I Changed My Mind

Barn at the Edge of the Woods, 2007. Oil on Panel, 8x10

A few days ago, Katherine tagged me and I declined to participate. I don't usually like to "join in" with things, plus it seemed difficult to imagine what I could actually tell you about me that I haven't already mentioned. But now, I feel like a jerk for not saying yes. So I have decided to play along and I am sure you are all just so relieved and happy to hear that. Heh.

And it turns out that there are a few things I haven't talked about. So here are seven things about me:

1. When I was in my early teen years, I lived with a friend's family in a two bedroom trailer mobile home located in the "good" trailer court in town. There was even a swimming pool (!) for residents only and my friend and I spent our pubescent summer days there trying to get the neighbor boys to like us. But still, it was a trailer park, and well, ick. There was a unique social order there that was mostly based on the size and quality of your mobile home. We were considered mid-level, ours was a single wide rather than double, however it was relatively new instead of old and crappy.

2. I lived in several foster homes as a teen and even though the last one was a really good one (I am still very close with them) I was fed up being so monitored and so I just left when I was seventeen. I rented a room in a house with seven male roommates which was fun, yet exceedingly stupid in retrospect. I had two jobs and managed to graduate from high school despite all of the distractions.

3. Plan A in high school was to go to art college. If I didn't get accepted, Plan B was to become a special education teacher. I had worked as an aide in several special ed classrooms and was encouraged to become a teacher. I was accepted to art school, but ended up spending many years researching special needs anyway after we adopted our handicapped nephew. Which was an odd turn of events because...

4. ....despite having four kids and a dog, I am not really a kid person and I feel really awkward with teenagers. I have never really liked dogs much either. But I love my kids more than anything and now that we have Penny, I find myself having conversations about dogs with other dog owners.

5. I have mentioned this before but just to clarify, I was a complete and total barfly when I lived in Philadelphia. My favorite hang outs were McGlinchey's and Dirty Franks. Both of which are still going strong by without me, by the way. Like the trailer court there was a social order there too, and again, I was somewhere in the middle. Story of my life I guess.

6. I stopped being a barfly when I met Doug in 1988. He was actually my boss and three weeks after he hired me as his secretary we were in love. It was a bit of a scandal at the time but it worked out ok, I think.

7. I am a big time Howard Stern fan. He won me over one day in 1988 when he spent 45 minutes talking about whether his glasses looked better high up on his nose or lower down. Very endearing. I listened to him everyday until we moved to Utah and then I couldn't hear his show for 10 years. I picked him back up when we moved to NY and followed him to Sirius and while I don't pay much attention to the strippers and sex talk, I love the show best when they are all just sitting around talking about tv shows, politics and other current topics. I really love Artie (he replaced Jackie while I was gone) and I have to admit that my daily schedule generally revolves around his show.

Geez, hope I don't lose too many readers over #7. Anyway, my blog picks are:

Stacy and Shan chronicle their busy lives which include, like mine, a busy family life and making and selling their art.

Lisa Call is an artist with a day job who also spends more time in her studio than I do. She makes the most incredible quilts and has a wicked sense of humor.

James Wolanin is a painter preparing for his first solo show in NYC this fall. I am very excited for him.

Paul Butzi shows his beautiful photography as well as discussing issues concerning supplies, equipment and going digital. He also bought 10 boxes of girl scout cookies from me to send to his kids in college. Nice dad!

Rebecca is another kindred spirit. She describes her work, family and gallery dealings. Plus, I love her work.

Joe Kazimiercxyk is a plein aire painter who depicts the landscape in and around Bucks County, PA. Doug and I used to spend weekends exploring that area and seeing Joe's work always reminds me of those long drives.

Inspiration Everywhere

Purple Roof, 2007, Oil on Panel, 8x10

I have a full day of painting in front of me today, and I have already frittered away a few hours. So this will be a short post. Probably.

I saw a movie on Sunday that has really stayed with me. I love when that happens. Doug and I rented The Painted Veil, starring Edward Norton and Naomi Watts, on Saturday, but we both fell asleep within about 15 minutes. He went out of town on Sunday, so I kept it and watched it on Sunday night. It was amazing! I wish I could have seen it on the big screen as the landscape of China looked so beautiful. I woke up several times Sunday night thinking about the story, the characters, their relationship and the ending. It was a very quiet movie and I saw positive reviews for it when it was released, but it never did come to our stupid theater that is only showing Spiderman these days.

I have to add here, that I may possibly be in love with Edward Norton. He is a bit younger than I am and he probably wouldn't want to live on a farm, but a girl can dream, right? Heh. I loved him in The Illusionist, and well, in pretty much everything I have seen him in.

