Art journal 10

If I could spend my days wandering in the forest, I'd be ever so happy.

There's a wee bit of magic under the drippy, chirpy canopy. The needle and moss carpet hushes the residents' parley; muffled and hidden.  Lookee, under the fungus, is it the red squirrel? I know the Little Folk, they fancy playing "I'm a stick" lest you stand still and peer, just the proper way; out of the side of the eye. 

Art journal 9, a sensory exercise

Too often, we forget how to FEEL, with our whole body, the experiences we are having.

 Try: Close your eyes and think of when you were small.  Imagine yourself, walking in the sand toward the monkey bars.  The sand under your feet makes your ankles turn a funny way, makes walking difficult.  You trudge. Then, the sensation of the cold metal bar hits your hands as you grip the one at chest height.  Up you go, one foot at at time, hand over hand, straining and pulling, feeling each cool bar as you go. Feeling strong.  Determination to get to the top.  Stop.  Pant.  Steady yourself.  Think.  How do I get myself to the position where I can hang, feet down?  Still gripping.  Hands getting a little sweaty at the thought of letting go.  Wiggle. Try one foot.  DEEP BREATH, and.... I know I can do this.  OK, go!  I did it! I'm hanging! Really, really high!  Looking down.  Light headed. Now I have to drop. DEEP BREATH, and....  

Those brave actions are the same actions that we can take in making a page in an art journal now.  Giving permission to take action, and to feel what we feel in the moment.  The process is what it's about, baby.  Not the outcome, not the kudos (or blank stares of disinterest) from others, not pride in what we did, but the simple DEEP BREATH, and....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here, I used acrylic to paint the back ground.  Gessoed first, then had-atter with some yummy colours.  Red and green are on the opposite sides of the  colour wheel, so they are "complimentary colours"; colours that will stand out when put side by side.  I drew the left hand (Avatar hand) and traced my right.  Cut magazine pictures out and collaged them w/o attaching them to the page yet, then cut them to the shape of my right hand and glued them onto the page.  With a little watered down white paint on the right, I then proceeded to play with pattern.  Wasn't happy with some of what I'd done around the hands so played with different colours and textures using different brush strokes. I LOVE acrylics for this.  I labled this one "i", and played with words around the Avatar-looking left hand.  Appropriate, altho not blue, since we had just seen the movie 2X. 

Oh yeah, and this page was completed with my good friend, who is very very brave.

art journal 8, art therapy; Death, saying goodbye

 My path that has taken me to the art journal began 30 years ago, when in grade 9, the counselor told us we must decide right then what we wanted to do for the rest of our lives.  Personally, this came as a shock.  I knew how young I was.  There was no way I could even begin to decide.  "Tough, pick something".  So, I said "OK, something to do with art or psychology.", while resenting the push. Little did I know that 30 years later, after much life experience in both art and psychology, I'd be thinking of Art Therapy.  
This was a difficult but cathartic page to do.  Death brings sadness, a desire to find a place to "put" all the feelings, an inner struggle for finding footing. Zeus, our lovely Belgian Shepherd, Collie X died of a ruptured tumor on his spleen.  No warnings.  One day good, next day, very very bad. 

Playing, romping, grumble-talking, wagging sweet boy.  That was our Zeus.

Permaculture course, Kootenays, summer '09; work day

S'me, crouching to look at the various veggie beds in Gregoire's permaculture garden. In the background you can see all manners of trees.  Most of them are fruit or nut bearing. He has sheet mulched everything; first spreading cardboard in enough layers to suppress weeds, and in the veggie garden, topping with straw.  We side-dressed a lot of his vegetables this day with compost. Lookit that lovely lavendar!

We made seed balls in the shade (phew! it was hot in August!). Masanobu Fukuoka's revolutionary farming practices can be read about in "One Straw Revolution". One of his amazing practices is to make these seed balls by rolling the seeds into balls of clay and cast them about, allowing rain to break the clay down but protecting the seed from birds in the mean time.  

