Prelims

I am working on something for a friend that could not more clearly illustrate the process of inspiration. This friend is really a decent guy who has a lot of traits in common with the big jungle cats of south america. There are times when he seems really relaxed, even at work. In fact he seems so relaxed that you could probably sneak a freight train passed him at about 80 MPH. But don't bet on it. In nano seconds he springs into action and you are toast. Which is great when you are about to dump a 25 pound box of cleaning product on your head cause you are the idiot that put it on the top shelf anyway. Not so great if you are attempting a practical joke as K can testify to. So I am trying to define this quality in him and the only thing that springs to mind is the Central American Jaguar. And it hit me... a mayan glyph.

He is fascinated with the mayan calendar and the whole ancient culture. Normally he goes to Mexico on vacation but things in his personal life put the kibosh on that this year. He is qiuet; doesn't talk much about how he feels.... so like a guy. But you can tell by how much he smokes in a day how bored or emotionally stressed he is. So.... in my head he is the smoking jaguar. And I have a great glyph started.

I can't wait to use this in a birthday card. We've been doing special birthday things besides the corporate cake at lunch. I just don't know if it should be a private card or a group signed card. He is soooooooo hard to read on these things. The last time I gave him a hand made card you'd think I'd set of the auto destruct on the X303. Sheesh!!!!!!

But I am excited. The organic progression between thought and execution was really astoundingly clear. And the bit of research involved was a lot of fun. Its funny.... now that languages are on the top of mind it seems a lot easier to understand how foreign languages go together. Not that I will ever speak mayan or write it coherently. But the way the glyphs are put together make so much sense. Maybe it is the whole "latin based" thing. And even more than that... latin was such a spartan language that it is possible that the old langauges and latin share only one essential thing for communication..... simplicity. Which also fits my friend.

There is elegence in simplicty.
My friend also.

Eyes Wide Open

So Summer is almost upon us. That means good weather to be able to get to the storage unit. More importantly.... TA DA! It means money to keep my unit accessible. That is a big deal while I am in the middle of Michigan with a scuttled economy, high gas prices and Blue Angels in Absentia for this season's tourist fiasco festival. It means that where ever I call studio any given day this summer I can get to the supplies I need. I Know everyone loves telecommuting in this brave new future world of our dreams. But I have to say... studio commuting? Not feeling the love there.

So I have my eyes wide open for the next opportunity which I am hoping will be a semi permanent studio space. I also have my eyes wide open for the day that I will conquer my latest fears and get my work (now that it is free) into the hands of someone who can help me figure out if I have what I need for a showing. If not then I might have enough to schlep a few craft shows or art fairs this Summer. I may have luck enough to beg off a few Saturdays. Keeping fingers crossed.

In the mean time I am working little by little. The current motif is butterflies. The mode of transformation. I hope the sentiment rubs off on me so that I can transform some doubt to confidence and some creative energy into profit and not just something to fill in the time I find I have on my hands.

Sold!

Apparently the reason that artists like coffee shops is because people who like spending money on art spend money in coffee shops. Since I am sans atelier I have been creating in cafes. Well, only one. And normally I sit in the back where I figure I won't bother anyone. But yesterday I was sitting in the window where the western sky bled in through the huge picture windows overlooking the bay. MInding my own business I cranked out a few quick cards. One lady asked me what I was making. I told her. Another lady walks up and asks me what I am doing?
Just making some cards.
L: Where do you sell them?
M: I don't right now.
L: Do you have a business card?
M: Not at the moment.
L: I would love to buy some of your work.
M: Let me give you my info on the back of this one. [I gave her the card with my name and number on it.]
L: Is 6.00 enough.
M: No it's too much.
L: 6.00 is a good price. I would like to contact you about more cards. I have a friend who is sick with cancer. I want to send her something every week while she is at Munson. I will call you by week's end.

Holy Crap! Is is just that easy. I never thought it could be. But I have been showing my work to people in the shelter and I've gotten a lot less nervous about it. So it was nothing to talk to this lady. Progress. All I have to do is get out of the way of my fear and there I go....

Slowly building up speed

I've been without a studio space for months now. And the artlessness of my life is getting to me. So, slowly getting back into the swing of things with some cards and just making things.

I'm using a single box to work out of. It sounds like torture when you consider the scads of goodies in storage and the sprawling nature of my previous work. Somedays it feels like torture because I can't open a drawer and drool over the various bottles of inks in a double rainbow of colors. But it does force me to be focused on the art and not the goodies.

