welcome to heart at reneezance art

moving sucks (a little)!

2010-09-22T06:42:00Z

If you've somehow stumbled onto this lil' corner of the web, welcome! And now I would like to invite you to visit my
new blog.

I'm just setting up house over there, but I'd love for you to drop in! (housewarming gifts are definitely welcome ;o))
I look forward to inspiring you from my new home.

best,
Renée

Find a Piece of Me

2010-02-26T20:45:00Z

Okay, this is not new news, but it's news, just the same. Thanks to a dear friend of mine, I now have work available for sale in a new boutique downtown (here in Atlanta). I've just been too busy to spread the word beyond facebook and simply telling people!

Re-Inspiration Store is a great new spot on Huff Street downtown that offers recycled art from various materials and many different artists. I have a small assortment of pieces there, and will add more new pieces soon. On top of that, Re-Inspiration will host one of their featured artists presenting a project demo/class each month. I'm preparing a project for the month of April (details will be announced soon), and am looking forward to some creative fun with whomever I can lure down there on a Tuesday night.

One of my goals for 2010 was to place more work in more boutiques and some new galleries. Funny how shortly after I wrote that on my wishlist at the end of last year, the first one sorta fell into my lap... (hmmm - what else could I put on that list?) Anyway, I had to truly commit to this, not because of lack of motivation (I don't STOP creating!), as some might believe, but because it is a prospect that requires me to put down the creative work to devote time to finding, connecting with, and initiating relationships with entities outside of my current scope (one of these days soon I'm going to get a rep to do that part for me - hey - think I'll put that on the list!). It's not extremely difficult, but it does take time, which I'm constantly trying to stretch already!

So here it is, in black and white, for me and all the world to see - one of my commitments to myself and my work for the year. More new outlets. Definitely achievable. But first, let me go finish some more pieces...

p.s. a link to Re-Inpiration Store's blog:
http://reinspiration.shutterfly.com/

and their facebook fanpage (find their address & phone here)
http://www.facebook.com/#!/ReInspirationStore?ref=sgm

Mountains and Molehills

2010-02-14T05:31:00Z

Yesterday a hill got the best of me.

Since the time I got my driver's license years ago, I have had all of two occasions to drive in heavy snow and ice. Yes, I lived up north for a number of years, but having been back in the south for most of my adult life, I have rarely had to deal with such precarious driving conditions. Out of necessity (absolutely not because I wanted to, because, though these experiences are few and far between in the metro area, I know enough to call them what they are: days meant for staying in), I sucked it up and rose early Saturday morning, knowing that driving anywhere around town was a shaky idea at best. I figured that being up early on this type of Saturday morning in the south practically guaranteed me the road to myself, thus decreasing my chances of incident by, say, about 50%. As my mom always says, driving is not just about how you yourself operate your car, but also watching out/ anticipating what other drivers do or might do.   Guess I figured that this factor, in addition to my plans for an excessively low speed and watching the road like a hawk would cover my bases.

Since I was up and out against my will, I decided I might as well make the best of it and get something out of it for me, so I dropped my camera in my purse for the rare opportunity to capture Georgia covered in a mysterious, magical blanket of white. I was so glad I'd had the foresight to do this, because, though I didn't get anywhere near all the shots that I'd wanted to, I was pleased to capture just a few with my faithful old canon. At every turn, my artist's eye was in ecstasy, and I was saying aloud how beautiful and worth it this drive was. At every opportunity, I took advantage of the fact that the roads were quiet, and I was practically alone, to stop my jeep and snap pictures, stealing these sights to treasure later.



There were a few exceptional shots that I wish I could have gotten, but, in this case, a little was better than nothing.   Finally somewhat satisfied that I had enough to savor later, I hunkered down for the remainder of my drive.

So anyway, despite a few nervewracking slippery spots, I was managing okay. I was beginning to encounter other drivers, and the variables that come with them. Once I left the two-lane back road I had been on to get onto a major road, things started getting complicated. Almost immediately I encountered a pair of vehicles which had obviously been involved in a collision.   I carefully picked my way around them, reassuring myself I would make it fine, but I gotta admit I was starting to get nervous. That was when I approached a downhill slope. It's not what you think. I navigated that just fine, but it was what I spotted on the next hill stretching upwards in front of me that caused me to start to think this whole thing was a bad idea. Two cars were stopped just sitting, midway up the hill. At first I thought that they too had been in a collision, but once I myself got to the uphill slope, I realized the problem. They were stuck and couldn't overcome the ice on the hill. It was like those quicksand scenes in old movies, where people run up to see what's wrong and why the person is stuck and end up in the quicksand themselves. I got so far up, then realized my wheels where spinning, and I could go no further.   What made it worse was that each time I took my foot off of the brakes and pushed the gas, I just slid backwards and to the side, closer and closer to a somewhat deep ditch, which I knew if I went into, I wasn't getting out of anytime soon.

