Kim Hambric Art

New Orleans: Roux

2012-01-30T11:01:00.000-05:00

Another "new" piece in the New Orleans series. This series represents the rebuilding, the languishing, the heat and the lush growth of the city. Roux also represents the cultural mix that makes that forms the city -- for good and bad.

This piece is now available on Etsy .

My Little House

2012-01-25T13:10:00.001-05:00

My Little House, 4 x 4"

Like I've got just loads of time piled up around me, I've gone and started another blog. Pay a visit to My Little House and see what's going on. I'm not sure what kind of blog this is going to be yet. I'm not too much for planning ahead. Some photos, perhaps. I'm not that great of a photographer, but maybe this will give me reason to improve. There will be little glimpses into my house. The goal is to show myself what I already have. I'm one of those people that is always wanting something more than what they already have. I'm hoping my new blog will help me to get over that.

Beast

2012-01-23T15:41:00.000-05:00

Finally, one actually created this year! I love the more open and playful look. (At least it looks that way to me.)

Too many things are taking me out of the studio this week. A new 4x4" piece was finished today, and one 6x6" piece is taunting me and becoming totally obnoxious. I've threatened it with a wash of gesso. We'll see what comes of it.

To Print or not to Print

2012-01-19T10:15:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite blogging artists Andrea Pratt, has been grappling with making prints of her artwork. While I have never seen one of per pieces in person, I can imagine it would be thrilling. Her trees practically crackle with energy. That got me to thinking about prints. Again. And that thinking got me to the same conclusion. Again.

I do have some prints of others' work. There are those occasions when the interest in an art piece wanes, and when it does, for me, it's always a print. Sure, I'd love to have an Van Gogh. Not going to happen. So I settled for a framed print. While I still enjoy looking at it, it no longer draws me in. I see its flatness. Of course it must be flat. Texture does not convey. I am still drawn to the original pieces of art in my home. I've tired of the content of a couple of pieces, but the rest have stayed with me. Their textures still draw me in. Yes, I've been known to run my hands over these pieces.

As I've mentioned here before, I love creating my pieces. I have loved working with textiles. Then when I wanted more texture, I added beads. Then paper. Now I am working with paper and paint, and I add texture with those. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes accidentally. I pet these pieces while I create them. I pet these pieces when I finish them. And since very few have left the house recently, I can take them all out and pet them when I need to reconnect.

These pieces still have energy. I still feel the heat and excitement I felt when creating them. Even though I am not creating the textile pieces right now, I still feel the same about them. When I feel uninspired, I will take out my finished artwork and touch it.

There are cultures that believe to take a person's photograph is to steal their soul. While I don't try too hard to avoid black cats and walking under ladders, I do feel there is something to that superstition. I certainly feel that way about artwork. My refrigerator is covered in photos, notes and drawings. Many of the magnets are mini-reproductions of famous works of art. I've got no problem with that. And why not have a mouse pad Mona Lisa? But to me, to truly feel the art -- its weight, meaning, significance, you've really got to be able to feel the art. It's soul is lost when it becomes a photograph.

Art is not just a product. It is also a process. When I see my own art, I see the process. I can still feel the process in my fingers. When I look at art I've purchased I want to be able to do the same or to get as close to the process as possible. I want to see the order the layers were applied. I want to see and feel the textures. I don't want a piece of art on my wall like a trophy. Something once alive. Something that I can't relate to and that can't relate to me. I want the art on my walls to still be living and breathing.

I know that art is not cheap. People will say that they love a certain artist's work and that buying a print is a close as they can get. If there's some artist that you must have something, anything, by -- well sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. But to say you can't afford original art is probably not true. Come to think of it, my artwork is pretty reasonable. Etsy is chockfull of awesome art. Look in junk shops and flea markets. Even the side of the road. Check out local crafts fairs and art auctions. Check your granny's attic.

I've probably ticked off some artists out there. Perhaps their work DOES translate well into prints. Mine doesn't.

Now go and buy some art or pull it out of someone's trash. Love it. Touch it often.

And if you think I'm wrong, please let me know.

Rules

2012-01-16T10:31:00.000-05:00

First, I would like to thank my readers for their inspiring and encouraging comments on my last post. It is nice to feel, even for a hermit, that I am not alone.

Next, I want to talk about rules. I understand there must be rules. Some folks believe in commandments, some believe that one should wait an hour after eating before swimming, some enjoy a life of anarchy. I believe that in most cases rules make us safe or even out the playing field or make life a little easier for the government of a country comprised of hundreds of million of people.

After a point, rules can become a nuisance. Rules are often used in place of simple encouragement. And, too often, rules are made just because it feels good to somebody to make them.

Each year in January, many bloggers I read chose words or statements of encouragement to follow throughout the year. They may use these words to create more art, deal with people more effectively, make more money, etc. Sounds like a good idea. I've never done this before. This year, my personal statement is: follow fewer rules.

Sure, I might get into a bit of trouble. I might lose a friend or two. I might, inadvertently offend someone who might have been willing to give me a bit of help. But for so long, I've followed too many rules in order to keep out of trouble and keep from offending. And I feel this has keep me far too silent.

The new pieces in the photograph above are part of the new me. You are probably thinking they look pretty much like the old me. Maybe I'm the only one that will see the difference. That's ok. These five pieces were made in five days. My goal wasn't speed, but just a freeing up of my mind. I wanted to get something down fast. I wanted fewer rules, even self-imposed ones. While creating is normally fun for me, doing these pieces was a joy. I actually laughed while making them. Not hysterically and not the entire time, thankfully. Sure, there was a moment of sorrow when I dropped a piece that had been painted and the board cracked. But seconds later it was in the trash and another piece was underway.

Last, here is my newest piece on Etsy . Definitely a more controlled piece, but fun just the same.

Quiet and Alone. What's wrong with that?!?

2012-01-13T10:54:00.000-05:00

There are those out there that keep exquisite journals. Artwork. Clippings. Hugely creative doodles. These things get shown in national magazines.

I infrequently buy journals. I love paper. I love blank paper. I love a fresh book. I just don’t know how to properly deal with these things.

Now, if I buy a journal, I make sure it is quite small with few pages. That way, if I get a third of the way through, I can feel some sort of accomplishment.

I put little sketches in them. Mostly designs. I cannot “draw,” so no portraits or still lifes for me. So a page of multi-sized dots may be the extent of my drawing. Often I will write a pithy thought or perhaps an excruciating line about my mother’s death. How about a short list of names I will never be called? Or a list of my five (at the moment) favorite words?

I am now taking an on-line creativity course. I am supposed to write down my dreams. I am supposed to write down my fears. I HATE writing this kind of stuff down. It makes me feel like a dweeb and I already feel like a dweeb, that’s why I’m taking this course. I’m searching for a way to creatively leave my dweebiness behind.

In picking up a journal to do a writing exercise I don’t want to do, I flip though a few scribbled pages, among many blank ones. One page simply has a single word. And this word makes me laugh hysterically.

Hermitopolis.

What a fantastic place that would be! A city. A metropolis. Where one could actually be a hermit. Beautiful little apartments lined with books. Coffeehouses where hermits could infrequently meet or sit by themselves, lined with books, of course. Narrow little book-lined townhouses. Doors open on occasion to admit one’s closest friends. Little shops. Movie houses. Bistros. And then quickly home. Ahhhh, hermitopolis.

I’m not sure why I chose to write that one word down. No doubt I was feeling hermity. I feel that quite often. But I’m thinking I would like to live in hermitopolis. I’m sure it would not be a bad, cold, unfeeling place. Hermits care about others. They just prefer to peek through the curtains at what is going on in the street. If they even bother with peeking through the curtains. Perhaps they are damn jolly just working on a puzzle, doing some research, or perhaps having a delightful and saucy evening with another hermit of choice.

Tonight my daughter is going to a sleepover at 6:00. The hubby is trying to plan the perfect evening out. Dinner? A movie? A band? All three or just a combination? I don’t know. It’s cold. Snow is on the ground. I’m thinking of a cozy little restaurant. One with a fireplace. One populated with several other hermits having a rare night out. Then back home to do the hermit thing. Sounds good to me.

As Clean as it Gets

2012-01-09T09:14:00.000-05:00

Looks like a pretty clean slate to me. I reach this point about once or twice a year. My own version of shock and awe. It is quite temporary, though. The studio no longer looks this way. This is last Wednesday afternoon. By Thursday morning, new projects were started and the bits started gathering and reproducing.

I'm not one of those people than be called an optimist. I am not cheery. Not enthusiastic about the unknown. I hold grudges. My least likely nickname is "bubbles." Last year wore me down. Family illness and death, lack of sales. The usual central Pennsylvania gray and cold. This year does not promise to be any better. But, I've learned (finally) after 48 years of living that things cannot remain the same and get better at the same time. I can't rely on the outside world to make any improvements on me. Something must be done.

I have signed up for Stephanie Levy's e-course, Creative Courage. I'm not a class-taker. I think the last thing I tried was an 8-session evening painting course for absolute beginners about 11 years ago. I want to have high hopes that this course will change my life. However, I am a complete cynic and expect nothing of the sort. But I have to be just a little bit open. I have to crack the door. I do not promise to give you any updates. Perhaps I won't feel updated in the least.

But, here goes. After I finish the dishes and put on some earrings. Earrings?!? Yep, I don't feel dressed without them. And I know some jewelry makers out there that will NOT be laughing about this.

Clean Slate?

2012-01-03T09:32:00.001-05:00

Resolutions! Lists! Plans! Burning of sage! Prayers! Sacrifices! Ceremonial burying of 2011!

I have done none of these. But I do plan on a new beginning of some sort.

Today, I turned on the studio heater in preparation of working after 3 weeks of holiday activities taking me away from the studio. What a mess! How did I work in all of that filth for the past several months? Now, I must clear my slate before I create. I'm heading up with the vacuum cleaner after posting.

Above is one of my newer wall quilts. I did a large series of New Orleans quilts beginning after my 2008 visit. We visited in late 2006 and returned in the spring of 2008. While much progress had been made after Katrina, still so much was left to be done. But there was much inspiration to be gathered from the hard work and new beginnings so visible, to some degree, almost everywhere. I had plans for these quilts, but these plans did not pan out. Now I will be adding them to my Etsy shop. It is time for them to see the light of day.

Now, off the the studio with the beast. Every time I touch that vacuum, there is an injury. I hate the vacuum. It hates me. If I never return to this blog, you will know who won today's battle.

Happy 2012!!

Sliver of Blue Sky

2011-12-30T10:38:00.000-05:00

Today is not the day for a sliver of blue sky in central Pennsylvania. Not too many slivers of blue sky to be seen here until spring.

I love being deep into a city and seeing a bit of blue over the skyscrapers -- so invigorating.

This is my last new piece for the year. There are still a few from this year that need to be photographed, so I'll be able to post "new" work for the next several weeks. My studio needs a thorough cleaning (and my brain does, also) before I can get to any real new work.

This piece is available in my Etsy shop.

Happy New Year to all of my readers and their families!!!

To Freeport

2011-12-19T12:14:00.000-05:00

Even though I very recently returned from New York City, I am once again feeling the need to go somewhere else. I'm feeling the need for something new. Perhaps, for the sake of my wallet, it is best to travel vicariously through my art.

This piece is for sale in my Etsy shop .

Decision Making Time?

2011-12-14T09:31:00.000-05:00

Some of my "shtuff"

This seems to be the time of year when people think of the future. I don't think that's working so well for me right now. I seem to be stuck in the past. Most of my holiday moments are spent thinking about what was going on with my mother during those holiday moments of last year.

December is usually a slow art month for me. My family loves loads of Christmas decorations, cookies (which I have NOT gotten to), advent calendars, beautifully wrapped packages, etc. My artwork often gets pushed aside and I can deal with that for a few weeks once a year. I'm really itching to complete a piece right now, but that will have to wait until the lighting gets replaced in the attic. Hopefully that will be tomorrow. My track lighting has been slowly failing, and now with the pesky winter clouds settling in, I need new lights before I can see to work.

By January, I will be chomping at the bit to get back into the studio full time.

Right now, I'm into collages and have been treating my fiber art much as a bad Disney stepmother would treat her stepchildren. But, too often, I can't help wondering if I'm headed in the right direction. I have been a fiber artist for 15 years. What the heck am I doing? Am I flushing it all down the toilet?!? Am I showing my fiber art blogging friends complete disrespect? Am I destroying my following? How can I not show allegiance to "my brand?"

