Art in the family

When I was plowing through a pile of the most fabulous old family photos and trying to think about art projects in which I could use them (without the pointy hats, crowns and wings - can I say that frequently enough?!?), I started thinking about the artistic talents of my family.

My mother was always a bit on the whacko side. At family gatherings, she would regale us with stories about her life that were absolutely fiction, delivered as if she absolutely believed it all. I remember her talking about this class she took about ancient hieroglyphics, or the one she took about law or Chinese. In reality, she graduated from high school, got a job in a department store, got married within a year of that and took a class about office equipment when I was in elementary school (offered through her employer for all of the secretaries). The family, including her sister, agreed that she just wasn't happy with her real and very simple life, so she was just making one up that was much more interesting. My stinker of a husband would always make the same declaration in the car on the way home in a Monty Python voice, "...and then I had teaaaaa with the Queen...." to which we would cackle and figure whatever makes her happy is fine. The thing is, she really had some remarkable talent that she never shared with much of anyone, but for which she would have been recognized (as she clearly desperately wanted) as being very talented and gifted. She had a beautiful singing voice, and had remarkable talent with water colours. I remember finding a postcard-sized painting of a bird on the branch of a flowering tree, unsigned and unframed, tucked in a little nook of her desk at home. When I asked where she got it, she replied that she had painted it. I was floored. I was sixteen years old and had never seen her paint. Sadly, she passed away at age 63 just twelve years ago and my father donated everything he didn't need to survive in the home, so it's gone. There is nothing left - none of her artwork, no recording or home video with her singing, nothing. What a tragedy.

My younger sister was a remarkable sketch illustrator. I say "was" because right now, I understand she wanders between marriages and shelters, the victim of decades of alcohol abuse. She was a frequent runaway beginning at age 12. Unsuccessful in school, she ended up in one of those continuation schools for delinquents. She used to doodle the most fantastic drawings, complete with dragons, castles, waves crashing against cliffs, all in the most remarkable detail and with just plain paper and a #2 pencil. She illustrated the entire yearbook that final year she attended school, I believe her junior year. Then she quit it all and life was downhill like a rocket from there, with nothing to show for her talent. I tried and tried to help her, got her to take a class at the community college by taking it with her, and tried encouraging her to finish school and get a job using her talent. Booze called louder and won.

My older sister is a wonderfully warm and creative woman with a lot of familial challenges - big family, not everyone on track - but she works with it and is a great mom and grandmother. She has the most remarkable artistic skill as a painter, and sculpting (including making jewelry) with polymer clay. When I was about 12, I commented that I loved the sets of posters advertised in the back of comics. I saw one of a lion with a little kitten that I thought was cute. For my birthday, she painted it. Just like that! She looked at the tiny picture in the comic, and painted an exact copy. She is an amazing oil painter, but spends her time these days with polymer clay projects, some sewing still (I think), and other crafts. I believe she could become financially comfortable making a career in custom tromp l'oeil work, but she is content with what she is doing which I think is great. I love the passion with which she talks about her current projects and ideas. I wish I could paint like her. She rocks.

So I'm feeling pretty darned blessed about life today. I used to worry that one day I'd be gone, and there would be nothing left behind to say that I'd been here. Looking at all these old family photos, there are so many people who have left us and for which there is no sign that they were ever here but for the photos in a box in my house. On the other hand, I have the school primer that was my grandmother's at age 12 in 1903, complete with a story that she wrote on loose paper and attached with a single straight pin to the inside back cover. What a fabulous gift to have that reminder of her, and the reminder to leave art in the family, for the family.

Recovery from the sagging mood!

I don't know what was wrong with me yesterday. Good grief, but I was a whiner! One of my best friends (and the funniest woman I know) called me on her way home from work yesterday. That's all it took to kick me in the fanny, get me laughing and alter my mood. We talked about the challenges with leaving a great job with non-stop interaction with a LOT of people, to quiet days home alone with the TV on in the background for company. This was followed by afternoons with an argumentative teen, and I finally just hit a wall. When Deb and I tell each other the stories of the day about our kids and spouses, we can laugh (and make fun of them to crack ourselves up), and put life back in perspective. I always told my husband that working at a hospital for eight years put life in perspective, and I had lost track of that for a while. Thank God for girlfriends!

Then my wonderful husband came home after yet another thirteen hour day of million mile an hour hard work, poured me a glass of wine, and sat down to encourage me to become more confident in my art, to take classes so that I could meet more of "my peoples" and spend time with others with passion for creativity, and to stop feeling so compelled to keep a spotless house when there was an empty studio. How many people have that luxury these days? My husband encouraged me for months to be OK with leaving my office job so that I could enjoy exploring creativity. There are no words to express my gratitude for his generosity of spirit and his support. I am a very lucky woman.

So today I am making some art-driven decisions:

1) Establish studio time every day;
2) Play with art materials every day without adding the pressure to create a masterpiece;
3) Continue to refuse to incorporate any pointy hats, crowns, wings or bird-in-a-cage images in my artwork (no offense to those who do, but I just can't add myself to the list!);
4) Blog without whining. I can have emotions other than perky, but I can't just whine.