Slowly, more cars began to accumulate behind me and the other drivers around me, some honking their horns until they too, became stuck. In hindsight, if I had been well experienced in this sort of thing, I would have laid off the brakes, and before other cars started blocking the way behind me, carefully let myself slide back down the hill. A frustrating feeling of helplessness overtook me, as I watched other cars sailing around beside me and behind me, fighting to gain control. I called several people to let them know where I was, but I was in a bind where no one could get to me to help me (most people here are just not equipped for this), and I was unable to help myself. Thinking about the situation now, I realize I took for granted that, here in the south, salt and sand trucks are not a routine thing that happens to help people get where they need to be despite the whims of the weather. I also forgot about how, as northerners my family and I knew that when the weather was severe, that waiting till midday for the sun to naturally clear things up was the best bet. I have to chuckle now about how I called 911 to report the situation and ask if they could dispatch salt trucks to assist us. The lady told me what I should have expected to hear in a place unfamiliar with these circumstances: "ma'am there's nothing we can do".

As I sat there, dumbfounded, men started to emerge from vehicles. They picked their way up the hill, sometimes losing their balance, and started bracing themselves cooperatively around one car after another. In clumsy, repeatedly unsuccessful attempts, they pushed cars, which continued to swing dangerously, wheels spinning this way and that. At one point, I was sure one of the men would get pinned between a gold honda and my truck as, in a failed attempt, the car swung around in front of me.


Gradually (over the course of about an hour and a half), with their persistent efforts, one car after another was pushed up the hill. I watched as men of various backgrounds directed drivers and worked together to push them up the slope. One man with a large pickup had pulled up to the front of the cluster of cars (although I swear I don't remember seeing where he came from, so he could have been a guardian angel in his white truck, for all I knew), and they were using a yellow utility strap he'd been carrying in his truckbed to pull cars that couldn't be moved by pushing. I could see them trying not to grin at their triumph (boys SO love to fix things). As cars began to make their way up the hill, and the way behind me began to clear, I started releasing my brakes and letting myself back down the hill so I could veer out to the left and cut through a less icy spot on the road. They gathered behind my truck and began to push, coaching me not to hit the gas too hard. They ended up using the man with the pickup truck and the strap to pull me, but finally I was free. I hit my horn a couple of times and waved as I drove off, but they didn't seem to notice, since they were already on to the next car.

As I was pulling over the top of the hill I heard a police officer on a bullhorn telling new arrivals at the bottom of the hill to turn back because the road was now closed. I spent the rest of the day and some of the next shaken and irritated at anything I felt was trivial in the scheme of things. I kept thinking about how horrible it had been to feel totally helpless. I'm accustomed to being resourceful, finding a way to help myself and others, where possible. But here was a situation where all I could do was wait for someone to help me. Wish I had some profound way to wrap up the whole experience, that might be of value to someone reading this, but all I can say was that it was another something in my daily life (that's been happening a LOT lately, good and bad) that truly gave me a new perspective on me, the world, and my place in it. I don't have some lofty moral to share as a result, but I do have a lot of thinking to do in my quiet times. Maybe sort of like a life lesson with some homework.

whaaa??

2010-02-02T06:26:00Z

Okay, that was bizarre.
Logged into my blog and found the text in the body of all my entries was some screwy, tiny, illegible cursive typeface.
hmmm. Last time I saw my blog, which admittedly has been too long, everything was normal. Could I have been sleepwalking and perhaps sleepblogging? With me, this is indeed possible. Anyway, for the one or two random souls who might check in to read this thing from time to time, sorry for the wierd blog blip. LOL. And I'll be back soon, since stuff has been running around in my head trying to get out and onto this screen. Stay tuned.

Amongst Ourselves

2009-11-19T06:50:00Z

Just an observation. A few days ago as I was running errands I perceived something that I think, despite these unstable times, many of us take for granted. As I stood in a checkout line, I overheard the cashier at the next register over apologize to the young woman who was standing in her line and tell her she could just push her cart (which contained a few cans of vegetables and one or two other items) over to the side. It took only a glance to understand that for some reason the WIC checks the woman had tried to pay with could not be accepted. She looked dejected as she pushed the cart to the side and walked slowly out of the store. By the time it occurred to me to put her few things on my bill, she had left the store. Amazingly enough, as my things were being rung up by my cashier, I overheard the same cashier in the next line instruct the very next customer in her line on how to sign her WIC checks over. I guess my thought was, here were two average looking individuals who didn't look like the fringe of society, using government assistance to get by. So I began to think about how many people I know, and beyond that, how many "ordinary" everyday people I pass on the street who seem to be doing fine, but are just trying to make ends meet and possibly doing their best to keep up the appearance of normalcy. Seems to me, as I observe people when I'm out and about, that I see more of them mulling over their carts calculators in hand, working with a new reality: a shaky, struggling economy and reduced financial security. I left that store and stopped for gas, where I noticed a well built, attractive man at the pump across from mine. Being a healthy, red-blooded young woman, I pumped my gas, watching, hoping he'd turn around so I could see his face. I found it strange that he didn't once look left or right, just kept his eyes fixed on the numeral display on the pump. I gave up stalling to get a better look at him and got back into my own vehicle, but as I drove off, I noticed him stop the pump at exactly $5.00. Then I watched in my mirrors as he slowly got back into his car. I knew the scenario - been there myself enough times. At the traffic light I glanced over at the gas station one last time and saw the man finally slowly pull away from the pump. I found it ironic and profound to witness all of these scenarios at once, and it made me think I might just need to come out of my own bubble, where I focus on my own assortment of problems, from time to time and realize some other people's uncomfortable reality right now. I like to share and help others when I can, and my empathetic spirit is one of the things I like about myself, but I think I may need to remind myself sometimes to be cognizant of these things, in this climate, especially since they absolutely remind me of how much I have (many of us have) to be thankful for myself.