But the little voices keep talking. They think that I should start putting together a portfolio of my new collage work and check into which art galleries would be appropriate vehicles for their sale. Do I have to forsake my fiber art to do this? Can I do both? Do I want to do both? I'm finding it a bit hard to take myself seriously as an artist while just exploring and doing little to sell.

I feel the need to make a New Year's resolution. But I have previously resolved never to make any resolutions.

I'm just going to burn a few cookies, hang a few more balls and deal with it all later.

The Hush of Dusk

2011-12-09T10:53:00.000-05:00

Night falls on the outskirts of the city.

This piece is created from nine pieces of gesso board, individually collaged and then glued together on a 7/8"-thick cradled wood board. The sides are painted black.

Gosh, I love making these pieces. An even larger piece is in the works, but I have my doubts that it will show up before the holidays.

This piece is for sale on Etsy.

Vagabond Shoes -- back home again

2011-12-05T12:11:00.000-05:00

Ah, New York, New York.

Yes, I can make it there. For about three days. Then the wallet dries up and blows away and the credit cards turn brown and curl at the edges.

Love this photo of one of the windows at Bergdorf Goodman reflecting the Plaza hotel across the street. In my opinion, the Bergdorf windows blow the socks off of any other windows in town.

Another Bergdorf Window -- all about paper. I wish I had better photos, but the gorgeous, sunny weather created quite a glare.

However, the little glowing windows of the buildings at the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory at the New York Botanical Garden rivaled the department store windows. The Christmas Train Show at the conservatory was about the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

An eight-foot-tall Empire State Building (made out of natural materials)

Brooklyn Bridge made out of sticks and bark!!!

A finger puppet show in beautiful Bryant Park (the Devil and Sweet Brown Bunny).

A recent purchase (ha).

If I can't go back soon, I'll just die.

If I get all stressed out about the upcoming holidays, and the travel, gift buying, card writing, cookie baking, etc., I'll just go, in my mind, to my happy place -- the sea lion pond in the Central Park zoo.

So Fine

2011-11-30T09:57:00.001-05:00

This piece represents blue skies and a general feeling of well-being.

Right now the skies are gray and threatening to spit snow. I am experiencing a lovely head cold. Perhaps if I stare at this piece long enough, I will feel much better.

Yes, to me this piece is bright and happy. To others, it is probably too dark and grim. What's your take?

Always a number

2011-11-21T09:58:00.000-05:00

Are you one of the 99% or the 1%?

Were you first in your class? How many marshmallows do you like in your hot chocolate? How much do you weigh? What time is your flight?

Some numbers we must embrace. Some numbers we could do without.

Lately, I've been watching my daughter do her math homework. I'm hoping that she will continue to feel the joy in mastering numbers. I lost that joy in the 8th grade and never got it back. It looks like I'm going to get the chance to learn everything again. Maybe once again I will find the joy in what numbers do, and not just what they look like.

Right as Rain

2011-11-14T12:26:00.000-05:00

Today, my newest piece matches the weather. Rainy and bright at the same time. The best kind of rain to have in my opinion.

This piece is now in my Etsy shop .

Used to be Farmland

2011-11-09T10:16:00.000-05:00

Year after year, the farmland is eaten up by bulldozers and replaced with subdivisions and shopping malls. Often, the old farmhouses languish next to new homes and slowly give way to time and weather.

This piece can be found in my Etsy shop .

Throwing My Free Shipping Hat into the Ring

2011-11-02T09:44:00.000-04:00

In my efforts to clothe myself and my family this fall, I have had to resort to catalog shopping. If I like something from a company that offers free shipping and something from a company that will take 10 additional dollars to mail the item, I'm going to buy from the company that offers free shipping.

Free shipping makes me happy. It just feels good.

So now, until the end of the year, I'm offering free shipping in my Etsy shop. Newly included in my shop is the piece above, Anywhere but North, a reflection of how I feel this time of year. I could be persuaded to take a little trip down South, though.

Inspiration by Mail

2011-10-31T12:52:00.000-04:00

Having just finished my household duties and my lunch, I wondered what to do next.

My last project was completed on Friday afternoon (except for one more coat of varnish).

Imagine my surprise when I went to look at my wee little front porch Halloween display and found a package.

Books! Books to cut to pieces!!

A lovely book from 1955.

From this book, I can learn to churn butter, shear sheep and visit Peggy and Peter who live on a farm. I also get to see ladies in furs making their purchases at the market.

Loads of illustrations and lightly aged pages.

This beauty was published in 1949.

Unfortunately, I couldn't get the book to stay open to photograph its beautifully colored pages. Almost every page has a color illustration. I might just need to read this one before I take the scissors to it. A peach of a book except for my new knowledge that there were only white people back in the 1940's.
But a pristine vintage book about towns and how they function -- I'm all set for inspiration now!

Here's to sharp scissors and a productive week ahead!!

American Way

2011-10-24T14:14:00.000-04:00

The newest piece comes together:

Lots of bits and pieces to choose from. I seem to be in the mood for red, gold and black.

I've decided to put nine 4-inch boards together to create one piece.

Cut, paint, stamp, glue. Cut, paint, stamp, glue.

The main layout is done. Now for the extras!

I have 3 other collages of collages (I'm not sure what to call these. Any ideas?) ready to photograph and one ready to be glued together. I'm loving making these!

This piece is now in my Etsy shop .

Be Here

2011-10-18T12:55:00.002-04:00

Imagine a sunny, autumn day in the city. You have a map and a plan to see a museum, get a coffee and walk down new streets. The day is yours. The city is yours.

This piece is now in my Etsy shop .

Limitations

2011-10-13T09:29:00.000-04:00

Yes -- limitations. We've all got them, right? And some of us have more than others.

One of my most notable limitations is my inability to draw. I actually stink at drawing stick figures. I'm in the art business so I can play with colors and textures, since drawing is obviously out.

I've greatly limited myself in how I create and what I create with. Just a year ago, I was dyeing my own fabric and also using fabric from my stash of 2000+ commercial fabrics to make quilted wallhangings. While most of my quilts were relatively small, the size of each varied with almost each quilt. Would this one be square? And then how large? A rectangle? What should the proportions be? Which of all of these fabrics would I begin with? Patterns? Solids? Hand painted? Too many choices. And then, when I decided to add paper to these quilts, even more decisions had to be made.

Once I started playing around with paper, I realized that I was in love with the texture. So many different papers (oh no! more choices). But I limited myself to what I had on hand. What shape? What size? I had some illustration board already cut into squares and gessoed and ready to go. I would limit myself to that. And paint? It wasn't in the plan until I saw a painting in a magazine with great swatches of color. I could do that. Right? I tried smearing paint on these little boards with an expired library card. I could not come close to replicating that painting in the magazine, but I did find a technique that I loved. I used only the paint colors I had on hand -- the ones I am still using.

So. Small squares. Red, blue, ochre, brown, black and white paint (I did purchase an orange). Papers I could immediately get my hands on (still love those magazine inserts). I'm still loving working within these limitations. And yes, I still buy supplies, but the process is very streamlined now.

I feel like I've been set free using these limitations. Perhaps I have narrowed down my audience while narrowing down my supplies and style. They did love those pinks, greens and purples I was using 10 years ago. And may use again. Much later.

This piece is available in my Etsy shop .

Lost Maps

2011-10-03T09:44:00.000-04:00

I wouldn't mind some found maps! Could be time to purchase some old maps and atlases on Etsy.

I think it's finally time to go up into the studio and get to work on something new. For the past few days, I've been updating my inventory (I've let that slip for about a year) and straightening up my Etsy shop. I actually had to break through some cobwebs to get up into the studio this morning.

This piece is available in my Etsy shop.

The Art Supply Sinkhole

2011-09-30T14:14:00.000-04:00

One of the more exciting events in my life is when a box of art supplies arrives.

Unfortunately, I seem to underestimate what I need (want). In the past 2 months, I have placed three orders to Dick Blick. A total somewhere over $500. Perhaps I should start painting on old boards with leftover house paint.

The fabric sits in stacks upon the shelves, unused. I'm just realizing that changing direction is far more expensive than I originally thought it would be. But here I am, in the middle of something new, and I'm just going to keep going in this direction.

Hopefully, I have all the supplies I need until next summer.

Now, I am off to do some more work on my Etsy shop.

My Favorite Art Tool

2011-09-26T09:46:00.000-04:00

Seth Apter has a recent post about artists' favorite tools.That got me to thinking about mine.

My intention is not to get all new-agey here, but to really distill what I'm thinking and doing when I'm creating.

I do love working with all sorts of different materials: fabric, beads, paint, glue, scissors, paper, etc.

I can't choose a favorite medium; therefore, I can't choose a favorite art tool. Except for my hands.

When I'm painting, I don't use my eyes to see if paint is dry, I use my hands (often to find out the paint wasn't close to being dry. I spread glue (and often paint) with my fingers. It's the best way for me to know if I'm using the right amount.

Did I add enough texture to a piece? My hands will be able to tell me quickly whether more is needed or if I have gone too far.

There are so many materials I get to touch over the course of a day in the studio. My fingers tell me what they crave. Will it be a beading day? Will gluing satisify me? Am I hungry for fabric and softness, or do I need to spread paint on boards. The hands know the answer quicker than the eye.

Today, the hands need to do some typing and affixing price tags onto about 30 pieces ready to go into a new shop. They are happy enough to do so, but I think they are calling for some glue. And I think they are craving the feel of my vintage wooden letter stamps.

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Thanks to everyone who responded to my last post. It is very encouraging to know that there are still bloggers out there, especially ones that actually come here and leave a comment.

Hello? Hello?

2011-09-20T09:10:00.004-04:00

Is anybody blogging anymore?

Is it old-hat? Over? Done? Not cool anymore?

Is everybody tweeting? If so, bye-bye. Not going there.

I used to check my blog roll every day and it would take forever to read and comment. Now, just a few minutes. I don't read them all and comment on all I read, but still. It seems a bit quiet out there.

It seems dead here. Or almost. Dying, I should say.

Maybe everyone is Flickr-ing or Tumblr-ing or some other ing that I just don't get.

I will continue to blog. I like it even though I feel like I'm just talking in an empty warehouse in a dying part of town. Is this the same as riding around in a horse and buggy and refusing to drive an automobile? Am I just too old-school?

Alright. Done whining. I'll be back later with some art.

Why Pay Retail?

2011-09-13T12:27:00.000-04:00

We all want a bargain don't we? Even if something is already reasonably priced and we are prepared to pay the price asked, we really want to see a sale sticker on it. We want a discount! Why? Sure we want to spend less, but does a discount make us feel special or lucky?

We want to tell our friends and family about our most recent bargain. Sure, we hope that they might get the same deal if they head out immediately, but we also want them to know that we found this bargain first. We are the hunter, the hero, the king or queen of amazing finds.

Sometimes, often too late, we realize the bargain item is not what we really wanted at all. If we had stood there a moment longer before rushing our sale item to the register, we might have selected the full-priced item -- the one we really want and/or need.

No, I'm not above this. I've far too many "bargains" hidden away in closets and drawers. Often, these bargains are forgotten after I return to the store to buy the correct item at full price. Damn! I often spend extra money just to save money.

This piece in in my Etsy shop. I think it is going for a reasonable price.

Thanksgiving House

2011-09-10T09:33:00.000-04:00

The cooler (and far too rainy) weather has got me thinking about autumn. That's really nothing special. I often think about autumn as it is my favorite season.

I can't say I'm into the coming season as much as I usually am. This fall means the first Thanksgiving without my mother. Her birthday is on November 27th. Its going to be a difficult autumn this year.

This piece is not brand new. It has been hanging next to the computer for a couple of years now. I must have neglected to add it to the Etsy shop. It's there now.

Now Available

2011-09-06T13:33:00.000-04:00

Indeed it is available in my Etsy shop.

What to Choose . . . Bees or Skunks?

2011-09-02T09:09:00.000-04:00

Every night before bed and every morning when I get up, I do my thing and then it is time for the dog to do his thing.

My journey into the bathroom is usually uneventful. Light goes on, business is attended to, hands washed, light goes out (or not). I can be 100% assured that there is not going to be a skunk in the bathroom.

