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

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.

My Favorite and Best

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?

The $100 Pen

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.

For the Love of Bowls

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.

Words and Illustrations and Letters! Oh My!

Yummy, crusty, wooden letters. Brand New To Me! Can't wait to use them. These guys are 2" tall. Just beautiful. These arrived in the mail late last week. I'm trying not to think of ways to use them. Just yet. I have two pieces to finish first (one shown in previous post).


But it can't hurt to print them out once and see how they look. I'm quite fond of them all, especially Mr. Z. Wish I could have gotten an X, but there were only a handful of these available.


I also purchased a print from the extremely talented Aimee Myers Dolich over at Artsyville. This was just so me. Yeah, I'm guilty of watching the ground when I walk. Amazing things can be found on the ground. I do find, that when my eyes are on the trees and sky for too long, I find myself face down on that ground.



My subscription to the fantastic newish magazine Uppercase started last week. As the cover says, it is a magazine for the creative and curious. Text, illustration, art, letters, colors, design. Its a candy store of a publication.

And here is the newest addition to the family. The Oxford College Dictionary. I looked through every dictionary in the bookstore before I found one whose text I liked. The kid said her childrens' dictionary didn't have enough words. She's so right. But now I've got to talk her into keeping the old dictionary, cause, really, I like the way this one looks so much better.

And, yesterday there was a letter. I saw a handwritten return address and assumed it could only be something good. I don't get much mail, so this kind of thing gets me all excited. I wish I had looked more closely before I tore the envelope open. I would have realized that it came from a gallery in New York state. And that since the damn thing was so thin, that it would have been a rejection letter. Every year I enter their small quilt exhibition. Every year I get rejected. Its really becoming easier and easier. Not bothered at all. It's really not necessary to each chocolate.