New Studio

Finally.

Much smaller, indeed, than my Pennsylvania studio.  And I must say sorry to my guests who won't be able to stay in this room when visiting.  Note the palmetto tree outside of my window in the top photo.  Love it!  I've seen squirrels in it gathering fibrous bits and pieces to build their nests.  Note, also, kitty cat.  While many, many repairs were made to the house, she was hidden away in this room and lived in the cupboard for several days.  It is a bright and warm room and is now her favorite.  I will have to work hard to keep cat hairs out of my work.

Since these photos were taken, we have hung up most of my larger pieces.  It is so wonderful to have vertical walls!

Now it is time, finally, to go into the studio and make a hell of a mess.

Here.

Finally.

Snow up north.  Sixty-five degrees here.

The windows are open (one of them out while the carpenter repairs it).  The sounds of sawing and drilling flow out of the window and down the street from my house.

The clomping of the horses and buggies.  Just nine months ago, I was a tourist bumping through the streets of Charleston.  From my perch in the wagon, I viewed those I suspected to be residents.  Oh, how I envied them.  How could I ever have such a life?

The dog’s ears lift.  A distant staccato solidifies into the echoing tread of horse hooves.  From the wagon, the tourists look into my windows.  Perhaps they are thinking, “How the hell could anyone ever live here?”

Winter does not have much of a hold here.  Camellias bloom.  Pansies.  Snapdragons.  Even a handful of roses.  Even January is lush in Charleston.  I am slapped by foliage as I stroll down the sidewalks.  Far, far better than being slapped by an icy wind.

The only thing icy here is the coffee.  I cannot restrain myself each afternoon from beelining to one of my local coffeehouses (or even Starbucks), politely demanding an iced coffee (in my new southern drawl), then heading down a new sidewalk.

Finally.

A Little Light

A tree after all!

Even though we will not be spending Christmas in our current house, a little tree managed to squeeze inside among all of the misplaced furniture and cardboard boxes.  My husband and daughter decided to get one while I was down in Virginia visiting my father.  This tree was decorated by my daughter and 10 of her friends at her going away party.  I was very pleased to return from my trip and see this inside the front door.

If anyone wants a Christmas tree, this little fellow will be out on the curb on December 23, looking for a new home for the holidays.

My sister called late last week to say my dad was not doing very well.  I left for Roanoke, Virginia, Saturday morning and spent a couple of hours with him.  I visited him twice on Sunday.  Saying good bye to him on Sunday evening, I tried to sound upbeat, saying I would return in a couple of weeks.  We both knew that would be too long.  I called him on my way home Monday to let him know the trip was going well.  It was the last time I spoke to him.

Tomorrow, I make another trip down to Virginia for his memorial service.

There are far too many lasts lately.

And way down the road (ok, not too far now) is my new life in Charleston.  A light at the end of the tunnel.

Kermit Hogan March 20, 1928-December 3, 2012

First List of Lasts

Right now, I am having some trouble looking forward to the move to Charleston.  Maybe it has something to do with my father's health.  Perhaps I think to much about ALL OF THE STUFF that needs to be done.  Or maybe it is just in my nature.  Whatever.  I can't get to thinking about the firsts that will happen with my move.  I'm concentrating on the lasts.

1.  Last day without my house being filled with packing boxes.  That day has already come and gone.


2.  Last year I will see my Japanese maples in their fall glory.

3.  This morning, I completed the last piece in my studio.

4.  Last Christmas in my house.  I did not know until last week that Christmas 2011 was the last Christmas in my house.  We have decided to move on out of here before Christmas, visit family and divest and accrue presents on the way down, and greet the movers on December 27th.

Almost Here (or Almost There)

Today is another lovely day in State College, PA.  Possibly as lovely as yesterday.  October in my neck of the woods can be quite lovely.  It is coming to an end very soon.  In a few days, the high temperature here will be in the 30s.  Then the long, long winter begins.

This year, however, I get to experience an abbreviated Pennsylvania winter.  After the first of the year, I will be residing in Charleston, SC.  Jeez, I can't believe I just wrote that.  Just eight months ago, I had never set foot in Charleston.  Early this past April we went there on vacation.  By the end of our fairly brief visit, I knew that this was where I wanted to live.

