Make It Work

Yesterday I was working on the two painting projects for the Boys & Girls Club auction, grumping in my head that I dislike both projects, fretting that the furniture is poorly made, struggling to make a paintbrush fit in the nooks and crannies shorter than the brush is long, when I thought of Tim Gunn on Project Runway.  He'd stop in the workroom to check on the designers on Project Runway and after hearing about their plans, maybe sometimes their dilemma, he'd tell them to "make it work."  Even with the flaws in the furniture, I need to make it work.  Time to think outside the box and consider something other than just my typical painting designs.  Maybe I should consider decoupage or some other means of embellishing the furniture.  What the heck, at least it will detract from the "ick" factor of it.  Bahaha.

With my son home more than not, I am finding more time to work in my studio space, but still feeling guilty about not cleaning house.  Will there ever be a balance?  Two of my three cats continue to explode fur as they walk, leaving behind enough to build a new cat, and I'm stuck with a newish vacuum cleaner that can suck up lizard tails (thank you kitties for THAT little gift under the sofa), but mechanically chuckles to itself while I make pass after pass over the poofs of fur that remain stuck to the carpet.  Their is a conspiracy afoot to prevent me from getting artwork done.

Today I feel the pressure to work on the furniture, fret that the last of my fabric hasn't arrived for the quilt I intended to make (that I just can't imagine getting finished on time), and still have to collect old photos, clip art, etc. for the soldering class I'm taking this coming weekend.   Am I really such a procrastinator that I feel I get so little done with so many hours in a day?  My plan for time management isn't quite finely tuned just yet.

Another day in the battle with the clock.

Making Lists

Time management is not my forte.  A few years ago my boss encouraged me (with no real option on my part) to attend a session being offered at the hospital on time management, run by a consultant that I knew well and who knew what a mess my office always was.  The one thing I took from that class that I still try to use today is list making.  If there are just too many things to do and no way to remember them all, I make a list of the top 3-5 "to do" projects, mark them off as they are completed, and only have on my desk what I needed to tackle one project at a time.  It really worked.  Of course the monstrous pile that had been on my desk was simply moved behind me, but I met more deadlines with less pressure employing this technique.  If only it worked for art projects.

One blog that I stumble upon now and again is that of a painter and has been preparing for an art festival where her work will be available for purchase.  I think in a recent post she remarked that she had complete over 30 paintings in a month, at one point producing nine paintings in two days.  Huh?  Why am I so slow?  I labor over choices so much that I spend more time thinking than doing.

Today I just had to get started on a quilt if there is even the slimmest chance of getting it done in time for the auction.  Of course, I also have the teen son asking me, "When can I get my hair cut?  When can I get an eye exam?  I'm almost out of contacts!" while I also have a cat that needs to get her knotty-furred self summer shaven (for which I need a tranquilizer dart just to get her in a cat carrier).  So I just stopped everything, made quick copies of the pages with the fabric requirements for two quilts (because I still hadn't made up my mind when I would make) and headed off to the local fabric store.

Yuck.  The fabric store is now trying to compete with Michael's craft shop, so there was very little fabric to choose from.  I stood in line to purchase one whopping item, a new quilt square for cutting, then took off for the over-priced local quilt shop.  It was hard to find what I needed - 11 tone-on-tone drab fabrics.  Doesn't that sound like a lovely finished project?  It took forever and I think I got most of what I need to at least get started.  Then of course there's the one fabric that totally distracted me and I just had to buy a pinch.  All I could think of was that Sesame Street song, "One of these things is not like the others, one of these things just doesn't belong...."  Guess which one doesn't belong?

After I bought most of the fabric I needed, I still had to run to the grocery store, pick up the dry cleaning and pick up the family room before I can justify sitting at a cutting table.  I think I need to schedule time for creativity much like I schedule visits to the eye doctor and the vet, or I'll never get anything done. 

Item No.1:  Get off the computer!

Paint, Stitch and Worry

I'm warming up, falling back on comfortable.  When my mind is a big empty cave filled with nothing in terms of creative thought, it's easy to go to what I find simple and easy - painting, sewing, and quilting.  Am I dumb for saying yes to donating work to the annual fundraiser auction?  Not this time.  My creativity brain cells have been on hiatus and I need to wake them up.

