Thursday, October 28, 2010

me, procrastinate?

Yes, well, what better way to further procrastinate painting than to blog about the painting. Few words mostly images today. I'm not sure where the blue fellow came from, but I suspect He might be Papa Legba. Maybe I'll know more as I go further with this painting. In the meantime, I seem to be continuing in this spiraling rut. Could it be a downward spiral?



Monday, October 25, 2010

the heart

No sooner than I finished last night's blog post I was painting again. The tiny spirals attack continued. Before I left the computer, I visited Aviva Gold's You Tube where I watched her and others "embody" their paintings. Something I vaguely remember reading from her book, but never did. I was intrigued. Certainly, it makes sense I would never have embodied any element of my paintings because there were people around. In some cases and to some people, the paintings were wild enough. Catching me going schizo in front of one would have been a one-way ticket to the Funny Farm. In short, the environment doesn't support that sort of behavior. But if no one is home . . . Well, maybe.

So, I gave it a whirl. I stood like the pink skeleton, arms raised, fingers in a loose mudra and I asked: What are you to me? The small flood of responses varied: The Spinning Fates, your creation, the bones of your painting, your bones, the bones of your mother, the bones of your ancestors. Okay. I can work with that, but it still didn't seem to mean much. I guess embodying takes a little more practice. That means the house would need to be empty more often.

Somewhat confused, I went back to the safety of the tiny spirals, but it felt vitally important I find some other way to connect with this painting. Without thinking, I placed my hand where a heart ought to be and continued the spirals. Suddenly I realized the painting needed a heart. The sea foam green was put away; out came the red with a gold powder mix.

Once the red gold heart was painted into the rib cage, I pressed my left palm into the wet paint.









Then the palm print was pressed into the pelvic bone.

The red gold paint stayed on my palm like Hindu wedding henna until this morning's shower.

There are many more tiny spirals to do.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

the spirals











Last night, after visiting Aviva Gold's site, I shamed myself into painting. I've had all week, up until nearly10:00pm some nights, to paint. Time all to myself frittered away on the internet or journal writing/sketching or spinning or SoulCollage. Not once, until last night, did I pick up the brush to paint. For an hour and a half, in an utterly empty and silent house, I painted. I finished the spiraling, swirling and dashing of all the negative space with a mid-sized sable watercolor brush and sea foam silvery paint. (Silver courtesy of Pearl Ex powder. Kirsten turned me on to it.)

Then tonight, in the same empty house conditions, something consumed me. I took the tiniest sable brush and began painting tiny spirals EVERYWHERE. Any negative space between the spirals and swirls I'd done last night were filled in with more tiny spirals. It was like Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup comfort food with a side of tuna on cheap white bread and Lay's chips inserted for that extra fun crunch. The spirals became the visual equivalent of a meditator's mantra. Om namah shivaya . . . over and over until the words, or in this case, shapes, lost meaning. The spirals became blissful action. The spirals were everything but meant nothing.

The process felt scary. I mean, is this what I'm reduced to as an artist? What would a "real" artist be doing right now? A college art professor would see little merit in any of what I'm doing. The grade would be poor. That standard didn't count here so I'd just go back to doing spirals as if life depended on it, as if the sea foam green was the life's blood to these spirals. Maybe the spirals are a form of Artsitic Depression. Maybe I just needed to do spirals. I suspect there are many more in store for this particular painting. I have no answers. That has to be okay.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

the altered altar

The Brighid altar has been relocated. It's been here, at the edge of my studio for about a month. I was giving it a trial run in this location. What's good about having the altar in my studio is that it's in sight. The Flame of Inspiration burns happily and safely. Brighid has my attention when I'm creating or reading or playing with the Tarot. The flame isn't lit right now because I'm waiting for sundown when it will be my turn for Vigil.

I love my Vigils. The time I spend with Herself is rich with potential, gratitude, awe, creativity. I feel most poetic though my poetry isn't always the written word ~ more an extra feeling into whatever I endeavor to do. Even if it's just doing the laundry.



