Waking Up the Sleeping Artist-Wannabe

I've been struggling with cooties since Christmas Eve, finally able to talk and be heard, though still coughing up camels and tumbleweeds in my sleep.  Yuck.  Since I'm feeling better, I figured it was time to do some chores as well as follow through on my commitment to getting into art again.  It's hard when I've battled with a blank brain for so long, both in terms of just thinking clearly with this bug and with thinking "art" when I've been so uninspired and feeling dusty and stagnant.

My cyber friend Mary has been posting photos of the products of her creative energies on Facebook, reminding me that we can spend a little time and make a little something without the need to create a full-blown masterpiece.  Attempting to follow suit, I cleaned out a bit of junk in my studio space, cleaned off the surface of my desk and started rummaging through unfinished work to find inspiration and motivation.  I found the bits of one of my very small art dolls I made YEARS ago and decided to put them together in a fashion a little different than I've been doing for so long, using a thick cotton embroidery floss instead of the clear fine thread (which I've found grows brittle and breaks).  While I was wrestling with the needle and thread, my daughter's boyfriend passed through the room and said, "Are you making Voodoo dolls?"  I laughed and told him that no, not exactly, though I suppose it could serve that purpose.

As always, I struggle with issues as simple as posting a photograph of my artwork.  Can I take the criticism that may come with it?  If I were confident, I'd worry that someone were going to try to copy my style, then I laugh at myself and say, "Really?  It's too weird."  Do I post photos just to work on getting past the fear of wrinkled noses and squinty looks of people trying to figure out what the heck it is that I make?  Ugh, it's exhausting being such a fraidy cat.

I'm going to get past this fear and post pics (as soon as I get the stupid card reader problem resolved on my computer so that I can post a decent photo and full body shot.

The little guy I worked on today is 9" long from head to toe.  He's leaning on my cup-o-junk while the wires in his head settle down with the glaze I used to give it a bit more stability.  I'm using my Wacom Bamboo tablet to try out different versions of painted facial details before I call him finished.  It isn't a masterpiece by any stretch of the imagination, but I feel like I'm dusting off and warming up.

To scoop or sew? Scrub or paint?

I often wonder if my son inherited his easily distracted nature from me.  A cat walking by or the sight of something shiny is often all it takes to get him off task.  What's my excuse?  There's that magazine that came in the mail that I started to put with all of the others, realizing I hadn't read it and looking through it instead of putting it away.  Time wasted.  I see the cat barfed on the carpet.  Again.  Gotta clean that up.  Someone put their dirty dishes on the counter instead of in the dishwasher.  Pick that up, see that salt is spilled around the stove, clean that up, see the trash is full, take it out, pass by the litter box...do they do anything other than barf and poop?  Clean that up.  Uh oh, it's nearing 5:00 and I haven't got anything planned for dinner (because I hate cooking), so now it's time for a quick trip to the store.  On and on and on come and go the distractions and excuses and the wasted time.

The call to be creative has quieted in my head and that worries me.  Does the urge to be creative wane as the act of being creative becomes less often exercised?  How do I get motivated to be creative again?  Is creativity akin to playing an instrument, so that the more I practice the better I get and the more ideas flow?

Next week family arrives to celebrate Christmas with us, visiting our new home for the first time.  I've spent days trying to get better organized and tidy so that they see the house, not the contents.  While putting things in their proper place (or just trying to figure out that proper place) and tidying up, I stumbled on a tiny object that my cyber mentor and friend made for me, and it got me thinking about the choices I make in terms of how I spend my time.  In response to my frustration with a damaged snoot on one of my sculpted faces, Debbie told me about an epoxy clay I could use to mend said snoot.  She sent me a bit to try, in addition to this little sculpture about the size of a dime, two faces made of the two colors, as a demonstration piece.  I treasure this little piece of art and have it at my work desk as a reminder that even something as small as offering a bit of information can be done creatively and something can be created in a short amount of time.  How I wish I had her talent and creative soul!  Inspiration strikes again. 

Now to do something with that inspiration.

It's time to put the plan I've blithered on about into action.  Make something.  Schedule art time.  Pick up a piece of clay and start a new art doll.  Bind a quilt.  Do something.  Make something.

