Last week I promised a painting would be finished. The contrived kitty would morph into something...else… with da muse.
Here it is, the contrived kitty. Gag me…playing safe. Being coy. Aarugh…da muse was not impressed.
So I dove right in. Took a plunge off the deep end, paintbrush in hand. Holy crap! The creative waters were COLD! Cold enough to take my breath away.But when I came up for air…oh man, it felt sooooooo good. So good I said (without consulting with da muse), Hey everyone! Look at me, yoo-hoo…over here. I’m on fire! And I’m gonna have this baby done by Wednesday. Hold. Me. To. It.
Promises are not a good idea when it comes to predicting the creative process. As soon as da muse heard the dreaded P word she curled up with some chocolates and a good book and told me I was on my own.
Which was fine by me. I was on fire, right?
Umm…no.I was so NOT on fire, I even began cleaning the house.
And then a discussion began in my Random Acts of Art Facebook group. The group that morphed from the RAA Wednesdays blog hop. It’s a happening bunch of creatives, let me tell you. In 10 days it’s grown to 192 people from around the world, every one of them hiding little pieces of art in public. Come on over and join the party.
But I digress…the discussion evolved around signing or not signing our names on the art we leave out and about. As I’ve explained to the group, there’s no right or wrong answer to this. It’s a personal decision. For the record, I don’t sign mine. I’m releasing something I made out into the world with NO expectations for the outcome.
Just letting it go.
Today I decided to jump start da muse by applying that same philosophy to the creating process. Just. Let. It. Go.
Ohhhhh…she liked that! Especially when helped along with Springsteen and Paul Simon.
So here’s where Catholic Girls Wear Plaid is now. Still not finished. And most definitely a crappy photo alert. I don’t know why the black is so washed out. But you can get an idea of where it’s heading.
Maybe I’ll get around to finishing this week. But I know better than to make a promise. Till then, my sweetums…may your days be filled with peace, love and chocolate!
I was on fire Sunday night. Ouch! Sizzlin’ hot…FIRE!!! Because da Muse was lit up big time. And I was her puppet…puppet, I tell you...slapping paint every which way, upside down and backwards.
I was so fired up I declared to the world I would have that painting finished by Wednesday. And I asked you guys to hold me accountable.
It seemed like a good idea at the time….
But I didn’t take into account The. Day. Job. And all the other stuff. Like how addicting FUN the new Random Acts of Art FaceBook group is. Whoo-ee! As of this writing we’re up to 72 73 members. 72 73 women from all over the planet who are hiding little bits of arty love in who’da thunk places. Places like fishing nets, elevators, trees…to name just a few. And then photographing the ‘hides’ and sharing them with the group. If you haven’t been there yet check it out. Just click the link above the laughing Buddha on the right.
And ask to join. We’re a friendly bunch and we’d love to have you. Really, we would.
And now, about that painting…the one that’s supposed to be done. TODAY. Well, it’s not. But I’m making new friends online. And tonight, when I went down to the studio after work fully intending to call on da muse, my tired old (not so old) body just could not remain upright. So I said the hell with self-imposed deadlines. And Studio Quat got some quality lap time. Which is also a priority.
I WILL write my post tonight. I will. I will. But there are SO MANY bright shiny objects distracting me in a good way…ahhhh…
So lemme tell you about my day. Holy crap, it was AWESOME!!! Bright and shiny awesome.
If you haven’t read Friday’s post yet, go ahead and do it. Because that’s what kicked my day into high gear. Okay, I’m standing here, arms folded, tapping my left foot. I’m waaaaaaiting for you to read all about my SHINY SPANKIN’ NEW RANDOM ACTS OF ART FACEBOOK GROUP. Ta-da…
Join it. Join it NOW because it’s so much fun! Just follow the arrow that’s not there. But if it WAS there, it would be pointing to the laughing Buddha to the right.
He’s laughing because he found one of my arty tokens. He’s laughing because he’s feelin’ the luvvvvv.
You don’t have to be an artist to join. You just need a spirit of adventure and generosity. And the desire to make a stranger’s day.