The Artist as Shut-in

2009-11-12T05:03:00Z

Today I awoke feeling, let's say, less than 100%. Probably about 60%. My sinuses had decided overnight to turn on me, and when I tried to get up, I found my head tight and achy, my throat irritated, no doubt from a drip that had been going on all night, and my voice compromised. I started out by cancelling plans to leave the house today, then fell back into bed where fitful catnapping did not help much. I finally dragged my butt out of bed to medicate and see if anything could be done to salvage the day. I ended up spending most of the day flitting from one small project to another, doing little things, tissues close at hand to tend to the ongoing drip. There was no way a whole day was going to go to waste in my world. At least not today.

I guess I could have taken the day to rest, but there was the little matter of some items I planned to deliver to a brand new boutique this very week that just had to be finished. And online orders and emails promised, and progress to be made. And since I don't currently have any full time assistants, well, I pushed on. The pace was slow, and there had to be regular breaks for sneezing fits, but at least I got a few things done. I prepped, painted, sneezed, wrapped, pulled things off their little assembly lines, took pictures and edited them, sneezed, did updates and research online, responded to inquiries and orders, emailed images, sneezed some more, and drank lots of tea. But I have a mental list a mile long I wish I could have completed! And here it is, as usual, way past what my bedtime should be, but I'm still trying to get just a few more things done. I need to let it go and go get some sleep, seriously!
For some reason, no matter how many times I tell myself that Rome was not built in a day, especially not a sick day, I cannot come to terms with it. And this is my ongoing struggle. Now I'm really going to try to shut it all down, go take a nice warm shower, and put it out of my mind until tomorrow. I'm going to try...

A New Home!

2009-11-08T03:34:00Z

Good news, for the one or two random individuals who, on occasion read my blog!
Thanks to a nudge or two from friends, and the inspirational blogging of Lindsay, of Shrimp Salad Circus, http://shrimpsaladcircus.blogspot.com/, I am finally going to give my blog a total makeover! Keep your browsers peeled, as, along with my website, I drag my blog into design and content relevance. Okay, I'll at least be attempting such. It's been a process, getting things to where they are today around everything else I try to juggle, and believe me, there's still quite a ways to go to get everything to match my vision. But I'm on my way! I'm constantly trying to evolve and improve in every aspect of my life and work, and I invite you to watch my journey! Updates coming...

Waking Up On the Road to Gloriously Ordinary

2009-11-07T01:34:00Z

The other night on a late drive home, I couldn't help noticing some extraordinary, ordinary things.
A beautiful, full, clear, silver wafer of a moon hung in a deep, cerulean sky. Gauzy silver clouds floated around it like a garment it was slowly shedding. It glowed so much - a singular, crisp, bright light against the velvety dark pool overhead. As I looked back to the winding rural road I take home, I realized it appeared before me and in my rearview mirror, a long, dancing, moonlit piece of ribbon, stretching out into the distance, running through a dark corridor of trees. I kept looking around me and above me drinking it in, all the time trying to stay in my lane on the tiny two lane road, even though there wasn't another soul in sight.

I'm so silly - all this made me sad, because I was suddenly struck by the same feeling one has when they hear an old favorite song or taste a dish they always loved but forgot about. I felt, in the hustle and bustle of life, I had forgotten and taken for granted some simple things that used to bring me joy. The free of charge, no strings attached, all-you-can-stand beauty of very ordinary everyday things like a quiet drive home, a full moon, a road to oneself. The type of things that have often inspired me as an artist, when I would take the time to notice them.

Past generations truly took the time to observe the world around them. The history books and centuries of new discoveries are evidence of this. On a different day recently, I drove down a street of houses where I passed an elderly lady sitting on a porch. Just sitting. Not talking on a phone, not looking at a magazine, just sitting, watching the world go by. My grandparents and their neighbors used to do this all the time, sitting, especially on nice days, watching people walk by, waving and speaking, no time limits, no schedules, appointments, or deadlines. There's got to be something to that!

Anyway, my revelations have led me to commit to more moonlight, quiet reflection, and general use of my senses to absorb the ordinary, amazing things all around me.

The Little Things

2009-10-27T22:46:00Z

                                                       one of my birthday gifts (the box held a ring I had been seen
                                                                                                  admiring)

Many people I meet are amazed to discover my age. They often assume I'm years younger than my true age. Most just think I look young, but I attribute the assumption to my spirit and attitude towards life over my appearance. Today marks 35 years of life on this earth for me, but I honestly don't feel a day over, say, 27. I'd say 25, but with life experience comes wisdom, and I feel, at this stage of my life, a little more sense of self and inner peace than I ever could have felt at 25.

