by Susan Lobb Porter | Art, Mr. Spouse, Porterosa |
Mr. Spouse builds things. If his attention wanders when I’m talking to him I know he’s calculating the price of lumber or how many sacks of cement he needs the next day. And no, this is not what he does for a living. This is what he does to relax.
Which is fine by me. Especially since his latest project is my new studio. Here are the photos from this weekend–because this is a weekend only project. As long as the La Nina keeps messing with our winter the building will continue. I expect the snow and rain will come eventually, it snowed well into May last year and even a few flurries in June–but if it can hold off just a couple more weeks until he can get it dried in…ah, bliss.
This is taken from where the door will be. The wall on the left faces north and will have no windows. There will be skylights. The wall straight ahead will have two large windows with a counter running the length of the wall. It faces east. The wall to the right will also have a counter. The windows will take up the entire wall. It faces south.
This is the view from the windows on the east wall. The two brown buildings are the hay shed and the barn, more of Mr. Spouse’s handiwork. As is the green building which is his workshop. Or as Missy B says, “Grandpa’s house”.
I’ll be able to look out at the horses while I work. I don’t know where they were when I took the photo, somewhere out there but not in sight of the camera.
This is the view to the south. Umm…I see a garden here someday. Maybe a patch of lavender, a level little patio with a small table and chairs. I will put that idea out into the universe and see what happens. The universe in this case being Mr. Spouse because his other vice is building stone walls. We have a lot of stone walls around here. Matter of fact, the studio will have a stone facade.
This is what you’ll see when you step out the door and look straight up. This is facing west.
So that’s how studio-to-be progressed this week. I worked in Studio Grande today but nothing is ready to show. Maybe tomorrow.
Now I’m going to settle into the comfy chair and read the first draft of my friend Mitzi’s novel. A nice way to spend a Sunday evening.
There will be dogs involved.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art |
With all the holiday bru-ha-ha around here, art (or the making of it) just didn’t happen. After the kids left I went down to the studio, scratched my head and wondered what I was supposed to do. Because I really didn’t know. Oh, I have plenty of files full of inspiration but starting up cold after vacay time just seemed like too much work.
So I decided to play instead. I discovered a free workshop on line, Doodles Unleashed by Traci Bautista. You can check it out here. It’s probably even better if you’re not an artist because then you might enjoy the exercise in its purest form…simply making marks on paper. But being someone who makes marks on things for a living, I found myself second guessing what I was doing. No paisley patterns for me…I wanted results.
Once I discovered how difficult it was to let go of my expectations, doodling ceased being fun and became a challenge. At least two paintings suffered a grueling end when I grew impatient. Warning: Cranky artist + paintbrush= BAD IDEA.
But I kept at it. Because really, I was not going to be taken down by a doodle. How bad would that be? So I didn’t give up…and I didn’t give up my standards either. Eventually I arrived at a compromise that technically isn’t a doodle in it’s purest form (who wants a doodle virgin anyway?) but it’s different enough from what I normally do to make me feel like I learned something.
I started by marking the paper with various stencils. Two papers actually. This is about the one on the left. The one on the right, RIP.
The shapes reminded me of building. Of houses. The squiggle could be a river.
I did some quick and dirty scribbling with acrylics. Houses. A river. And holy crap, throw some pine trees in there and it’s my town!!!
Because there are houses in my town. And a river nearby. A creek runs through downtown. And we’re surrounded by the Tahoe National Forest. But…but…this is supposed to be a doodle!
To shut up my inner doodle critic I did some loosey-goosey stuff. Paint. Oil pastel. Markers. White-out pen. It’s all about compromise.
And I’m liking it just fine.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art |
Stopped at a store on the way home from work tonight. Found a book on a sale table. A book of quotes. Pithy, profound things other people said once upon a time, the repeating of which make you sound pithy and profound.
Just what I needed! Because original thoughts are so over rated. I’ll never have to have another one again. Imagine that!
Well, needless to say, I scooped that puppy up before it could grow bookish legs and run away. We were meant to be together.
We spent the better part of the evening getting acquainted. I read words of encouragement. Of inspiration. Birthday greetings. Holiday offerings. Whatever you need for any occasion.
And it sparked my creativity. Yesterday I showed a journal page. The one with the typo. And the scary eyed muse.
An then I showed the unfinished fold over.
Said I’d show it again when finished. Didn’t have a clue when that would be because I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do. Until tonight when I found this pithy profundity by e.e.cummings: “It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”
Well that was it! Just use the quote and a photo of moi. A baby photo. I could do an image transfer. Then again it was late, I’d been working all day and my back was behaving badly. I decided to do a collage instead.
First thing I did was decide on the photo. Like this deer in the headlights stare. Someone was probably dangling something bright and shiny off camera.
I scanned the original black and white and altered the color to what I thought would work better with the paper. Then I cut. Glued. Painted. Should not have painted the quote, should’ve used a pen or marker. Oh well, it’s a journal. And it’s mine. Who cares, really…
Here’s what it looks like now.
