in which I start. something.

This is going to ramble a bit, or maybe it won't and I'll get straight to a point. Maybe. Maybe not.

Idea: these little amusing characters that Rob & I made up to amuse each other. A cast that can be made into stuffed toys or vinyl toys and have children's books with their stories in them. So far rob has been way more creative & productive than I have with these guys. But we have fun making up scenarios and putting them into them to see what they do. We let our imaginations run free and it's fun.

Stuck: He's sculpted a few. I've drawn a few. We talk about them & make up stories. Want to actually "bring them to life", so to speak - write out these stories, make these characters, draw the pictures.

But. I. Haven't. Yet.

Fear: Lots. Things like "failure" and "finances" and "do something useful with your life" keep popping up. There are other, smaller, slightly less pestering fears that filter in here and there, but those 3 are the main ones. The big ones. The "DO NOT HIT THIS RED BUTTON" ones.

Havi: The awesome inspiration of Havi Brooks and Selma, over at The Fluent Self, whose blog I read for great "You can do it!" type of thinking, who does amazing things with yoga and brains (totally in a smart way, not in a weird "Ruutting on dee Ritz/Frankenstein" way) and offers ways to stop procrastinating that are really, really effective and well, awesome. We talked last week, as a training session (I got to play guinea pig for her to work on a new method in return for a bit of help and insight to what I want to work on) where I voiced those fears and walked through some of the things affecting my creative process.

Let's just say I learned that this is one tree I want to climb and am figuring it out as I go along.

This is where this "start. something." comes in.

Process: I now admit I'm not good at the photos part. I admit I dislike video blogging, and 99% of the time I will close a page with a video article because I'd rather read. And I know writing takes the time and effort, but it's what I prefer. I prefer the tactile of painting, sculpting, making messes. Remembering to take photos -then download, resize, save, and upload -those photos takes a lot more time than I am willing to invest on a real routine basis. So I will do my best to continue the photos as I can, but I'm going back to the words. Because to me that's what blogging is all about.

More process: Havi suggested (gently urged in that "Just Do It" way she has) that I write myself a permission slip to take 45 minutes to actually, well, "Do" something with this.

Ok. So I failed for this past weekend. I let myself procrastinate on this 'process' and did not use that 45 minute permission slip. I stretched canvas & gesso prepped. I worked on the articles I have on deadline in the next few days. I attended an Airsho meeting where we sorted things out for the Sho next month while beating the usual dead horses (not literally, that would take more than the four hours). And I spent time talking to Rob whom I hadn't gotten to talk to much for the past two weeks.

But! I feel ok about this. It's like I'm clearing the table to make room to work on things. I get these articles done & I can work on these self projects.

And here is where I will document it. Because as we worked out, there have got to be lots of other artists out there who have the same fears and wonders about bringing these things together and making them happen the way we visualize them.

So. Raise your glass. Or tube of paint. Here's to figuring out the process, accepting that it is all about the learning, seeing where it goes, and making things happen. And knowing that this is just one tree. There are plenty more trees out there to go climb later. Right now, this is the one I want to climb.

(Thank you Havi. You are wonderful to work with. I bow in your presence! And will name one of these lil' guys after you. Or Selma.)

spider dance

In the realm of symbolism, I can understand meanings. Usually. If I'm paying attention.

A delicate weaving of threads so light that they catch the morning dew to glisten in the rising sunlight. There is a peaceful space here, between the broad leaves of a flowering plant. I cannot name the names, other than the daisy or the rose, and the hibiscus next to the jasmine vine. So I have no idea what this yellow blooming thing is. And in the long run of life, I realize I don't really care. I'm way more fascinated by the delicate webbing softly strung between the broad green leaves.

I have a respect for this space. The flowers and the webs. The leaves and the earth. I can respect that this space is sacred and beautiful and meant for this little creature to call home.

So I ask for the same respect in my space. It is unnerving to see a small eight-legged creature making its way across the wall above my bed or desk. It moves so silently, so quickly, so effortlessly across whatever path it may be on.

There is enough of awareness in me to know if the spider I'm watching is a menace or not. After all, a black widow or brown recluse is far more dangerous than the scorpion that stung me the other night, and a daddy long legs is just a very awkward little spider body with big long legs that brings out the torture gene in most children but really can cause no harm.

Spiders mean creativity. They are a sight to behold as much as the learned fears that we react to. Does it mean I'm on the path I belong on, the path across the world that leads from one place to another, is the right path? Or that I perhaps need to follow another direction? Am I in a beautiful garden, weaving a delicate and resiliant home between blades and flowers, reflecting the light and dancing in the breeze? Or am I wandering across the wall in someone else's space, trying to figure out where I belong, running into dark corners in avoidance of being squashed?

some art bits

Painting. Spent the evening playing with green paint on a cardboard heart, rearranging paints & brushes, gluing random things to other random things.