The thing that I feel makes a difference for me is that I've never let go of the little girl inside. Sure I enjoy many things about adulthood, but there're qualities from my childhood that I've always felt were valuable and worth maintaining. This world can present so many problems and disappointments, but when I face my days with some of the same hope, expectation, and excitement I had as a child, looking for something good in the everyday, I feel it definitely helps keep my heart, spirit, and apparently my mug young. Might sound silly, but she (little me) goes with me lots of places. She's the one who makes me still stop to look at a caterpillar, a funny, knarled tree, laugh at silly things, or stare at big, brightly decorated cupcakes in the bakery display case. She's the one who wants me to still give people the benefit of the doubt, and has to be protected by the adult me. She's the one who still gets thrilled when I buy fresh art supplies, scared in the dark sometimes, and still dreams big dreams. She's the one who won't give up and perks me back up when life gets overwhelming. And she'll be the one more excited to play with my child's toys than they are (when I have a child someday). I really believe my inner child has kept the crease of cynicism and the lines of a jaded heart from my face.

So while I face the same or similar battles that many other "grown-ups" do, I feel my inner child is my own secret weapon, whispering in my ear, reminding me who I'll always be.

The Little Things, Part II
So anyway, today on my day, I allowed myself to sleep in, whispering silent thanks as I turned over in bed, lingering between dreams and waking. I was slowly opening my eyes to the blessing of another year. I spent a blissfully unstructured day reflecting, sometimes while I worked on, er, played at creating things.

Rain put a damper on my plans to go to my favorite local park to climb the mountain I've enjoyed for many years now. I thought I'd go up, enjoy the ever familiar, but never dull view, and do some reflecting, but I can't say I was that broken up about the rain. It was the perfect excuse to stay in and paint, sculpt, sketch, etc. Calls and messages from loved ones made the day complete.   I loved and appreciated gifts I received, but realized that the goofy joy I felt yesterday and today was for no other reason than the fact that it's my birthday, I'm actually 35 (wow!), and that I'm looking forward to so many good things to come. Can't explain it any better than that except to say that the best is yet to come. Here's to another year, the best yet, filled with love, joy, peace, plenty of family, friends, and blessings, and of course, art.


                                                                            my birthday bling ;o)

A Short Reflection

2009-05-19T01:55:00Z

Can I just say that I love what I do. Despite frequent 14 hour days, business faux pas, studio mishaps, and random stress, I still cannot be deterred from creating. Yes, I have a long way to go to get this whole "business of creating" thing to look, feel, and operate like my vision, but what makes me take heart is how much I'm learning and have learned. There is a wonderful learning curve in a small, creative business that I'm truly thankful for, because I feel it allows me to steer my ship wherever I want it to go, once I understand how the ocean flows, as long as I'm commited to doing the work. I know how much the moments of hard work, late nights, and focus have paid off when I realize how much I've learned and grown in my work. And the ironic thing is, how happy I feel when I'm doing my creative "work", and how much I want to keep on learning and growing in it. And that is absolutely what seems to matter the most.

the Flying Machine Takes a Nosedive

2009-03-02T04:38:00Z

It's been an assorted kind of interesting annoying funny weekend. I've been kinda grumpy through the whole thing because my laptop suddenly died a few days ago. It was ironic because late the night before, I was standing hunched over the thing in my dark room like an evil villain, having resigned myself to completing some system maintenance. I was multitasking - putting things away, getting undressed, starting one final scan before I hopped in the shower, giving myself a false sense of the soundness of my computer.
Many was the night I had worked late into the wee hours, in the back of my mind reminding myself to do more than my basic weekly scans which must have been to my computer like saying "you're okay right? No, you're good until I can find extra time to tinker and look for bad stuff...?" Well, the scans had all panned out, problem free. I patted myself on the back for remembering to click "install updates" on one of the icons that had been harassing me for about a week once I finished the scans. Before I tumbled into my electric blanket warmed bed, I shut my notebook off, promising myself there would be time tomorrow to pick up where I left off (sometimes I think I need a wrench to pry myself off to get some sleep). Thursday morning - nonresponsive blue error screen. Awesome.
As I began to try different things to snap the flying machine (that's what my laptop is called) out of it, my mind went over the actions I had performed the night before. No dice. Nothing worked, and I couldn't think of anything out of the ordinary I had done to cause this. The next avenue had to be my brother, nicknamed Computo (his comic book superhero name, since he's disassembled, reassembled and souped up several computers, and probably knows what F12 is for). He had brought the flying machine back from beyond before, so I was praying he could do it again. I turned my hardware over to him, and he spent Thursday and Friday running diagnostics, only to tell me that it didn't seem like anything I had done to the system, but "the harddrive might have just died". How anticlimactic. I had been sure I would be doing a dance around him, singing a goofy song about his skills in all things technical.
So now I'm sitting in a corner on the floor, rocking and whispering to myself... Really, I'm just calmly telling myself over and over again, throughout the day - you had most of the important stuff backed up - you'll create lots more new stuff - you'll remember the important bookmarks... must not lose it... sheesh. The next step, I guess, is to hope for a technological miracle (like Dell telling me - send it in - we've seen that before and we can fix it!) Or maybe I will complete and sell one of my larger pieces, thus affording me the funds to just buy a new laptop (sniff - I just want my baby fixed!)
Anyway, the rest of the weekend has been a bit of a blur including the whole snowing all day today here. I snapped out of my funk long enough to look on in amazement as some poor guy wiped out on the ice into a stop sign post and left big pieces of his truck laying around in the Kroger parking lot this afternoon. I feel kinda bad because I savored wincing at the mishap, and later chuckling a little at someone else's misfortune to kinda forget my own.
So for now I'm in computer limbo, flitting from friends and relatives to public access computers, technologically homeless until I figure something out. But as I always say - it could be worse! Earwigs could have crawled into my ears while I slept and rendered me deaf! I could be stranded on a desert island with no coffee (or tea)! Or I could have been the guy with the pole!