Oh, and I fixed the typo on the inside page.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art |
The last thing in the world I’m interested in is art journaling. Or so I thought. AJ, for those of you who might not know, is the art of making elaborate journals consisting of, well…art. And whatever pithy thoughts might accompany that art. People go to great lengths with these little books but my feeling was if I put that much work into something I didn’t want to tuck it away somewhere. Because in my mind, journals are private things.
And art is public.
Then I heard about this year long on-line class, Life Book. You can read about it here if you’re interested. Fifty-two weeks of art journaling with lessons by fifteen different mixed media artists. Artists I wouldn’t mind taking a class with. Because I’m ALWAYS open to learning new things.
So I signed up. Along with something like 600 850 other people from around the world. I put my own spin on lesson 1, turned it into an acknowledgement of da muse. I didn’t know that’s what I was doing until I came home tonight and did it.
Totally different than what i usually do. And it was FUN. I enjoyed myself. And God help me, I made one of those silly faces with big eyes. I SWORE I WOULDN’T DO THAT. EVER! But I did. And it was FUN.
So here’s this week’s Life Book page. Ha–I just notices I left out the ‘e’ in stories. Oh well…
It has a fold over that I haven’t done yet. I’ll show you that another day.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art, Life |
Comfy chair. Comfy sweats. Dog crowding out the laptop. Sitting here watching mindless TV. American Pickers. Pawn Stars. And playing on-line Solitaire.
Being a picker looks like fun. Traveling back roads, checking out barns and attics and sagging front porches. Climbing over piles of crap to find the perfect treasure. But knowing me I wouldn’t be looking for resale value, I’d be looking for mixed media parts. Things I could paint on, turn into art.
Doll parts. Metal things. Wooden stuff. Old photographs.
Sigh…look around your own house, Susan.
It’s my last night of vacation. Tomorrow it’s back to work. Laundry’s done. Lunch packed. Got to get back into the early to bed early to rise mentality. Not that I’ve ever been early to bed but it’s something to aim for.
I’m looking forward to seeing my students again. Looking forward to making art with them. Can’t wait to put some music on and dance around the classroom. We’re big on world music in my class. Afro. Latin. Cuban. And classic rock ‘n roll. Little Richard.
And come Friday I’m back in the studio. YAY!!!
But now I’m off to bed.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art, Family, Life |
FirstBorn and family came a visitin’ last week. They stayed in the cottage where Mama lived until she died last spring, repurposed now as my studio. Before they arrived I moved everything that could remotely endanger a two year old to the back rooms where I make art. Including Studio Quat and her kitty needs.
She’s an old kitty. I’m sure the peace and quiet of her bed on my worktable was preferable to the attentions of the granddaughter and granddogger. Both of whom are rambunctious, one of whom is rather large.
Then I got those baby proof things that fit over the doorknobs. The ones you have to squeeze a certain way to open the door. Studio Quat was ever so grateful, kitty privacy guaranteed.
I haven’t had the heart to get rid of Mama’s furniture yet so the kids had all the comforts of home. Comfy furniture. Satellite TV. Complete kitchen and laundry. Most of all they had their own place to get away to. Perfect arrangement for family harmony.
But next Christmas someone else will be living in the cottage. Because I came to the conclusion last month that Studio Grande is too valuable as an income property to be trashed as an art studio. Something Mr. Spouse had been pushing for ever since Mama died but I couldn’t see the big picture. It had been my studio before she lived there and I wanted to reclaim it now that she was gone.
I wanted my dreams.
And I wasn’t ready to have someone else living in Mama’s house.
Then one day in late November the universe whacked me upside the head. AHA! Just like that. Clarity. I could design a studio just the way I want it. A wall of windows to the south. Skylights to the north. A vent fan with a hood. Countertops, storage, a layout that works for me. I could pay for the materials with my inheritance and Mr. Spouse would have a project to keep him busy.
He didn’t waste any time. We got the slab poured last week. And once it’s finished and I’m moved in we can rent out the cottage. Rent out Mama’s house.
I’m okay with that now.
After the kids left this morning I went down to reclaim my space. They cleaned up after themselves before they left. Sheets and towels were in the laundry. Dishwasher loaded. Kitchen counter tidied up. Perfect guests.
And then I looked at the counter and saw something was missing. I searched the cabinets and the drawers but it was gone. No doubt thrown out with the trash. Of course, why not–to them it was only another bottle cap.
But it was much more than that to me. I found it on Mama’s patio a few days after her service last April. After the patio had been swept clean and tidied up from the reception where we’d toasted her memory with beer and dark chocolate. Her two favorite food groups. I’d been visiting the oak grove where we buried her ashes and when I walked past the patio I saw it sitting there in plain sight…a bottle cap. One that I swear hadn’t been there before. I bent down to pick it up and almost cried when I saw the words printed inside…Ola Life!
Overlooked trash? A message from my mother? Or something planted by a well meaning friend…who can say? It brought me comfort. I’d left it in a special place on her kitchen counter and looked at it from time to time. Because it made me feel good.
And now it’s gone…
But you know what–I’m alright with that. Like the cottage studio it served its purpose. This is a new year…and it’s time to let go and move on.