Things are a bit different when I take the dog to do his business. First, I must turn on the back porch light and see if anything is moving about near the back door. Then I grab the big yellow flashlight and shine it around as I move slowly to the back of the garage to the area where my dog does his thing. Usually the short trip is uneventful. There have been times in the past where a skunk has been on the back porch eating what the birds missed earlier. This morning it is quiet but I do see some movement off in the distance. I focus the flashlight on the alley next to my house and, sure enough, a big ol' skunk is running my way. I jump and run back into the house.

I shine the flashlight out of each downstairs window to try to find where the skunk was headed. Does he (she) have a home under my front porch? I have no luck seeing the skunk through the windows. I turn on the front porch light, which is right next to the door, to illuminate the porch and stairs. Nothing. I creep slowly out onto the porch, closing the screen door behind me to keep the dog in. Shine here, there, nothing. I turn back to the door and find that a swarm of bees has me blocked out of the house. More and more of the damn things are pouring out of the light fixture and are landing on the screen and door handle.

What the hell am I going to do now? I've got to make a choice. Bees or a skunk. Get repeatedly stung or risk a spraying. I can see that the bees are definitely there. The skunk may not be. I slink off of the porch and down the side of the house, listening. It's quiet. No shuffling skunk feet. Finally, I am at the back door and I stand still for a short listen. What's that digging noise? Do skunks go through garbage?

I've got to get the dog out and we surely cannot go out the front. I leash him up and let him do his thing next to the back porch. Hopefully the smell of that will keep Mr. skunk away from the house. I'm not looking forward to tomorrow morning's routine. For all know, there could be a bear out there tomorrow.

I really think that children are easier to take care of than dogs.

Any advice on how to find out where skunks live and how to encourage them to move along?

Good Girl

2011-08-30T09:28:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time, I strived to be a good girl. This has nothing to do with making out behind the school cafeteria. I'm talking about always wanted to fit in, looked pleased, not make a fuss . . . to act like the good girl.

What a waste of time.

I'm certainly not encouraging badness. Far from it. But the constant effort to be constantly correct is exhausting. And I'm through with it (maybe, hopefully).

This is a messy, swirly do what I want piece. And I really love what one can do with those bar codes that are on every durn magazine insert.

This piece is available on Etsy .

Far South

2011-08-26T12:53:00.000-04:00

A bit of a departure for me.

New and improved(?) darkness?

20% more black.

I'm not sure where I was going with this piece. Was I talking about those killer bees from Mexico? Is this a primer on bees? Was the whole thing just an excuse to use this cool map? Looking at it now reminds me to go out into the garden and watch the bees before they are gone for the winter.

This piece is on Etsy.

Vestige

2011-08-23T10:09:00.001-04:00

This piece has been hanging around the studio for quite awhile, unnamed. I do procrastinate.

What name could I assign to this piece? It was done in the memory of my mother and my grandmothers and their homes. All three women were, of course, dear to my heart. Sounds a bit corny when I write it down. I still get to visit my childhood home every couple of months. The houses of my grandmothers', while still standing, are long ago memories to me. Powerful memories. Ask me about my childhood, and within seconds I'll be talking about one grandmother's home or the other.

Upon looking at this piece, months after its completion, I titled it Vestige. A trace of something that is disappearing or no longer exists. Every so often I lie in bed, walking from room to room in my mind, trying to recall the placement of furniture, paintings, and doodads. I attempt to mentally conjure up smells and sounds. Some memories are lost. The ones that remain I will struggle to hold on to for the rest of my life. Even though these memories bring tears to my eyes, they also bring great comfort.

This piece just sold from my Etsy shop .

Maybe

2011-08-16T14:46:00.000-04:00

This is a word I use frequently.

Other frequently used words: I don't know.

I starting making these collages late last year, after my mother's decline.

Knowing (somewhat vaguely at the time) my mother's condition, I suddenly felt I had no patience for fabric. I didn't want to locate fabric that suited my needs. I didn't want to sketch and cut and sew. I wanted immediate results. I realized that I no longer had all the time in the world to get done what I wanted to get done.

Not that I've gotten much done over the past several months.

I still do not know where I am going in my art. I don't know if I will stay with collage. I do feel that there's so much more to explore with collage, though. So I'm sticking with it for now. I'm having fun and I think I'm managing to get out some frustrations and unfinished thoughts.

I've made loads of these collages. I would say that I've got another 30 or so that are completed. A couple others are in the works.

I have no intention of framing any of these. I think they need to stand on their own. The art runs up to the edge and gives the impression of running over. To me, to frame them would be to tame them. Or kill them. And no, I'm not just being cheap. This is what I feel like now -- unfinished and on the edge. I guess my artwork is reflecting that.

I'm not doing what all the other artists seem to be doing: setting goals, marking achievements, reaching buyers and galleries far and wide. I'm holed up in my studio, painting, cutting, gluing. Perhaps it's enough for me right now.

Perhaps not.

Maybe.

I don't know.

Edge of Town

2011-08-12T16:22:00.000-04:00

It's a little dark and sketchy at the edge of town.

This piece now on Etsy .

Boxes Full of Inspiration

2011-08-08T14:19:00.000-04:00

When my creativity is slumped in the corner like something that's been shot, I just head to my boxes of papers . . .

Pre-painted and stamped papers and vintage book pages.

Stamped tissue papers -- almost transparent when glued.

Words! Words! Words! I'm thinking about soliciting envelopes of words from my readers.
Anyone interested?

. . . and carry selected bits and pieces to my work table . . .

The drafting table where I do most of my work.

One of the foamboard sheets I use to test stamps and protect my table.
No, Hilton Hotels, you are not getting your door key back.

and hopefully, something soon comes of it.

This piece now on Etsy .

Hide

2011-08-03T14:45:00.000-04:00

I'm going to be adding some of my older wallhangings on Etsy. Some (like this one) will be on SALE.

She has graced my wall for many years, now, it is time for her to move on. Have a closer look on Etsy.

Back from Portland, OR

2011-07-30T16:50:00.000-04:00

Ahhhh! The city!

Ahhhhhh! The beer!

Ahhhh! The beer flavored gelato!

Yes, the musicians at the farmers' market will play for produce!

City of Bridges

City of Gardens

Taking time to smell the roses

Yes, I have been away from the blog for a while. But with good reason. A week long trip to Portland. I've been trying to think of things that I did not like about the city, but nothing comes to mind.

What I did like (love):

1. Cars that will stop and wait for you to cross the road, whether there is a crosswalk or not
2. Beer. Really good beer.
3. Pinot Noir
4. Bridges
5. Street cars
6. Trains
7. Fantastic food
8. Coffee
9. Donut shops
10. Beer
11. Public art
12. Museums
13. Shops
14. Pinot Noir
15. Music - live - whether it's good or not
16. Hills and resultant views
17. Non-rude people (except you, gelato dork)
18. Gelato
19. Beer
20. Food carts
21. Pinot Noir
22. Architecture
23. Summer sun
24. Roses
25. Beer
26. Farmers' Markets
27. Local produce (I even ate peas)
28. Beer
29. The zoo
30. Pinot Noir

I'm a bit embarrassed to say that I did not leave the city. Except for one foray over the Hawthorne bridge, I did not leave the west side of the city. That means there's so much more for me to see. And consume.

Favorite line overheard at the farmers' market, made by a man holding a small wheel of cheese, "Did you inoculate the rind?" Oh, they know their food in Portland.

I miss you, Portland.

If

2011-07-18T16:47:00.000-04:00

If.

Such a wonderful word.

Unfortunately, it is too rarely used. People just do instead of thinking about what they are doing. They do what they are told.

What would happen IF you stopped to think?

This piece now on Etsy .

A Collage is Born

2011-07-12T14:14:00.000-04:00

I decided to take a photo of a recent collage every 2-3 stages of its progress.

I'm loving the fast fun of painting using a credit card. Mistakes abound and are (mostly) covered up. Spontaneity rules!!!

This piece is now available in my Etsy shop.

See a short interview with me on the incredible blog Cart Before the Horse .

Summer in the City

2011-07-10T11:27:00.001-04:00

It's finally hot enough here in central PA to put those window units in.

Also, it's time to put these cool and refreshing pieces in my Etsy shop. Thanks for all of your comments on my previous post. Just a bit more tweaking to be done on the blog appearance and I (the hubby) will be done.

Blogageddon!!

2011-07-05T12:35:00.000-04:00

I dared to change my blog.

It was quite dated, not reflecting my new (temporary???) detour to paper collage.

So, I thought I would sneak in and change it up a bit, ya know. A new photo (hey that worked out). And then . . . a complete mess.

I'll have to bring in the expert (the hubby). I'll probably get a look. A certain look. One that says, "I'm proud of you for trying, but why, for one second, did you think that you would be able to do it. It takes someone who knows what they're doing. Oh. (sigh) I'll help. After I deal with all the other things I need to deal with."

Has anyone else ever seen that look?

Hopefully this little fiasco can soon be corrected.

I'm so embarrassed.

I know, in the end, it's gonna look real spiffy.

Now I'm off (to fudge up something else, no doubt).

Sunny Side

2011-06-29T13:38:00.001-04:00

Having some good weather here lately. Its helping to keep me on the sunny side (which is the side of the street I prefer to walk on).

This piece is for sale on Etsy .

Be Blue

2011-06-16T13:38:00.000-04:00

When I'm happy, I post a great deal.

Well, it's been quite a while since I posted.

I know, I know, everybody loves happy happy happy blogs.

Sorry I can't be more accommodating.

Blue is sometimes o.k.

This piece is approximately the 430th piece I have created and named. Some of my pieces are included in a named series (Mid-Life Crisis, Signs of the Times, etc.) Often it is enjoyable to come up with a title. Sometimes it is a struggle. This piece was going to be titled B Blue about 20 minutes ago, but when I looked closely at the piece, I noticed the words "any color" in the blue painted text. And so it was named.

Artists, collectors, viewers, does the title of a piece matter to you?

This piece is available on Etsy .

The Power of Two

2011-06-07T10:19:00.000-04:00

Oh, how I love the number two!

Its roundness! Its sturdy base!

I love them plump and round. No tall, skinny twos for me.

These two pieces are now on Etsy .

Members Only

2011-05-31T14:37:00.000-04:00

Are you part of the club?

This piece now on Etsy .

Urban Excess - Place, Part III

2011-05-27T15:38:00.001-04:00

Signs. Cars. Buses. Bricks. Concrete. Trees. Steps. Cranes. Ladders. Bicycles. Couriers. Kids. Streets. Restaurants. Steel. Glass.

Pick me up and put me there right now!!!

This piece on Etsy.

My Idea of Heaven: Place, Part II

2011-05-24T16:13:00.000-04:00

I once saw a photograph of an intersection in Seattle. On each corner was a coffee shop. This is my idea of heaven. Imagine the smell. Fragrant of memory and of promise. A brew of stories. Caffeine!

I love cities. Most of my vacations are centered around cities.

I love maps of cities. I used to draw fantasy city maps. Others drew maps of fantasy lands (after they had read the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, of course). As a child I would create city maps out of just about anything: paper and pencils, dominos, Tinker Toys, clothes pins, game pieces, empty cartons, building blocks, and probably 200 other items.

My goal was to become a city planner. I wanted to design cities from the bottom up. From scratch. All new. Later I realized that was impossible. Like plants and people, cities grow. From towns. From villages. From a settlement of a handful of houses, a blacksmith shop and a general store (and/or a saloon). Out and up. Neighborhoods form, grow, and often, eventually die.

While I love to be in a city with a map, most of the time I have to be content at home with a map. What do I do with surplus computer time? Head to GoogleMaps. Zoom in. Zoom out. Where do I think the rich people live? Could those large masses in the central city be a convention center (replacing what was thought to be a declining neighborhood)? Does that mass of restaurant, coffee, and shopping icons indicate a vibrant urban node, perhaps gentrified?

. . . I can smell the coffee now. .

Visit this piece on Etsy .

Place, Part I

2011-05-18T09:11:00.000-04:00

Where are you? Are you in the right place?

on Etsy .

I'm still looking for the right place.

When you step out your front door (or the back if that is what you prefer), how do you feel? Excited? Anxious? Content? Depressed?