During our July 4th celebration (and after a bit of wine), my wonderful friend Deb asked me if I'd be willing to paint a piece or two of furniture AND make a quilt.  I must have had too much wine because I said yes.  What was I thinking?!?  At lunch last week, Deb reminded me that I had agreed to paint two pieces, a cradle and a stroller.  A stroller?  Who paints a stroller?  I was SO relieved to find that not only was she providing the furniture, but it is doll furniture.  Whew!  I can do this.  I am a little concerned because the furniture is not of good quality.  It was put together with one of those hydraulic staple guns, peppered with the little holes on the surface, gaps in the joints and poor wood surface quality.  My name is going to be on it, so I want to be sure I make it clear that I painted donated furniture.  I may make a small quilt to go with the cradle to distract from the flawed wood.  When in doubt, distract!

When it comes to the larger quilt, I am not going to make myself nuts trying to resize and redesign a quilt pattern or make one that is so complicated that I barely make the deadline as I did last time.  This week, I went to the local quilt shop (a luxury that I did not have in my old town) and was immediately overwhelmed.  My mind was buzzing as I took in all of the patterns and colors.  How does anyone look at all of these bolts of fabric and know what to take home?  After cruising every short aisle at least four times, I made a decision.  I bought three yards each of both black and white solid cotton.  What a dork.  But I also found a couple of books with great designs that I want to try, so it wasn't a total waste of time.  The book "Transparency Quilts" has wonderful information and quilt designs that I appreciate because they are non-gender specific.

This quilt entitled "Small World" really caught my eye.

This weekend is the last year that the International Quilt Show will be here in Southern California, slated to move to Portland next year.  What distressing news!  My husband "H" has insisted that we go early, make a day of it (for as long as we can stand the growing crowd) and then enjoy lunch at the beach, taking in a bay cruise (if I remember to bring Dramamine for sea sickness because I am a total weenie).  Sounds like a great day.

We are trying to keep ourselves busy on the weekends and distracted from worries.  H is a diabetic.  When work stresses him, which it does all the time, he stops taking care of himself.  I got a call from his doctor this week, concerned about abnormal blood test results.  The worrying begins.  He did a "do over" and the results came back better, but glucose levels are running higher than usual and we don't know why.  Is the insulin bad?  Are the test strips bad?  Is the meter in need of replacing?  Is the insulin just not working so well all of a sudden?  It's hard to be creative when mom & wife mode kick into gear, when life and health are more important.

Today I am going to try to enjoy having time for art, even if it's spent painting doll furniture, maybe even play with fabric for a while and paint or stitch away some of my worries.

Fearing Failure, Staying Safe

Today I spent a lot of time brainstorming ideas for an upcoming project.  Gathering my sketch pad, I cruised through the pages looking for a good sized blank spot.  The homework assignment at the end of lesson one in the online class I took was to start thinking of an image for the fiber collage using clip art or coloring books, and clipping images from magazines or other imagery sources for inspiration.  My notes are voluminous.  My work...zero.  Does the doodling of ideas count as art or even starting art?

Next I found myself looking at ideas for other projects like Teesha Moore's fabric journals (would I even use one?) which incorporate a lot of the same basic techniques as Susan Sorrell's work, layering fabric, embelishing with embroidery stitches or beads.  Still, I have nothing but notes on paper to show for the day.

So why don't I get past this step?  Thinking back on many other things I've always wanted to try but didn't, I finally have to admit to myself that I'm still afraid of failure, afraid as being perceived as a joke or as an insult to other artists by calling myself an artist.  When my husband and I went to the Laguna Arts Festival and visited the booths of artists at each of the three venues, he would often mention that I am an artist and I was immediately horrified and tried to brush it off and change the subject.  No matter how much I try to talk myself into believing in myself, I just don't.

My lack of confidence does not squash my lack of desire to be better.  However, it does squash my ability to just get started.  Now what?  My inner critic is saying that I SHOULD be embarrassed and should hide what I make.  If I never have to show anyone, will that give me the mental permission to go beyond planning a project and allow me to get my hands dirty. 

If I don't do something now, I'll never do it.  I have had a long stretch of time now to get dirty and make something, but I use the laundry or bursts of cat fur (and yes, I do think they blow it off in bursts to amuse themselves, the rotten furballs that should be bald) to be too busy to make something, thus safe from failure.  I'm beginning to think I need therapy more than I need art classes!!!

Step one:  Put away the darned art books and magazines.
Step two: Sit at the studio desk and....do SOMEthing.

It's time.