Casting the seed balls is exhilarating. Here, Shilough, myself and Rachel throw the seed balls into the garden area.

Permaculture course Kootenays

Forest walk with Shanoon on our first field trip first day of two week permaculture course at Spiral Farm in the kootenays .

Indian Pipe. This was a nice surprise at the beginning of the trail on the property of a generous native woman's land. Great symbolism. 

Sandy passes me the sweet grass.

Deep Freeze Festival 2010

I LOVED this festival. The Deep Freeze Festival, at Arts on the Ave, was one of Edmonton's art scene winter festival gigs, this year's theme was Byzantine.  Stayed at Sister's place (oh, how spoiled I was), set up Saturday morning and kept my stuff there overnight (unlike other markets I've been to, where set up and break down could've easily given me a break down). 

These little pixie pendants, wrapped with soldered edges, were a big hit.  On Friday night Sis said she could tell me the name of each of them.  Saturday, a lovely lady bought one and asked that particular pixie's name.  So, I packed them up and my lovely sister named each of them.  

Art journal 7, texture; northern lights, Banff doodles

Art is tactile!  Well these pages are.  Flat art is not usually about the touching.  My newfound-joyful-playtime-art is all about the touching.  My hands get messy with spackle, smearing it around, creating a textured substrate. Here, I create my first night scene with northern lights.  

The texture under this big ol' doodle, done in Banff, is spackle, and clear gesso.  I don't know why, but my clear gesso is like sandpaper. I was supposed to be sitting, all inspired-like, in my hotel room while everyone else skied.  I didn't want to paint mountains. Apparently eyeballs and pretty squiggly lines were more important. Dang.  Have to go back now.

Art jounal 6,

Multilayered with purple ink (droplets dropped on the page and splatter-blown with a straw), acrylic paint dabbed on with crinkled paper, circle-lollypop faces and clouds that blow my kids across the page.

And then I got cheesie. Used the same ink and acrylic application, but used up some old dollar store 3-d junk I bought.  At least I was thinking that the circle theme would continue on this page. 

The Frog and the Sun

Creating this piece made my heart sing. 

My second canvas venture in mixed media.  Spackle makes for a raised, textured surface. Then, alternately applying and partially washing off acrylic paint creates a unique look.  The frog has a presence on land that is healthy.  Whenever I hear frog song in the spring, though deafening in the night, it brings peace of mind that our land is happy.

art journal 5, adding layers

Behind the curtains (sample material for curtains I wanted in the living room) stands a bird. I dunno, just a bird.  There isn't much significance to this page.  Just that I painted. And coloured and drew and stamped and stapled and rubbed on.  The background, done in water colour crayons was inspiration for a future painting, The Frog and Sun. 

art journal 4, What do you see? and Play

Sketching in my art journal, although it seems a waste of that good water colour paper, was something I wanted to document.  It's a highly necessary part of drawing, painting, the whole process. What do you see? is the question that I'd ask a student.  Draw what you see, not what you think is there, and draw it often.


PLAY. How appropriate that I sit with my 7 seven year old twin nieces for this theme. I wish I had pictures of their work too. It took a full day, between breakfast, second breakfast, lunch, couple of snacks, outside time, distractions, incredible bursts of activity and dinner. We learned to draw our own face, use rub ons and water colours. We played with stars, and planted a painted garden. Van Gough peeks out at me, questioning my artistic ability. Our legs, feet and hands became "articulated", a new word. I can hardly wait to play with the girls again.

Art Journal 3, i Grow

Time for some colour.  RED.  This art journal page theme is "grow".  Would green have not been a better colour?  Nope, red is a power colour.  Dig into those supplies and bring them out. PLAY, like you just got those crayons/watercolours/pastels/pens.  TASTE the colours (well, don't taste them, silly, but some colours just LOOK yummy), FEEL them.  How have you grown? What is the most painful and then the most rewarding growth you've experienced?