Ok, I am off to the studio.

My Kids Are Amazing

Deep Dark Barn, 2007, Oil on Panel, 12x16

A very relaxed Mother's Day on Sunday was the perfect antidote to our schedule on Saturday, which involved the scheduling precision of a military maneuver. I won't go into the details, but I will say that it involved waking up at 5:30, driving into town five times between the two of us, play dates, two soccer games and a lot of hanging around town in order to not add yet another drive home. I did go to the opening day of the local farmer's market though and bought some beautiful herb plants to add to my garden, so that was a good score.

I don't usually go for the sappy aspects of Mother's Day and those sorts of things, but my kids are so sincere about it and that gets me in the heart every time. Yesterday they got up early and made a beautiful breakfast for me complete with a poem, a letter of appreciation for all of the laundry I do and for the things I buy that they don't really need, an egg cup with a little rooster on it (I now seem to get chicken related doo dads at every gift giving opportunity) and an old tomato can with an amazingly bad illustration of a tomato on one side and a politically incorrect image of a Native American with full headdress on the other side. We then drove up to Utica to do some summer clothes shopping and they proceeded to act like complete and total angels. No fighting, no pouting, no begging. They held the doors open, pushed the cart (I walked around like a princess) and carried the bags to the car. It was heavenly and today I am basking in the glow of how amazing my kids are.

Hmmm. Sounds a bit sappy, huh?

Really Small Scale

Cool Waters, 2007, Oil on Panel, 3x5

The Lake, 2007, Oil on Panel, 4x6

When I began painting again a few years ago, I worked on very small panels. 3x3, 3x5, 5x7, maybe 6x8, but 8x10 was really pushing it. I did this for several reasons. I was experimenting and I didn't want to blow through all of my supplies too quickly. We were taking a real leap of faith by my attempt to paint and make some kind of career out of it and I felt I had to be very careful with the financial investment that was necessary. Mostly, though I was extremely intimidated by working on a larger scale. I was afraid to really let loose on a big panel and frankly I haven't completely gotten over that, although I have made much progress. And I think that even though I simplify my imagery, there is also a bit of a "noodler" in me and working at a small scale really lets me noodle a bit. I am too impatient to noodle extensively!

Now I am gradually working my way up in scale and 8x10 is the smallest size I do at this point. And wouldn't you know it, once I decided to not work small anymore and to not inventory panels smaller than 8x10, I was asked to participate in a miniatures group show at the local arts association. They asked for at least six paintings of the local lake, officially named Otsego Lake, but called Glimmerglass by most who live here. I don't paint the water too often, but I felt this was a good chance to do a few lake images, which are pretty popular around here. I didn't have any small panels on hand, but I was at Soho Artists Materials in the city in March and noticed that they had a whole table of tiny little cradled wood panels which I can only describe as really cute. Not one of my usual adjectives, but there you are. I bought some 3x5's and some 4x6's, but they had a whole range of, well, really cute sizes. I plan to go back and buy some more next time I am in the city. I really enjoyed working so small again, and while I was a bit flustered on the day that I painted a 3x5 AND a 36x48, I was exhilarated by it as well.

Pink Lake is one of the series, as well as the ones that I have posted today. I admit to being quite intrigued with the shape of the hills around the lake as well as the particular palette I used that week, which accounts for the similarities in each piece. I wish now that I had varied them a bit, but I can do another series again.

Doug and I will be going to the opening for the show tonight, which will be a nice social event, with many people we know in attendance.

Dead, Dead, Dead Rooster

Don't let this pose fool you. Penny can go from zero to sixty in less than a minute.

Just keeping an eye out.

Well, the mystery of the missing rooster has been solved. I am glad because I was really feeling creeped out that he could just go missing so cleanly and quietly. And as we all suspected, Penny our dog was the culprit. I am not sure that she actually killed him, although she probably did, but my son saw her carrying the bird last night and we all ran outside to see. We found it right where she dropped it (she is good about dropping something if you call her name). Then my daughter showed me an area of our property that was just littered with dead animal carcasses. Woodchucks, rabbits (just the rabbit fur, actually) and there were many bones just randomly scattered around.

Ewww.

Gotta love her though and she really is such a good dog. After a busy day of hunting and killing she comes inside and rolls around on the floor playing with her squeaky toy. She loves to cuddle and she gazes at all of us like we are the most amazing people ever. She's probably thinking about fresh kill, but whatever. We'll keep her around even though she offed our rooster.

