The Writing's On The Wall

Or rather, on the page. The REAL page.
I'm breaking with my own non-conformist ways to go with the crowd on the handwriting post. I know, it's so unlike me, but I really thought it was clever, kind of cool, and hard to resist.
I saw this first at:
Chani's

Flutter's

Jennifer's

Brian's
And now you get to see what the handwriting of a lunatic - pardon - eccentrically creative individual looks like. It might be easier to read some of the others!

See now, that was on lined graph paper - anybody can stay fairly even and nice looking. But here you have the chicken scratchings I do when I'm on a roll and writing at a more normal pace. It's hard for even me to read! (Addendum: I just noticed that you can see the picture I was doodling on the back of this page. I think there's a calendar on there too. what can I say - I think this was written in carpoop, which is V boring! But it's kind of trippy to look at up close. Go ahead - you know you want to!)
It's sad, isn't it? That such a sweet little child could grow up to have the handwriting of a killer. Or maybe a doctor? Or maybe, just plain ole scribbling?

Thought Process, aka Procrastination

the women in this painting need faces. I've held off painting their faces because I knew they weren't going to look like the women in the photograph, but I wanted them to have some of the essence of the photo, nonetheless. It doesn't help that these are my grandmother and my great grandmother in this picture. Their own personal identities have been obscured by time and family dysfunctions. So whose face, whose essence do I paint into this picture?

The going has been slow, and I confess, I am easily distracted.

After doing a little thinking with a pencil in hand, I realize that their faces are pieces of myself.

I tried to remember how my great grandmother's eyes were large, and dark, though somehow empty when I met her. And I was little, so she was no doubt, a bit daunting. In my mind, she is alway sitting at the end of the flip-up formica table in my grandmother's kitchen. She is tiny, birdlike in her fragility, and she's hunched over, smoking perpetually. (There is something terribly wrong with the nose on this woman - I'm going to erase all my pencil marks and start over.) My grandmother, on the other hand, is obviously the protagonist in this picture. While sketching on her I realized that this affinity, or sympathy for who I thought she might have been like in her early married life, is the real subject of this painting. And while there may be aspects of myself in each of these figures, my identification with both of them becomes the hidden portrait in this painting. Hmm, food for thought. So there you have it - a glimpse into my painting block, and the annoyingly self-absorbed psuedo-self-analysis that goes along with figuring out where to go.

And it's only Monday!

Woof - who's up for a lunch break at Tacos Mexico? (this is the procrastination part, like you couldn't tell!)

Painting With Words

Travelogues are easy...too easy.

It's like following along the lines in a coloring book. Sure, you get to decide what color to make everything, but the image has already been decided for you. I'm usually the one who takes the pictures , so the creativity is still there in a travelogue, but the artist, the poet in me, notices the lack of impasto to my words. The lack of tenebroso, the wallpaper smoothness with which I present a pretty slice of life to you.

It's a hell of a lot messier in real life. The everyday passions and woes leave splatters and splashes of red anger, and slate blue sadness; sunny yellow children's kisses and grey streaks of self doubt leave their marks upon the walls of my mind.

I'm not much of a housekeeper because I kind of like the clutter of life around me. Still, I'm hesitant to ask you in, afraid you'll see the mess and think less of me, despite my disclaimers of, "Please excuse; it's usually not like this", because, honestly? It usually is.

If you don't mind mental messes, please come in. I'll make a pot of coffee and we'll talk, while we fill our minds and mouths with tarty-sweet cobbler ideas.

Just Hear Those Sleigh Bells Ringaling

Pictures by Bea

So we went to the Christmas In July art show this past weekend, and had more fun than people should be allowed to have, visiting their sister. This is because there was shopping involved, and it wasn't for the cheapest groceries, or socks and underwear. No, no, it was shopping for beautiful handmade things made by folks we know and love. Here I wave at Bea, because I forgot to even bring my camera with me. I felt naked all day long.Here are some of the dolls made by The Fairies Nest. The Crow Woman in the foreground is one of my all time favorites of hers. I want to have her come live at my house but I'm afraid it would mean her death - my many cats would delight in tearing the feathers off of this exquisite flight of fancy, and then I would have to mass exterminate and Geez! that's tough to explain to the kids! This was a brand new fairy - I'm ashamed to say I've forgotten her name (I think the wassail might have been spiked), something like Callie Ente, 'cause she's the Hot Sauce Fairy! I just love this doll, from her red pepper overdress and her little buttoned boots, to her tiny little bottle of Tabasco! This fairy is a cat guardian, by the name of Kit. Her cat's name is Thomas. Her pinafore is made from a fabric that has little cats all over it. The cat was my favorite part of this - I really want a trio of them in different colors, to put in a basket. Like Callie, Kit also has the new boot foot, which has bitty little beads sewn on as buttons. It's the details that make these dolls so incredible!This one is called The Autumn Harpist. He is a very groovy Cerunnos type of woodland deity, with his antlers on his forehead the incredible little lyre he's holding. I played around with arranging him when no one was looking. Oh alright - so I re-arranged all of them - hey, she's my sister - I can play with her dolls if I want!This mermaid is another of the bigger dolls and is really a one of a kind. She's hanging next to a display tree of okra ornaments. These things are wild - they twist and curl in all sorts of shapes! They are both bizarre and beautiful at the same time, and I've gotten hooked on collecting them.As you may know from previous posts, I have a pottery Jones. I rarely get to give in to it, but the hand painted flowers and designs on these pieces of Earthworks Pottery are so incredibly rendered, like little paintings on each piece, that they're irresistible. This is the one I want! Check out the okras - they are so funky and fun!There were other things for sale too; crocheted shawls and hats (I had my eye on a raspberry beret, and even modelled it, while singing the requisite Prince song. Oh, you know you would do it too!), handmade marbled paper and books, and jewelry. I don't know why Bea didn't take pictures of them - it could have been the wassail - but at least she remembered to bring her camera, so she was doing far better than I was!

So how was your weekend?