Here, I used sloppy, sloppy acrylic paint, first black gesso, then the red, adding yellow here and letting the gesso show thru there.  I drew a face on a separate piece of paper with pencil crayons then glued it on, adding a body, and a babe.  For some of the clothing and in the background I dug out an old flower catalogue, cut pieces to size and glopped on the polymer medium (hence the sheen) to adhere them to the page. On top I used pastels (gasp! not the norm in the art world), gobs of glue to hold the string, a rub-on and black and white pens. 

The 2nd page is more growth, but dig deeper.  Black gesso, droplets of polymer medium, dried, then acrylic paint. The face is drawn on printer paper, and applied with more polymer medium.   This is The Tree of Margot. I left some branches open so that I can go back and add later if I like. Weird.  Wonderful.

Art journal 2, Muse

When I was very young, I remember my inner voice talking to me about how I saw things.  My imagination was healthy; wise, even.  I think of this voice as my muse.  Or in the case of these drawings, my muses.  See them? on top of the pages? What would your muses say to you if they knew you were listening?  Mine begged me to come play.

Black gesso, white gel pen, magazine collage elements, acrylic paint and black pen

Art Journal 1, beginnings

Some say that in order to start an Art Journal, one should buy a moleskine sketchbook, a certain size, with certain paper.  Didn't happen.  This one is a hard cover, coil, 12X16" 100 lb water colour paper book.  Found it on sale.  Next one might just be made of manilla file folders, a hole punch and 3 metal rings.  

I'd like to find my inner child-artist, and share that search with others, whether they'd like to just look at mine, or search for their own. 

Remember when it was ok to cut and slather paint and doodle and glue with reckless abandon? Art is fun. And essential to expression of self. 

Here, I play with black gesso and a white gel pen. I liked the departure from black on white  Made me think about adding highlights, rather than shadow. The theme of the page is "finding". 

Goodbye friend, Zeus, welcome Apollo,

Myers-Briggs personality test

Just about even steven:

For INFP the most important preferences are Introverted Feeling. Your 'dominant function' is Feeling, oriented towards the inner world. This means you give importance to particular thoughts, ideas, or beliefs. You are value driven, and you often bring a sense of priority that is derived from your strong convictions. You seize upon and emphasise ideas or thoughts that have the greatest import, bringing them to the fore and stressing their significance. You assess the inherent value or importance of new ideas and beliefs, focusing on those about which you feel most strongly.

For ENFP, however, the most important preferences are Extraverted Intuition. Your 'dominant function' is Intuition, oriented towards the outer world. You promote exploration of new and better ways of doing things, to uncover hidden potential in people, things or situations. You break new ground, and are often looking one step beyond the current situation to pursue unexplored avenues, until all the possibilities have been exhausted. You often challenge the status quo and experiment with the introduction of change, to see if the situation can be improved or new potential uncovered.

Where have you BEEN????

I've been looking for me again.  When I find me,  I'll let you know, you might look for yourself there too.  

A wee Scottish ditty:

Well, I just come down from the isle of sky
I'm not very big and I'm awfully shy
The lasses shout as I go by "donald, where's your troosers?"

Let the wind blow high
Let the wind blow low
Through the streets in a kilt I go
All the lasses shout hello
Donald where's yer troosers?

A lassie took me to the ball
And it was slippery in the hall
I was afraid that I would fall
Cause I was'nae wearin' troosers

Let the wind blow high
Let the wind blow low
Through the streets in a kilt I go
All the lasses shout hello
Donald where's yer troosers?

To wear the kilt is my delight
I'm never wrong 'cause I'm always right
The highlanders would get a fright
If they saw me wearin' troosers

Let the wind blow high
Let the wind blow low
Through the streets in a kilt I go
All the lasses shout hello
Donald where's yer troosers?

