My Inner Critic is Yelling

Oh double ugh!  I look at what I do and wonder about why I do it, and think and think and criticize and think some more.  I have to take ownership of squashing the fun of being creative.  Next, I have to figure out how to knock it off.  I should remember to play, whether it's playing with paint or clay or the sewing machine.  Maybe I can find a good old fashioned coloring book.  That takes the pressure off.

Being a Mom Stinks Sometimes

When my daughter was still home with us, she and her little brother used to tease me about being like that mom from the TV show, "Malcolm in the Middle."  They'd sit in the back of the car singing the theme song under their breath and laughing.  I am definitely not that bad, but I do have a creative mothering streak.  For example, I find the air horn to be the most wonderful device for stopping a child from sassing, talking back or arguing with me with little more effort than a little press of the finger.

My charming teenage son has a very short and reasonable list of daily chores.  The list has been the same for years now, so imagine my lack of sympathy or understanding when he tells me that he didn't do one or more because he "forgot."  This week he "forgot" to take out the trash when it had shrimp shells in it.  I told him while I was making dinner, again while we were eating dinner, and yet again when he was clearing the table that the trash needed to go out so that the house didn't smell like a neglected fishy funeral home in the morning.  He fussed about possible encounters with the skunk, at which point I reminded him that we have "Skunk Off" should the need arise. 

The next morning I took the little beast to school, came home and stopped in the kitchen.  I noticed a distinct eaux de old shrimp debris.  He didn't take out the trash.  Now I was mad, particularly given that this was a repeat offense.  So I did the only thing any ticked off mom would do.  I took the trash can down the hall, into his room and shut the door.  It was a particularly lovely and warm day here, so it got pretty good and ripe by the time he got home from school.

Now he was mad.  That was OK with me.  I pointed out that since he didn't mind the stench, I was happy to confine it to his little area of the house.  After much fussing and spouting, the trash was taken out, the fan was whipped out and a LOT of air freshener was used down the hall.  I don't think he'll "forget" the trash again.

I pointed out that he should keep in mind the challenges the cats will have accessing their litter box under his bedroom sofa if he "forgets" that task as well.  It could get messy.

Mom wins!

Distractions, Distractions!

A few weeks ago I joined Weight Watchers.  Thank heavens, my husband joined with me.  After years of struggling with my weight and making excuses, I've had greater success in sticking with it just by virtue of the fact that he's doing it with me, not asking, "Can you have pizza on Weight Watchers?" in the second week.  The problem is that my art is suffering.  I'm so absorbed and distracted by this decades-long battle that I'm having a hard time fitting everything in to my daily routine.  I got a friendly poke from my beloved cyber buddy today to remind me that I can't let the art go by the wayside.

A few days ago, I started to sketch out some ideas, mentally and on paper, for the next figurative piece.  I thought about internal structure and decided to head to Home Depot for some materials.  It was quite amusing that with all of the times that I've been there and could actually have used help finding something, the one time I go for "art materials" is when I have someone asking me every two aisles if they can help me find something.  One guy heard me talking to an offerer-of-help when I was having a tough time finding a particular wire and he took me to exactly what I needed.  It was on the very end of the very last aisle I'd checked and in an area I would have avoided entirely, so thank heavens for eavesdroppers!

Tomorrow I get out the wire cutters, clay and crank up the iTunes.  Thanks, Debbie, for the teeny poke/reminder.  You help me more than you know.  I need to focus on what makes me happiest, and I've been losing sight of that lately.

I spoke too soon

Never give up!  At least not when that many hours have been put into a project.  I tweaked, used acetone, tweezers and more paint and saved the piece!  I was inspired to add more detail to the clay face and hand that made a huge difference in the final product.  What a happy accident!

Tomorrow I'll make the gizmo for photographing the piece in outdoor light (thanks for the web site, Debbie) and post pics.  My photos never show the detail I'd like, but it's fine for documenting the save!

Time for piece #2.

Ruined Art

Big sighs.  I put on the final touch to the first of two figurative pieces for the fundraiser/auction, and I think I've ruined it.  I tried too hard to make do with something I wasn't thrilled with and ended up making a right-up-front mess that I don't think I can fix.  I suppose I should focus on the fact that the only part I did like is salvageable - the head and the wire piece around the throat.  But the body is now wrecked because I just NEEDED to attach that clay hand to the front and the only thing I could think to use was E-6000 adhesive.  I suppose it wouldn't have been a totally moronic notion if the hand had been flat and if I'd not looked away and let my own hand slip and smear goo on the front.

More big sighs.

Back to the drawing board.  That and a glass of wine.  Two points, here I come.  My fellow WW'ers will know what that means.  ;-) 

Publish Post

Cat Barf-o-Rama

Do we capitalize the "R" in "Rama?"

