. But I want to say I remember her sense of freedom in that - so...could I use the quotes and look at them as positive? Or would it be depressing?

“Even as a child she had lived her own small life within herself. At a very early period she had apprehended instinctively the dual life - that outward existence which conforms, the inward life which questions.” 

There is simple passion there, too. 

“The lovers were just entering the grounds of the pension. They were leaning toward each other as the water oaks bent from the sea. There was not a particle of earth beneath their feet. Their heads might have been turned upside down, so absolutely did they tread upon blue ether.” 

I read it ten years ago. I'm thinking of reading it again. Not quite related - I met someone once who had a mother with a history of depression. One day, her mother filled her pockets with rocks and walked out into the sea. She did live. 

Art-Based New Year Resolution: Update

So, you're probably wondering how that New Year's resolution is going. It's going. As long as both you and I keep our expectations low, it will be do-able, I think.

Sixteen days into the New Year I can say that I've been *in* to the studio each and every day. There were days when all I did was walk in and set something on my table and walk right back out. There was a day when all I did was sort out child-related vintage patterns to send to a friend. And another when all I accomplished was color printing a set of hang tags for the sprays to see what they might look like.I did a lot of thinking, and pushing paper around.

And I worked on projects. I glued magnets on the back of these spice tins that I took out of my mother's cabinets. Never a cook, these tins were with us for our entire childhood and then some. They are probably forty years old and were still full.  They were never used and never going to be used, but still she wouldn't throw them away. It was as if doing so might commit her to another life, the one she was really living instead of the ideal that someone else had impressed upon her.

I decided to continue making Christmas ornaments for 2012.  I didn't put up a tree or make a special meal this year, in spite of my plans. It was a mistake. A learning experience. At first it seemed that I was relieved of a great burden - no cooking; no obligations. Now I know the difference between what I do for others and what I need for myself. Apparently, I enjoy making a nice meal and decorating a little.

So, New Year/New Studio I decided that I had quite enjoyed working on Christmas decorations I had started last month and wanted to continue. The year stretches out before me making the projects less daunting. I finished some simple felt hearts with wings, showing them to the mama cardinal who perched outside my window and watched me work - for an amazingly long time.

Somewhere I read that the best handmade trees are inspired by the things you just have around.  So I remembered these needle felted kitties that I made a couple of years ago. It made me quite sad to finish work on these, remembering the time they were made and thinking of how much has changed since then.

I almost stopped but then decided to use the time to really think through it. Needle felting is good for that. I've been tossing and turning  Brene Brown's statements on shame, and it all seems to relate. This time, this period year of suffering, I went remarkably inside myself (versus the usual too-much-information approach).

You see, last Spring, I had lunch with a friend of twenty-odd years and I told her something of what I'd been through and I thought I saw a flicker in her eyes. I recognized it, or thought I did, as a motion of the all-too-familiar. She'd heard it before. Specifically, she'd heard it from me. And how can I blame her for that*?

And, so, I just went inside, embarassed; ashamed of the part I played in my own unhappiness, hoping it would wear off and that someday I will return to "normal" and our friendship will resume on its old terms.  Strangely, as the months pass, I realize that I walked away from that experience a different person. I'm the same, but different. I'll have to needle felt some more before I can explain that.

On a bad day, I feel like one of those "black cloud" people that my old boss described to me so many years ago. Something major/something bad is always happening and you learn to avoid them. The crack in the yoga mat types, but more. When my favorite nun emailed an invitation to go on retreat in January, I didn't even consider it. What more do I have to say? And what more can I expect from them? That was my thought.

The needle felting was a good exercise, though. If it hurt me to work on finishing the kitties, I realized that one or two of the other projects I thought I should finish could, in fact, just be thrown in the trash. So I did just that and no one died.

Finally, I began working on a rosary. Cherry pits for prayer beads; the stations have pieces of old cyanotypes (layer one, above) and then bird bones set in resin. I agonized for several days over brass materials vs. silver or gold but decided to just bite the bullet and start. Worrying about what will/won't be archival can sometimes be the difference between getting going and letting things sit. As if it will wind up in the Louvre.

Sunday seems to be a good day to spend time in the studio. What a miracle to love someone who LOVES football. I mean, he can sit and watch football for ten hours straight and be as happy as he can possibly be. I don't know what all those other women are complaining about.

How was your weekend?

 

*Note: That's not what my friend told me; that's what I interpolated and then organized my interactions with all other old friends around. I'm not saying it's right or wrong. I'm just telling you what I imagined and then did.

More Brick Signatures.

I walked to work this morning, hoping the sunshine would bust me out of my winter funk. I'm in such a bad way that I couldn't even be bothered to go to New York the last two weekends. What is wrong with me?! Both were recreational trips designed as treats to myself (of no consequence when canceled)...but, still.

I found another brick signature on my path today. This one says B O.  Vintage leopard coat and red "Kelly" bag I bought in Paris many years ago (that's in quotes because it's fake) to try and push away the blahs.

People collect marked bricks, but my neighborhood bricks seem to pre-date the molded signatures. I wonder if all I'm seeing is just a kid writing in the cement of the day with a stick? I wrote away to the International Brick Collectors Association to see what I might learn.

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:

 

[Little] Man's Search For Meaning.

 

White Kitty, aka "Karl" or "Little Man" checks out the neighborhood.

Lately, I've been deep in e-conversation with blog friend kstreetjournal about...well, it's about a lot of things. But the overarching question is whether it is best to write about the difficult stuff or to keep the blogs all "shiny and successful and American Dreamy..."