I like being artful.

This one is the large 5x3 painting I currently have leaning against the wall in front of me when I'm working at the drafting table. It's a work in progress, like many things are, I just haven't figured out the pattern for the overlay yet. Very inspired by Pollack, yes.

Hi!

I'm back from the travels of the past few weeks - haven't had time to download the over 400 photos yet, though. I'm hoping to do that this weekend. In between I've got several pieces to write - so all my words will be going there for a few days, 'k?

6 feet of beat up wood

He told me it originally came from Denver, he bought it from a lady selling off stuff up there a good number of years ago. He used it for several projects, repairing or putting together his own stuff. Now he & his wife are moving to a smaller place and getting rid of lots of stuff (awesome old stove, but I didn't have the $995 to pay for it...)



It has this musty oil & dirt smell that I'm hoping to work out a bit, maybe sand it down as my brother suggested, maybe work in some orange oil or beeswax to help the wood. Yes, I know, it'll just get messy again. But now it's mine & I want to clean it up a bit before going to work on it.

It's sturdy. Thank you to Momma, Daddy, Lawrence & The Gina for helping with the loading, wrist twisting, unloading, and general maneuvering of this thing today!

It was a price I was willing to pay for something with history and something that will handle what may get thrown at it. It has a grinder, a vise grip, six drawers, and a wood grip. The backboard (seen leaning against the wall in the photo above) has hooks for tools like saws and hammers, and three rows of metal screw on lids for the box full of jars - meant for screws or nuts or bolts or small nick nack things. Since I have jars full of art stuff on my bookshelves already - things like beads, copper pieces, cloth strips, brightly colored condoms, confetti, my great-grandmothers knitting needles, necklace charms, and mini-nail polish bottles - I figure this will be a good place for them all!

This work bench is not made of mdf board or a kit. This is heavy, thick, sturdy wood. I am in awe at the find and everything fell into place for me to get it. And! When we went to pick it up, there were about a dozen small blue & grey butterflies flitting about where we parked in their yard. To me, that is a good sign.

Now, well, now I have to figure out where to put it, get the wiring fixed (cause it's severely old and shredded and looks like it was made before the light bulb was invented), and then actually start using it. (hmm, I almost typed 'losing it', but that makes as much sense because I do tend to pile things on top of things and never see them again... let's try not to do that with this...)

Oh! I also have this little round thing, almost like a stool, no more than a foot across and maybe five or six inches high, with three little feet on the bottom, that I picked up at an antique store last year for 3 bucks - turns out it was an ice cream blending board from Blue Bell. Crazy. Can perch this on the work bench too!

Ok, so I like the wood. (totally not meant to be an innuendo... seriously. really. but if you actually know me, well, then... you know...)

Enough. Have also been clearing things here and there, and am now to the moving of things around part. Sorta. It's getting there. But I'm giddy at having a new (to me) work bench, and the ideas and thoughts that come from the creative freedom to think of what I want to do next!

the problem with 'organizing' is...

In the process of moving things around, pushing stuff out of the way and boxing things up to store, well, I can't find where I put my wire cutters and wire and hooks.

The hand held blue cutters/pliers are not where I thought they were. Nor are they where I thought they weren't.

They are not under my bed. Nor is the roll of wire.

They are not on the futon by the door. Nor under it.

They are not on the cd bookshelf. Because I'd notice them standing out against all those cd cases.

They are not in my tool bag. There are books, drill bits, a flip razor box cutter, a bag of m&m's, a bottle of lotion, and a sharpie in that tool bag, but no wire piler/cutters. Shut-up, the m&m's and lotion totally count as tools. Um, so do the books. The sharpie is for drawing on random things like walls and Rob's legs... oh, distracted from the hunting...

They are not in the closet where I was also looking for a shirt to wear that did not involve sleeves.

They are not in that box of paints and brushes, but I did find the pink I was looking for last week.

They are not in my backpack, on the bookshelf with the ducks, or under the shoes by the door.

I'm taking this as a sign that these three pieces are not ready to be wired or hung yet, and so will leave them alone for now. Move onto another project... where I'm sure they'll show up eventually anyway.

swiping the green

Picked up some small plastic containers for storage - I'm sorting my own random trinkets into clear boxes, because then I can see what I have. I'm also shifting some of Lawrence & Gina's art supplies into storage so I can use the drafting table for the bigger pieces I'd like to work on.

Picked up some more wood - still kinda wet, waiting for it to dry, so I can make my own frame to stretch a canvas. New painting now in the works.

I've been contemplating dying my hair blond, don't really know why, just feel like it for some reason. We'll see what happens there. That mood may pass.