Oh yeah. That was a nod to growth ops. I hate them. I really loved being in my own little world trying to find the next drool-worthy project drenched with color and meaning. But I was in my own little world. I was getting too safe and too stagnant. Granted the past year and a half has been the most painful in terms of social awkwardness and identity of any year in recent history, rivaling the Angst-ridden middle school years. But I am learning.

I don't know what the future will bring. I am hoping that the next couple of months shows a path to settling in with a new circumstance. But that depends on wether or not my personal network is as reliable as it appears or if this too will be another growth op that leaves me in tears.

But I am at least making stuff. That is a good sign.

Commemorate

To be mindful of or keep a live a memory. If you look at the latin derivative com is an intensifying prefix which is added to the noun memorae, a memory. When we commemenorate something we are makin a memory stronger.

Lately it would seem that I use jewelery and bead work to do that. No, I do not think that reinterpretting the things that my gramma handed down or finding things that fit her style and giving them a make-over will bring her back to life. The Force is not that strong with me. But it does help to feel her presence and remember the stories that I was told about her so that I can learn from her strong personality.

I've commemorated trips, friends and past relationships with some form of artwork. In the work that we generate we are telling parts of our stories. Sometimes it is the merger of past and present and at others it is the moment in time in which we are stuck. Those who experience our art may never hear the stories that we recount while we are creating but they do feel the impetus at the center of each piece. That is what speaks truth between two people. That truth is what comforts and consoles or encourages and extoles. It is for those truths that creative people manifest their work be they writers, painters, poets or sculptors or any other kind of artist.

Recently I went to Marquette. It has been 17 years since I have been there. While it has grown in economy and populace there remains still the essence of the city and landscape that I knew so intimately. There is age and there has been death in some of the landmarks and traditions. It has changed on its surface though not so much as to confuse. To commemorate the trip with my new boyfriend who met my old friends, we made a stop at a bead shop.

I had not expected to find one there since the other specialty craft stores are gone. But it was serendipity. I found purple seed beads unlike any that I have ever seen as well as some metallic green in a shade I can not describe. And for sweetie some unusual blues. How this will translate into jewelery I do not know. But I have taken the beads out to look at them and roll the tubes in the light to watch them glisten. I got a lot of beads for 11.00. In Traverse I would have spent closer to 20.00.

Bavarian Blue



Bavarian Blue

 I love this piece. The locket was once Gramma Ada's and had a small fluer-de-lis that it used to hang from. I couldn't see using it in it's original brooch form so... this is the reformat.

Keeping everything in shades of blue and brilliant silver, I combined seed, facets and silver beads with the two blue stones. The blue stones are denim coral. What a surprise to find those in a little shop in Honor.

This is inspired by the wonderful region of America that I live in. Michigan is surrounded by beautiful lakes and I am fortunate to be close to Lake Michigan's shore. But I've also lived under Superior's unpredictable rule. The water will keep me here. It is hard to imagine living anywhere else.

Tanglewood Woes

It would seem that I am in a bit of a pickle. I picked up a drawing pencil for the first time in I don't know how long. Oh, yeah... well no, I guess I do know how long. I just won't admit to it. At any rate, the disturbing truth that made me put it down in the first place is still true. I have tremors.

I've noticed them getting worse as I sign checks and such. If I have to write more than a few lines I can't do so without my beautiful penmanship degrading into something illegibly geriatric. If I were 90 I could see my handwriting look like that. But I am only 40.

I believe that is part of what drives my style. Monet was successful in Impressionism because his eyesight blurred the crisp lines that mark Realsim. He painted what he saw. And if you think about that, he lived a difficult life. I used to draw long, crisp dark lines; now even the shortest line is, to put a nice turn on it... scalloped. Unfortunately, I need crisp lines. I am designing a tatoo with text. It needs to be crisp.

I have always known something was going to go. I think that is what I like best about rubber stamps. You can print anything no matter how your body betrays you. More precisely, betrays me at each turn it has thus far. But I don't really stamp anymore either.

Money and Body. It is a conspiracy to keep me a million miles from my goals. oh I know, Sweetie would tell me that I am the only thing stopping me. Still... I do not know how to overcome the most severe handicap that sits in front of me like an overstuffed Giant after a Lilliputian feast. And in some respects, one could hypothesize that this simply means that I am supposed to go through a different door. And that has worked so well. Anyone got some C-4?

I should be hip deep in the middle of NaNoWriMo. Hard to write "with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes". And its hard to know if these things are obstacles or road signs. If it is a road sign then I am stuck at this fork. I don't want to go down the other path. It is a scarry place, dank and dark as any tanglewood and me sans machette or magestaff.