In an effort to do and not just talk, I'm cancelling plans to attend a party tonight.  When people ask me what I do, I want to be able to say I'm an artist, not a time-wasting wanna be.  Gotta go get my hands dirty.  Gotta channel the spirit of Debbie.

Happy Birthday to Me!

I just had the most wonderful and refreshing vacation in Hawaii!  It was such a shock to come home to people wearing jackets and boots (Wimps!  So Cal isn't THAT cold). 

For the first time ever, we found ourselves at a relatively empty resort on the Big Island of Hawaii, about a half hour drive north of the airport on Kona.  The day we arrived, we zipped into Kona to rent prescription snorkle masks (we're blind as bats) and those snorkels that keep the waves from washing down and gagging you on salt water.  Then, we made our usual trip to the big K-Mart store to get a full sized coffee pot and a few other things.  The prices the resorts charge for a single carafe of coffee is equal to the purchase price of a Mr. Coffee machine.  We're no dummies!  We brought our own Starbucks espresso and were ready to go.  We got some Halloween decorations for the room, some silly touristy coffee mugs, some wine and a bottle opener.  As we were about to unload the cart at the cash register, the power went out.  The store went dark, and their backup generator wouldn't kick in, so after a bit of a wait, everyone just abandoned their carts and left.  Oh well.

How exciting to find that the spot I'd tagged on Facebook as "my spot," a photo I'd snagged from the hotel web site, was actually available for the entire week!  I have never seen a resort so sparsely populated.  I met some awesome people, made nice with the hotel kitty, Aloha, and had a spectacular time snorkeling.  The first day, we swam with at least 15 green sea turtles, as many as four at once.  Beautiful!

This is me sitting in "my spot" at around 5 p.m.  We had the beach to ourselves every evening!

The view from our lanai in the morning.  

The trip ended with a good laugh.  The poor tourists that come from Japan for the first time didn't seem to notice the flocks of myna birds at the roof edge, watching for people to abandon their tables with food on their plates.  They brought the first plate load of breakfast, turned and left to go get more, at which time the birds bombed the table.  Several of us were waving the birds off with our napkins, laughing as the biggest myna bird grabbed a blob of ketchup-covered scrambled eggs the size of a tennis ball and tried to fly with it.  We were all laughing that the guests had to be "first day newbies."  The waiter came to the table, chuckled and said, "rookies" under his breath and cleaned up the mess.  The look on their faces when they came back to the table was priceless.  They didn't understand a word of English when everyone was trying to tell them what happened, but the waiter knew the Japanese word for "bird."  They understood that one.  I don't think they'll do it again.  This scene plays out pretty much daily, but everyone has a good sense of humour about it.

My husband was wonderful and threw a little private party for me.  He had managed to pack a tablecloth, my birthday gifts and gift bags and set it all up with an ice bucket and bottle of wine while I was getting ready for dinner.  I received a few goodies from my "wish list" and enjoyed a glass of wine during sunset before we zipped off to dinner at the restaurant you can almost see behind him.  Our table was located at the edge of the seating area, right near the beach where we could watch the sea turtles come up onto the rocky shoreline for bedtime.  What a beautiful way to end the day.

We returned home the day after the terrible shooting incident at LAX, grateful that it wasn't any worse and feeling particularly lucky.  It is so much colder here, but we still have a bit of a tan to remind us of our relaxing week.  Life is good.

Getting Down to Business

In an effort to take more control of my life and my own happiness, I have been trying to do things that are my version of pushing myself just a bit.  Last week I went walking with a newish friend and agreed to continue on every Friday that I have free (her only day off).  Another friend sent me a message saying she had a good time when she and her daughter came for a visit before her daughter left for college, inviting me to get together again so that I could teach her how to use the sewing machine she received from her father.  Right up my alley!

Beyond trying to expand my social circle and try new things, I am committed to set up an Etsy shop.  I should note that I started to type that I was going to "try" to set up the shop, but backspaced and corrected myself.  It's time I stop talking and start doing.

Etsy has a lot of helpful information in terms of a sellers handbook and tons of blog entries about all aspects of setting up an online shop/business.  I have just started reading and am already intimidated!  One of the topics addressed is that of market need.  I read, "No market need = no need to market your product" and I instantly think, "Oh no!  What NEED is there for art dolls?"  Now what?  Then there's the advice to ask customers what they like about my product or think about what I'd say when someone asks, "What do you sell?"  My answers, at least today, are 1) no one needs an art doll, 2) I have no customers to ask why they like my product and 3) I don't sell anything yet.  Again, now what?

