Fighting with Art Supplies & Deadlines

The lid to one of my glass bottles of liquid acrylic is sealed shut.  Seriously sealed.  I used it only one time and thought I was really good about keeping the mouth of the bottle clean.  This stuff sticks!  Sigh.

I've nearly finished the second of the three canvases for my project.  I like this one.  There are some challenges like figuring out how I'm going to attach an envelope (vellum or transparent plastic) to a canvas this is almost entirely backed by wood.  This is one of those 3x3 gallery wrapped canvases provided by the art house, so I had no choice in the matter.  I'll figure it out.  It's nice to have that mental challenge as opposed to the usual sitting in the studio with a blank mind.

Tonight, I start on canvas #3.  They have to be postmarked September 1.  The closer I get to the deadline, the sharper I feel my thinking is when it comes to the project ideas.  Years ago I had a boss, the wonderful MaryJane, that teased me about the fact that my work was never closer to flawless than when we were under incredible stress to meet a deadline.  Every now and then when things were slow, she'd stand by my desk and holler, "Hurry!  Hurry!  Hurry!" while whacking on my desk with rolled up paper or something else to make noise.  She'd burst out laughing and chuckle her way back to her office.  Some things never change.  My house never looks better in the blink of an eye than when someone calls and says that they're in the neighborhood and want to stop by...in ten minutes.  I should have more deadlines.  That, or turn off the phone and disconnect the doorbell.  ;-)

Back in the game

I've recovered from my fit of yesterday.  I worked out, the endorphins kicked in (I had great music blaring, which always helps), and feel good.  My artists' round table group is all home and I have some good advice to get moving in the studio, so I'm looking forward to putting something together more than I have for a few weeks now.

I promised myself that I would stop referring to books and magazines for help getting motivated or confirmation that my own ideas were OK.  Last week I went back and looked at the web site for the Art House Co-Op and checked out previous entries for the project in which I'm participating.  Shame on me.  For the first time, I didn't feel like beating myself up and chucking my work.  I reflected on the words of my cyber-mentor Debbie and was really OK with what I'm doing.  This is a nice change for me.  Better yet, I went out and purchased three copies of the magazine in which my swap pendant was published which really made me feel good.  My teen son even asked if he could have a copy.  It was a simple project, but a great confidence booster.

Yeah me!

Two Days on Weight Watchers, a million more to go...

The cats better not slow down.  Even the finches on the bird bath are fair game at this point.  I worked out this morning, cursing for most of that time.  I watched a television program about getting fit that I thought would inspire me.  One of the hosts was grunting, groaning and complaining more than me which amused me greatly and reminded me that I'm not alone.  I will never understand people that run long distances or for a long time that aren't being chased by an axe murderer or bribed to do so.  Who really loves this stuff, honestly?  I kept waiting for that endorphine-induced delirously happy mood that I've heard about to kick in.   Someone is a big fat liar.  I zipped along for 2.2 miles on the elliptical and I never felt like a party on the Precor.  Thank goodness for microwave packing material (aka popcorn) and that sprinkly try-to-tell-yourself-it-tastes-like-butter dust I doused it with this afternoon.  Otherwise, I think I'd have resorted to biting my nails and calling it a snack.

Do I sound like a mad woman or what?

OK.  That's it.  That's all the fussing I'm allowing myself.  I am just having a hard time with so many changes at once that I'm distracted from art.  Oooh, and I just saw TWO sticks from lollipops that my son left by the computer.  Ack!!!!

OK, really.  I'm finished.

I have just 15 days to complete my canvas projects and get those bad boys in the mail.  I'm still working on #2 of 3 and am determined to have it finished by Friday at which point I'll post photos.  I was also reminded that I agreed to contribute art to a fundraiser in October, but I'm not terribly worried about meeting that deadline.

Apropos of nothing (but that I mentioned art), I stumbled on this alley in Vancouver, BC on our recent holiday there.  Initially I thought there was just a small mural at the end of the alley, but as I approached to photograph the work, I was startled to see the entire dumpster-filled alley covered with work of various artists.  What a fabulous accidental find!