Workbench Confessional

2009-02-28T06:55:00Z

Okay, I think it's time I put it out there. I have a love-hate relationship with powertools.
When I was a kid, I felt such a sense of accomplishment when my Dad showed me how to hammer nails into wood, then allowed me access to the scrap wood laying around the garage. I smashed a thumb here and there, but I was hooked. From that point on I had myself (and my poor kid brother) convinced that we were going to build some incredible stuff, starting with our own robot to assist and serve us. I thought a whole world had been opened up to me, simply because I knew how to bang two pieces of wood together. During the summers, when we would visit my grandmother, I would tip down to the basement and wander through the damp, dark rooms to find my grandfather's old tools. He had left behind an array of handtools and a few ancient looking, dust covered powertools, which resembled sleeping monsters to me. I secretly hoped they'd be mine someday, because I had it in my mind that with those tools, I could make anything. A few years later, when I took a mandatory shop class in 7th grade, I could feel the excitement bubbling in me as I watched Mr. McGee (who was missing the tip of one finger) demonstrate how to cut wood on the jigsaw - I wanted him (and my bored classmates) to move out of the way and let me at it. I remember him telling us several times, "Never get overconfident - always approach the tools with respect and caution", or something to that effect. Well, I listened, and managed to complete several projects without maiming or disfiguring myself or anyone else, but maybe that's where it started. For years after my shop class experience, Mr. McGee's words echoed in my head whenever I picked up even just a hand tool, and I would picture his funny-looking finger, with the tip missing, and then start to picture other awful injuries that could take place. Plus, societal conditioning was telling me that powertools were not popular with girls (big, scary machines?!?!), and I guess, well, I began to get a little spooked.
I wasn't completely scared off, but it got to the point where I would plan a project that required using a powertool, then procrastinate on it because I dreaded the weight (my arms start quivering!), noise, and mess (not to mention the potential danger). I do own a few small powertools, and these days, I push myself to pick them up, because I know they'll help me get to the result that I want, and I love that, but there's still that anxiety while operating the tool, and relief when I finish cutting, sanding, or drilling something. Maybe love/hate is too strong to describe how I feel. I've always enjoyed the fact that I had a little bit of knowledge and ability in this area, and that it meant I didn't have to call someone else to do it for me, so I just remind myself of this, make up a goofy song about it and sing it until the saw gets to the end of the mdf. I don't actually have a workbench - I just use the tools in my studio (less menacing?) I do have my eye on this big ol' table saw that has a sensor that cuts the power if an appendage gets too close. I wonder if it could be ordered in pink?

the Renaissance Woman vs. the Specialist

2009-02-18T19:53:00Z

In my sometimes restless, frantic need to create things that flash through my mind or move my spirit, I sometimes pause and wonder if I'm doing myself any favors having so many irons in the fire (like I have a choice). What I mean is that, an essential part of my creative nature, my whole life long, has been the variety of the things I create.
It peeves me a little when I'm labelled a specific type of artist, because I adore and am driven by so many types of creating. But I've often wondered if the desire to learn and work in so many different mediums has been a detriment to my artistic growth. I don't explore various types of art to please anyone else. I just chase the fire in my own belly, and it often leads to a new thing. I look at other artists and creative people who have one medium they focus on, and that's all they do (that's great!). There is something to be said for focus, and doing one thing so much that one becomes the best they can be at that one thing. There's also something to be said for developing skill and understanding of many different things, and even, at times, being able to combine the things for the sake of innovation. I've actually had one or two people suggest that I focus on one form of expression. I think it's a noble idea, but I think I might go bonkers trying to do it!
I do hold specialists (in many fields) in high regard, but will always feel a special affinity and understanding with those who relish a variety of pursuits. I love to recognize people as renaissance women or men, meaning I feel they have achieved a beautiful balance and have something to contribute in numerous arenas. I'm a fan of Da Vinci, and a little preoccupied with the whole renaissance thing (if you hadn't noticed) because it represents lots of inspiration in lots of different artistic, scientific, and intellectual things.
I think it confuses some people when I create something one day, and then the next day I produce something on the other end of the spectrum. It's not for show, or to prove anything. That's just what moved me that day. And at the end of the day, I must just do me.