And so, there we are in front of our home in downtown Charleston.  Contractors all over the city are dancing with joy.  Just look at the smiles on the faces of those suckers.  At least the toilets flush (for now).

Now there are two months of packing and planning ahead of us.  What to take.  What needs to be left behind for renters. 

We will be meeting lots of new people:  contractors, painters, electricians, plumbers.

I can't wait.

We're almost there.

Returning from Something Almost Completely Different

Tools at the Ready

Yes, it was an inspirational week at Art & Soul in Portland, OR.

I arrived early afternoon the Saturday before last.  Coffee, register for classes, empty the suitcases.  Less than an hour later I am heading for the train to take me to downtown Portland.

Eat.  Explore.  Coffee.  Wine.  Beer.  Powell's Books.

And the adventure of getting on the wrong train.  How was I to know that a new train line would be added last month?  Certainly was not on my old map.  But an hour spent going and returning in unknown parts of the city reminded me of my love for bridges and trains and my need to move on every now and then.

Monday and Tuesday, I attended a class taught by Jesse Reno. Wow! What I thought could be an extremely intimidating class taught by a pretentious ass turned out to be the experience of a lifetime. Have you ever mixed paint colors in the palm of your hand by splurting gobs of paint from gallon-sized jugs of paint topped with pump dispensers? I have and it feels damn good. And then to smear it across a clean surface, or a recently painted surface that you are just not happy with? Jesse is an enthusiastic and engaging artist.  I was way wrong to assume he would be a pretentious ass.   Wednesday and Thursday, I did an about face and took a class thought by Donna Watson. Time to slow down, plan ahead, and restrict the color palette. Restraining yet freeing. Calming. Until my precious, painted rice papers get yanked up into the brayer. I learned much, but didn't learn how to be patient. Perhaps that is better achieved in her 5-day course.

 A similarity between classes: in both I can learn from and even use my mistakes. This works well for me.

 Now, to translate what I've learned into my own art. A little difficult right now. We will be closing on our 'new' home in Charleston, SC, very soon and packing and organizing must begin. I've carved out a little time to create, but mostly what I've done so far is organize a few tools for the photo above.

And Now, Time for Something Almost Completely Different

Destination II, 12 x 12" collage on board ©2011 Kim Hambric

Always squares!
Squares within squares!

For well over a year, I've worked with nothing but squares.

I've greatly enjoyed working within the confines of squares.  I'm not done yet.  I've got a long way to go.  I see myself as progressing within these squares.

I've turned inward lately.  Not sure why, but I know there are plenty of possible reasons.  My dad's health.  Long, cold Pennsylvania winters.  Complete lack of art sales.  My blogs have been pretty much tossed to the side.  I'm not doing those things on Etsy I'm supposed to be doing.  I'm not networking or connecting.  I am still making though.  That seems to be the point right now.

Last year at this time, I was going over my mother's death from 2010.  As autumn began, her health began to deteriorate.  By Christmas she was gone.  Last Christmas was better, yet things had changed forever.  Another winter passed in Pennsylvania.  I created and my finished art sat at home with me.  By March of this year, I knew something had to be done.  I had to go somewhere, even if I would have to return after a week.  Where could I go?

I had some money saved and my husband had stockpiled some frequent flyer miles.  I wanted to go to the last place that had made me happy.  Last summer we had visited Portland, Oregon, and my mind had been obsessed with ways to return.  Briefly we had thought about moving there, but decided against that as our friends and family are on the east coast.

So, the only solution seemed to be an Art & Soul retreat.  In just a few days I will be taking a 2-day painting class with Jessie Reno, followed by a 2-day collage class with Donna Watson. Could this be just the thing to wake me up and get me motivated? If not, there's always another solution. Shortly after signing up for these classes, my husband and I took our first trip to Charleston, SC.  Gorgeous city.  Incredible art scene.  Fantastic food.  On our last evening there, we sat in the lightly decaying courtyard of Kudu Coffee (and Beer).  I mentioned that I could, perhaps, live in a place as lovely as Charleston.  My husband agreed.  Then he said, somewhat quietly, "I'll see what I can do."  Six months later, it is done.  His work has been stretched and tweaked and expanded and altered in numerous ways.  A home has been purchased.  Vast amounts of stuff must be dealt with.  And in early January, a truck will come to pick up our belongings, and we will climb in our car and go.

More on that story later.

 Now it is time to pack for Portland.