You walk down the sidewalk and stop at the street. Which way do you turn? Where do you go?

Nine Out of Ten Like More Free

2011-05-10T10:03:00.000-04:00


Nine out of Ten, 6 x 6", ©2011 K. Hambric

Two new pieces now in my Etsy shop.

Several months ago, I went to a small collage making party. Everyone contributed bits and pieces, papers and catalogs. One interior design magazine caught my eye. I flipped and flipped, yet everything seemed too perfect, too glossy. Then one of those damn inserts fell out. Every time you open a magazine, a flurry of these things fall out. I hate them!!! Well, I used to hate them!!! I fell in love with them!!! Now, I collect them. They are the basis of both of these pieces and a few others that I have not yet posted. I especially love those black bars that are printed below the no postage if mailed in the United States square. Black and white together really catch my eye.

And they only get better when they tell me in large letters to SUBSCRIBE NOW!

And junk mail! I'm beginning to look at junk mail in a new light. My scissors are never far away. Must go cut. Bye.

Things To Do Before Your Mother Dies

2011-05-02T12:32:00.001-04:00

Yes, Mothers’ Day is just around the corner. Restaurant reservations have been made, flowers will be purchased, and Hallmark stock will rise temporarily. I’m hoping to receive a handmade card from my daughter, and perhaps one of my favorite meals cooked by my husband (yes, most are my favorites, because they are ALWAYS made by my husband). But, I guess what I really want, is to be able to mope about and miss my mother.

Many of you have lost your mothers, but for those who haven’t, here are some things to do before your mother dies. Or should I say here are some things I should have done before MY mother died.

Gather up her stray writing: grocery lists, calendar entries, knitting instructions, your name scribbled on your brown lunch bag. I guess this last one is just for the young ones out there. I wish I had saved one or two of those bags from elementary school.

Take a picture of your mother enjoying herself. Perhaps while telling a story about an old boyfriend and making everyone around the Thanksgiving table laugh until they cry (including herself).

Tell her you love her. The last time I saw my mother conscious, she told me she loved me. I don’t think she had ever done that before. Before I could say anything in return, she quickly changed the subject, and much later I realized I had left the hospital room without saying that I loved her.

Well. What are you waiting for?

Blue Room

2011-04-30T09:33:00.000-04:00

Another collage placed on Etsy this morning.

To me -- a little dark, a little mysterious. This piece represents my fear of depression -- of going into the blue room.

I guess many of you have noticed by now that this isn't one of those happy, bubbly blogs. I just can't do that. Not with that fear of the blue room deep inside of me.

But, hey, if it is a happy piece for you, that's great!

I love that tree stamp. I really didn't want to have to carve one, I thought I could find an easy way out. For quite a while I searched Ebay, Etsy, office supply shops and online stores for those good, old-fashioned rub on architectural symbols. Apparently, those things just don't exist anymore. Also, I dream of finding a stash of Letraset rub on letters and numbers in all sizes. Really. I dream of it. If anyone out there knows where I can get my hands on these things, PLEASE let me know.

Believe it (or not)

2011-04-24T13:59:00.000-04:00

A new piece! On Etsy .

Hourly Wage, 6 x 6", mixed media collage on board

It only took, what, 8 months!?!

This was one of three pieces I sent in to Seth Apter for his forthcoming book. Originally, all three pieces were rejected (and I was quite dejected), but in the end, one was accepted.

I'm really enjoying the collage process. I do like glue. And paint. The process is messy, but still somewhat precise. We all know that I cannot veer far from right angles.

I made this piece several months ago, and have experimented with an even looser style since, which I may explore even more.

Stay tuned, something else might appear here.

Thanks

2011-04-13T09:25:00.000-04:00

Thanks to those of you who read my latest griping session and actually commented. You've all made me feel better.

I will be sharing a few new pieces next week. Perhaps actually putting a few up for sale on Etsy. I'm waiting for some hangers to come in the mail to complete them.
For a recent car trip, I pulled out some older magazines from my large shelter magazine stash. On the cover of an issue of Western Interiors Magazine, was a fantastic (to me) abstract painting. Quite large, painted possibly with a brayer or large, rigid plastic tool (yeah, that sounds nasty). After my trip, I rushed to the studio, found small pieces of gesso board and a couple of old credit cards and went to work with my limited paint colors.

I've made several mistakes. Some mistakes I've repeated several times. But now, even though my paintings look nothing like the piece on the magazine cover (wouldn't that artist be a tad angry?!?), I've come to the point where I actually like the results. And, of course, I'm sticking bits of paper and other collage elements onto these pieces.

So, I've been avoiding Etsy. I've been avoiding my blog. I've been avoiding even talking to other people about what I'm doing (yeah, I'll talk to myself about it).

But I know I hear those other people talking. I hear bits of conversation in my head.

How can she say "I'm working" when she has nothing new to sell?

She's only playing.

She should really go out and get a job.

I think the attic heater has done its job. I have caught up with my social media. I'm now heading up to the studio. I plan on having a damn good time and something to show for it. Eventually.

(raspberry mouth noise)

2011-04-07T09:07:00.000-04:00

I had plans for posting some new pieces and tossing about a few uplifting and motivational words and phrases.

Not. Gonna. Happen.

I'm just mentally limping along right now. I feel like an actor in an action movie. You know the one. He's shot. He's holding his side. He's pulling himself along with just one arm. He seems to think that just by pulling himself to another spot he will get better.

It's kind of like that with me right now. Except it's all in my head. And it's way far from being an action movie.

So, I'm going to eat some chocolate. I'm going to purchase some books online. I'm going to go into the studio and do whatever the hell I want no matter how stupid or insignificant. I'm going to walk through the cold and shitty weather to my yoga class, and the only reason I'm doing this is because I have already paid for it and it hasn't hurt me yet.

More Mess

2011-03-29T12:40:00.000-04:00

So, I'm still playing around with paint, paper and glue. Still buzzing around like a hummingbird reluctant to land on anything.

I began this piece by splotching some black paint around the edges. Ochre then called out to me. A map of Mexico City followed and then bees and letters and stamps. And then more and more and more, until I think there is just too much. Fun, though. And dark. Because I am a dark person.

This piece came about as a result of an accident. On a previous piece, I had glued down a piece of black paper. Seconds later, I wanted to move it. Some of the paper remained behind. I quickly reapplied the piece in the same spot as before, but I could not get the streaky, peely paper look out of my head. I decided to design a piece where paper would be randomly glued down and ripped off before it dried in place. Then I went on to stamp and scrumble and paint and glue and stick more more more until I think there could be a little much. Or maybe its just right. Or maybe it thoroughly sucks.

The point now, for me anyway, is to keep seeing how many or how few mistakes I can make while moving quickly and intuitively. Hubby asks how much these pieces are and when we should put them on Etsy. I'm trying to tell him that the point now is just to make something. Anything. What I want. Not what I think will sell.

My Favorite and Best

2011-03-22T12:29:00.000-04:00

My all time favorite art and design books.

More of my favorite books.

The best art tool ever purchased. I love my fabric and beads, but these guys have taken me over. They are the most expensive art tool I have ever purchased, but they are worth it.

The best technique I have ever learned -- carving my own stamps. I have hundreds now. I love them all. I even love the way they smell!

My all-time favorite and best art tools. That's a chopstick in the middle -- very handy (much like the hand).

What are your favorite and best?

A Chance to Give Someone a Chance

2011-03-19T13:20:00.001-04:00

The talented Paula is holding an art raffle.

Click here to see how you can win The Wonder Horse or her Wall Dancers piece.

I'm angling for one of these pieces myself, but in order to help Paula move into a studio in an area where people actually appreciate art, I'll lessen my chances. Go have a look!

2011-03-17T09:07:00.000-04:00

If I never return to this blog, you will know that it was Yoga that did me in.

I have my first class this morning. I'm a little afraid.

A couple of months ago, I had a little Wii Fitness injury. I don't take to stretching or movement well. I really don't want to land on the sofa again with a swollen ankle propped up on a couple of pillows. Or worse.

This could be the end.

Wish me luck.

Back from . . .

2011-03-11T09:37:00.000-05:00

Barcelona! Give me 5 minutes (maybe an hour) and I'll be ready to go back again.


A portion of the city from way up high

One of the old town's wider streets

Boats and Barcelonetta

One of many Gaudi-designed buildings. This one is across the street from our hotel.

Catalonians dancing. Plenty of little squares like this one.

One of Gaudi's most famous buildings. Plenty of others, though.

One of about 50,000 stunning buildings.

As you can see, Barcelona is chock full of beautiful architecture. For every plastic Walmart bag flapping in a tree or blowing down a road in the United States, there is a beautiful building in Barcelona.

About a year ago, I was "complaining" that the only vacations we took were when my husband had a conference somewhere. I don't go go all of the conferences, though. I'm somewhat afraid to go to Asia and have to go places alone while the hubby is working. I missed the Dearborn, MI, conference a while back. I've put my foot down on a few other locations for various reasons, mostly lack of interest. Then I stated that I wanted to pick a place, by golly. So I picked Barcelona. I did good.

Productive Chaos?

2011-03-03T09:43:00.000-05:00

Why should I stop to clean when there is still a square foot of space in which to create?

There it is, in the bottom photo there, a square foot of open space. But not for long.

Sorry I didn't photograph the overflowing trashcans or the floor littered with bits and pieces.

I'm having too much fun to clean!

I Yearn for Coffee

2011-02-24T09:45:00.000-05:00

I'm a yearner. I always want something I don't have. I yearn for coffee shops. Everywhere. Mmmmmm coffee.

I was thinking of coffee, no doubt, when I came across this map of Seattle in my fave vintage book, Great Cities of the World. Not only am I fond of this city, I loved the color of the map. Quickly, I needed some papers to fill up this board. I wasn't in the mood to think and paint and wait, so I found papers that had already been painted.

Good combo of city and coffee colors, I thought. And that blue! Almost matches the color of the Caffe Nero cup that I brought come from London a while back. Now what? Words. Words about coffee should be added. And maybe some houses.

Words:

I once saw a photograph of an intersection in Seattle. On each corner was a coffee shop. This is my idea of heaven. Imagine the smell! Fragrant of memory and of promise. A brew of stories. Caffeine!

I actually saw the "photograph" on Google Maps. How I love cruising through cities on google maps. But now that the words are down, I'm not happy. They should have been written in black. So, I'll just have to write over them in black and see if I can deal with the result.

Now, I was supposed to stop and take more photos as the work progressed. I must have been caught up in the moment and forgot. So this is how it looks.

I'm not quite sure what the red "lady" figures mean. I think the blue one must be me. I carry around my house in my soul, but I'm always wanting to move on. Yearning for that place with coffee shops. Perhaps I'm that red bird flying off. And that "you are here" target -- that's just where I want to be right now. With a steaming cup of coffee in front of me.

STILL in the Experimental Phase

2011-02-16T08:51:00.000-05:00

This must be my longest phase ever. The Experimental Phase.

Both of these unnamed pieces are 6 x 6". They've been hanging around for a week or so. I have two other new ones to post soon.

Yesterday was the do it now experiment. Minimal thinking allowed. I got a lot done. It was fun. I'm doing it again today. I find I'm more productive when I stop agonizing over each mark. I'm afraid to go into the studio and look at the results this morning. I worry that I will melt into a puddle of embarrassment when I see what I have done.

If I never return, I've melted.

The $100 Pen

2011-02-01T10:24:00.000-05:00

Pretty pricey, huh?

Actually, individually, these cost just a little over $3.00. Plus shipping, of course. But there's just something about me and the way I do things, that made these innocent little pens cost over $100.

I won't make a tiresome list of all of the pens I have purchased. The vast majority of these have been tossed. I do not need reminders of my inability to make wise choices. I will bring up the $60+ Rapidograph pen set I purchased and immediately regretted because I would like to get rid of it. If somebody wants to pay me $35 (including shipping) for the set, I'll send it out immediately. Perhaps I just don't know how to use these pens. I don't care. I'm tired of sending out a torrent of wrath each time I walk past them.

The studio garbage can is heavy with the bodies of worthless pens. I feel like a mafia don. If I'm displeased once, that's it. Into the river. No second chances.

I can write my little brains out with these pens on just about any surface. After just a few minutes of drying time, I can rub glue all over this paint with so smearing whatsoever.