This week I realized how close I am to the deadline for the art due for the Boys & Girls Club holiday auction.  However, I've been a bit distracted by my cat Sox's barf fest.  After 24 hours of yacking (over a holiday weekend with no vet available for less than the price of a small child), I managed to shove his feisty behind in the (smallest EVER) cat carrier.  The vet suggested that considering everything else is fine - he has no fever, the plumbing isn't backed up - he may have simply consumed a "bad spider."  What's a good spider?  I'm sitting there thinking the cat earns his keep by eating spiders, crickets and other flying and jumping kitty croutons.  Who is this vet to suggest that any of these items is inappropriate for kitty consumption?  Clearly, he's just mad as a hatter and lacks ANY sense of humour.  Sense of humour should be an aboslute prerequisite to admission to vet school.  My backup vet is not my favourite guy in the world.

So I spent two days with the carpet cleaner, sucking up cat yack.  I gave up on the inadequate carpet shampoo and loaded that puppy with Tide and Clorox II.  Mission accomplished.  I now have weekend time to pull off a miracle and whoop up some impressive art in just a few days.

Dumb cat.

No Complaining Zone

With a plumbing backup in the kitchen and laundry room, I'm having to stay home and wait for the plumber (my neighbor and the funniest guy I know) instead of going shopping for quilting fabric.  I sat down to look at my calendar and was reminded that later this month, an old friend will be attending the first days of a murder trial.  The victims of this horrible crime were her wonderful son and two darling little grandsons.  The accused, their mother.

Today, I don't have to worry about taking time off of work for the plumber.  I have a studio stuffed to the gills with art supplies.  I have reconnected with a handful of friends.  I am planning my two-week long birthday trip to Hawaii next summer.  I've got the iTunes blaring while I clean up a bit before heading into the studio. 

It's so very easy to forget about keeping life in perspective and really, truly appreciate every day.  I am humbled by my friend Jan's strength, by her determination to get through life while bearing this unimaginable never-ending emotional burden.  If life throws me a curve ball like blocked plumbing, I will celebrate that this is the biggest challenge I face today.  I'm going to feed the birds and not yell at the morning doves that can't grasp the fact that I've reminded them it's FINCH food and they aren't finches.  I'm going to get the sidewalk chalk and draw a silly something on the cinderblock wall to improve the view out my studio window.  I'm going to chuckle every time I hear the little neighbor girl's high pitched scream (she really is funny, and I can't figure out why she does it so many times a day).  I'm going to hug my son this afternoon when he makes me grumpy.  He's 15.  He WILL make me grumpy about something, but I'll still have him here to hug and tease.

Another day in the "No Complaining" zone.  Time to make some art.

I have a play date!

Today I got a call from a former co-worker.  I left that job a little over two years ago and, as I've shared here, have found myself feeling very lonely and isolated.  I've joked (and sometimes been serious) about feeling the need to take out an ad in the newspaper, "Wanted: Friends!"  I'm a social beast and have found that my isolation has had a negative impact on my creativity.  This one phone call has changed my mood so much for the better.

Mary is a remarkable person.  While she has been single for some time and her grown children have moved away, she has remained very socially active.  I have always envied her theatre group, book club, quilting retreats and fabric runs with friends.  I have allowed having a family and NOT having an outside job to consume all of my time and have not pursued friendships or outside activities.  Today Mary called just to chat.  We talked about my struggle with isolation.  She told me that another former co-worker is now joining her at her home on Sundays to learn to quilt, inviting me to join them for crafty time, lunch out, and then more crafty time. 

While it may seem a simple thing or something that everyone else on the planet does routinely, getting together socially at the invitation of another is a big deal to me.  I wish I were able to engage face to face with my cyber friends and distant friends and can't help but think that my happier mood will have some impact on my creativity.  We'll see!

Artistic "Borrowing"

I was reading the Summer 2010 issue of Somerset Studio Gallery and was just jaw-dropping stunned when I read the tip offered by author Shannon Sawyer.  In reference to using another artist's work, "even from a nationwide magazine," she advises, "It is best to either manipulate their work until it is unrecognizable or at the very least be sure to give credit where credit is due.  List their name as the artist for whatever it is you're including in your piece."  She does not suggest you get the permission of the artist, just try to disguise it and pass it of as your own or make a note of the real artist's name somewhere.

Is she kidding?  What was the editor thinking?!?  So it's OK for me to take an image of Charlie Brown, give him a Hitler mustache, a pair of butterfly wings, a crown and draw some hair on him, submit it for publication, mention Charles Schultz name as the original artist and suggest this is appropriate?   Maybe just hope that no one recognizes the Charlie Brown under the disguise?  I bet Mr. Schultz's family would be just thrilled with that, eh?  The author appears to justify using the work of another artist's (copyrighted) work to create ATC's and publish them because she's seen other people do the same thing.  Wow.  I've seen a lot of people run red lights...


Is it just me?  Something seems terribly wrong with this advice.  Boy, I'm really cranky about this today!