I watch shows like Shark Tank where people take their ideas and have their products manufactured and wonder how they do it.  I can't be the only person that has no idea where to start.  More Winnie-the-Pooh "think, think, think" time.

I've donated a few art dolls to the Boys & Girls holiday auction.  While my husband bought them, I know there were others that indicated an interest and asked if I was going to contribute another piece again.  There's got to be a way to find those people and inquire.  Bad manners?  Or desperate move.  This is going to take more nerve than I feel I have, but I have to try something to figure out the business end of things like my target market, figure out who is my competition and figure out how to market.  The business end of it sounds so boring and scary at the same time.

Baby steps!

I have become "that old woman"

I try really hard not to watch much television, a habit that could easily become out of control since I am home alone so much.  There are a few programs that make me laugh, so I give myself permission to have those programs on while I do other things.  Yesterday I was listening to Wendy Williams.  She has a segment called "Ask Wendy," where audience members ask her for advice on personal matters.  A young lady in the audience remarked that she is dating a man that wants her to stay home and "put on a few pounds," and does not want her socializing with her friends.  Wendy's immediate response was that "sitting around the house is for old women!"  OMG.  I have become that old woman.  My big adventure today was a ten minute round trip to pick up my husband's shirts at the dry cleaner.  I cleaned off my studio desk, I checked in on Facebook a lot (shoot me now and make me stop!) and piddled around with the contents of my desk drawers, tidying up, gathering the few loose quilting pins and putting them on the magnetic pin holder.

Doesn't this all sound like the most exciting life ever???

I talk big about making friends and getting out, but I don't.  Trying to figure out why is the issue I really have to focus on.  Why don't I take a quilting class and improve my skills?  Why don't I follow up on the threat to join one of those "find a friend, already!" groups?  At this age, am I still so afraid of failing or looking stupid that I'll sit home alone, talk to the cats - again - and reorganize my magazines and quilt patterns?  This is SO DEPRESSING!  I have the time to be creative, and I'm just throwing it away.

What next?  Scoop the cat's litterbox.  Make dinner, watch birds, read a book.  I don't want to be that old woman.  I'm back to feeling like Winnie the Pooh - "think, think, think......"

It's the RULERS fault!

Frustrated with the flaws in the quilt I created this week, I decided to explore possible causes and solutions for all of the problems I had so that I don't repeat them.  I'm such a cheap date, getting all excited when I found a quilting blog where the blogger provided a tip on stacking the transparent quilting rulers and throwing out any that didn't look like the lines were accurate.  Whaaaat?  The lines weren't all as they should be?  They are manufactured with crooked lines or wrong measurements?!?  I thought I was nuts in the past when I'd cut what I thought was a perfect square, only to find it wasn't square, and it was happening frequently using the same square measuring device.  Woohoo!  I can blame it on the ruler.  Of course, I must now toss it and declare it to be flawed (and I did use it on this recent project) and buy a new one.  If the new one makes for a crooked cut, I'm going to have a harder time blaming it on anything other than "user error."  For now, my story is it was the RULER'S fault.  That, and the stupid clunker of a move not to pay attention to the placement of the needle on the sewing machine.  Whoops.

Last night I received word that the stroller and cradle I painted sold for $185 at auction.  It isn't a huge sum, but given that these auctions are usually all about getting something for a bargain suggests I should consider a little swerve on the career path.  Maybe I will repaint the chair that was intended for my friend's daughter (now 16 years old - another whoops) and offer that next year.  Better yet, maybe I'll paint that and set up the etsy shop I keep honking and wheezing about, yet never manage to get done.  For goodness sake, I helped my son's girlfriend set up a shop for her high school senior project, and she's still selling the bracelets I taught her how to make and for which I purchased the supplies.  Something's not quite right here.

Time to make good on the promise to manage time and commitments to art.  I think project #1 is to sit down and schedule the creativity time and stick to it like a dentist appointment.  We'll see how long this lasts ;-)

Keep it Moving...