I started the group Friday and today the FaceBook faries sent all sorts of magical people knocking at the door. I spent most of the day on the computer…aawk…will have to get a handle on that, yes indeed. But I was meeting new people and, in my mind, each and every one of them was a bright and shiny distraction.
I finally tore myself away and went down to Studio Grande. I didn’t have a clue what I was going to do. I picked up a new canvas because preliminary layers are a no brainer. But I was feeling so good I figured, what the hell…I had the power, y’know…I could take on…THE CAT.
Crappy photo alert, both of ’em.
I hated the cat so much I don’t even have a photo of its nearly finished self. Just this, which is nowhere near where I left it. It was all w.r.o.n.g. Contrived. Uninspired. NOT ME.
Something I did because I thought it could sell. And it probably would have. But it didn’t feel right.
Guess I’ve been reading too much of that authenticity crap stuff.
So I was brave. Bold. Turned it upside down so it wouldn’t look so much like a cat. Then I loaded a two inch brush with black acrylic and had at it. Then I took a rag and wiped some of that away. Then I grabbed some colored paper and started cutting. And collaging.
All this time rockin’ out to Springsteen. Da Boss.
Which is probably why the first image that evolved was Catholic Girls Wear Plaid. I’m sure he must have a song about that somewhere.
What the—??? This is SO unlike what I’ve been doing. But…but…it feels RIGHT! Right for me now.
And then another cat entered the picture and …and…well, it’s still not done but I am SO EXCITED about this. I have an idea where I’m taking it. Which doesn’t necessarily mean that’s where it’s going to go. But I have an idea.
So come back Wednesday. It will be done by then. IT WILL. It will it will it will. Well, come back and see if it is.
And if it isn’t, hold me accountable!
In fact, you can begin that right now in the comments below.
And by the way, tell all your friends about the FaceBook group. The more the merrier.
I was at work the other day, eating lunch in the staff room with a couple of co-workers. One of them, Laura, was telling us about a breakthrough riding lesson she’d had the day before. Laura’s no novice when it comes to horses, she’s an accomplished rider as well as a trainer.
Whoa, wait up. Time out. This is an ART blog. What does a riding lesson have to do with painting?
EVERYTHING. Because as Laura was telling her story, talking about the AHA! moment that took her from one level of horsemanship to the next, I sat there with a great big lightbulb going off in my head. 300 watts of high intensity Arty Life brilliance!
KA-BOIiiiiiiiiiNG!!! (that’s supposed to sound like a cartoon spring)
So here’s what I remember about Laura’s lesson. She’s in an arena with a handful of other riders. At one end of the arena were horses being worked on the ground. Distraction. None of the horses being ridden wore bridles. No reins for the riders. Just a hank of mane to hang on to. Well hey, riding without a bridle is impressive but on a scale of 1-10 it’s not like it’s a 12 or anything. You ride with your body. Seat, legs, weight, balance. Reins are like a telephone line, another means of communicating with your horse. Communicating, not controlling. Because when it comes right down to it, the ponies got you beat hands down when it comes to size and strength.
The thing that took this lesson out the the ordinary was the riders weren’t giving direction to their horses. They were just along for the ride, so to speak, letting the horses move about however they pleased amid all the other distractions in the arena. The object being to ride through whatever craziness that might come up.
Which of course it did. Because horses are curious. And reactive. As in holy crap!!! I only came over here to say hello and now she’s going to kick me and so I spinnnnnn around until my brain flies out my ears and then I must runnnnnnnn for my life! And runnnnnnn some more! And keep runnnnnnning because I’m bat-shit crazy and I CAN!!!
When you’re on a horse that does the bat-shit crazy thing, your first inclination is to tighten up and fight against it. Try to control it with the size and strength you don’t have. The thought of broken bones is right there, front and center. Which just makes you tighter. And the situation more dangerous, deteriorating until it becomes one of those oh shit! situations.
But when Laura’s horse went into crazy-ass mode she remembered the object of the lesson and ahhhhhhhh...relaxed right into the fear. Consciously softened her body and rode it out. Not trying to control or direct anything, Just communicating to her horse with her body, a language he could understand, that there was nothing to be afraid of.
