This a bit of a teaser. I have these stretches of what seems like no productivity, at least if you look at my website and especially my blog. In reality, it has been about working on a new series of paintings that are gathering for a healthy body of work to exhibit somewhere. Not sure where that will be, but feel confident it will happen when and where it is supposed to happen. The certain thing is how it feels working on these paintings, how it is flowing with my natural vibe, which is supposed to happen, but can often elude us artists. The subject not only holds my interest, it allows me to uncover something new with each piece.

It’s about my dogs. They are with me 24/7, as I converted my garage into a full time studio. I generally stay home, working on sketching, painting, breaking for lunch and dinner, the internet, some tea and/or snacks, garden work, more internet, or just resting for a bit. But here is the thing, I am excited and having fun with this new work!

These are not portraits. They are renderings of the dogs doing various things that they do throughout their day, their play being a big part of the focus. Having said this, the one image posted above is the only portrait thus far, but feel it still falls in line with what they do, or what Louie does, who is our oldest at 14, and he loves to sleep on my partner’s favorite chair. He gave me this look, which kind of said to me, “I know this is daddy’s chair, but aren’t I cute when I am happy lying up here?”. So the title, “Daddy’s Chair” seemed appropriate. My partner, who is daddy (dog owners understand the daddy/mommy concept for furry babies) actually pushed me to do a portrait of Louie because of his age, sort of an attempt to still the fast-approaching inevitable, which neither of us wants to ever think about.


My material is so close to my heart, and always gifting me with new ideas. We live with 3 dogs, one Husky mix, Sophie, who is only a year and a half younger than Louie, at 12 plus. She has always been more playful, so she is the playmate of our nearly 2 year old, yellow-lab mix, Ellie, who is already a pro at bringing more laughter into our lives. They all charm us for reasons as different as their personalities, so when I sat in my studio a couple of months ago sketching for possible ideas, the dogs started into another play session, and I was completely sold.

I believe my love of painting with oils will never diminish. Some years ago, I moved from canvas to wood panels, and have never looked back. I love the smoothness of the surface, and its undeniable durability, although some artists are concerned about wood changing shape, and it always does, even if only slightly. I do build my own panels and consider this when doing so, making them quite strong and therefore, less flexible, quite capable of handling our steamy, gulf coast environment. As a matter of fact, they are so solid that I have found it a good practice to recycle some old paintings that are less than memorable to something more alive and current. I know, some would say never to do such a thing, but much of my older work seems far from precious and are always adding to the never-ending issue of storage space, a common problem for most artists


In this image (left), you can see behind the sketch of the two dogs some imagery of the previous painting.  If you see lots of bony fish, you would be correct. It was time for it to go to the ethers of retired, creative efforts, wherever that place is. In this case, after a good sanding it landed under a layer of new gesso. No one will miss it... certainly not me. In the meantime, I will happily keep my readers informed as this new series progresses.

Where's The Art?

It’s coming! That’s what I keep telling myself as I get sidetracked with all these things: the garden, the dogs, family, friends, attending art events, Youtubing (so much to say here), laundry (above), more gardening, grocery shopping, cooking, an odd moment of house cleaning and even more gardening! I think it has to do with that primal need to start new life and after all, it’s Spring!

The Garden

Every year I start some kind of edible plant project, hoping to have a sustainable food source for the year. In reality, that usually consists of a good amount of tomatoes and cucumbers, but not much else. This year, I decided to grow some hardy greens and root veggies, along with a couple of large, cherry, tomato plants. I will plant sweet potatoes in May as I am growing the slips for this right now. I have a decent amount of herbs and other culinary delights, including spinach, vining spinach, celery, turnips, carrots, radishes, beets, taro, collards, kale, red leaf lettuce, arugula, Swiss chard, broccoli, two pomegranate trees, two kinds of cauliflower, chives, cilantro, sage, oregano, mint, two kinds of rosemary, two kinds of thyme, two kinds of parsley, and three kinds of basil. I just felt the need to list them all, probably to boost my sense of accomplishment and remind myself why my studio felt left out.

The Art

Studio time does happen and painting has been the focus. Seems I am off in another direction after painfully interacting with one piece for a couple of weeks that never felt right. Why did I let that go so long? Seems I often find myself perplexed, but not enough to drop something, so I keep it going, certain I can solve the thing. But when I finally did put it aside, I simplified my approach. This usually means it’s time to just sketch what is in the room around me, which often opens up a whole new view, and tends to let in a little magic, if I just let it happen. This will likely be a new series of work and I will have more on this in another post.