Finding a Fix

These past few days I've been feeling very depressed and angry, bored and uninspired, disappointed, sad and emotionally stagnant.  At the end of the day, I feel more and more like I'm becoming all of the things about my mother that I despised.  She was miserable around the family, but clearly able to perk up and have loads of laughs and fun around others.  Why not at home?  Now I find myself in the same position.  I have grown weary of my own hurt feelings.  I am worn down by feeling so unhappy at home, finding happiness in the company of anyone but my own family.  I think back to those days of avoiding my depressed mother and my angry father, trying to remember positive things about them and my childhood, though it is a challenge to come up with much.

I remember that my mother had a beautiful singing voice.  She talked about painting, but I could only vaguely remember seeing one watercolor she created of a little bird back when I was in high school.  I mentioned this to my sister recently, and she surprised me by telling me she had the painting and would send it to me.  This is it.  This is the one and only piece of art left by my mom prior to her death in 1996 at age 63.

I found it odd that she dated it '86 because I left home in '78 and saw the painting about two years earlier.  She also signed it P. Carter-Carlson and while her first name was Patsy, she never, ever answered to that Patsy, and never used her maiden name.  Her family referred to her as Patty, but the rest of the world referred to her by her preferred middle name of Carole.  Odd.

Today I have spent a lot of time reflecting on how I was going to find a fix to my mood, my lack of motivation, and stop the self-pity party.  Trying to cheer oneself is not easy!  However, I can't stand my own company, so something HAS to be done.  Today I received an email for art classes being taught fairly close by, some of which I wanted to take a couple of years ago but couldn't because of my mom/driving/kid school schedule.  Now I'm free.  I'm actually free to take a class, free to pretend to be more artist than mother.  As luck would have it, the single-day class being offered on what was the day I would have been taking a friend to the airport (she had to tell me today that she had to cancel her visit due to work vacation freezes) is an all-day course in simple soldering.  Given my most amusing and dangerous soldering results, this was perfect timing.  I signed up for the class, paid for it (no backing out now!) and emailed the instructor about purchasing one of the few supplies kits she is assembling for sale.

While I've wasted a good portion of the day feeling sorry for myself, I did manage the first, albeit gentle, kick in the behind to fix what is ailing me.  It's not dark yet.  I have time to start collecting bits and pieces, photographs and papers for the class next month.

Onward and upward.  If this doesn't make me feel better, I'm going to give the cat a haircut that will give me chuckles for a while.  That always works ;-)

The Last Ride, A New Journey

It sounds like a cowboy movie title.  This morning, I woke up the computer to check traffic conditions for the earlier-than-usual trip to the high school with my son.  My Facebook page was open and I saw a comment posted by my cousin whose son is graduating from high school today.  She was debating how much tissue she'd need, knowing she would be a sobbing mess, saying goodbye to the years of watching him grow up, watching him play baseball, and now moving on to real adulthood.  I shouldn't have looked at it.  I got in the car with Kevin, we started driving and I glanced over at him and told him, "Well, this is it.  This is the last morning drive to school together.  Ever."  He pointed out that we have graduation tomorrow, but that's not the same thing.  I tried really hard not to let him see my eyes well with tears or my chin quiver; the kids make fun of me for how easily I cry over things like that.  It hit me harder than I'd expected.  Trust me, I won't miss the miserable drive.  Yesterday, I experienced a 4 foot long piece of 2x4 lumber whirling like a helicopter blade toward my windshield on the freeway, both of us traveling at high speed, and managed to slam on the brakes without getting hit from behind so that it hit the lower front portion of my van and exploded into toothpicks instead of smashing into the windshield and killing me.  I can happily say goodbye to road hazards, fools that run red lights, and endless construction zones (I must have passed 1,942 orange cones today in roads that were made narrow and crowded due to road construction).  Life changed for me today.

Having time for art is going to be great.  That's what I keep telling myself.  This is what I've wanted for years, and now here it is.  Excited to dip my toes into the studio for a while and blow off laundry (OK, I did two loads at the same time since the machines are in the "studio"), I thought I'd give soldering another try.  I don't want to say it was a total flop, but BOY was it a total flop!  However, I will not be deterred!  After trying the solder that already had flux in it (what a mess), I tried the fatter solder and the flux paste.  Hmmm.  Was it supposed to need stirring?  There are no instructions about how much.  Did the copper tape wrap over the edges enough, or should I have used wider copper?  If I get flux on the glass beyond the edge of the copper tape, will the solder stick?  Clearly, THIS is what "self taught" means.  It means making messes, having absolutely no idea what I'm doing and just learning by trial and error.  If only I could get to the trial and "success!" part.  Here is today's debacle...