You know, I think I've done both. The felted sweater people came in droves but would instantly abandon me whenever I wrote about some of the things that were on my mind. It was sometimes discouraging, almost like you could hear someone saying, "I don't care what you think, I just want you to shut your pie hole and sew," as a button clicked ''unsubscribe' in the background.

I thought my writing had candor. I preferred my style to blogs that present endless accounts of bright, happy, well-scrubbed marriages and perfect children. Who can help but be disappointed by the reality of a marriage after so much buildup? We think we've come a long way, baby, but we're still dreaming up 'perfect' weddings and cooking photo-perfect dinners we feel too guilty to eat.  No one says a word about what happens when your partner loses a job, your mother-in-law turns against you, or you gain fifty pounds because you hate your life. Maybe someone should. Sometimes I think I may have helped someone; there is so much of that whitewashing going on in the world.

But I can see, now, that I was only telling partial truths myself. Because you don't want to ruin it - for yourself or for others. You seek out the beauty in the every day, wherever you can find it. You imbalance toward your strengths. I look back at the old blog and...I know I was there and what I said was true enough at the time...it is my real history. But I also feel very removed; I no longer identify that way of thinking; writing; looking at the world as my own. It's strange, but also strangely o.k.

I've stopped reading a few blogs here and there. One woman was always uploading photos of herself but saying how she "never uploads photos of herself" and rounding it out with a healthy dose of how cool she used to be in the 80's, just proof that her son started listening to her old cassette tapes. Her blog is hugely popular and I felt like that was the whole point. She was always trying to remind me that she was hugely popular and creative and super perfect and after awhile, I just didn't care. I checked in some months later and saw that she had changed her tack. Not getting a book deal from the first go 'round she tried something else; disorganized "real" mother type of thing. It still doesn't work because it still lacks authenticity. Another woman had more interesting things to say but rounded out every blog post with a small complaint. And I found that got on my nerves. Like, I'm really sorry your new $10 yoga mat has a crease in it, but...quite frankly, you just sound like a whiner. And if that's your authentic self, I don't want to be your blog friend.

But then, that's not really fair, either. People don't really know you from your blog. Not the all of you. I spent some time on FB today making suggestions to someone about a book cover and later it seems my suggestions turned out to be somewhat smart. And I wanted to say..."Well,  yes, I'm not just a cat-loving; exercising; book-reading, People-of-Walmart.com following Vegan. I kind-of/sort-of know a lot about developing and promoting creative work. But, of course, they probably don't know that. Sometimes I try to talk about work on FB but people seem to prefer my posts about my new vintage leopard faux fur coat.

What's your view? Should blogs write in the difficult bits? Or stay American Dreamy? Or is it more complicated than that?

2011: Year in New View.

My sister shared this link with me and I like it. First sentence, "Even if you didn't reach all the goals you set for yourself this year, you still had many successes." I decided to give it a whack, a follow-up on my annual review.

 

Make a list of all the things you learned this year:

Galloway's running method; how to bake with ground flax (versus eggs); a great deal about Actors' Equity union; how to tile a bathroom; how to hang sheet rock; that I'm severely allergic to poison ivy; that there are very good reasons quilters do things the way they do; it's not my job to make everyone in the room feel comfortable; Quickbooks. I might add to this list over the next few days.

 

People you met and connected with:

Zannestar, my long time blog friend; inspiring new theatre people at a big conference; reconnected with several folks from high school, but on a grown-up level. The Grand Poobah.

Blog and websites you were featured on:

Refinery29.com; thecollaredsheep.com, any of my own websites (of course).

What helpful books did you read:

SHED by Julie Morgenstern - not just organizing, but getting things sorted so that you are in position for the life you want to have. Engine 2 Diet. The Verbally Abusive Relationship by Patricia Evans. Elegies for the Brokenhearted by Christie Hodgen. The latter is a series of short stories - so wonderful. I had to take a month off reading after I finished it so I could digest what she had done.

 

What did you do that was totally out of your comfort zone:

I rented an office after ten years of working from home; I started a new business; moved to a new town; drove cross-country by myself.I put in ad in a national magazine for my old and new businesses.

 

New items you created:

I made a baby quilt.Developed a series of retail products and a new website.Started a work place advice column.

A new skill you learned:

Vegan baking.

The number of new followers on Facebook, Twitter, and your blog:

I think I have 300+ followers on Twitter this year; maybe 50 on LinkedIn; maybe 50 on Facebook; and I'm not sure about the blogs. This blog was only shared with a handful of old followers; new ones are welcome, as they find it organically.

 

How many blog posts did you write:

 Not as many on my personal site, but I tried to write more frequently on my work blog.

 

Places you showed your art:

Uh....

Shows you applied to and got into:

None.

I included those two questions because (perhaps) next year I will have different answers.

 

Your revamped studio space:

I like my new studio. It was a bedroom that J converted for me. We sprayed the whole thing white and I bought a drafting table at a garage sale. It has a really nice, sunny feel to it. Especially in the morning. My black cat loves to spend time in there. When she hears the door open she runs upstairs and jumps on my chair. In the summer, she positions herself in front of the air conditioner becuase she likes the air blowing on her. I like being close to water to clean brushes (I didn't have water in my Montana studio) and a bathroom. Looking at these old pictures, I'm also glad I have heat and the pesticide truck isn't screaming through every two days spraying carcinogens all over my projects.

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.

IKEA Maskros Pendant Light

Went to IKEA. Bought a light. It totally transformed our bedroom. This is the "Maskros." Large size. We love it. Next: paint and curtains.