Sidney bears a remarkable resmeblance to Woody Allen but in actual fact his personality could not be more different. Hector has a hangover after spending too much time at the local bar playing pool. Paulo spends his sundays pruning his grape vines and drinking espresso while listening to the short wave radio.
I saw Arta (not her real name) standing on the sidewalk in front of the library yesterday. She was holding several books under her arm, and reluctantly said hello as we walked past. Her kerchief was bright pink, such a great contrast to her dour contenance. She seemed to be waiting for someone, or something.
Last night I started "As I Lay Dying" and find myself wanting to do nothing but read. I love when a book takes hold of you immediately instead of trying to push and plod your way through something in a forced way. How many books have you started and felt guilty about not finishing, or not wanting to finish? I find as I get older I am much more able to get into the guts of a novel if it grips me, to sit with the language and let the characters become real entities (as if they truly exist in my world). When I finished the Road Home I was convinced that I could go visit the old farmhouse, have dinner there, and know that everything was just as Harrison left it, (the paintings on the walls, the dogs, Frieda).
But the most beautiful thing about good writing for me is that I find in many ways it tunes me into my own world more, forcing me to pay attention. I am presented with a way of looking, or rather a new way of seeing. After reading a passage about a breeze that runs through an old house carrying voices with it, i become fixated on this idea. I picture words and whispers moving around my own house on small wind currents. drafts carrying secrets. As I walk through town today to get the mail I will wonder what words the wind will bring me. Will they be dampened by the rain?
I have started leaving words on dead tree trunks for others to find. They are sometimes hard to see, you have to be really paying attention.
or you have to be wanting to find them.
"A feather dropped near the front door will rise and brush along the ceiling, slanting backward, until it reaches the down-turning current at the back door: so with voices. As you enter the hall, they sound as though they were speaking out of the air about your head." ~William Faulkner
new site update...still working out the bugs.
I'm going to be adding a new section of children's work to the portfolio section soon, keep you posted. I have computer brain. going to go look at something else other than this screen. (I rented the Secret of Roan Inish again, one of my all time favourites.)
please note: For the time being I will no longer be selling the Permission Cards as a perforated set of them can be found in Living Out Loud.
"We can only go so far with thinking, and then our minds must be refilled by the "thinginess" of life--landscapes, creatures, any sort of travel, people we could not imagine not having existed." -Jim Harrison (fr. the road home)
creative spaces to travel to...
rae eames desk.
a cozy bookstore in paris.
writer's cottages at Montalvo.
more writer's cottages.
or you can buy your own.
Sometimes getting to the work is like trying to move while wearing lead shoes. I have to give myself little rewards for everything. ("If you finish this task you can sit outside for half an hour.") The weather is reason enough to keep one from anything that needs doing.
I am currently working on a new promo which in fact I am quite excited about. I was speaking recently to a friend who is a graphic designer and we talked frankly about how we both got overwhelmed at the idea of doing a new promotion. Every time. A string of thoughts immediately fly in, must make sure it is appropriate, must have excellent presentation, must show our best work. All of these things only serve to pressure me to do something great, the bane of every artist. As I sort through my recent illustrations I feel inadequate and discouraged. And in fact most times it just causes me to give up in frustration.
So when I was asked by my new agent to do a two page promo showing a selection of my work I was a bit hesitant. She was asking for colour copies, something she could hand out to various publishers, brief bio, client list. Quick and dirty. Hmmmmmnn. Well, normally I would want to create a little booklet, a small portfolio with at least 12 pages, bound nicely, etc., etc. I would want to, and it would be too much for me to do. I got excited about trying something different. And I was reminded of one of the things I like to tell myself...do the OPPOSITE of what you thing you SHOULD do and see what happens.
So I went home and put together a two page colour promotion (in less than a day), showing several pieces, got it printed, and mailed it out. All in under three days total. No labouring for weeks, feeling grumpy and untalented. I feel pretty proud when I see all of my work and accomplishments sitting there simply on those two pages. Done.
So now I have decided that I am going to send this out to various clients too. My professional mind screams, "you haven't sent out a colour copy since you were in art school, what will they think! Real illustrators do flashy printed promotions." Yup it's true. But I think I'm going to try it anyway, what the hell. The interesting thing here is that when I talk to art students I often tell them to just send out good colour copies, don't fuss over it too much. Needing to follow my own advice.
Do the opposite. It is much better than getting overwhelmed, taking weeks, and potentially not doing it. Sometimes doing Less than expected means that you actually complete the task at hand.