The Underrated P.O.E.

2009-01-18T17:44:00Z

Like most living, breathing human beings I've always liked the thought of having my cake and eating it too. But since in the real world, that is often just not possible, the need to make choices exists. I could go on and on all day about how much the choices we all must make everyday, large to small, impact our lives and, more often than not, the lives of those around us. And most of us take for granted the number of choices we consciously and subconsciously make every single day. If I mull over the decisions I made just yesterday, I bust myself being on autopilot through a number of them. And I know I'm not alone. But the pace of society today frequently demands that we make many quick decisions, give up the luxury of lengthy consideration, and multitask decision making, often just clicking the "yes to all" button to make things easier on ourselves. I must admit that this form of adaptation to information overload has forced me, having once been constantly guilty of indecisiveness, to reform and learn to choose and move on. So, in a way, it's a good thing. To give up the combined self-indulgence and paranoia of lingering and pondering way longer than the matter was worth and become a reborn master of what I call the P.O.E. I'm not at all the creator, nor have I googled it to see if the acronym already exists. In fact, I'm positive someone else, somewhere has used it because it stands for the widely known 'process of elimination'.
I started thinking about this undervalued, extremely simplistic technique a few weeks ago, considering how it has helped my chronically decision impaired self evolve to cope with the pace of things in this day and age. I remember first learning the concept of P.O.E. back in grade school. Our teacher, Mr. Arthur, first explained process of elimination as it related to multiple choice tests, specifically the hated "scan-tron" tests, on which we were required to fill in bubbles on an answer sheet that corresponded to the questions on the test. My classmates and I were already very familiar with multiple choice questions, but Mr. Arthur's explanation on eliminating the least likely choices first changed the way we (or at least I) looked at making decisions. For people who tend to obsess over choices (like myself sometimes) there was a new level of comfort in the process, knowing that one would start by removing the options that were definite "no's" or highly unlikely first, leaving only the best, most likely options. Anyway, as basic as this thing is, and even though it doesn't guarantee the right or best choice, I truly feel it's something that has helped me for many years now to get things done. I think I use it now more than ever, considering our choices in life seem to have quadrupled. I am constantly saying that my time is my most valuable commodity. And since I don't want that much of my life being spent deciding what color my cell phone should be, what flavor smoothie I want, or what shade of lipgloss to buy, I put P.O.E. to work and get on with my day. Decision making is definitely a necessary skill, and I'm getting better all the time. Thank you, Mr. Arthur.

Walking Faucet

2008-12-28T19:24:00Z

People often ask me where I my artistic inspiration comes from, and how I stay motivated to create. I have to laugh, because this inquiry implies that the inspiration is of my own will and manufacture, when in fact, it seems to be a thing that is outside of me, flowing through me, using me like a creative tool. I recently read a selection of quotes from various creative people that hit the nail on the head when it comes to describing how inspiration works.
    Writer Henry Miller once said, "I didn't have to think up so much as a comma or a semicolon; it was all given, straight from the celestial recording room. Weary, I would beg for a break, an intermission, time enough, let's say, to go to the toilet or take a breath of fresh air on the balcony. Nothing doing!"
    John Lennon: "Songwriting is about getting the demon out of me. It's like being possessed. You try to go to sleep, but the song won't let you. So you have to get up and make it into something, and then you're allowed to sleep. It's always in the middle of the bloody night, or when you're half-awake or tired...".
    And Henri Matisse, a favorite artist of mine, "I've been no more than a medium, as it were."
While I am making absolutely no comparison between myself and these major individuals, I could not have put it any clearer. Often, a sound , color or texture observed in daily life will strike some inner chord and just stick in one's mind and like a seed planted, start to sprout and grow, and then nag until I find a moment to attend the idea it has formed in my mind. When I'm able to steal a few moments from the numerous other things already in progress, I examine it, turn it around in my head and begin to sketch or sculpt it into reality. And I can't be left alone until it's been done. The process usually involves excitement and anxiety until I can begin working, and joy and relief in getting it out and finishing it before the gift of the idea escapes me forever. That's why I often think of myself as a walking faucet. Sometimes people look at me funny when I try to describe God holding my hands, like a parent does a child, guiding them over the work. And they don't always seem to understand when I try to give Him credit, because it often feels like all I did was be receptive and put down what He told me to.
Thankfully, since my childhood days I have accepted and cherished this strange drive, but unfortunately, I sometimes get overwhelmed with the never-ending stream. I would not change it, though. I consciously try to be thankful everyday for the sense of purpose, urgency, and fulfillment it gives me. I sometimes joke that I haven't had the opportunity to be bored since 19-- whatever, because there's ALWAYS something pushing me to do, make, create. I can fill 24 hours with my work, barely stop for basic human needs, lose track of time, and demand more time to work.
So that's about it. I don't know how much sense that makes, but it's how it happens with me. And now, since I have things pulling on me as usual (like children pulling me for attention) , that ends this entry.