Well, I was drivin' in my car
Went downtown to kenny's bar
Fifteen scotches, five cigars
And I left without my troosers

Let the wind blow high
Let the wind blow low
Through the streets in a kilt I go
All the lasses shout hello
Donald where's yer troosers?

Let the wind blow high!
Let the wind blow low..
Through the streets in a kilt I go..
Donald, where's yer troosers..? 

k, that was a musical interlude, brought to you by my lovely dancing-with-scarves-in-the-living-room-with-my-sisters youth.

See, I've been looking for myself in my youth, amongst other places.  There, I found and reclaimed this as my song.  And, I found that I wish to draw and paint and create ALL DAY.

I've been doing other things too, like digging out rooms, purging STUFF, organizing paperwork...all the icky, boring practical stuff of life.  But, as I do this, I've rewarded my hard work with art.  If you get this done, you get to paint.

It's become like a disease.  I know you know what I mean.  You, and your yarn addiction.  Or is it tools? or jars, or green things, or books, or bouncy balls?  What about Halloween decorations, or candles, or blue glass?  Penguins? Pigs? Pots and pans? I know someone who can't pass a fish store.  I think their house is gonna break with all those tanks.  But they LOVE IT.  I love my disease too.  Oh, I could give it up if I wanted to.  Really.  I just got rid of a whole box of stuff from that room.  Yeah, yeah, I've dedicated a room to it. You can feel better now, because you only have a shelf for your addiction.  Or, at least you spread yours out, throughout the house, and it's pretty.  Perhaps yours is not so bad because it's functional, and that makes it so much better.  

Ha.  The lies we tell ourselves.  I have mine too.  I bought shelves to go most of the way around the room to contain my stuff. That it's spilling onto the floor, like in those awful tv shows, depicting sick, sick people who hoard, that doesn't matter.  I have shelves.

 I only spent .74 cents the last time I was in an art store. (???!!!)  Really. I bought 2 crystal bags; those plastic celo envelopes to slip flat art into and that has a sticky strip to to seal it.  But I'm feeling the need again.  It's not crushing.  Just like a little asterisk in my head.  I felt it last night "hey..." it whispered sweetly to me"...you need some more black acrylic paint...yeah, Ivory Black...."  at this point I start feeling totally fine about spending money I don't have "you don't have to buy the expensive kind, try the student brand this time..."  and now here come some choice words "...then again, you DESERVE THE BEST." yeah, and because that feels too good, I must bring out the frugal girl ".... Oh!  and to make the trip to the city worth while you might as well get some more of those crystal bags...." and then, the visual girl in me starts up "...yeah, and down that same isle is (dum dum dum DUMMMM) PAPER".  

I will admit (that's the first step, right?) that there is an addiction.  But I won't take the guilt any further (I'm reminded by my mosaicking how guilt is such a wasted, wasted emotion. Her whole basement is dedicated to glass tiles for mosaics...I call her my dealer. come, look at what I got this week!).  No, guilt is for people with problems.  I don't have a problem.  I have a LOVE.  Love is good, right?  I love painting and drawing and sculpting and creating. It makes me productive in other parts of my life.  I've even cleaned my studio up... even got validation from my minimalist father, who perhaps recognizes the addictive behaviour and the attempt to contain it. 

It's OK.  I could quit any time I want to.  But why would I want to?

Your own worst enemy

Your own worst enemy, Destructive Behaviour, Kick the New Year's Resolution Habit.  These are all titles that I've thought of for this post.  That I have many titles and no body to the post yet is indicative of how my day's going.  And, because it's Jan 7, I wonder whether or not it might be indicative of 2010.  

No, really, I don't subscribe to the Doom and Gloom club.  I don't want to assign predictions for the year.  That would be too "Everything is predestined" for me. No matter what date is chosen for the New Year on our calendar, people remain the same.  We eat too much, skip the gym, make a mess (see the above picture of one of my favourite messes), spend too much, fly off the handle, forget to love our neighbour as we would ourselves. To pile on the "shoulds" and "should nots" all in one month is a bit unfair . 