Today is a fine "Mom" day

You'd think I'd be in the studio, delirious about having the house completely to myself and cranking on the art, but instead I was plowing through a box of photographs I'd forgotten I'd stashed under the office desk.  The box is filled primarily with photos of Kevin, with Erica's being in more manageable boxes and better organized (always the case with the first baby).  I got a lot of laughs at all of the bottomless photos (he was bottomless, not a bottomless stash), sure to pop up in a wedding slide show down the road ;-)  There are a lot of photos of Kevin laying on the kitchen counters, trying to get up close and personally involved in whatever food prep was happening.  Sometimes he wore clothes, sometimes he just couldn't be bothered.  Then there were the multitude of photos of Kevin and dogs.  Anyone's dog.  When we went on vacation to outdoorsy locations like Mammoth Lakes, the greatest joy for Kevin was finding someone with a dog and asking if he could pet the pooch while sporting the most adorable ear-to-ear grin.  What a cutie.

For as much as Erica didn't seem thrilled about a new baby in the house after being an only child for so long, there are so many photos of her holding Kevin with the sweetest smile on her face, reading to him, playing the violin for him, or baking his birthday cake that show how much she loves him.  I never tire of hearing them tell each other that they love the other.

I grew silly weepy looking at the photos of my beautiful daughter and marvel that so many years have passed.  Way back then, our furniture was cheap and falling apart, our decor was made up of the mismatched stuff we could find and immature decorating experience, but in front of the ugly walls, tile and mismatched furniture are a lot of smiles, friends, celebrations and a visual recording of these good times.

This was a good mom day.

Progress again!

I finished one of my canvases!  On a walk through the home office, I had an epiphany when I eyed the Aboriginal painting my daughter brought home from her study abroad adventure in Australia.  Filling in the canvas with all of those little dots (yeah for chopsticks!) was really very relaxing.  "Pinky" is complete.

Scary days

I woke up in the middle of the night with the most wretched pain in my jaw, both top and bottom of the left side.   It came and went, and when it came, it hit hard.  I managed to get in to see my most fabulous dentist, and got a little weepy as I told him that I knew jaw pain could be symptomatic of a heart attack in women.  My father had his first heart attack when he was two years younger than I am now, followed by a cardiac arrest years later that have left him a very sad, lost man.  I advised Dr. Greg that I would like very much for him to find an abscess or cavity or some other explanation for the jaw pain that would be dental in nature vs. just plain medical.  Alas, all looks good on the dental front.  Who in their right mind is UNhappy not to have a dental emergency?!?  He bounced a few ideas off of me regarding medications I'm taking and possible side effects, and made a couple of suggestions including going back tomorrow for a cleaning and a follow up to see if I'm any better.  In the meantime, I know I've got to see my PCP and give him yet another nudge to help me make sure my heart is OK so that I can continue to try to shed this useless caboose that my knees are tired of holding up and get healthier.  I'm frustrated with feeling blown by doctors off given my family history.  Harrumph.

I actually managed to remember to shove the current art doll project in my purse as I'd promised the dentist's staff that I'd show them how I'm using the tools they give me the next time I came in to the office.  The reaction was less than enthusiastic, but I was OK this time.  Maybe I AM developing a little thicker skin!  Someone asked me if it was crafted after Voldemort of the most recent Harry Potter movies.  I made the head a couple of years ago, so it most definitely was not even influenced by that character, and I was even a little annoyed at the question.  Maybe my skin isn't quite thick enough ;-)  Oh well, I'm still OK with the wrinkled noses and the pause before their comments.  I'll be they all have white walls in their houses and silk flowers.  Ha ha!

Being a brat is so cathartic.

Bravo's new reality show "Work of Art"

While I have to admit to watching the Real Housewives programs and getting a laugh out of the bratty behavior (reminding my husband that I am FAB-u-lous compared to these wicked and ill mannered folks), there is a line that I just won't cross.  I will not continue to watch Bravo's "Work of Art."

I can't imagine a worse idea for a reality show.  My mental mantra has become "art is not a competitive sport!"  It's one thing to just not "get" someone's notion of art.  I know, I ranted about the dude who put carpet cleaners in acrylic boxes and called it art.  Mea culpa.  At the same time, my fussing wasn't loud (beyond the security officer I was teasing), to the artist's face, on national television, nor did it result in a public dismissal of the artist or his work from the museum.  I just wrinkled my nose and walked to another part of the museum to thoroughly enjoy the Renoir exhibit.  Somebody thought it was art and paid for it.  There's art in my living room that I know friends have raised a brow toward when I wasn't looking.  Let's just set the record straight.  I'm right; they're wrong! :-)

Shame on Sarah Jessica Parker and everyone else involved in the production of "Work of Art" and the public squashing of artists. 

Boo.  Hiss.  One episode was one too many.