Sounds pretty insignificant, right? There are people who have found their perfect life partner in far less time. The twinkling of the presidency in Obama's eye to the recent mid-year election is nothing time-wise compared to the time I have spent looking for this damn white pen. I'm pleased, and I want you all to be pleased with me.

Now, if the DecoColor people would just come out with an extra, extra fine line pen, I would be even happier.

Brilliant Colors, Premium Quality

2011-01-26T09:07:00.000-05:00

I'm going to assume that my regular readers have picked up on some negativity lately. I'm thinking that it is possible it may continue.

I'm not much of a winter person. I'm big into autumn, but when that last leaf falls, I utter a huge sigh and pretty much sigh continuously until spring. Let's face it, I live in a pretty bleak place. On the surface, it seems grand to live in a college town. And its going to be be grand for the students and, hopefully, the professors. Everyone else, not so much.

Especially if one is a middle-aged artist who is struggling against being sucked down the black hole of housewifery.

The galleries here have dried up and blown away. Sure, sure, if I tried really hard, I could have my work displayed at the hospital or the nursing home gallery. No doubt opening nights at these places would resemble an opening at the coolest gallery in New York City or San Francisco (I can hear that techno beat now). And now, to put the cherry on the top of my middle-aged bitching sundae, the Eddie Bauer store downtown went out of business. Big deal, you say. It is. Where else is a middle-aged woman to buy clothes in this town? I could easily find a belly baring halter top or pre-shredded jeans or a Penn State sweatshirt or a melon colored XXXXXL track suit (at suicide mall), but those Eddie Bauer jeans fit my middle-aged body just right. And now, nothing. A void. I've just been sent a message by this town -- You Do Not Fit Here. I'll do my best to find the other, mostly-invisible, non-university-affiliated, middle-aged women in this town and we'll complain together.

Or, I can just get out my 4 Positive Crayons and draw myself a happy little world. As the package states: they are "NEW." I could use me some new around here. And some color.

Stay warm out there people. And if you're already warm, enjoy it.

Still Unnamed

2011-01-21T11:26:00.000-05:00

Yet another piece that remains to be named. I'm thinking that the title Still Unnamed might just be appropriate.

I have so many feelings that are yet to be named.

Perhaps this piece is not yet finished. That black thought cloud looks so oppressive and blank. Yet, that is the point.

And what is the story with these colors? Why are all of my latest pieces the same colors? Do I choose them because I already have them laying about on the worktable? Have these colors found me? Am I deliberately choosing them? Am I just being lazy?

Am I asking too many questions? I'm thinking, "no."

Its those little things . . .

2011-01-14T16:57:00.000-05:00

that make me cry.

I don't like to run errands, but I've got to do them. And when I do them, I like to do them as quickly as possible. Don't make me wait. Open another register. Have that bag ready to put my purchases in. Be ready to take my order, McDonald's employee (oh, wait, that's not an errand).

On my way out of Target today (where else?), an old lady got in my way. Then she paused. My blood pressure went way up. Then, an old man got in my way. Then he paused. Then the old lady leaned on the old man and the old man leaned on the old lady and they slowly made their way to the parking lot.

Those tears in my eyes made it pretty darn hard to find my car.

But at least I got SOMETHING done day, however slowly.

I miss my mother.

I'm in the New Year, Finally

2011-01-11T12:44:00.000-05:00

As yet unnamed, 4 x 4"

This is the first (and only, so far) piece started and completed since my mother's death.

I'm delighted that I have gotten this far.

The studio has been straightened up and is ready to go. I'm coming out of my stupor and am preparing to think about being ready to go.

A few days after my mom died, I was running errands with the hubby in my old hometown of Roanoke, VA. He said he was somewhat angry. He felt that my mother had found a door and walked through it. He didn't know where she went, only knew that she was no longer here. And he hadn't finished talking to her. I couldn't think of a better way to put it.

So that's what this piece means to me. Mom gone. I'm still here. Still talking to her.

More to come from these feelings, no doubt.

Thank you all VERY MUCH for the thoughtful and comforting comments and emails about my mother. These messages mean more to me than you know.

I hope everyone (including me) has a fantastic and creative 2011!

2011-01-09T08:31:00.000-05:00

Upon finishing up breakfast this morning, I put the bottle of milk back in the refrigerator. After the door had closed, I gazed, as usual upon all of the photographs (mostly of children) blanketing the appliance. My usual thought is that I need to clean up the outside of the fridge. Today's thought was, my God, any of these children could have gone to an event outside of a grocery store and been killed.

That is apparently the risk one takes when traveling outside of the home these days. You don't have to travel to a war-torn country in Africa or flash your wallet and gold jewelry in high-crime urban areas in South America. Nope. All you have to do to be senselessly shot in the United States is be nine years old and in the right place at the wrong time. Yesterday, it was at a Safeway grocery store in Arizona. Other children have been shot and killed in their own schools. Some die in gang fights. Could even be in their own homes by a member of their own family.

It is unbearable for me to look at those refrigerator photographs and imagine any of those children killed by a gun. Or by a gunman. Yes, there are those out there that will defend guns in this country by saying guns don't kill people, people kill people. How that could possibly be a valid defense of gun ownership I can't even begin to understand. I shouldn't even be able to visualize any of those children being shot. There should be no precedent for that. Yet, there is. Why don't we all take a break here and Google the words school shooting and see what comes up?

Each and every time a sickening event like this occurs, the only comfort that comes to mind is that maybe this time, this time, something will be done about gun ownership in this country. Yet, this time, like every other time in the past, gun ownership will be defended successfully. The NRA gets to pound its chest again and declare victory over the limp-wristed liberals who want to take our constitutional rights away.

What sickens me most, is that Sarah Palin, Rush Limbaugh, John McCain, etc., etc., etc., will make proclamation after proclamation that, while indeed the shooting was a terrible and senseless act, we must do everything we can to retain our freedoms as American citizens. We must do everything we can to retain our 2nd Amendment rights. That everything includes giving up the safety of our children to madmen and politicians with guns.

Now that I think about it, the shooting of a nine-year-old girl (and five other people) is not a senseless act. It makes a great deal of sense. Man with gun, pulls trigger several times, people die.

I don't know about you, but I would gladly give up my right to own a gun (that could shoot 30 people with one clip), in order to prevent the future shooting of just one child, not to mention the hundreds or thousands that will be shot by senseless madmen, homeowners protecting their property, parents cleaning their guns, or other children.

I can't believe there are people in this country that do not believe that would be a worthwhile trade off.

What Are You Doing?

2011-01-03T09:37:00.000-05:00

Hi Moppie,

I have to say that I don't know how to go about talking to you this way. I'm SO not used to having to do all of the talking.

8:30 in the morning has been a tough time for me these last two weeks. I used to hate a ringing phone (not your usual morning call, of course), but now I hate a quiet one. I've starting calling Dad every morning at 8:30. I start the conversation the way you used to, by saying, "What are you doing?"

Lily finally went back to school today and Steve finally went back to work. This is the first time I've been alone in almost two weeks. Its harder than I thought it would be.

No, you did not ruin Christmas. I know you felt bad about that. But the rest of us were all able to stay together longer without those pesky jobs getting in the way. I feel so much closer to Dad and Karen now.

I really have nothing planned for today. I don't think I'll get up into the studio, unless its to clean up a little bit. I'm sure I'll do some laundry and other chores. I'd like to take down the Christmas decorations, but Steve had a fit when I mentioned it. And I'm not sure I'm ready. So many of the things I put up were talismans for your getting well again -- your angel tree-topper, those "handmade" red, gold and green glitter balls, the glass icicle ornaments that dad managed to throw out with the tree every year (and I managed to recover every year). I think putting them away now would be unbearable. I think we'll just be known in the neighborhood as those freaks that keep up their Christmas ornaments until spring.

Lily was so anxious to get back to school. She has a pretty low tolerance for being alone. Steve was not so anxious to get back to work. But you know how he likes to keep busy, so he's better off there than at home puttering around. Its probably safer for him there. I was getting a little (very) tired of the puttering around. He did accomplish a great deal on his break. I sure didn't.

I know what you would tell me to do. "Don't work too hard today. Sit down and get yourself a cup of coffee. You need to take a little time to relax." I think I'll take your advice. I didn't take your advice too often in the past.

Bye.

What Are You Doing is likely to become a regular feature, as the mundane bits and pieces of my life build up and need to be released. Sorry if it's too dull. That's what happens when you talk to someone every day of your life. It can't all be exciting. And "bye" was pronounced "bah" by my mother. One of those thousands of oddities that I will miss.

Taking a Break

2010-12-31T13:12:00.000-05:00

Clara Clinebell Hogan

November 27, 1927 - December 22, 2010

Yes, I've been gone from the blog for a while. I'll be back soon. My mother died recently, and I haven't been able to get down any words lately.

I'm wishing all of my readers the best of everything in 2011!

Christmas Card Re-Run

2010-12-12T16:22:00.001-05:00

Since I've been feeling a bit stressed lately, I'm going to re-use last year's Christmas Card post. Perhaps I'll do a bit of updating. But not much. I'm off to my daughter's ballet recital tonight. There's been lots of practice. Tomorrow is a choir concert. So, you see, I've had the holiday parental concerns to deal with.

Here goes:

I received the first card of the season the other day. It was festive and handmade by a child. I loved it.
It's pretty much what a Christmas card should be. Perhaps I should call them Holiday cards, since Christmas might not be the winter holiday you celebrate.
Regardless of what you call them, I do have certain likes and dislikes regarding them.

I like them pretty. Cute is o.k. Religious is fine. Snow scenes, glitter, candles, pop-ups, confetti, musical, trees, bunnies, reindeer, Mary, Jesus, Star of the East, gilded, triple-fold, elves, Santa Claus, Saint Francis, birds, are all just dandy.

If I know you well enough, I also appreciate the annual newsletter. I really do want to know (if I like you) where you went on vacation, who got braces or a promotion or straight A's or knocked up. If granny came to live with you, please tell me. If junior has developed a wheat allergy tell me. If that worthless b@stard has left you for another woman tell me and we'll get together and drink some wine. But please do me a favor. Tuck this newsletter into a lovely Holiday card.

If I like you, I will probably like your children. Granted, they may be pesky at times. I really do want to know about them. I actually want pictures of them. School photos are great. Group photos taken at Walmart are good too. But . . . BUT . . . just insert these photos into a lovely card.

I know how convenient it is to make the photo the card itself. But when I display my Holiday cards, I don't want just photos of kids looking at me. I want to see the pretty cards. I want to take the little photos you insert and put them with the other photos you have sent me through the years. After the holidays, I will file them away with the others from previous years and be astonished at how they have grown. Or, perhaps, your kids will have the honor of being displayed on my fridge for the year. If you send me one of those big ole photo cards, its just going to be tossed. How much room do you think I have to store those big photos? Very little. So those big ole photo cards of your offspring will just get tossed away with half-licked candy canes after Christmas is over. That makes me feel bad. But just not bad enough to create extra storage space.

I also know that no one is going to take my advice. You all went to the photo shop back in early October with your red and green scarves and mittens and posed for your Holiday cards. Too late now.

Hubby and I met up for lunch the other day and we did our Christmas card shopping. I chose bears in the winter woods full of bright red Cardinals. Hubby chose some pop up owls in Christmas hats. Whether the recipients like them or not, we chose cards that say something about us. And it will say something about you -- that we think you're great and we want to make your Holiday even better. And tucked inside will be a little photo of our wonderful, gorgeous, achieving, talented, loving, gifted, precious, awe-inspiring child.

I'm sure I've offended a few people out there. I've probably been furiously scratched from your Holiday card list. Even more likely, you will still send out that big ole photo card anyway, whether or not you read this blog.

I know your children are wonderful, gorgeous, achieving, talented, loving, gifted, precious, and awe-inspiring. Just tuck their photo (or perhaps a photo of the entire family, including pets) inside a show-stopping Holiday card that I will proudly display.

Happy December everybody.

For the Love of Bowls

2010-12-07T09:26:00.002-05:00

This morning, I paid a visit to the the blog of Robyn Gordon, blogging goddess. So many bowls. So little time. Have a look.

I love a bowl.

I feel that there is nothing that a bowl can't contain.

Bowls are for gathering (receiving).

Bowls are for serving (giving).

