On to the Next Project...

After a number of bumps in the road, I finished the doll furniture.  Alas, I had to turn over the finished projects before I could take better photos, so this is all I've got for now.  Again, I am not a good photographer and truly need to work on that skill set!

The color in this photograph is a bit closer to "true" than the one taken indoors.  The little bees inspired by Mary Englebriet were requested by my friend that asked me to paint these pieces for the auction. 

Every time I finish a project that really tested my patience, I return to the basics like sewing.  For a while I worked on more soldered jewelry today, but gave it a rest after a bit, frustrated that I knew I was doing SOMEthing wrong, but didn't know what.  I took a break, did a little internet research, and have figured out some problem areas I need to work on like going over the same spot so many times that I melt the adhesive on the copper tape or I'm loading too much solder.  This is going to take a lot of trial and error, clearly.

I decided to work on a simple quilt project when I'm too frazzled to do anything else, starting the cuts today for a quilt called "Traffic" by Jaybird Quilts.  I met the designer and bought the pattern at the Road to California Quilt Show last year.  I still have to get a bit more of some of the fabrics, but have enough of the basics to get started.  There is something very therapeutic about just cutting strips of fabric.  If only I hadn't discovered that my cutting mat had been used by my son for a school project, the back of which was covered and lumpy from the plaster he mixed up for a science model.  Ugh.  The cutting came to an end and the scrubbing began.  Since I'm cutting 28 strips of snow white fabric, I don't dare take a chance and resume the cutting until I'm sure the mat is perfectly clean or I just buy another and hide it when not in use.

All of this is going on while I hear football on the television and hollering in the background.  I am certain that I have suffered at least a little bit of brain damage just from having to listen to the hissing and roaring noise of the crowd that is watching a bunch of grown men play "dog pile!" for hours.  I'll never understand.

The Invisible Woman

As I transitioned from full-time mother to full-time housewife and artist, I expected change.  The one thing I did not expect was the eye opening realization at just how invisible I have become and the need to fix this "nothing" that I have allowed myself to become.

My epiphany occured last week when I happened to have the television on just to hear voices other than mine, and Katie Couric's show started.  Working in the library, I could hear the topic from a distance, something about the value of female friendships.  It caught my attention, so I went to the family room to watch and listen for a bit.  Author Shasta Nelson appeared on the program, talking about her book and her web site that focuses on creating a meaningful circle of girlfriends.  As I half listened for a while, I started running through the mental list of my close friends.  I couldn't even fill one hand in the count.  Then I started thinking about the towns and cities I've lived in for the past 35 years and realized that it was the same story in each one - I had maybe one close friend at a time and, even then, I think I'm being generous when I describe the friendships as "close."  The exception was when I worked at a graduate school and many of the students working in my office were my peers and we really hit it off.  Those friendships lasted for as long as we lived in the same town.  Does that even count?  My oldest and most long-term friendship is coming to a very sad end, and it is overwhelmingly sad for me.

Wallowing in this increasing emotional downhill slide, I went to Shasta's website girlfriendcircles.com where I read every part of the site from top to bottom and took advantage of the free guest sign up.  In the process of signing up, there was a questionnaire about me, the point of which is to match up personalities for these small "group dates" of women in my area that are also seeking friendships.  Oh my gosh, I am so boring on paper!  In reality, I'm quite the talkative comic in a group.  But when it came to answering questions about what kind of outdoor activities I enjoy or what activities I enjoy doing in my spare time, I realized I have just fallen into the habit of doing very little.  I sort of exist in each day, waiting for the next day, and doing it alone until someone comes home from work or school.  I've allowed myself to slowly disappear, not going anywhere or doing anything unless someone else (almost always my overworked husband) has the time, energy or interest to do something.  Do I really just go to two quilt shows and a few nights at the comedy club a year?  That's it, other than one of his work-related parties or dinner with one of his co-workers or subordinates?  What has happened to me?  On paper, I look like I'm barely conscious, much less fun company.  When I get in a group, my husband teases that I AM the party and I have a blast.  It's getting there that just isn't happening.  Ugh.