Of course we choose to find promises to whisper to ourselves, blog about, fb, twitter, or shout from the roof-tops.  How else can we feel that there's any hope of escape from our silly and sometimes down-right destructive habits/fetishes/behaviours? The statement "that's SO last year" shows that we see the past as a big fat failure, so why not look to the future with hope?

If this all sounds a bit cynical, take heart.  I wish to alleviate my pain too.  I just want to do it with open eyes.  I am a huge procrastinator.  What to do? What to do?  I have 15 projects (oh yeah, I'm a flagrant project starter too) on the go, some deadlines and some people waiting on me for solutions to the problems that arose because of my roping them into those projects.  I have Christmas to put away, bills to pay, learning to be done, painting to complete, and a looming art show this weekend.  So I sit and write.  Ah, there.  Admitting it is the first step.  What's your biggie? Tell me yours, I told you mine!

Dear reader, I do apologize for assuming that you might want to see the reality in it all.  Then again, you've read this far, and I've either burst your bubble already or confirmed those little niggling thoughts that you might be the one causing all that disappointment.  Cynical or not, here we are; naked. At least in the sense of stripping down the facade of perfection.  Now what do you feel?  It's a little taboo, that feeling of admitting one's faults like they might be OK isn't it?

Now what to do about the faults?  Fixing them is sometimes overrated.  *My disclaimer: if it's something like stealing or a weird animal fixation, please do not adhere to my ramblings.  The far cooler thing to do is to hang out with, acknowledge, and even encourage same-behavioured people than it is to withstand the onslaught of condescending, contemptuous looks of those still in Perfection Dream-land.  

I can personally attest to Mexico's "mañana!" (tomorrow!)  and Costa Rica's "Pura Vida" (pure life!, which in essence means enjoy life as it should be, don't worry about that right now!) as a way to let go of some of our inherent North American BULL.  

Go easy on yourself.  

.

Pardon me, are my Electronics in your way?

I'm having an electronic melt-down.

The tv in my living room is TOO BIG, and doesn't go on 'til someone else in the house turns it on. Then, like a fly to ointment, I schwoop in, plunk myself down and cannot leave.  Cannot.  It's a sickness.

Cel phones ring or vibrate or do their cute little bloopity bleeps 28 000 times more than they used to, and so face to face conversations get interrupted that much more.  I got a look of sheer amazement when I told a store clerk I had summoned that I could let my phone ring while we talked.  What a novel thought.  I own the thing.

I just paid over $100 for a new power cord for this lap top because I dropped the thing on it's connection and went 2 days w/o computer (oh bliss, oh lovely breath of fresh air). And then $50 for a quieter keyboard for the desk model so that the clickety clack of the keys don't interfere with tv watching. (?)

The above pic was taken because after making a special trip to the special mac store (where they surely would be able to help me) to buy a patch cord for mac-tv.  Granted, the nice young feller (when did I start to say that kind of thing???) spent a considerable amount of time looking online for an image of the back of our tv.  I had to phone home and get the model # of the thing because, if you can imagine, they don't make one type of cord to do the job I want done.  In fact, the research was to find out if I need one cord or two or three. Sigh.

If anyone can leave a note on here telling me that I have or have not taken a picture of the correct part of the back of the tv, so that the young feller (!) can help me, I'd appreciate it, thanks.

All that, and I've got some kind of intellectual, or emotional, or both, block about getting myself set up to teach art online.  I wonder why.

The P in SPICE

 SPICE, my measuring stick of life:

S- Spiritual

P- Physical

I- Intellectual

C- Creative

E- Emotional

I like to go through these letters in order, checking them off, recognizing the need to change my words and deeds so that my inner balance can return.