YouTube

Is it just me, or is Youtube the new form of entertainment? Maybe I am slow on this one. To say I watch way too much Youtube lately, is an understatement. It probably started a few years ago when I became infatuated with the tiny house movement, but more recently, it is about RV life. I started looking into camper trailers, as we thought it would be a good way to take our dogs with us for a trip to west Texas. I do so love west Texas. Also, it would be fun to go camping, maybe a short weekend getaway on occasion. I was curious about these small, so-called "egg campers" with their all-fiberglass shells. There are even some that are made in Texas – Casita is this maker, with a perfect compact size, functionality and sexy curves to go with it. They do come in a bit pricey, but they never lose their value as they are well-made and therefore, long lasting.

In this process of searching, I found an entire culture of people who not only travel in these various, mobile structures, they often live in them! Some even live in vans! And not what you would think of at first, or maybe you wouldn’t, but I remember the infamous Saturday Night Live skit with Chris Farley about “living in a van down by the river”… very funny, but not what I found.

Instead, it was all ages, all kinds of educational backgrounds, cultural diversity, some with money, some not so much, but always living on the wind and that questionable edge, often not knowing what’s next. And there lies the excitement, the adventure and the freedom from what most of us view as ordinary life. Life that often traps us into routine spending, brainwashed thinking and buying, a wasteful lifestyle, collecting all the latest stuff, paying a mortgage on a house full of even more stuff. Often, it is a big, expensive home with many rooms and all of that stuff and maybe one day, we stop and wonder if this is what we are here for? Is this really our dream of a good life?

These nomads spend much of their time connecting with nature, and on occasion, connecting with others who are somewhat, like-minded. The nature part gets my attention, but I wouldn’t want to always be on the road. I feel like I need a home base, and not necessarily where I am now. However, I do crave a mind melt with nature, and love the idea of a trip into the wild a few times a year. A nice reprieve from the city, from the fast pace, the noise, the pollution, and the horrendous, Houston traffic!

It does appear that the number of individuals joining this movement is rapidly growing. Part of this may be due to the cost of living in the cities. Even where I live there is a change happening as many people I know are being priced out of their own neighborhoods. I do wonder how this will all end up in a few years, and are there fewer younger people buying homes? At any rate, I am definitely attracted to downsizing and leaving behind a smaller footprint.

Back to the Youtubers, there is one of my favorites, Jill Elizabeth, who has termed these perpetual wanderers, “Road Culture”. She says her journey is within for now, as she sits in the middle of what seems like a very desolate part of New Mexico. She is on the philosophical scale end of the wildly different mix of people with YouTube channels about RV life. I find her to be quite relatable, although I could not be so isolated as she is. It is her personal journey and she is always a pleasure to listen to.

Others are about the basics of traveling or living in a camper of some kind. Some are more about their adventures and their interaction with others while enjoying what they find. Many talk about living for free while camping (dispersed camping) somewhere on public land, BLM land – Bureau of Land Management, or staying in a National Forest, National Parks and State Parks. The rules are quite different for all of them, especially if you have dogs. It is a fascinating subject to me, obviously, and felt the need to share it.  At any rate, less Youtube and more studio time is ahead!

Writing during this holiday season, I am reminded of how the end of each year is more like a turning point, a close to another chapter with the celebratory events of the holidays to see it through. For me, the Christmas lights always inspire, as they shine their brightness with symbolic meaning, awakening hope and joy where there is often despair and darkness. This human need for light is simply engrained in our DNA and a primal call to our ancestral connection with the warm glow of a fire. I am always happy to end each year with these magical, little lights. They are the jewels on top.

When I think about what stands out in 2017, I see that it was and still is the need for calm, to escape the overwhelming news, and a longing for the safeness of the ordinary. I felt like surrounding myself with simple things, easy tasks, quiet mornings, feel-good movies, stories, books and definitely no news. It’s not that I want to be in the dark about what is going on, I just want to be sane enough to handle it, and to somehow make a difference. News events today seem heavier than I can ever remember, entrenching us, permeating our collective being to the core. It can seem more like a nightmarish, science-fiction movie instead of reality. Fiction like this would not be believed. I would walk away from such a film shaken, but certain I could go home and all would be fine. But no, it is global warming, massive loss of habitat, thousands of species extinct, fires, floods, hurricanes, earthquakes, violence, hate, cruelty, vulgar narcissism, misogyny, bigotry and a monstrous greed leading the way. It is all this heavy stuff happening, seeping up to the surface, no longer able to be contained under the wound that will not heal until the festering and sickness are pushed out.