My favorite bowl memories are my grandmothers serving potatoes and beans at family dinners.

I took a quick bowl tour around my house this morning, and this is what I saw.

Pinecones. My favorite decorations (aside from bowls, of course). Flea market bowl.

Daughter's art class project in handmade bowl. I went back for more from the artist, alas, she only makes dramatic bowls now. I like 'em simple.

Ready to hang ornaments in metal mixing bowl.

Teeny tree in artist's wooden bowl. Love the handcarved leaf decorations. Note pinecones.

Oh, my darlin' . . . oh, my darlin' . . . Clementines in antique pressed-glass bowl. We will tell my daughter that it was my grandmother's when we pass it on. Unfortunately, we have already broken all of my grandmother's glass bowls. Who am I kidding? This glass bowl probably won't make it that long.

Game tiles in bowl, ready to be used.

My daughter's collection of rubber animals.

One of my kitchen shelves. Not my grandmother's glass bowls, black Target bowls, white bowls from my all-time favorite ceramic artist.

I LOVE a bowl.

Blip

2010-11-30T09:04:00.002-05:00

Oh, I did have a fantasy of posting a photo here of recent artwork.

Then, I wanted to let you know how things were going in my little neck of the woods.

But I came to realize that none of that was going to happen.

I have no attention span. Well, maybe 30 second spurts. And every so often I can focus on at 30-minute television show. As long as it is Bored to Death. Otherwise, can't focus.

I've forced my husband to speak to me in sentences of five words or less. I've tried the same with my daughter, but her sentences are always a minimum of 120 words. She tries to be concise. Can't do it.

I want to work on something (anything) in the studio today. It's been a week since I've seen it.

I need to purchase some Christmas presents that my daughter picked out yesterday before someone else picks them out. My daughter is picky. I'm not missing out on this opportunity to buy her something she actually likes.

And we're out of milk.

That's it. Brain is switching to something else now. zzzzzzzttt

The Lapse Continues

2010-11-23T12:31:00.002-05:00

Blech.

Not a good blogging time here. Can't write 'em. Finding it hard to read 'em.

I'll do my best to read and comment, but I've got nothing good to say, so I'm not going to be saying much.

My Mother has been in the hospital for over a week now. There were be some rehabilitation somewhere soon -- the hospital or a nursing home for a bit.

This has made me feel crappier than I thought it would several days ago.

I've never had a Thanksgiving without both of my parents at the table. I'm thankful that I've had so many with them, though. Just hoping that things will go back as close to normal as they can soon.

I hope all of my friends out there have a great Thanksgiving (or had -- you Canadians).

Lapse

2010-11-20T10:04:00.002-05:00

I've been a bad blogger lately.

My blogs have been few and far between.

And when I write them, they're generally all about me, me, me.

I do come up with interesting posts in the shower or while I'm trying to get to sleep at night. After I am toweled off or when I wake up, all of those thoughts are gone. Generally they are replaced with health issues (mine and other family members-including animals), mental to do lists, holiday panic, and just those blank periods (memory lapses?) that my doctor assures me are normal in premenopausal women.

When will I have new work to show? When will I begin to list all of my artistic accomplishments (sales, new galleries, etc.)? Beats me.

Until then, and since that week of giving thanks is upon us, all I want to say is a thank you to those who have left such supportive comments lately. It means so much to me to find new, lengthy, and thoughtful comments on my posts. I appreciate the time you've taken to encourage me.

I'm attempting to enter Seth Apter's new call for entry. It requires the creation of very personal artwork. Heaven knows what I'll dig up from inside of me (if, indeed, there is anything there at all). If it's all been about me, me, me, so far, why am I having so much trouble with this? I found a little white sheep that I cut out of a book a while back, it seems to want to be in this piece.

Now, I'm off to try to think up a real post. One with pictures and everything. Perhaps I should take another shower and lie in bed and see if anything comes to mind.

Is this the Future, or the Past?

2010-11-14T11:09:00.008-05:00

These new pieces, all small (8x8" or far less), are done on paper or on thin illustration board.

Since they are all experiments, I used whatever I had lying around for the base, giving no thought to how they might be mounted in the future. All I wanted to do was get ideas down as soon as possible and think as little as I could.

While I'm happy with these, I still don't feel like I'm ready to create items for sale. I don't feel I have found my place yet. I so want to break away from grids and right angles, but somehow I feel chained to them. I feel comfortable with them.

My fear of going in the wrong direction was increased about 10,000% after reading the latest issue of Somerset Studio magazine, and saw paintings by Jesse Reno:

Rain - by Jesse Reno

rain drops - magic in the water - left overs from a giant - a bears arms - hibernation - nothing is certain - shortfall - long run - windows all around - play the game by the rules even if it bends your judgment as they will do the same - they will teach you to be a bear and a shark - remember to be - when heart guides spirit - if it was finished there would be know question - it is finished

48" x 48" on wood acrylic, oil pastel, pencil, collage $4000.00

Have a look at his website.

I was absolutely floored by his work. Such energy!!! Such freedom!!! What the heck am I doing then, if I am so inspired by this? How can I keep on going with the grid?

I'm wondering if I can translate some of my favorite fiber pieces to paper. Free it up from the grid. Add some spontaneous marks and painting instead of relying on just stamping.

Why does overlapping and spontaneity freak me out so much? Is it a fear of failure? A fear of making a mistake (or many)? Am I afraid that someone will yell at me for wasting supplies or making a mess? Am I just too damn repressed?

Am I so concerned about where I end up that I don't know where to start?

Where do I start?

Time Flies in Times Square

2010-11-08T09:13:00.004-05:00

and in the rest of New York, too. A three day weekend never gets you as far as you want.

This is the only photo I took in Manhattan. We explored a new area of Central Park this year, which included the magical Belvedere Castle.

While I complained that I did not get enough shopping time (I did get to duck into Anthropologie, though), our main reasons for going are to eat, see art, and take the child to a Broadway show.

For the eat part, on Day 1 we went to Mas in Greenwich Village. We tried it out on last year's visit, and I think, no matter how long we will have to eat cheap hotdogs as a result, we will do what we can to eat there on future visits. In my book, it is easily the best restaurant in the city. Not that we can compare it to all other restaurants, but I feel that we have a decent enough sample group to select from.

Day 2 consisted of the Museum of Natural History, a trip across Central Park, and then a visit to the Whitney Museum, which had an exhibit of Edward Hopper. My fave piece:

The Barber Shop, Edward Hopper

Then, off to dinner at Beacon on 56th Street. Quite good. Not nearly as good as the night before. But when you're in a hurry to see a show, there's only so good you're gonna get. Daughter's choice this year: Mary Poppins. She was enthralled. Dada and I took turns cat napping.

Day 3: Big Brooklyn Day. Why? Because of this show:

We are both obsessed with this show. And I love that intro with all of that gorgeous text.

One of the gazillion beautiful Brooklyn Streets.

That stunning bridge!!! That godawful Verizon building in the background!!!

Crunchy Brooklyn Beach

And the world's most beautiful chocolate shop, Jacques Torres on Water Street in DUMBO. I wish I had taken a photo inside. All dressed up for fall. STUNNING! And the candy is awesome, too. I'm addicted to the Coffee Break Chocolate bars. Wish I had bought more. Hmmmm. Wait, I'll be right back. Mmmmmmm. Man, that's good.

And now, off to run errands in the real world. But, I need to remember, this is the world of reasonable mortgages.

Thursday (contains inappropriate language)

2010-10-29T09:37:00.008-04:00

Beautiful.

No. It sucks.

Let me try blue next time.

I just ruined the damn thing.

What the hell was I thinking?

(sound of head being smacked by self)

Wait. I've got it.

It worked.

Let me try it with a little bit of brown this time.

I just ruined the damn thing. Again.

I'll be back. I just have to check email.

And have a chocolate.

What about Facebook?

Oh. That's cool. What a great idea.

Let me put the clothes in the dryer.

What the hell was that idea?

(sound of head being smacked by self)

I wish I had a smaller house stamp. I'll carve one.

That's great! It really worked!!

Now let me try it out on this paper with the small text.

Damn.

(sound of going to vintage books, ripping out page, applying matte medium, sound of heat gun, more medium, heat gun, more medium, heat gun)

Let me see if I can stamp this again without it smearing. But what if I ruin the paper? Again.

Let me see if those clothes are dry. Nope.

Where's that little red square? The little red square would work here. Where the hell did I put it? It was right here a minute ago. Those clothes have to be dry.

And while I'm down here, I'll see if there are any emails.

Where's that little red square?!? WHERE'S THAT LITTL . . . oh, there it is. It will look perfect near the bottom of this piece. Nope, too small. Where's that red sheet of paper? Oh, no. That's all I have. I'll have to run out and get some more.

Screw this piece. I'll just put it over here and look at it later.

Now, I'll just prepare one of those paper bags.

(sounds of iron being plugged in, paper being ironed, matte medium being applied, heat gun, medium, heat gun, medium, heat gun)

No. I really don't want to work with the paper bag now. Let me go through my books and find a cool page to tear out.

Great. Love it. Now I just need to prep it.

(matte medium, heat gun, matte medium, heat gun, matte medium, heat gun)

Now let me stamp some of those little houses on it.

Shit. They're too small.

I better get those clothes out of the dryer.

Now that my cat is no longer here to assist me, I'll either have to talk to myself or put it down in my blog. I'm sure that you, dear reader, would prefer that I talk to myself.

p.s. Thanks for all of your comments on my last post -- they are most appreciated.

Chumley de Cat, ?-2010

2010-10-25T10:01:00.003-04:00

Thireteen years ago, on Labor Day weekend, I heard a cat crying repeatedly from my apartment window. I would go out onto the balcony and look down to see where the crying was coming from. Nothing. More crying. More looking down. Nothing. This went on all day long.

The hubby and I were celebrating our last weekend in our apartment before moving to our “new” home. On our way out to dinner, we took the back way out of our apartment building. Had we gone out the front, we never would have come across Chumley. We never made it to dinner, and we didn’t exactly “come across” Chumley. We walked under him.

As we passed under the tree that stood next to our balcony, I heard the crying again. We looked up and there he was, stuck in the tree. We tried to cajole him down. Nothing. Others came along and tried the same. One couple informed us that the cat had been up in the tree for at least two days. They had called the fire department and were “referred” to someone else. The hubby went in to call the fire department and informed them how long the cat had been up in the tree. They couldn’t leave the firehouse in case a real call for help came in. We tried some more cajoling. A crowd gathered.

Soon a group of young men, and one father, came along saying they were part of the Civil Air Patrol. They lived behind the apartments and had noticed a crowd gathering. They were glad to be of service. The father called out to his son, “Go to Grandma’s and get the ladder!” Soon the ladder arrived and climbers were up in the tree. The police had also arrived. The cat went up further (or is that farther). The men climbed higher. The cat went out on a branch. The crowd grew. A policewoman arrived.

“What we need now is a saw,” the hubby said. The Civil Air Patrol dad yelled down, “Go to Grandma’s and get the saw.” Soon a saw was raised by a rope far up into the tree. I’m assuming the firemen were still at the station washing their trucks and waiting for a real call. The saw glinted in the moonlight (how romantic). The branch began to sag. The policewoman removed her jacket. The branch and cat crashed slowly to the ground. Once the cat was on the ground, the policewoman tossed her jacket over him and then tossed him in the back of the police car.

Several people had risked great danger to help this cat who now stared like a criminal from the backseat. Calls were made, a place was found for the cat until a search could me made for his owner. Assumptions were made that the cat had been abandoned when the summer students went home. Snips were made. Shots were administered and a week later Chumley came to our “new” house with us.

Thirteen good years. A few sad weeks. Three upholstered chairs wrecked.

Now, I’ll have to tell all of my secrets and my artistic ideas to the dog, and he really doesn’t act as if he cares. The cat, however, always seemed interested.

So today I thank mama kitty, the Civil Air Patrol, policemen and policewomen, the vet who removed a malignant tumor from his back when he was three or four, my daughter who let him sleep on her bed until the end even though he could only look at her with one eye and drooled on her favorite blanket, and the hubby who let me take in another stray whom he knew was going to shred his favorite chair.

I love you Chumley, Puss E. Cat, fur face, fur buttski, fur friend, fat boy (old days), skinny boy, good boy, bad boy, you little son of a ___, sweet boy.