Still Amongst the Living

2008-11-14T06:02:00Z

Wow, okay, so it's been quite a while since I've made time to write the latest here for posterity! Judging by the lag in my web presence, I'm sure some may have wondered if I'd given up the whole art thing, or maybe fallen off the face of the earth. Au contraire. As many of us in these modern times will attest, sometimes you get too busy living it to go back and retell every step. But I love writing, so it's not exactly a chore to add my two cents to the vast universe of the internet. Even more than writing, I love art, in all of its lovely manifestations (well most of them).

So, no, I have not given up my work! I'm still here, still got loads of stuff to create. Although I will agree with the words of another artist that I read in a recent interview: "it is both a blessing and a curse. As much as you love it, you'd sometimes like to put it down, but you can't." I'm paraphrasing, but that was the general idea. She was very right, though. I love my work, but once in a while I wish I could escape it! I am very blessed to have ongoing ideas, inspiration, motivation these days, and won't complain about that, but sometimes my energy does not match the ideal the little task master in my mind pursues!

Okay, I'll come clean - I really did try to escape for a bit. Sometimes I would fantasize about what it's like to be a "normal" person working 9 to 5, going home, going to bed, then doing it again the next day. And then just collecting my little paycheck and that would be that. The grass is always greener, huh? So I dipped into that world and went a little nutty trying to fit into the mold, especially because I was still trying to maintain artist's hours, and steady production outside of the box, ahem, office. Yeah, that was interesting, to say the least :o).

So, having temporarily strayed, I came crawling back to my love, looking to set things right and have a fresh start. Art took me back with open arms and here I am again, up at all hours putting that finishing touch on one thing, jotting down another thing, redoing yet another thing...

Pray for me :o).

A Person's Reach

2007-07-23T14:52:00Z

For the greater part of my life, in conjunction with pondering my purpose in life, I have been challenged by the question of how I, as just lil' ol' me, in my average life, could add something positive to the world/make a difference/have a reason, blah blah blah... It's something I think most of us think and care about at some point in our lives. Admittedly, I have fantasized about accomplishing something major, like discovering some ingenious solution for world hunger, poverty, conservation of resources, the whole list, but that gem has yet to drop into my anxious little mind. The dilemma I think many of us face when trying to find a way to impact things is scale. I.e. , "how could one little person possibly move a mountain??" Here I am, one grain of sand on a huge, polluted beach, where some grains are eroding others, there's dangerous waste, and still other grains of sand are being spun to sharp bits of glass by their surroundings (did you know that glass is made from molten sand??), making them unsafe. Sheesh, not to get heavy or anything. Anyway, I digress.

Thing is, I lost someone very dear to me recently. I don't want to sound sadistic, but, though it was emotional, and hard to think about letting her go, it was not exactly a sad occasion for me in the traditional sense because the person I lost was my dear grandmother, who was 93, tired, and frustrated that she could no longer take care of herself and others. I'm thankful that she's at peace, I feel now that she watches over me, and I can still talk to her. But as I sat at the funeral service and listened to people get up, one by one and talk about how my grandmother impacted their lives, and affected who they are, I realized that Nana had answered my burning question about making a difference with simple, beautiful grace, and by shining example as always. Sitting there hearing the tributes, I realized that we impact the world and each other simply by caring, and by loving and by giving to other human beings (I mean I knew that, but let's say my perspective was a little skewed...). Nana didn't have to fund a major charity or become a lobbyist to make the world a better place. Little gestures add up to so much in our everyday lives. Imagine that! Okay - I know this is nothing new, but in this world today, it is very necessary to remind ourselves and each other that, yes, we should care about addressing major problems, but rather than become overwhelmed by their size, we need to realize that we can each absolutely make the world a much better place, one day at a time, with our choices, and with our actions. No, we don't all have Brad and Angelina's or Oprah's resources to go flying around the world to help people at the drop of a hat, but each and every one of us has a voice, and an internal light, which I think we're required to share in exchange for the gift of life. I mean just smile at somebody for starters - it's really not that hard to care how someone else's day is going. And if that doesn't work for you, think about what you would want people to say about you at your funeral...

                                            for Nana, love always.



                                                   Virginia Finley
                                                    1914 - 2007

out of body experience

2007-05-22T04:19:00Z

Throughout my life, in my pursuit of art, I've often sought validation from outer (and inner) forces that I was, indeed, meant to be an artist. There's never been a doubt in my mind about my lifelong, unyielding, obsessive love for art & craft. At times in the past, though, I have wondered about whether my art was my true destiny, and a passion that I should absolutely pursue, or if there was some greater purpose for my life that I needed to discover. Usually this question arose when I was faced with challenges and unexpected obstacles in my work. Or when I was just plain exhausted. The other day, for the first time in quite a while, I found myself so tired that I had no desire to pick up pencil, brush, sandpaper, nada. It was really odd, for once, to not care, and, I must say, an interesting experience. I had often pondered (because I just could not fathom it) what people who have no creative desires feel when they think about artistic pursuits, and suddenly I felt I was almost walking in their shoes. Like I felt something else (such as sleep) might justifiably occupy my time. After two nights of solid rest, though, the fire returned, and my mind was humming again, urging me to create what it showed me. I realized that I felt like myself again. I had confirmation, for the millionth time in my life, that the creation process is and has been a major part of my being for as long as I can remember, and would continue to fuel much of my energy. I reflected again, on how I live to lose myself in creating, and could never separate myself from the process for very long, even if I wanted to. I do feel that anyone who attempts the creative process must, at times, release it, give it a rest, despite the need sometimes to produce, produce, produce. I think a passion or talent often works amazingly like any other kind of love in that, if you're able to release it, and it comes back to you, then it was meant to be yours, all along. Cliched but true.