And. It. Worked.
AHA! Lightbulb moment here!!!
See where I’m going with this?
It’s just like riding the Wild Crazy ART PONY!
Wild Crazy ART PONY really, really wants you to relax. Because creativity can be a scary-ass thing. It can take you places you don’t want to go. Like scribbles. Or doodles. Or throwing paint, using those colors. Or making something NOT PERFECT.
Just perfectly INSPIRED. And perfectly AUTHENTIC.
But the natural inclination when faced with unbridled creativity is…to tighten up! To put on the brakes and say whooooa…look at that line, it’s the wrong color/shape/size. I need to paint over it, erase it, tear it up, start again. In other words…WORK IT TO DEATH.
Because we are afraid…it’s not good enough. It won’t sell. People will say unkind things.
And who am I to trust my inspiration?
Ohhhhhhhh…this is where I was going to say (in a kind, motherly fashion) You are an artist. Or writer. Dancer, teacher, whatever… I was going to be loving and gently remind you who you are.
But I’m not going to do that.
You see that wild art pony over there? Well, climb aboard. Go for a ride. And when things get crazy and you feel out of control and you want to tighten up and rein in thatfabulous, spectacular creativity…ahhhhhhh…remember the language of the wild pony. Relax. Lean into it instead. Let it take you where it needs to go.
And then you can tell SHOW me who you REALLY are.
Before you go, I want to share a short video with you that is one of the most inspiring, joyful, AWESOME displays of trust and communication between woman and horse that I’ve ever seen. I’ve had it on my desktop for the longest time, watching it at least once a day because it makes me feel THAT good.
So go ahead and watch it. Think of the Wild ART PONY. And be inspired.
Oh. My. So many adventures in Arty Life land the last couple of days. Brace yourself because this post is going to be skipping from one thing to the next, each topic guaranteed to make you more dizzy than the next.
First…and only because it happened minutes ago and I’m still as jumpy as a tweaker from the adrenalin rush…my brush with wildlife. There was a bear rat in the hay shed. Big sucker. But I was BRAVE. Oh, indeed I was, even with flip flops on my feet. No girly screaming like I did with the mouse. No. This time I was brave enough to stomp and shout with a very big voice like a very scary person. And bang a couple metal trash lids together like a one woman marching band. And Mr. Rat was so impressed he fell off one shelf and jumped down from another. The last I saw was his bare naked tail as it disappeared behind the hay.
Begone with you Templeton!
Now that I’ve impressed you with my wildlife management skills…you ARE impressed, aren’t you…now we can move on to Precious Man Dog (AKA Bean, AKA Benny) If you read Friday’s post, you’ll recall PMD was sorely in need of a haircut. Being a poodle mix the hair just grows. And grows. I let it grow over the winter to keep him warm. Dreadlocks happen and matts and clumps of thick, dense felt take over. Then in the spring I take to him with scissors and we start the cycle all over again.
So this was PMD last week.
This is him today, half the size he used to be. But so darn cute I can’t stand it.
Sophie is in the middle of her spring trim. I have to wait until she’s dead asleep before I can get certain spots. Like her chest. Right now she’s sporting a whole lot of chest hair. Throw a couple gold chains around her neck and she’d be a ringer for Burt Reynolds.
Okay, now it’s time to move on from critters, both wild and domestic, and get to art. Got a couple works in progress to show.
This is acrylic, 2’x2′. Don’t have a clue where it’s going but will know when it gets there. Layers and scribbles. Layers and scribbles.
This one is also acrylic, 36″x48″. Still very much a work in progress. Oh crap…as I’m writing this I’m wondering if I put the lid back on the jar of Titan Buff…well, let’s hope I did because it’s dark and I’m not heading back down to Studio Grande.
Speaking of Studio Grande, Mr. Spouse got some sheet rock up in the new! improved! Studio-Grande-to-be.
He was hoping to have it all rocked this weekend but it was slow going. Hard work indeed. But this is how Mr. Spouse relaxes from his desk job, he builds stuff. And I’m not complaining. By the way, this photo was taken after 6PM. Still good natural light, at least at this time of year. Even more when the tarps come off the skylights.