Anyway, I am off today to help out at a medieval festival at my son's school. The sixth graders all built catapults, most of which are incredibly elaborate, and they all have to wear costumes today. Which my son told me about last night at 7:30pm. Typical. We rushed around and put together a fairly lame but almost historically accurate outfit. Well, except for the blue jeans. And the design drawn with a sharpee around the keyhole neckline of the tunic. So we're close.

Peppered with Questions

Pink Lake, 2007, Oil on Panel, 3x5

Steven asked me a bunch of questions yesterday in the comments of my last post. They are really thoughtful questions, plus I always appreciate the opportunity to yammer on and on about myself, so I turned them into a big ol' post. heh. So thanks for that, Steven.

Can you turn off your paint eyes for a weekend?

Yes and no. Like most artists, even when I am doing things that aren't related to studio work, I am observing details of the things and spaces around me. While technically, those things seldom make it into my work (for instance I do not paint images of chickens, or the piles of junk in our barn, at least not yet anyway) the feelings I get from whatever it is that I see are the basis of all of my work. And I am feeling very serene, in awe and humbled by what is around me lately, so I think some of that shows. And when I am not looking for them, I do often see specific scenes that I think will make a good image and try to remember those. Since that doesn't work so well these days, I'd like to say it's because my mind is so full lately, but I suspect it may have more to do with age, I usually take a quick photo as a reminder. So I guess you can say that I can turn off my paint eyes for awhile, but they usually turn back on when I least expect it.

I will add that when I am shoveling the shit out of the chicken house there are no thoughts whatsoever about painting or images or art. Just a lot of cursing and irritating issues concerning smell, sweat and blisters.

Even while you were in the yard and dealing with fowl, were you contemplating your next studio move?

Definitely not. I actually try not to think about what I am going to do next, at all. I have sort of long range ideas that are always subject to change, and I have a pretty flexible daily schedule, but if I think too much about what I am doing next, I get all bogged down and then tend to over think everything. Which usually makes me lose my gesture. I have learned to balance thinking with not thinking. heh.

Do you visually perk at dusk and dawn?

I hadn't really thought about it, but I guess I do. I love those parts of the day, the light, the sky, the quickness of the change and the anticipation of the next stage of the day. However I rarely paint those dramatic images (um, well, I guess the one above may qualify as some sort of late day scene), preferring instead to keep those experiences to myself. They always look too sappy when I try to paint them, which is always a disappointment and kind of ruins my lovely, albeit faded memories.

How much are you looking at photographs anymore?

Like I mentioned above, I use photographs, mainly to jog my memory, especially concerning composition. I'd say I use a photo as reference about half the time when I am painting the landscapes, and a bit more for barns and other structures. When I was working on the box images, I preferred to work from life, although I took great license with what I saw in front of me, especially concerning color. With the figure, I can only work from life. I would never consider doing a painting or drawing of a figure without a model in front of me, although that could certainly change if I were to spend some time developing figurative work. Up until four years ago I was sure that I would never paint landscapes and then look what happened! I have learned to never say never, it's like announcing to the world that I will end up doing it anyway.

Anyway, I will soon write another post about my use of photographic reference. Translating what I see in a photo to making an image is part of the process of painting for me, but that use is constantly changing, even if it doesn't look that way to the viewer.

So Steve, what would your answers be here? And I'd be interested in how other artists would answer these same questions, excluding the reference to fowl. Well unless you have chickens too, of course.

Farm Miscellany

Another Red Barn, 2007, Oil on Panel, 12x16

We had a very busy and productive weekend. There was much running around, delivering kids here and there, and Doug cleaned out the garage, which was a major undertaking. After a winter of just winging things out into the garage from the back door of the house, it was a wreck, although we did have a path through the rubble from the house to the door outside. I worked in the gardens, raking out debris, pruning and tidying up in general. I didn't go into my studio all weekend and I don't even feel guilty about it. I have been making good progress on the work I need to have ready for two upcoming shows, so I haven't really needed to work on the weekends. Not yet, anyway.

Last week one of our hens went broody, meaning she was ready to sit on a clutch of eggs. I found a great website that told me what to do with her and so I set her all up in a separate space. She was fine for a few days and then she began to poop in the nest (bad) and when I checked her on Sunday morning I saw that she had broken two of the eggs (really bad). So she is back with the flock. I'll try again if another hen goes broody though, because I was surprisingly excited about having a new batch of chicks via the old fashioned way.