On the personal side of news, one of the hardest things to face in life, especially during the holidays, is the loss of a loved one. I am saddened by so much news of friends who have lost someone this year. Every time we follow our hearts and fall in love, we are eventually made aware that it is not permanent. Maybe the love is always there, but our physical reality is not. To live as long as I have is to make this experience unavoidable.

We are more connected than we know, even if only by a remote, social network like Facebook, which brings all kinds of news, often from people who are only internet friends. There is one such who has so touched my heart. Perhaps it is the thread of being a parent and sharing our deepest fear, one that she has painfully realized. Most of us will not touch it, it puts such a horror upon us; that of losing a child. I have the deepest sympathy for her, for all who are feeling the pain of loss. My gratitude expands every time these sad stories awaken what I have in my life. The love of others is priceless.

I was searching for a short video, wanting something moving with a little holiday charm. It is yet another way to lighten the load. I was actually looking for the animation with the boy who flies over a winter wonderland with his snowman, Walking in the Air, which is a short clip from the full 27 minute animation, The Snowman. It is one of my favorites, and tends to fill me with a sense of wonder as I slip back into my own childhood just a bit. It was so easy for me to go into that imaginative world as a child, and something tells me I should visit this place more often today.

While looking for this video, I first found Escape, another short Christmas animation. It is a simple, sweet, story with a music score that I hope won many awards as it was originally used in the film, Meet Joe Black. It stirs up deep emotions for me, not so much because of the film, but because of the music itself. I am overcome with the mood of it, my eyes welling up, and love being able to feel someone’s creation in this way. Perhaps that is why it is called “escape”.

A few days ago, I baked Christmas cookies for the first time in probably 20 years. I slipped into that nurturing mode, shaping, rolling and cutting the dough with love, baking and sprinkling on little, sugary concoctions, minus any red ones that were nowhere to be found in the city of Houston. Seems there was a red sugar/sprinkles shortage, but still plenty of green, which seems odd that one was not on the shelves when both are so synonymous with Christmas baking. Of course, I had to throw in some green dinosaur sprinkles I found. Christmas and dinosaurs make such sense, or at least some of my grand children seemed to think so.

And then there is knitting, which is truly a meditative process, as you often must be aware of what you are doing. The rhythmic motion takes over, like a steady and soothing heartbeat. I have always loved knitting, and have purposely not allowed myself to knit because this valuable time could be spent making art. I must say here that creating art can also take me there, but sitting cozy on a comfy couch with mindless abandon seemed necessary. It becomes a sort of nesting thing, which comes over me every year around this time. I knew it was important to lose myself in this process, which will result in a new scarf, as if I need another one! Clearly, the need was something else.

If we feel overwhelmed, depressed, worried, sleepless and/or chaotic, we are not only harming ourselves, we are unable to benefit anyone or anything else. We become toxic. Our mental and physical health takes a dive, with stress as our nemesis. We must be the peace by finding the calm. Find what gives you a break from the madness. See that there is much beauty in our world, and yes, there is beauty, even with all that is in such upheaval. Know that you are the peace, as it can only start from within us. We are like a flower opening itself up and revealing its alluring colors and honeyed aromas, resonating this peace out to the world around us. It is not something you go search for, although many do. It is us who carry peace within in our hearts. When we are enlightened to this, we connect to each other and all of life. Peace resides in love; in who we really are. We only need to look to see that it is always right where we are, always waiting for us to open our gift and to share it.

It seems that I have gone far too long, once again, without writing something in my blog. I have never liked that word “blog”. It tends to remind me of that early, science fiction movie, The Blob, with the then-teenage actor, Steve McQueen. Although entertaining to watch, especially from these present times, that big pink thing eating everything in its path and growing to the size of a massive building is probably not the best metaphor. Of course, if I get too wordy, maybe.

Then there is the word “slob”, which may be my inner critic’s favorite, reminding me of the condition of my studio, with wrapping paper, multiple bags full of gifts, tools spread everywhere and half-done art put aside, gathering dust. There is also the word, “blah”… blah, blah, blah! My inner critic loves to whisper this one into my ear in those doubtful moments of writing. Of course, blog is short for weblog, as in web-log.