A gentle reminder that Wednesday is Random Acts of Art. I hope some of you will join me in sharing where you hide your treasures. You can send me photos before Tuesday (like, today) and I’ll post them on the blog. Or you can post the link to your own blog anytime between Wednesday and Saturday.
I’m posting art every day on my FaceBook page. Pop on over and check it out. And while you’re there, do me a GREAT BIG HUMONGOUS favor and click the ‘like’ button (for the page) if you haven’t done so already. And if you’ve already liked my page, pat yourself on the back because you are my BFF and I love you…truly love you… almost as much as I love chocolate!
Chocolate is calling to me. Not the good kind, the 88% full of anti-oxidents it’s-so-damn-healthy-you-can-eat-it-for-breakfast-and-you’re-happy-with-just-a-smidge-of-a-bit kind. Oh nooooooo, I’m hearing the seductive call of it’s evil twin, a well known brand of milk chocolate that tastes like…well, it tastes like my childhood. All sweet and sugary. Laden with fat and chock full of stuff that makes my inner nutritionist cringe. But that doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter at all because even if it glowed in the dark from radiation (and it might) what the hell…I WANT IT! And I WANT. IT. NOW!!!
I could eat a one pound bar All. By. Myself. In fact, I would go all ferrel and snap and snarl and growl threateningly at anyone who even looked at it, much less tried to take it away.
And after that, I would round out the day with potato chips. Salty yummy greasy crunchy chips. YAY!!! Let’s hear it for–
For what? Am I hungry? Umm…no. I just had lunch. A nice chicken tostada with extra guac and greens. To be perfectly honest (which I rarely am when it comes to food) there’s NO vacant real estate in belly land right now.
Then why do I feel the need to eat? Especially something loaded with sugar and fat and salt? Stuff that’s no good for me. That makes me hyper and tired all at the same time. That makes me look like I come from a long line of Sumo wrestlers.
WHY?
I’ll tell you why in a couple of minutes. But first go read a post I wrote back in February. Because even though I’m sounding desperate right now, I’m not. But I was back then.
Before I met AnaLisa Rutstein, MA CHHC. Before I took part in her Jump Start Program. Which was NOT a diet but six 45 minute one-on-one phone calls exploring and clarifying my issues around food. With handout and e-mail support.
That’s a whole lot of AHA! moments, believe me. A whole lot of getting back in touch with myself. Slowing down. Breathing. Meditating. Understanding the emotional triggers that send me scurrying to that bag of chips.
My emotional triggers? The biggest one…stress. But not stress like the car broke down or I had words with DearDaughter. The top hit on my personal Stress O’Meter…creativity. Or the insecurities I have surrounding my creative endeavors.
WTF??? Whack upside the head. My whole life is one big creative endeavor. Painting. Writing. Starting a biz…. No wonder my ass is so big.
Does this mean if I want to wear those skinny jeans again I’m going to chuck it all, get a 9-5 somewhere, a boring 9-5, and call it a day?
No. It means when I’m sitting at the computer searching for the exquisite turn of phrase, the perfect thing to say and I find myself getting all jittery and jumpy as a tweaker and I NEED to stuff my face with the bad bad bad bad BAD stuff so I don’t have toTHINK…it means I now have the tools to deal with that. Tools like BEING AWARE of what I’m doing. And why I’m doing it. So I can redirect myself by breathing, by acknowledging the emotion, by any number of little MINDFUL diversions.
The chocolate up there? The stuff I really, really wanted? I had some. But not a lot. It was a choice I made consciously. I didn’t have nearly as much as I would’ve six weeks ago. And honestly? If you’d come by and wanted some, that’d be okay. I wouldn’t have gone all ferrel on you.
I might’ve even shared.
Change of subject: Whoo-hoo! Over here! Be sure to check out my new FaceBook page. There’s art. New art every day. Imagine that!!! And if you click the ‘like’ button at the top of the FB page I will like you forever and be your BFF. Because I likes me those ‘likes’. So go ahead, do that RIGHT NOW because you wouldn’t want to forget or anything, right?