More Paper

2010-10-19T10:12:00.003-04:00

Looks like blue is part of the theme. Those birds are from Martha Stewart's line of punchies. Is that cheating? Sure it is. I don't seem to care.

Love those vinyl letters!

Love those rub-on letters!

I believe this one has an official name: "Where U At".

All of these pieces, except the first, are collages done from existing scraps and completed in a couple hours time.

Fun! I'm going to do more!

Tomorrow. Not creative today. Chumley the cat is very sick and I'm spending time petting him and crying. I think tomorrow will be a better day. Lonely, but better.

Now What?!?

2010-10-14T09:52:00.003-04:00

Thanks for all of those comments on the last post! Very uplifting.

I've completed five more "pieces" in the past couple of days.

I want to do another, but I have to answer some questions first.

The first one is:

Now What?

What do I do with these things? I've put them in plastic sleeves for the moment, but that won't do forever.

Suppose I decided to sell them. Do I attempt to frame them? Do I just glue them to boards and call it a day? If so, what kind of boards? Should I just go ahead and begin the collages on these boards instead of attempting to affix them later?

Are there other paper collage artists reading this? What do you do?

I really have no interest in matting and framing behind glass. That kind of takes away from the texture of the piece. And I really don't want to get into the matting and framing thing again. I did that loads of years ago, before the fiber frenzy. What a pain that was! And the expense! Nope. Done with that.

I don't want to do anything too traditional. I don't want to do anything too contemporary. And I don't want to do anything too expensive and pass that onto the customer.

I would REALLY appreciate some input on this.

Glue and Paper and Paint and Stuff

2010-10-12T09:50:00.003-04:00

I've spent the last couple of months playing around with paper.

And paint and glue and stuff (magazine clippings, rub-on letters, vinyl stick-on letters).

Most of the paper is from vintage textbooks. The blue sea above is sponge painted tracing paper. I've been using whatever is found lying (or is that laying) about.

I'm at my happiest smearing paint and glue onto paper with my fingers. Beats the heck out of sewing over my fingers.

The two pieces below were made from scraps. Not that the pieces above contained no scraps, but for these two, no new scraps could be painted or created. These two were the most fun.

None of these has a name yet. Not sure they ever will.

For now, I'm just playing and exploring. Much to the chagrin of my goal-oriented hubby. Perhaps there is a goal here. I just don't see it or know it yet. Time will tell.

Now, I am out of glue and must go buy some.

Mean Mama Bird

2010-10-11T09:52:00.003-04:00

I've been asked to donate a piece to a charity auction.

At first, I was tempted to give up a piece that I wasn't interested in holding on to. But if I'm not interested, is anyone else likely to be interested in buying it?

So mama bird has to go and select one of her baby birds to kick out of the nest. Not an easy thing.

After I make my selection and fill out the forms (Good Heavens I hate to fill out those forms), I'll head up into the studio and take a few photos of what I've been doing lately. Paper, glue, paint, rub-on letters, etc. I'm trying to break out of my box, but when you see the photos, you'll notice that I'm still lurking inside the box or right next to it.

Happy Monday!

Tennessee Burning

2010-10-06T14:24:00.002-04:00

In olden times, a neighbor’s home caught fire and any able human ran for their buckets and formed a brigade from water source to the burning home. Either the fire was put out by the community or it got out of hand and the building was lost. The point is, those that could be of any help showed up and helped. Sure there was probably an asshole or two, leaning up against a fence and chuckling. Their standing in the community was probably lessened immediately. Perhaps they even sported a black eye the next day.

Afterward, the owner of the damaged or ruined property most likely wholeheartedly thanked the community. Hands were shaked and pies were baked. The community, worn out from the bucket brigade, probably went back the next day to help the family clean up and offered food, clothing or shelter.

Not anymore, baby! Now, the unconcerned can just stand around and watch the flames leap higher and higher. You gotta pay up front for your fire service. Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you’ve purchased your homeowner’s insurance. But that’s not gonna keep your house from bursting into flame. You’ve got to pay your firefighter's fee. Now, really, there’s nothing wrong with paying for your fire and police services upfront. It’s a method called taxation. And I believe that it works. But this mafia-like shakedown thing doesn’t appear to be working too well, does it?

I’m surprised that the fire department didn’t shoot Mr. Cranick the finger as they watched his house burn.

Is this what America is coming to? Is kicking people to the curb the new national sport? I’ve read a few articles about this incident, and am shocked to read about people supporting what the fire department has done. And with the mayor’s approval! Did any of the loitering firemen hear the dying howls of the animals that were trapped in the home or were they long dead before the fire department came to protect the neighbor’s fields?

When the idea of “pay to spray” was thought up a while back, was there a brainstorming session where folks could have brought up and discussed a few possible negatives? Did any one think that, should the fire department stand around and let someone’s home burn, that there might be some negative thoughts aimed at firefighters in general. I’m sure, that somewhere in this country, there would have been firefighters that would have just gone on and sprayed some water on Mr. Cranick’s burning house. They would have done what most of us would consider the brave and honorable thing. And now, we’re not going to look so highly at any firefighter thanks to those bad apples who stood by and did nothing.

There are a large and growing number of people in this country who would rather die than pay taxes. And now, they seem to be projecting this onto others. They hold rallies in the hopes of having our country dispense with collecting taxes. These taxes build and maintain roads, pay for Medicare, defend our country, and provide for fire and police services. This group would rather have everyone pay for themselves so they do not have to involve themselves with assisting others in any way.

This group I am referring to is also a group that is deeply conservative and religious. They ask God and Jesus’ counsel when times get tough. I keep thinking about that WWJD (what would Jesus do) line of thought. I don’t think any of the firefighters in this situation were thinking of this. If they were, they must have thought Jesus would go and get a bag of marshmallows and a long stick.

Several years ago, there was a house fire in my town. A man was driving by a burning house. He called for the fire department and left his car. He noticed animals in the home and broke into the home to attempt a rescue. He was able to save two out of three animals. Perhaps he could have saved the third at risk of his own life. I am glad he did not attempt to save the third. This man should live a long life knowing that he did what he could. He helped a neighbor. I don’t think he even knew the owners of the home. It doesn’t matter. He is still a neighbor. I’d like to think that if my own home were to burn, a neighbor would be there to help in some way.

I would also like to think that if a burglar showed up in my home that the police would come to help. If I were drowning that a lifeguard would swim out to help me. If I were to be raped, that a group of policemen wouldn’t just stand around and watch (unless they had up-front payment).

After this incident, I will never look at my fellow Americans the same way. I will always wonder if somebody would help me out of the goodness of their heart (or, perhaps, the requirements of their job). Should I walk down the street with wads of cash and hand it out to folks just in case I might need their help one day? Should I take a wheelbarrow of money into the hospital in case I might need urgent care? Should I hand out envelopes of cash to everyone that knows CPR in case one of them happens to be standing next to me if I choke? Should I write a check to every Boy Scout so that in my not-too-far-off old age that they might safely steer me across a busy intersection?

I can’t believe I even have to write the next sentence.

If there is a fire, I believe that firefighters should put it out.

Immediately.

Without debate.

Without up-front payment.

Good Gravy, Mommy Dearest and European Terror Warning

2010-10-04T09:19:00.005-04:00

Good gravy, chicken and instant mashed potatoes

This is a photo of Friday night's dinner. There's some gravy for ya! This meal is a bit more uptown than the photo would have you believe. The recipe (for the chicken, not the taters) comes from the Red Cat cookbook. The Red Cat is a yummy restaurant in the Chelsea area of New York City. After our meal there, we returned home and purchased the cookbook. This recipe is entitled, "simple skillet roast of chicken with red onion, sugar plum (prune) and rosemary sauce." You can get the tater recipe from the back of the hungry jack box (for six servings even though we are three).

Hubby made a lot so that his wife and child could have leftovers while he is out of town for several days. He knows that limits of my cooking skills. I do believe an earlier post showed the browned result of my attempt to boil frozen peas. I can boil pasta and grate cheese. I have a 75/25 shot of getting frozen food safely into boiling water and the same chance of getting it onto a plate. Before a trip, however, he will stock me up on leftovers. All I have to do is thaw and heat.

With hubby gone, daughter and I ate some of those chicken leftovers. She, however, requested no gravy. The chicken didn't fare extremely well with reheating. I didn't know that chicken leftovers smelled like wet dog. There was more chicken remaining in the freezer, and I told my daughter that the following night, I would chop up the leftover leftover chicken and put it in a pasta sauce. I suddenly saw myself slathered in bright red lipstick, whacking my child with a wire coat hanger and forcing her to eat her meat no matter how long it takes her to finish it. I tossed all leftovers out. I will NOT become Mommy Dearest.

So hubby is off in Lyon, France. A business trip. Really. So now I read on the Huffington Post that there is a terror threat in Europe. A very vague threat, apparently. Am I somewhat comforted by the vagueness or does it add more tension? Is there something somebody knows or are the powers that be just covering their butts?

So in his absence, I am off to the grocery store. I'd rather have a colonoscopy. Perhaps, upon my arrival, there will be a message over the PA system. "Ladies and gentleman, there is salmonella in one of the products in this store. Well, there COULD be salmonella in one of the products in the store. Seems more likely than usual. No. We don't know which product. Might be in more than one. Might not be in any. Just be careful. Be on guard. Pay attention to your surroundings. Have a good day. Thank you for shopping here."

Have a good day yourself. Especially if its chilly and rainy in your neck of the woods.

I'm Putting it on Paper

2010-09-30T08:34:00.003-04:00

I think I may have given the impression that I'm into paper lately. I am.

I'm loving the texture of vintage papers. Unless I am working with a huge piece of paper, which is very rare, I prepare the paper for additional elements by applying matte medium with my fingers.

Not all of the paper I work with is vintage. I'll use whatever I have on hand. Above is a sheet of printer paper. The squares are from a vintage textbook, though.

This photo shows one of my favorite papers -- used, brown paper bags. I get great ones from the liquor store (ha ha). They are thinner and crinklier than grocery bags.

I'm trying to work with these bits and pieces without an end product in mind, but that is so hard for me. Three pieces have been "completed". I have no idea whether they will end up on Etsy or if they will just hang around for further inspiration (or as guidelines for what NOT to do).

It is a dark and stormy day. The paper in the studio is calling. So are the paints, brushes, stamps and glue.

Put it on Paper

2010-09-27T13:20:00.002-04:00

Here's a small gathering of art links. These fave new artists of mine draw, paint, glue and stitch on paper.

Have a look if you have the time!

Missouri Bend Studio

Cerulean

Artsyville

Coffee break is over and I'm headed back into the studio to play with paper.

Things I've Done Instead of Creating

2010-09-24T09:44:00.003-04:00

So far today, I have:

eaten all chocolate in the house

read blogs

watched YouTube videos

cleaned rancid gunk out of the disposal

escorted bugs out of my house

fed child a ham sandwich for breakfast

dressed myself inappropriately for the weather

stepped over things in my way (laundry basket, large dust bunnies, boxes and bags)

wished for things

hoped for things

sat on my butt

craved more chocolate

looked for my motivation button

wondered if I should have a chocolate milkshake for lunch

sighed that I have wasted time

dreaded running errands

been irritated about my empty wallet

Now, I'm off to the studio to be incredibly creative. Until it is time to run errands, of course.

**UPDATE** Now I can add that I've thrown away this weeks failed experiments. That's progress, right?

My Favorite Season

2010-09-20T12:11:00.004-04:00

No more dragging the dog (and myself) through the cloying heat, looking straight ahead to the end of the walk, desperate for a glass of water.

Now I can look up at the leaves taking on color against the (more frequently) blue sky. Looking down, I see the last of the pink and purple summer petals scattered among the newly fallen leaves. Yeah, so they are mostly coming from the sick maples this early in the season. I'll have to enjoy them while I can, before the trucks and men with saws come and take them away forever.

It's time to visit the farmers' market and buy apples in brown paper bags. Hopefully those bags will find their way into some new artwork soon. I've developed quite a think for brown paper bags.

I'm hoping that the fresh air and harvest colors will whip up my creative energy.

Thanks to all of you who commented on my last post. Hope I didn't come off as arrogant, implying that all artwork had to have vast depths of meaning to avoid being a worthless piece of poo. I'm trying to discover the reason(s) behind my latest slump. I know I am lucky to be able to even entertain a slump for any length of time. This one is a long one, though.