<- -="" and="" be="" front="" the="" this="" would=""> is the goofy back made from doodling with a pen and watercolor paints.  What a hot mess!  I think there was too much flux and I do believe I have proven that flux can be fried.


So before I set everything on fire with blobs of molten solder, I unplugged the iron and let it rest and cool.  (Of course, I'm totally paranoid and thought I smelled burning, but I think it's a neighbor grilling burgers - whew!)  This would be a good time to get out my old sketch book and look at old ideas and see if anything triggers a creative nudge.  I look at a long list of words on one page and realize I have absolutely no idea what I was thinking.  Really.  What was I thinking?  How bad an art journaler (is that a real word?) can I be if I don't know what the heck I was thinking?  I'll just make something up.  That's creativity!  Bahaha.  I think this was my brainstorm for an online class I signed up for with Susan Sorrell.  Good grief.

So tomorrow, I'm a full-time artist-wanna-be.

Mom When They Need Me, Time for Art at Last

Teach, Learn, Teach, Learn...

As my son and his girlfriend wind down their last days of high school, I found myself playing teacher in the studio.  Kevin needed to create a visual example of a possible future species of plant, calculating how this imagined plant species would evolve over one hundred million years and create a model.  All I heard in my head was the Scooby Doo noise, a sort of "Huh?"  It was fun to sit at a restaurant at the beach after a visit to the aquarium, sketching ideas on a napkin and brainstorming about the materials he might use to create this faux tree and vines.

We went to the craft store and wandered the aisles grabbing bags of moss, mesh wire for form, paper clay mix and mini grape vines for his project.  His girlfriend wanted to make a "survival kit" for a classmate who will be moving across the country for college, having been admitted to MIT (Go Robbie!!!) and found a wooden trunk to paint.

The studio was jammed with teens and their stuff.  Kevin and I mixed up the paper clay, I helped him figure out how to use the screen and bits of wire to create a tree trunk form, and taught Shawna about the joys of gesso.  For such simple projects, I was really excited about getting my hands dirty and helping them learn.  Ah, I miss my days as a Girl Scout leader!

Kevin continues to take over my studio on day 3, I think, of his project.  Todays lesson was about the use of a hot glue gun (don't put in on the desk, don't set it down on my sketch pad, don't burn your fingers, yes, you can apply paint over it, but use a little gesso first...).  I was reminded of a couple of rules myself.

1.  Don't try to take pictures of your teen.  It makes them grouchy.
2.  Don't photograph your studio when it also serves as your laundry room, or all of your dirty laundry and related equipment will be made public.  Oh well.
3.  Teens can multi-task by talking on their cell phones, snarling and attaching phony vines to a phony tree all at once, all while the mom's IQ drops by double digits as is proven by the fact that she thinks she can take a photo of her teen without making him grouchy.

The multi-tasking king

I jest.  He only growled a little, but didn't actually snarl.

The next big lesson today was more of a confirmation than a lesson.  I definitely, positively stink at soldering.  The soldering iron I bought (the only one I could find) came with a solder that had a bit of flux "built in."  It spit and sputtered and looks like I parked my piece under a tree dripping sap.  Yuck!  I also think I actually drew blood in at least three fingers handling this spikey mess after Round II of attempting to solder.  Sheesh, I need to take a class.  Maybe two.

Front

Back, using papers I made in a monoprinting class I took with Traci Bautista

 Seriously, I drew blood!  I'm not even sure how this works.  I *think* I can use the soldering iron to melt down the spikes and smooth them to a less dangerous surface, but I'm not sure.  Windex would probably remove the tacky splatters of flux, but I'll have to check with Uncle Google on that one.

In any event, I have been making art.  It may suck, but I don't care.  While at the craft store with my son, I bought a new little pack of water colour paints and have been doing painterly doodles with those as well.  Those doodles also suck, and I don't care.  This is progress!

My newest goal remains to rediscover the joy of creativity.  There will be no test, no report card and no critic's review of my work because I am going to make art when I can for the sake of making art.  Exactly one week from this very moment, I will be watching my son, my baby, walk the stage and graduate from high school, ready to move on to college.  My days of having to struggle between time in the role of a mom and time in the role of an artist will start to dwindle.  I may even regret that new found freedom and time to create.  Another lesson.  Appreciate what we've got when we've got it.  I wouldn't trade the mom time for anything in the world.

Good grief, now I've made myself woofy.  Time for a glass of wine and a trip to the studio with my camera to torture my son while he's still available for torturing ;-)