(*above piece done for American Salon Magazine, April issue, on the topic of domestic violence)
One of my favourite things about reading has always been the research that arises from it. The connections from one place to another. A novel by Harrison has me looking up many words in the dictionary, different species of birds in my Peterson's Field Guide (an old green covered volume circa 1952, I excitedly picked up for 25 cents at a yard sale), towns and villages in my world atlas, a multitude of authors including Henry Miller, Octavio Paz, Mary Douglas, Loren Eiseley, the list is endless. You will often find me reading with a pile of books spewn about. Maybe I am a researcher at heart, I so enjoy flipping through the thin, onion skin pages of dusty volume, the older the better. The Road Home has been a jackpot of references to other works, and my hungry page flipping fingers are happily placated. I believe in going directly to the source of something, nothing second hand. My journal thickens with random notes and references. I feel a bit like Nancy Drew again, attempting to get into the inner workings of the writer.
In one part Jim Harrison writes, "that a life properly lived is a "vale of soul-making*" (*a phrase that came from Keats.) I quickly became intrigued and had to research this concept. In short Keats was implying that "the soul grew and matured through love and suffering". If we are to avoid these things we do not grow fully. Appropriate today for a culture that often medicates everything. I found a great paragraph discussing this if you care to read further.
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Somewhat on this theme a new book meme is circulating and its rules are these (via ever so humble):
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don't search around and look for the coolest book you can find. Do what's actually next to you.
"Clearing clutter is about letting go and trusting the process of life to bring you what you need when you need it." -Karen Kingston (Clearing Clutter with Feng Shui)
*I admit to looking around the room for a 'cooler' book, before I read that sentence, but alas this was the closest one.
character sketches for a job I'm working on. (the people are named after kids I went to kindergarten with. Maybe this is what they look like all grown up. I think Barb and Mildred are sisters now that I look at it, two years apart.)
*drawn directly with ink using the rotring artpen.
a piece I did for Body & Soul Magazine, (while we're on this subject.)
The last few months have seen me contemplating some big changes in my life. Most recently, a possible move to the west coast. On one hand the idea of making a move is terrifying and overwhelming, how does one deal with all of the threads of a life? How does one let go of an old life, a home, a country, friends. But then there are thoughts of something new, a new space to explore, new friends to make, new opportunities with a career, growth, forward movement. Despite all of the fears. A long time ago I decided that I would not take the easy route with things, and for the most part I have kept up with this. Yes, there are times when I feel myself wanting to back down from challenges, but I come up to meet them again, and I do. Never really knowing for sure what the "right" choice is. There is no right choice.
I wrote to a friend this morning, "In some rather dark moments I have got on my knees and said to the universe, "Tell me what to do! I have no idea what course I should take!!!" I can be extemely impatient at times, and want an answer NOW. But it does not work that way. I know that it is much better to sit, and listen, and let the answer 'come in'. The heart knows, but we don't trust it most of the time. Instead of "what do I do?", the question might better be, "how do I trust my heart?"
How indeed.
A beautiful thing that is happening because of this is that I am contemplating all of the things in my life. The stuff. What does one really need to survive? How much of it we carry around in our lives, at what cost? Many things I keep out of habit, because I have always had them and not because they are adding to my life in any way. I am forced to look at what I am willing to let go of and what I am not. What owns me? What is holding me back? What do I really need. I think back to my stay at the boathouse a few years ago. A small one room shack from the 1920's that had everything in it one needed to live well. It was incredibly sparse. The main source of entertainment was a pair of binoculars, used to peer out at the ocean where at any moment one could spot seals, fishermen, large boats, birds, etc. A bed, a toaster oven, some dishes, a library.
And so a list begins. I am adding to it as I go (excuse the ink blot, my pen leaked).
added to that...
-some favourite clothes
-cooking tools
-a few dishes
-a teapot
-a stove of some kind
-a table and chairs
-a bed
-bed linens
-a container to hold flowers
-a good pair of shoes (maybe a few of these)
-a bag to carry things
-a bike
-a way to wash your clothes + clothesline
- a way to wash your body (bath/shower)
-towels
-a bathroom
-cleaning tools
-food
"There is a deep wide rich world in which to travel and in which to have one's senses opened and reopened without limitation." -Rolf Fehlbaum
The sun is out. I am going to go out and smell the earth. drive with the windows open. turn the music up and sing along.
I want to delve into little comforts, things that make me feel good.
In the aformentioned interview Maira posed the question,
I really enjoyed this interview with Maira Kaman (thanks to Julie for the link). In light of what we have been discussing here lately...
"My point of everything I do is to get it wrong, not to get it right, I would be very unhappy if I got things right. And I don't want to get better I want to get worse. I wanna get things wrong, I wanna lose perspective. Somehow I'm happiest when I'm surprised and it's not what I thought it to be."
Try and screw it up on purpose!
**********
I like seeing them altogether in a group.