What do you do when trying to crawl out of a slump?

What's the Meaning of All This?

2010-09-16T08:53:00.003-04:00

I just watched a YouTube video of an abstract artist at work. Lots of interesting techniques -- paint spread over huge boards with huge metal spreaders (can't think of a better word). Thin paint splooshed on over artwork. Artwork tilted so paint runs and spreads. Random dabs of paint. More paint spreading.

Voila! Art! While I did enjoy the video and enjoy looking at the artwork, I think that my enjoyment would be short-lived if I had to live with the artwork.

I could not see the meaning behind the piece. Yes, I'm sure the artist enjoyed making it, and from what I can tell, his artwork sells. A photo of a restaurant displaying his work was included.

Hubby and I went to close on our home refinancing the other day. Lawyer's office. Lots of "corporate" art. Hubby suggests I think about this approach to art. Other than an "arrangement" of splotches of color, I could see no meaning behind the work. I guess that in a corporate environment, it is best to avoid meaning in artwork, lest someone be offended.

Something is missing. Meaning, context, story, love, hate, some kind of emotion. Is it just me, or do others want something from their art? I must say that I don't care for art that displays blood, gore, violence, etc. But, there's gotta be something. I've got to connect. Apparently, there is no need to connect with corporate art. Its just there to look pretty as you pass by the lobby,sit in the conference room to sign a few papers, or wait for an empty table.

I don't want to just throw some art materials at a surface, hope something sticks, sell it, and do it again and again. Or do I?

I sure would like to make some money.

What are you looking for in art? What draws you to a piece? What makes you want to own it or visit it over and over again in a museum? If you are an artist, what makes you want to create something?

Help me here. I'm looking for meaning.

Messin' with the Tooth Fairy

2010-09-14T09:25:00.002-04:00

My daughter lost her 2^nd top front tooth Sunday while at a friend’s house. We lovingly put it into a baggie and transferred it to a tooth-fairy-appropriate envelope when we got home.

In the past, when a tooth was lost, my daughter would place it in a hand-colored envelope and put it on her bedside table for the tooth fairy. A small pile of money in its place would greet her upon waking. Easy peasy for the “tooth fairy”.

Questions have been asked lately about the reality of the tooth fairy. We try to avoid lying at all costs in our house, but Santa and the tooth fairy still exist here. Barely.

This time the young one wanted to make it a bit difficult for the tooth fairy. She asked what would happen if she shoved the envelope down inside her pillowcase with her nightgown shoved in next to it to block the opening. We told her the tooth fairy might just not be strong enough to get to it.

Indeed not. The tooth fairy left a note, written in a lovely fairy hand, wondering where the tooth was. My daughter was disappointed.

Last night, she promised to put the tooth under her pillow. When I tucked her in, she had placed the envelope close to the left side of her pillow, and the note, with questions, (Where did you get the pen and paper? How does a fairy write? Does the tooth fairy like to be tricked?) close to the right side of her pillow.

At 10:00, tooth fairy A (me) goes in for the envelope and letter. They have now been shoved further under the pillow, right under her head. My small hand now feels like a meaty fist as it lifts and bobs her head with great ferocity. I grope and twist and wrench. Finally I have all the goods. Amazingly, the child does not stir.

I give the note to tooth fairy B (hubby) and he supplies the answers to the questions (downstairs, like this, no). He places the note and money on her bedside table.

This morning, I wake the child and pretend to check under her pillow (knowing full well that the loot and note are next to her bed). The money is under the pillow and the note is gone. Later, child looks under her covers at the bottom of her bed and pulls out the note. The sneaky beast is waiting for me to say that can't be right because Daddy has put it on her table.

I hope some stinkin’ kid at school tells her the truth about the tooth fairy. She’s got some interesting plans about where to hide the next tooth and I just can't deal with it.

Thinking

2010-09-07T11:06:00.002-04:00

My favorites kind of people are the ones that think before they do.

I'm going to do some thinking. If that goes well, I'm going to do some doing.

I may or may not let you know how that goes.

Anyway, off to think.

Journey

2010-09-03T14:40:00.002-04:00

I have chosen journey.

These past several weeks, I have cleaned, watched YouTube videos (intellectual ones, of course), done laundry, piddled and paced.

I have avoided the studio like the plague.

Several times I have forced myself into the studio. I've piddled and paced and run back downstairs to watch more intellectual YouTube videos.

Slowly, bit by bit, and piece by piece, experiments have been tried. The failure rate was high in proportion to the amount of time spent in the studio.

This week, I've been just a tad less reluctant to get into the studio. More experiments have been tried. Less have failed. There has been a success or two (actually three).

As I left the studio just a minute ago, I was thinking that I wouldn't have the opportunity to return until Tuesday. That thought saddened me. Then I realized that I had enjoyed my time in the studio today.

I have decided on the journey rather than the destination. For now.

Thanks to all of you who have sent me positive comments. I especially appreciate those who have sent me encouraging emails.

Soon I will share some photos. Not that they will show any completed pieces. They may show bits bound for the garbage, but that's better than nothing, huh?

Have a great holiday weekend!

Journey? Destination?

2010-08-31T08:51:00.002-04:00

I was recently asked by a blogging friend how I was and what I was. I answered I don't know to both of those questions.

I've been going through one of those art crisis things. I didn't want to bring it up here. In a world where there are wars and genocide, I just didn't want to have some bitty breakdown and expect people to give a darn.

By the way, thanks to my readers for all of your kind words on my last post.

Am I still a fiber artist? I don't know.

Am I still an artist? I don't know.

I want so much to reach a destination. I'm thinking that destination is to be a "professional" artist. The problem is, I don't know what journey is necessary to reach that destination. Do I have to pick a certain path? Can't I just spin around in circles for a while? Can I still call myself an artist if I'm spinning in circles?

I still love all of the work I have done -- the pieces that have gone out into the world and the ones that are on my wall or in my drawers (dresser drawers, that is). Can I start fresh? Is that a sign of complete failure? Which would be the bigger failure -- to keep doing what I've been doing even though I may not be inspired, or to turn my back on completion and selling to start at the beginning and explore something new?

Anyway. Big thoughts in my head. Nothing being done about it.

Where have I been?

2010-08-27T10:37:00.002-04:00

Sick. Twice. Now. All in one week.

Fighting a migraine.

Complaining. A lot.

Battling lice and all the fun that goes with that.

Feeding the vacuum more of my blood. Don't ask. I don't know how. I just know it always happens.

Cleaning again today for in-laws' visit.

Playing lots of cards with a kid in between summer camps and starting school.

Buying school supplies.

Taking a cat that cannot walk straight to the vet.

Taking child to oral surgeon to have oral things removed. Treating the affected area. Returning child to doctor.

Purchasing an all-new wardrobe for a very picky child.

Now its time to take my daughter and my snotty head out for a girls' lunch before resuming cleaning duties.

Have a good weekend.

A Few New Pieces

2010-08-20T08:50:00.003-04:00

Here are the pieces that were published in Sew Somerset Magazine. They have returned home to live.

These pieces are all for sale on Etsy.

I'm glad to have them safely home. I'm a little surprised at the return packaging. I had them padded, wrapped in plastic to prevent them from getting wet (which would ruin them), and boxed for their outbound trip. They were quite unceremoniously tossed into a padded envelope for their return trip and that was that. I guess no one is going to take care of my babies quite like I would.

Venus and Mars

2010-08-16T14:11:00.004-04:00

The diary entry reads, "Stayed home tonight & ironed." There's Venus, beautifully dressed in her house. There's Mars, on the other side of the moon.

It seems as if this will be the last piece in the Mother series. Not sure where to go from here. I am loaded up with lots of supplies for other such quilts. I am not loaded up with inspiration to continue. It figures.

I'm not sure whether to continue on the same path. I'd love to take some time to explore instead of producing. I'm going to pretend that I have never created anything before -- that I've never heard of being an artist. I'm going to pretend that I have never seen "art" before. But I have the need to create.

-- Where would you suggest I begin.

Aliens in the Desert?

2010-08-10T13:29:00.004-04:00

No, I really don't believe an alien spacecraft was found in the desert near Roswell, New Mexico, back in 1947. I do like circles and what I consider to be desert colors, though. These pieces were made way back in 2007. I think dinosaurs roamed the earth back then.

These pieces are now for sale on Etsy .

To Bargain or Not to Bargain

2010-08-06T14:10:00.001-04:00

The hubby and I were recently in Toronto. We had a lovely visit with relatives and then spent 2 ½ days exploring the city. One of my favorite stops was the newish distillery district. I dream of such places. Shops. Galleries. Restaurants. How can you beat that? With an art and craft festival!

The family perused tent after tent of mostly upscale goods. Jewelry. Painting. Wood. Pottery. What joy to be on vacation at an arts festival in a cool district in a great city. Then I was brought down by two ladies who thought it would be great fun to bargain on someone’s artwork.

We were all admiring the painted wood objects of a friendly female artist. Her booth was filled with handpainted bowls, framed monoprints, and other fun and functional wood-related objects. There were two women who had handpainted coasters in their hands. I believe they cost about $20 for four. Seemed very reasonable to me. Without talking to the woman about her crafts, or making any other small talk, one walked up to the artist and stated that she would give her $15 for the coasters. The artist politely declined. The woman then said another amount, going just a bit higher. The artist again declined, saying that they were already reasonably priced. The bargainer went up another level. The artist shared a bit of information on her complicated technique and stated she could not drop her price, but would waive the sales tax. Not good enough for the women, who then went up just a bit higher. I left the booth hearing the artist state that “NO”, she would not bargain for her work.

I’ve only done one festival show. I fear doing another. I would not be nearly as patient as the artist in this situation was.

So, if there are any art “consumers” out there reading this, here are some pointers for your next visit to an arts festival. Actually, one pointer.

DO NOT BARGAIN.

I have had people do this to me when purchasing through the internet. It has worked successfully and unsuccessfully. I’ll tell you why.

One customer purchased five items at once. I offered her a small discount (5%). She drove several hours out of her way to pick up the pieces and meet me. She was given a small discount on her next purchase. In talking to this woman, I knew that she had a connection to my work. I also knew that she was not a rich woman and her hard-earned dollars were spent on my work. Several months later, I added an older piece on Ebay and was selling it at a discount. This piece had been sitting in my drawer for several years. She wrote and told me how much she and her daughter loved it. She wanted to buy it for her daughter who was going off to college but could not afford it. I was asking $125.00 and she asked to buy it for $75.00. Since I had a history with this woman who had bought more expensive pieces, I was not insulted. We agreed on a slightly higher price and the deal was done.

I have been asked buy people who have never purchased anything before to give then deep discounts. I tell them nicely that I won’t. If I’m contacted by someone who has purchased from me before, I will offer a small discount.

Generally, if you are buying several pieces at a time from an artist, they will offer a discount. If they don’t, I feel that the buyer can (politely) request a small discount. This has a better chance of working if the buyer requests a small discount or elimination of sales tax rather than stating the amount they are willing to pay, especially if that amount is nowhere near what the artist is asking.

My husband and I purchased a painting at the last Central Pennsylvania Festival of the Arts. The artist had two pieces that I loved. We purchased one and left. The next day we came back to look at the other (wasn’t gonna happen, though). We were offered what would have amounted to a 15% discount on both pieces. We would have asked for a small discount if we had bought two, but the artist offered a substantial discount without being asked.

There is a jewelry artist I usually purchase something from each year. Often, I’ll purchase more than one piece at a time. Since I am a repeat customer, I am automatically offered a discount. I don’t go in expecting one, but each time it is a very nice surprise. I love her work and feel it is reasonably priced. I would buy it without a discount. I can’t imagine going into her booth and demanding a discount.

I wonder how those haggling ladies would like it if each time they went into work, their boss attempted to bargain with them:

“Good morning. I’ll give you 12 dollars an hour today instead of 16.”

“How about $12.50 an hour then?”

“I’ll give you 14 dollars an hour and no medical benefits today.”

“O.K. then, 15 dollars, but no breaks for coffee or lunch.”

And don’t even get me started on those folks who go into a booth, get information on how to make something and then tell the artist they’ll go home and make the same thing, but it will only cost them two dollars to make it.