Whenever I discover that there is a chip or smudge in my rarely painted nails, I figure I can just keep  my hands moving and no one will see the goof.  The same goes for when I let myself go too long between salon visits and the "snow on the roof" is visible in the part of my hair.  With a rub of brown eye shadow and my hair down and moving with me, no one notices the flaw.

Then there's my recent quilt.  I'm not quite sure how much I can flap that sucker in the breeze so that no one notices the flaws.  Can you see the mistake?

There's no such thing as a project in progress without a cat involved in it somehow.  Charlotte wanted to be sure there remained plenty of wrinkles as I tried to smooth the quilt on the floor.

 I'd like to think I'm being to hard on myself, but what a bonehead move on my part.  This photo explains it all...

This note was added AFTER I realized the mistake I'd made, having put the blue tape on the machine the last time I made a quilt, about two years ago, without a note as to why.  Oh my.

Having a new quilt pattern and all of the fabric I thought I'd needed got me in a great and creative mood.  Well, as creative as you can be when you are working from a pattern someone else designed with the fabric matching that used in making the pattern sample.  Just the act of measuring and cutting and assembling requires a lot of focus, leaving the brain unable to fret about other things in life that may not be going so well.  For those who don't sew, this won't mean a thing.  For those that do, I'm sure there will be a lot of chuckling going on in a minute.  This fancy, shmancy Bernina my husband bought for me a few years ago has a great new feature - the hole in the foot plate is a full 9mm wide and with the push of the little white button on the front, the needle can be bumped left or right of the usual center position and remain in place until the machine is turned off (it re-centers when the machine is turned back on).  Since I was using a wide presser foot and quilting with the usual 1/4" seam allowance, I wanted to use the right edge of the presser foot as my guide so that I could clearly see it.  In my infinite wisdom, the last time I made a quilt I simply dropped the needle and tapped that little white button until it was positioned so that it created a perfectly placed 1/4" seam with the fabric lined up along the right side of the foot.  Follow me?  Of course, I was brilliant and put down the blue painters tape, with the left tape edge marking the 1/4" seam edge IF the needle were centered, and the drawn line marking the 1/4" seam edge if the needle were bumped to the right twice and the fabric lined up with the edge of the presser foot.  Only this time around, I forgot the part about bumping the needle over (thus this new note to my goober self).

When I started to put the first pieces together - the black and white horizontal striped section stitched to the vertical coloured and white stripes - I was horrified to see that the colored strips were significantly more narrow, by about 1-1/2 inches.  How could that be?  I thought, "dumb directions!" and double checked the math.  The math added up.  My quilt squares didn't.  I flipped the quilt over and started measure the seams and realized they were larger than 1/4" because I, the nitwit that forgot why the 1/4" mark isn't at the left edge of the tape, had used the foot as a guide without moving the needle to the right.  Every bloody seam hogged up another 1/8" more of less of fabric.  Lots of strips meant the loss of lots of fabric.  O.M.G.  I could either take apart (how many components are there?  Thirty?) every assembled square, or just cut the black & white segments to fit the width of the thirty that were too small and call it a flippin' crib quilt instead of a lap quilt.

Lesson learned.  I learned how to make a crib quilt.

There were other mistakes and errors along the way, but I am simply going to consider them as learning experiences, make notes so that I don't repeat those mistakes, and consider this is just part of the re-learning curve. 

While I'm looking at these photos again, I should point out that Charlotte is not a poodle as her tail would suggest.  She is usually a long haired cat that suffered with the most miserable knotting of her fluffy fur, so she was subjected to what the vet refers to as a "lion cut."  Alas, the lion's cheeks were trimmed a little lopsided, so she looks like her head is tweaked a bit toward the right.  Her cut also provided a stunning view of her need for kitty Spanx.  How can a young cat that has never had kittens have cleavage like that?!?  She puts most dairy cows to shame.  We are trying to exercise her and help her with nature's tummy tuck, hoping she doesn't notice things like my son spotting her for the first time after she got home, doubling over and laughing so hard that he merely bounced with no sound coming out.  Poor Charlotte.  The indignity of it all!

Tomorrow I start on the back of the quilt.  At this point, I don't see any point in continuing the silly practice of skipping wine while I sew.  Clearly, it couldn't have hurt.  You just can't tell from this photo that the top row of black bars is narrower than the others.  I need to flap that quilt a little faster, THEN I'll take a sip.