I have been working on the physical challenge for a while now.  Have to admit that there's a little too much indulgence in couch lounging, but I have begun (again) to tackle the uphill battle of regaining mobility in my back and arm.  Having gained some understanding through my lovely  physiotherapist, Ingrid, of damaged muscles atrophied and shrunken, I now have  a plan.  MOVE dammit....and perhaps get back to the physio to be punctured with acupuncture needles intramuscularly (EEK! those needles go in far) aka IMS or Intramuscular Stimulation.

Moving is to take place, in part, on walks outside. This is an interesting contrast; I find that my inner demons are quelled with some good, ol' fashioned exercise, which can only be done by moving one's outer shell.  

It's hard to get oneself going when it's so cold (can you hear the whinging?) and when one has to get in their vehicle to go for a walk. Ahem.  I think writing and posting these complaints has helped me realize just how sad an effort to rationalize it is.  I will post pics on this post after getting my arse in gear.  promise.

Complaints aside for the moment, I would like to share just how glorious it is to walk my dogs

through a gorgeous setting.  I have a favourite little valley, just up the road a spell.  It's close to Canyon road, named, I'm assuming because of a jagged cut in the otherwise fairly flat prairie landscape.  Here, I pull  the truck 1/2 off the road, unload the waggie, sniffing dogs (one purebred 11 yr old Border Collie, named Lily, and one 10 yr old 1/2 Belgian Shepherd, 1/2 Collie, 1/2 Stupid Dog named Zeus or more fondly "Zoos").  I keep them both on leashes, as there have been too many hour long waits at the truck while Zeus finds his way back from chasing a deer, and last year there was a cougar siting in the area, so no chances taken.  

We walk for 2 minutes surrounded by fields, that in the spring will likely be planted with hay or canola, the typical crops around here. And then, as if they understand that the taming of the land disappears with the view behind large (for Alberta) spruce trees, the dogs become feverish.  I let the leashes out, and they find new and exciting ways to tangle themselves, tripping and pulling to smell those delicious smells of wild life.  With Caesar Milan in mind, I organize the pooches and we begin our descent on the winding road into the little valley.  

The rest is for me, the dogs and whoever wishes to come with.  

Another form of movement I've found of late is YOGA.  mmmm.  It's not the yoga in 35 degrees Celcius, overlooking the treetops of Costa Rica's jungle to the mile-away ocean, listening to the Howler monkeys and Toucans,  whilst following a lovely, limber Yogi's gentle practices.  But there is satisfaction in plugging in one of my two yoga dvds, finding private space in my house and using my body, filling it with good air, healing with words and motion, and intent.  I love yoga as if it was personified. 

SPICE of Life

Happy New Year!  

oh dear.  Those words don't hold very much for me at the moment. No worries, there is nothing catastrophic happening in my life, it's just that there's a bit of a war going on in my head. 

I've pegged a number of things as "maybe" causes of the disrupt. Not the least of which are: no conventional job ("art? are you kidding? ART?" ...speaks my little voice who seems to be growing daily), lack of physical movement caused by a rotten back, shoulder and elbow, missing Costa Rica like it's a lost love, typical yet harrowing relationships, and a fundamental desire to fix it all by DOING MORE.

For the sake of PETE, what in the SAM HILL??  Ha. Fun to write, but not really where I wanted to go with this post.

Here: SPICE. That's the title of this blog post. It's the acronym that I made up years ago. Well, let's be honest here, I thought up the words, and friend brilliantly arranged their letters as SPICE, which, you'll see, is very apt.  I had built a formula for measuring what's up with myself. Each letter stands for a component of ~me~ (Yes, I know, there are likely hundreds more little bits of me, but these were a good slice).  

S- Spiritual

P- Physical

I- Intellectual

C- Creative

E- Emotional

Each time I have found myself struggling, sad, angry, whatever, I try to look at my measuring tool and decide how I am out of balance and how I might put me back in balance.  Enter your own joke here about how IMbalanced I am.

I desperately want to find that balance and will be exploring the how's here. Part of me obviously wants to share this journey (hence the blogging).  I do hope it touches other's lives.  If it has yours, please touch back.