I do love to write. I suppose it is mostly, random thoughts moving through my head that I often feel the urge to jot down, or something I see that day; something that happened. I would not consider myself a great writer and maybe not even a good one, as I wish to be less mundane in my word usage, but one must be natural and true to oneself. Thinking of this, there is the book, On Writing, by Stephen King, which is kind of a biography as well sound advice, and so worth the read!

It does help that I read often, which so feeds me. I have two books going now, not always the best way to fully take in a story, but this is the case presently. It all comes down to the weight of the book, and yes, I do prefer reading real books, although I have read an equal share electronically. I usually read in bed at night and if the book is heavy as Walter Isaacson’s, Leonardo da Vinci, which is at least a 3 pounder, I leave it out in the living room for situp, comfy-couch reading. I have a much lighter, paperback, Margaret Atwood’s, The Year of The Flood, in the bedroom. Both books are engaging, for widely different reasons.

I will not make this a book review, but will say that I do enjoy throwing a fiction in there occasionally, just to not get too caught up in biographies, history, science, discovery or spiritual books. I still have Elizabeth Colbert's, The Sixth Extinction sitting by my bed. It’s informative and depressing in one desparate breathe, so I go through it slowly. It’s a book I would refer to as “heavy” in a different context, and knowing that the author speaks truth, it  shakes up the present moment and any plans of a future with certain clarity.

If you think about it, fiction can cover almost anything, and one of my favorite kinds is historical fiction. I know, the key word is “fiction”, but good writers who do tidy research can make learning history so much more enlightening. I love it when I connect with people who lived 500 years ago who usually seem so distant and un-relatable. A good writer can change how you see and feel these ancient cultures, and you can feel that they are “us”, with all our faults and messiness, and our deep capacity to love.

Anyway, for the one or two of you who occasionally look at these posts, I apologize for being so sparse in my writings. I am planning to write some sort of holiday post, and will visit writing more often in general, even if it is random loopholes in my thinking. I have also made a promise to myself to sketch more often. This may come as a surprise or maybe it’s obvious, but I rarely sketch. I have been working on wire sculpture in recent months, but that is no real excuse. Sketching is vital, and so is writing.

And here is where I will leave it, till the next, not-too-distant post :)

My friend pointed out the chrysalis on the concrete below my potted milkweed plants. I am not sure why it had fallen from where it was attached, and I thought that my watering habits may have been too much for it. It also seemed too small, but its size did not diminish its jewel-like presence, that sweet line of gold dots around the top, looking as if the purist, gold leaf was placed there so perfectly by a master artisan. Nature's jewelry.

I taped it to a branch on my hibiscus plant. A couple days later, it began to change color, getting darker. I could see through the once green, now glassy layer, showing the recognizable patterns of the monarch's wings. The following day, I walked out to discover the chrysalis was gone, only a fragment of the top was still attached, and below on the pavement was a deformed butterfly, its wings unable to open.

I picked it up and carefully put it on a branch. I hoped that the wings would adjust, but hours later, they still remained wrinkled, stunted. I cannot say why, but this moved me deeply. I felt emotional, sad. Why did this happen? I walked into the house, tears welling up, and began to laugh at myself.
It's a bug that gets you this way?

Before the sun went down, I saw her out my kitchen window, holding dearly to a leaf, wings moving slightly, but still unable to open. It crossed my mind that she may never fly, and that she will probably be on the ground the next morning. Part of me hoped that by some amazing act of science or the butterfly gods, moisture in the night air would allow her wings to finally unfold. But there she was, crippled on the ground. I once again placed her on a branch, but moments later, it was clear she could not hold on.

The metamorphosis of a caterpillar to a butterfly always seems a miracle to me. To most of us, I think. It symbolizes the beautiful outcome from that mysterious part of change. The revealing of something completely made anew. Often, we don't understand how that works, or why, and the more we try to control it, the more it becomes clear that it is out of our control. Perhaps this is where the real beauty lies, as we are reminded to become more flexible and to “allow” the energy to flow. To let go; to surrender.

Somehow, things will work out the way they are supposed to. We can plan our lives, make goals and take steps toward them, but keep close to our hearts that our metamorphosis may take a very different path. I believe this is what it means to have faith. To see beyond the struggles, the past and the future, and to fully understand that the only precious moment we really ever have is now.

Nature is the perfect teacher.