Oh m'dears it is true that i am growing and shifting and breaking down the very safety net that I had created. tried to create. Tis a beautiful thing this. I am most intrigued by the last comment regarding moving from illustrator to artist. This is most definitely something that I have been dealing with on an ongoing basis. I believe I will always be an illustrator at heart, not all art needs to have a deep conceptual message. Sometimes it is best to draw a flower for flower's sake. Because one felt the need to draw it. Sometimes that can be a much more important statement than something that attempts to change the world.
These collages I have been doing lately have been so freeing for many reasons. While I am at some level attempting to make a pleasing image, I am also learning to let go of doing it perfectly, letting accidents happen, and at times trying to do something that maybe I don't like all that much. Yesterday I did one that was all black. As an artist and a human my goal is to speak in my own voice, not the voice that is influenced or prodded by others. I think of a quote by Vita Sackville West,
"I have finally begun (at forty) to say something in my own voice."
Yes. Yes Vita. This is the stuff I am talking about. This is good stuff that comes out of the deep pits of our bellies. This is what I am aiming for.
My mentor Linda Montgomery once told me that we go through a period of re-evaluation every seven years. A time to look at what we have done, what isn't working for us, what we want out of our life. Sometimes we do it voluntarily, sometimes we are thrown into it by a trauma of some sort. Either way change happens, resist though we may.
My writing about it here is a symptom of an exiting out of the darkness.
I thank you for all your kind words and emails, they are the little bits of light that remind me that I am not alone.
Will you enter into the journey with me?
The talented, inspiring (and honest) Christine Miller sent me this quote yesterday,
"Only when we expose ourselves over and over again to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us."
I promptly printed it out and glued it into my journal. The last few months I have been going through some difficult things in my personal life. The details of which I have not written about here except in a rather veiled manner. But going these things has had the effect of throwing my world into a kind of tailspin, everything that I thought I knew has been questioned. Maybe you have noticed the changes. Big things, questioning of the journey, taking new directions, WHAT THE HELL AM I REALLY DOING WITH MY WORK/LIFE? What do I have to say?
I started out on a certain path a while ago and everything worked well for a long time, but over time I started to see that I had created a perfect facade over all of it. I designed the perfect life but was now trying to fit everything into it, making it be what I wanted even when maybe it wasn't. Never really getting to any real depth, scratching the surface of things but afraid to go any deeper for fear of people not liking me. I wrote about having ugly parts, but never really showed them for what they were, (painting them in bright colors so they didn't look as dark.) But after going through a large amount of pain I am starting to see a new person emerge, someone different. Without the facade. I wrote to Christine because she has been going through a massive change as well with life and art, and witnessing it was so beautiful. I felt not so alone. It is her honesty that has given me the courage to write this here. In my email to her I wrote:
So scary to not know who the new self is, (my critic screams 'what if you are screwing up? what if the new self is not a good person, not a happy person? the world will not like you anymore.") No, the new self will be a different person and not a fabricated one. But I also completely relate to the numbness, there is the temptation to feel bitter (I deleted 'a little' before the previous word), and wounded by my experiences, be the victim so to speak.
I have nothing to lose now. The ego is down. I am cracked open like an egg (sometimes an oozing mess on the floor). I have not written these things before, I've always had to show people how capable I was.
Maybe this is what maturity feels like. No one can hurt me anymore, I have already experienced the worst of it and that pain cannot be matched. I want more from my relationships with people and the only way to do that is "expose ourselves", it feels almost like a literal exposure, I am stripping down. I have spent most of my life guarding myself from everyone. I am ready to try something different. Ha. And that feels really good, (terrifying but good.)
Can we actually go there completely?
I have the sense that if we do both as artists and humans that we will be unstoppable.
"The biggest force within an artist is this restlessness for the work that lies just over the lip of consciousness." -Jim Harrison
words are slow in coming today. they are stuck to the hard surface of the white glue whose container I left open yesterday after doing some collages.
alas. there should be a word for the feeling of disappointment you get when you realize you left your glue open, or that you forgot to clean a paintbrush and it is now a dry hardened lump. happens quite a bit in my world.
how is it that an artist can never seem to create the things that exists in one's head? As Harrison suggests this is the very thing that urges us on. This thing that we are reaching towards every day. I liken it to an aphasia of sorts, I feel like I know what I want to say yet I can't find the words (or in the case of painting, the imagery). I suppose this is something we must get used to, this inability to say exactly what we want with a work. It feels like it is right there sitting beyond the reach of my outstretched fingers.
And instead of feeling frustrated I will try to be grateful for it. It is the thing that makes me want to get out of bed in the morning. To try again.
I wake up, I make a painting.
I try to make it look like what I see in my head. It doesn't. so I mess with it a bit more.
Sometimes I like it, sometimes not. If i like it i feel like the greatest artist in the world, brilliant and powerful. If not I feel like a hack, a failure, a fraud, that I should just quit now and leave it to others who have real talent.
I go for walks and read and eat. Sleep.
I wake up and try it all again.
The beauty is in that restlessness.