Monday, October 18, 2010

now what, rabbit?

What does one do with gray-green mohair/wool? Another simple bucket hat? Cup cozy? Tea cozy? I'm at a loss. Yet I continue to spin the weirdness, mostly in waiting rooms, with some deep conviction it will become something, well, pretty good at least. The nature of this fiber and its subsequent form will reveal itself to me in due time, I suppose.


In the meantime, here is the Shetland fleece, Ava (Sheep #422) waiting to be carded and spun. Again, she waits none too patiently. I can feel her baleful eye upon my back as I moodle about with journal sketches or play with the Tarot. I am shirking some fibery duty and Ava is not amused. At least the corner looks nice.





Certainly, another creative obligation not being met.



Sunday, October 17, 2010

Sunday yoga

During Selected Shorts (but after feeding the Tribe), I'd nearly finished Bennie's yoga socks. Just another 8 rows of k1p1 rib and then I'm spinning the Ava waiting in the corner of my newly-created spinning area in the studio. A little light and a flat surface for tea as well as the Millie make for a fine Spinning Corner.




Earlier this morning, Bennie and I met in the Great Room for a little yoga. We did really easy asanas starting with a very slow Sun Salutation sequence. I'd already gone walking with Dirk and the dogs so I was fairly flexible enough to go through the motions, but it was important to go slow for Bennie. It's hard to believe she isn't all that flexible (yet). Either that or my body's cellular memory hasn't gone dementia on me (yet). It was good to get even a little of that stretching in on a Sunday.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

more sox & SoulCollage

Bennie is happy with the progress of her mis-matched yoga socks. I'm happy too. It means I'm enjoying some creative time after weeks, no wait! months, of dealing with the post head-on collision madness of finding another vehicle. Craig's List annoys me. As mentioned, you can find a good deal but you might have to travel to Alaska to get it. The patrons gratuits for said socks can be found here. Now I cheated the pattern a bit, finding it necessary to have the ball of the foot bare for yoga and shortened the instep section of the sock. We'll have to see how that works out for Bennie Sunday. She has expressed an interest in all things Yoga. After trying to find safe, youth-friendly asana sequences on the internet, I thought it best to simply practice with her on Sundays instead. (Yes, with football highlights and games roaring in the background.) This will be good. We get to do something together (I quit Girl Scouts ~ Bennie's still in) and I get to do yoga more often.

Creating more stuff . . .

I busied myself playing with SoulCollage last night making these two images:


The Fool . . .
















and something I don't have a name for yet.












I also resurrected American Gothika from the mishap of March 2010. I bumped into the image again in my folder/pile of images and suddenly if felt dear to me. I had tossed the other mistakes, but held on to this one for reasons yet to be determined. The finished image has been re-affixed to the illustration board with a healthy dose of rubber cement. I have to sit with this one and let if ferment.

Saturday, October 09, 2010

yoga sox & chicken watching

It's been busy. As a result, it's difficult carving out the time needed to be creative let alone write about being creative. However, I have been working ~ slowly ~ on Bennie's yoga socks. For my birthday, I'd been graced with a pair made by Ruth with the instructions included. So I'm taking the odds and ends of sock yarn to make Bennie a pair. They are knitting up swimmingly. Well, good enough for one so far.










Sometimes we have a moment between phone calls, appointments of various description and site hopping to sit with the chickens. This little one is from the batch we call the Baker's Dozen as she is part of a 13-egg brood. She'd also been getting picked on by one of her siblings and was hanging out with the humans for comfort, but soon went right back to scratching on her own.





Naturally, when a few of the older chicks see someone getting attention and food, they all jump on.




Then others just want to make a get-away on the forklift.





It's our own Chicken TV. It's been suggested we video the chickens meandering and scratching then post it on You Tube. Further suggesting there might be folks out there willing watch chickens doing their thing on line. I find that mildly disturbing, but then there's worse things one could watch on the internet.