I think that's a good start.

Sagging mood

I am so depressed these days that I can't manage to get up the muster to be very productive. I am overwhelmed by a sense of failure in nearly every area of my life. My self criticism is the loudest thought in my head. There has got to be some way to get back on track. With so much to be thankful for in my life, I am finding myself wallowing in everything that isn't right. I see the Facebook comments of my friends, all of whom seem so normal and happy. Why not me?

Signing up for art classes at an upcoming quilt show (not quilting classes!) was surprisingly hard for me. It meant going public about taking art seriously, for which I continue to feel a bit of a fraud. Sheesh, will I ever get past this??? There will certainly be others with little to no previous instruction, and it certainly wasn't unreasonable to sign up for a class described as appropriate for all experience levels. Yesterday the confirmation for my spot in these two classes arrived, along with my name tag and directions on finding the class. Reality strikes. I've always told my kids when they were at that awkward self-conscious stage that they aren't so interesting as to command the attention of every passerby. I should be taking my own advice. The instructor is published, making the whole experience a bit more intimidating, but exciting. I will finally be able to acquire advice and direction that will let me take my own art a step further. Yeah!

With my studio finished, I find myself just stuck. I feel the way I recall reading that kids with ADD and ADHD feel- there are a million thoughts and ideas swirling simultaneously in my head, but instead of being inspired to act on any one of those thoughts or ideas, I feel more like a deer in headlights. Time to work on that too. One of my art books included a suggestion to just do one little project a day, trying techniques as opposed to trying to create a masterpiece. It couldn't hurt.

Wanted: Creative Friends

Finally, I've discovered that I have a lot in common with an "old" friends with whom I've recently reconnected after many, many years. She is creative and enthusiastic, sharing many of my interests and aspirations for things yet to be tried. I guess I hadn't realized how much I longed to have a friend with whom I could share ideas about painting, grout or wire and who would get it! While this reestablished friendship is long distance, I'm thrilled to have someone with whom to swap stories and ideas. That alone inspires me to get to work.

Years ago a friend of mine that appreciated real craft, real art, confessed (in a joking manner) that she auditioned friends for their artistic talent. When I pushed a little for clarity, I realized that there was some truth behind her joke as evidenced by the wide array of beautiful artwork found in every room of her house. There was the beautiful handpainted (by a friend) rocking chair on the front porch, the stunning paper party hats (created by a friend) for her daughter's birthday party, the fantastic pillows created using hand-carved wooden blocks, the design completed by hand painting (by a friend), to name just a few objects. I felt privileged to be a part of the gang and enjoyed meeting her artist friends. I wished then and still that I had even a smidgen of their talent. I wish that I could spend time with people that are so inspiring. Where are they????

This friend and I have since lost touch, and she now lives quite a distance away. I miss her and her family very much. I no longer have any connection to those artsy friends of hers whose mere presence inspired me. My own friendships have developed through work and my children's schools. While we clearly have some things in common, how can it be that not one of them shares an interest in art with me?

So I will relish this rekindled friendship both for our shared past, and for our current shared interests. I will make the effort to broaden my own artistic horizons and hopefully expand that circle of artistic and creative friends.

How to create more free time for art

1. Wash the same load of laundry a couple of times. It takes less time than folding all of those stupid cloth napkins we insist on using. The house will smell great, and everyone will think you've been working really, really hard.
2. When you do finish the laundry, give someone ALL of the socks. They can fight over them later and you save yourself the time to sort.
3. For really cluttered rooms, grab a cardboard box and a tape gun. It's amazing how clean it looks when you grab everything, shove it in a box, tape that puppy shut and drag it to the garage. To heck with the contents.
4. When solicitors call, just answer the phone and set it down in front of Sponge Bob or some other cartoon. The solicitor is tied up and your phone won't ring for a while.
5. There's ALWAYS more room under the bed for one more thing you don't want to look at and can't think of anywhere else to put it.
6. Kids room a mess? I get a broom, sweep it all in a pile and shove it in a garbage bag. They can sort it, or I can toss it. It saves us all hours.
7. There's really no such thing as something that's not dishwasher safe if you hate washing dishes.

Time to paint! :-)

Grumpy on the first day of spring

I've been writing as if anyone other than I will read this blog, always worrying about how I'll come across. Not today. I'm so incredibly grumpy and I want to snarl for a minute.

I fussed and fussed on here for a minute, then read what I wrote and hit "Delete." I can't just complain when I'm a big contributor to the issues making me so grumpy. If I'm tired of babysitting everyone through life, I have to stop doing the babysitting. I'm going to let my husband forget his assistant's birthday on Monday because I've reminded him more often than necessary and it's his issue, not mine. He's an adult. I've given my son the same lectures about how important school and good (even just decent!) grades are as he's about to enter high school, and he just doesn't care enough to make an effort (other than getting the requisite passing grades). I can't care on his behalf and have that make any difference. I can keep complaining about not getting into the studio, or I can get myself better organized and schedule studio time just as I had meetings on my calendar when I worked in an office.

Time to quit fussing. I feel a little better.