I see this disappearing act happening in my artwork as well.  As I've fussed about ad nauseum, I am just dragging myself through the doll furniture painting project.  This does not look like me, but I'm having a hard time figuring out "me."  My identity has just been loss and I have to stop being so afraid to find it again.  Too much of what I do, or don't do, is driven by fear.  There's the fear of failure at the top of the list, failing at being able to maintain a friendship, failure when it comes to sharing art.  I would certainly never advise a friend to just sit in their house alone and live with it, but that's what I'm doing.  I have allowed the fear of failure to stop me dead in my tracks.  I don't want that fear of failure to stop me from making art, from making friends or from finding out who I am as an individual. 

Now what?  I really have my work cut out for me.

The Empty(ish) Nest

On the mom front, this was a HUGE week for me.  We moved our son to college.  Granted it's just 5.2 miles from the house and both my husband and daughter work there, but he's still gone.  It feels like a sleep-over with no end.  We had a little talk before he left, demanding that he not act out just because I wanted to take a few pictures.  You can see how much he loves having his photo taken as he begins to unpack in his dormitory.

Right now, he just has one roommate, though the room is currently set up as a triple.  Kevin and his roommate "D" were told that the 3rd bed remains for a while in the event that a new student transfers in over the next couple of weeks.  They are plotting what they are going to do to discourage an additional roommate - dress funny, leave funny notes on the door suggesting they go to the next room - and are having fun getting to know all of the other students on their floor and in their building.

The signs on their doors were amusing.  These kids are all studying in the university's college of science and technology and their doors had name tags on them made to appear like excerpts from the periodic table of elements.  Fun stuff.

I took this next photo standing in my husband's office window.  The university staged multiple areas for families to enjoy one of their last dinners together before they leave their son or daughter behind to begin college.  We found students whose families weren't there (I just don't get it) and invited them to join us.  At first I think it was a little awkward for them when they found out that my husband is a senior executive at the university, but they got to know him (he's very funny) and relaxed and we all had a great time.

I've made the trip back to the university a couple of times now, taking the forgotten pajamas, forgotten lap top and phone charger cords and enjoying attending events as a parent for a change.  Kevin seems to be adjusting really well and has additional new friends with him every time I see him after just two days.  Things are good.

On the art front, I just LOVED the soldering class I took last week with a local artist.  What a difference the right tools and good instruction make!  Photography skills continue to elude me, but these will do well enough to show the before and after.  The larger piece on the right was the first piece I soldered in the class.  It's not perfect, but I didn't bleed from being stabbed with solder spikes like the ones I made with the lousy, cheap tools I bought last month at the craft store.

(L) My first try on my own and (R) a piece I made in class

There were only three other students in the class, which took place in the garage studio of the instructor.  As a group, we all decided to return for another class to make a crown (well deserved, if I do say so myself :-)  This is the one she showed us in her studio that we'll use as a sort of template.

For the next three weeks I will be creating the various sized soldered pieces, then we take all of our bits and pieces to the class and learn how to "build" the crown.

Finally, I remain swamped and frustrated with the projects for the Boys & Girls Club auction.  The deadline is earlier and earlier every year and the flaws in the furniture alone make it SO hard to paint!  The little stroller has wheels that simply cannot be removed without destroying them, securely and overly-glued on.  Trying to paint the body of the stroller with little wiggle room has forced me to be creative.

None of the parts can be removed to make painting in nooks and crannies manageable :-(

Painter's tape protects the wheels from the red paint.  Now how to paint the back of the wheel and not the body of the stroller.  Sigh.

I have yet to break the news that there was just not enough time to make a quilt.  I've only made four quilts in my life, so it's not something I can do in my sleep like some quilters can!  It took forever just to find all of the right fabrics, so maybe next year.  Between my class, problems around the house like no hot water for two days, broken sprinklers, and the marathon of appointments to get Kevin off to school with a bank account, a haircut, an official State ID and more, I'm amazed to have managed to get laundry done, much less make a quilt.  Do I sound like I'm making excuses?  OK, but they're legitimate excuses.

Today I am appreciating the emptyish nest.  I still have the older one at home, but she's gone so much it's like being without kids.  Finally, I have time for art.  I'm going to go make more mess now.  :-)

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.