Sunday, August 24, 2014

Stop and Smell the Roses


Ok. I will. It's a rare thing, but I took my own advice this weekend and really did stop and smell the roses. Literally. Once at Suzanne's outside her studio and once at Safeway in their ratty floral department that can hardly be called a florist, but I took a whiff and they smelled good. Rosey.

And I did a few other rose smelling slow down activities, road my bike, painted, patted the cat, ate meals out with friends, read a great book and savored the homeyness of being home, being busy, but not so busy you don't appreciate how good, how basic and how nice things are, just for the moment. If I was Goldilocks, I would say, today is just right. xo

"Stop and Smell the Roses", 16x20"

Friday, August 15, 2014

Paint Brushes


If an object could be a self portrait or reflection of someone, this old mason jar would certainly qualify. It is in a perpetually murky state of usage, sitting on my desk or at Suzanne's studio. It's the reminder I'm a lousy brush caregiver, a promise of creative juiciness, and an icon of one of the things I love. An artist's talisman. Sometimes (all the time?) art supplies and the detritus of art making brings me as much joy as the act of creating. It's like browsing a great bookstore. It makes you feel connected, inspired, lit up with the possibility of all the yumminess there is to read in the world. Or in this case, paint.

It's why I decided last fall to bring my studio into my living room. Is it ideal? Not if Martha Stewart is coming over. But does it work for me? Yes. It's cozy and functional, occasionally cramped and probably has an expiration date because I can't work too big in the space but there is lots I CAN do and that's what I stay focused on. Many typewriters, tea tins and pugs have been born from this creative nook, the trusty mason jar of brushes by my side. Somewhere along the line, I realized that the perfect space, like the illusion of perfect timing, did not exist. Now is the time. The kitchen table is the space. Or coffee shop. Or friends studio. Or backyard or garage.  I lived in a cute 2 bedroom bungalow for a couple of years and the second bedroom was my "studio". Or art space. Or Room With My Crap That I'm Going to Organize This Weekend. It had large windows, hardwood floors, decent closet space and a view of the garden. Guess how many paintings I worked on in that room…in two years? ZERO!!! Sad, embarrassing but honest truth. What that room taught me, and even more honestly, other rooms just like it in my years of varied homes, is that I need to create in a space that is private but connected to the house activity. Even if "house activity" is limited to endless episodes of "Scandal" in the background, that is enough. I don't do well in a Room of My Own. A space of my own? Yes. Absolutely. The beauty of this discovery is that I know myself, what I can and can't do, where I shine and not to beat myself up. I can write, doodle, sketch, paint in a  large open room with lots of people or alone, as long as I'm connected to the action of life. How a TV or podcast can stand in as "life" is another story but hey, anyone who's walked into a hotel room and clicked on the TV knows what I'm talking about.

Here's to whatever our space is today, jars of paint water, stacks of art books and the hum of life around  us. xo

"Paint Brushes", 8x10" available at ElizabethW, Carmel, CA. 831.626.3892


Sunday, August 3, 2014

Red Dress


Some people have asked me, is it you in the paintings? Yes and no. Is it my spirit? Absolutely. Am I big kid wearing rubber boots and a summer dress? For sure. Am I beret wearing kitten? Ok, don't answer that. But I think it's inevitable that we, artists, are part of our pieces. I am a lifetime of being around buoys and boats and docks and cats and cozy couches and paint brushes and pie. It's like writing. We write what we know and love. I paint what I've seen and felt and love. I literally hear my heart on my sleeve. 

Ray Bradbury sums it up on writing but same could be applied to painting…drawing…cooking.

"Love. Fall in love and stay in love. Write only what you love, and love what you write. The key word is love. You have to get up in the morning and write something you love, something to live for."
I think I'll get up now. xo