beads & pollen

2007-03-28T02:01:00Z

It is Spring in the South, the evidence of such being the persistant dusting of a heavy yellow powder called pollen, which covers everything like an odd Dr. Seussian snow.   While the kiddies are outside running and playing, having pollen ball fights and building pollen men, I am happily entrenched in producing commissioned artwork, and therefore manage little time for much else, this blog being the least of things.   Despite my itching and sneezing, the anguish of most Springs below the Mason/Dixon line, I cheerfully press forward in my work, heartened by the sunny light glowing through the windows, signifying warmer, brighter days ahead.

Seriously, though, I've been staying pretty busy (yay), and no I haven't been writing my blog (boo). But I just couldn't stand to stay away too long! Though I've been focusing on some big projects, during my 'down time' (ha!) from those, I have been relishing another creative pursuit, and I just had to share it, for anyone who's interested in trying it, or just knowing how it's done. For years, on and off, I have enjoyed making paper beads, and now I want to tell others how! For anyone who's never heard of them, they sound absurd, but they are a lot of fun. Apparently the technique is one that's been around for a very long time, but it's very cool, and very fun to put your own spin on it. I use magazine pages for the sake of beautiful colors already put together, and, of course, recycling. I incorporate the finished beads into numerous other projects. I love the multiuse angle.


                      more ways to enjoy
                     your favorite mags
                           and catalogs!

Here's the catch: since I am, as I mentioned, so tied up in other things, why reinvent the wheel? By that I mean, rather than writing up the directions myself, I've provided a link below to what I feel is a super, to-the-point set of directions for making your very own awesome paper beads.

        click here to visit the link!

Great, so, happy bead making! For anyone who's a nerd like me and likes history, if you google "paper beads", you will find several other links that talk about bead making in past centuries. Who knew?

As for me, I may take a little time to devise a way to turn all of this nasty, yellow stuff into something useful.   Maybe I could use it to add texture to some paintings... or I could add glue and sculpt with it... or I could try to create a new recipe... for now, dust masks back on and back to work...

*** to pass go and score some paper beads readymade by me for your own projects, go here, or just click on the pics below!

... several different varieties available, including those pictured!

project overhaul: the unveiling

2007-01-03T13:21:00Z

I am so thankful to announce that the desk overhaul project has finally been completed! Due to drying times and other burning obligations, the work had to be spaced out over the course of a week. Thus I was made to do small steps here and there (how maddening!!!) when I was dying to see it finished. But, my self-inflicted restraint paid off, because I got the extra workspace and storage I needed, it's custom, and I love it! So, here's the completed project:




                                                                 before


                                                                   after

The color I settled on for the desk was Krylon Satin Finish in "Mimosa". After I applied the color, I decided to rub on a cherry wood colored gel wood staining product I had on hand, to give the color more character and maybe sort of an aged look. After comparison shopping for style and price, I chose antique finish hammered cup drawer pulls, which came in a package of six at my local Super Target store.



I had a cup shaped drawer pull in mind, and I figured a dark, antiqued finish would look good against the mimosa, but I didn't really plan for the hammered look. I think it turned out to be a little bonus. I chose to cover the top of the desk in an inexpensive canvas duckcloth sealed with artist's gesso. The reason I chose this treatment for the top was to allow me to wipe it clean and to paint fresh coats onto it when it got really messy. I laid the cloth on the floor, turned the desk upside down, and used a staple gun to tack it all around the underside edges of the desktop, where the staples would not be seen,pulling the cloth tightly as I went around the desk. Then I used a craft knife with a fresh blade to carefully trim the fabric very close to the edge. Once that was done, I turned the desk right side up and applied several layers of the gesso to seal the fabric. I sprayed protective coats on that, too. When it was done it looked like a canvas (I resisted the urge to start daydreaming about doing a painting on it). As a finishing touch, I tapped in little antique finish upholstery tacks with a flower design on the heads around the edges (my mom, who is really getting the hang of the art and design thing, actually picked the flower tacks out for me).



For the final steps, to help me with different projects, I used a gel pen and a measuring tape to draw measurements right onto the edges of the top. I did inches along the front side and centimeters up the right side in small, neat lines and numbers. I needed it there, but I didn't want it to be the first thing I saw everytime I looked at the desk. I sprayed the top once more to seal my measuring lines, and my new worktable was finally finished!

I guess there could besome one out there reading this and wondering, okay, great, so what are you going to use the desk for? Well, as I mentioned before it will multitask. It will serve as a drawing board/sewing/ jewelrymaking table (depending on the day), with tools for all of the above stored in the drawers. Now that it's complete, I'm feeling a little inspired... hope you do too!