Then yesterday, my son and I managed to get Rooster Number One out of the chicken coop. I was planning on setting him up with a couple of the hens in a different hen house because the two roosters together, were competing with each other for their ladies affections and were getting pretty rough in the process. The hens all have bare patches on their backs and their heads, where the roosters hold them down while mating. Anyway, this rooster is my least favorite-he is nasty and has attacked me several times in the past when I go in the coop. After we let him out I thought I'd let him free range a bit (although he was mostly just hanging around the chicken run, trying to be in charge despite being outside of the fence) and then try to get him to the other space later on so I went back to gardening.

Except...

When I went to round him up I couldn't find him. We all wandered around the property looking for him but there was no trace of him. No pile of feathers, no chicken legs, no blood, nothing. The hens were really jittery and kept looking outside the fence (if only they could talk!). He didn't show up at the hen house at dusk to roost which was a bad sign. I suspect our dog Penny had something to do with it, as she is a notoriously excellent bird killer, but this is a 15lb. rooster and I didn't hear a squawk. While I am not entirely sad that Rooster Number One is probably dead, I admit to being seriously creeped out by his disappearance.

But we will move on. Already this morning, the hens seem much more relaxed without the presence of RNO, who ruled with an iron fist. They ate from my hand and I was able to pet a few of them without being threatened. The New Rooster Number One (formally known as Rooster Number Two), while a bit violent with his ladies, is a more docile guy in general and hopefully we will be friends.

So that's an exciting update on life on the farm. Sorry. I literally have nothing else to talk about today. I am planning to do some underpaintings this afternoon however, and I will put up some images of those tomorrow, in order to still qualify as an art blog. Heh.

Scale

June Field, 2007, Oil on Panel, 36x48

After the first color session.


After the second color session.

Normally when I work on larger scale paintings (bigger than 24x36, which is a size I do ok with) I am very uncomfortable. And not in a good, productive way. While I am excited about the challenge of the scale change, I also tend to tighten up and worry, which is usually reflected in the painting. The pieces haven't been horrible, none have ended up in the sand down pile or anything and I have even sold a few of them, but I haven't been exceptionally pleased with most of them either.

This time, because of a combination of factors I was much more relaxed when I began work on two large panels. I have finally gotten over the intimidation of the cost of a 36x48 sized panel ($140-yikes!) by continually reminding myself that it can always be sanded down and reused. A total pain in the neck but it can be done. And because I have been distracted in general, by a number of thing outside of the studio such as the kid's schedule, family stuff, how much work needs to be done on our house and property, money issues and even the hen that has gone broody (more on that another day), I was able to paint without getting myself all worked up beforehand. Sometimes not focusing on what I am doing really takes the pressure off and gets me into the groove before I can worry about getting there myself.

The first painting (on the left, in the second photo from top) painted itself. It's an image of a field down the road that I have painted a number of times (most recently here), but never at this scale, so that was a good challenge. Feeling high after finishing up that one I dove into the next one (on the right) and after the first layer ended up with a very loosely painted image. It was a lot of fun to paint and I was feeling rather invincible after the first piece so I convinced myself the second one was fab too. Then Doug came in to give his critique, which was fairly negative. After seriously considering winging my loaded brush at his head (just kidding, well kinda) I shook myself back into reality and realized he was pretty much right. Yesterday I struggled with the painting a bit more and it's closer now to working (on the right in third photo from top), I think.

And to confirm this recent pattern, I am also working on two 24x24 panels (see below) and nearly the exact same thing happened-the first one painted itself and I am struggling with the second one, the one I felt the most confidence in to begin with.

This experience is a very good example of the fine line that I must walk between self consciousness, overconfidence and humility. Too much, or not enough of any of those things and I am out on the porch with my palm sander, wearing a mask and sanding paint off a $140 chunk of wood.

Good 24x24


Bad 24x24, although there is still hope.

Must. Paint. All. Day.

Tall Barn, 2007, Oil on Panel, 18x18

I'll be back tomorrow with a super fascinating update on what's been going on with those large scale paintings I started last weekend.

Feel free to keep chatting about hair in your paintings (or whatever medium you work in). We haven't heard from everyone yet!

I'd be interested in hearing what Jim does concerning stuff in the paint. His painting surface is beautiful - all slick, smooth and shiny. Exactly the kind of work that you wouldn't want to see a hair sticking out of.

Anything Goes

Shore Houses, 2007, Oil on Panel, 24x24

Yesterday's brief post about my hair in the paint led to some interesting comments. I started to write a response but it became as long as a post, not surprising given my chatty nature, so I thought I'd address the issue again in a post.

Chris mentioned that he was told by a gallerist that hairs in the paint are extremely irritating to them. I can understand this, as seeing hairs in certain kinds of work can be really distracting. However, if I heard this from a gallery that I am considering working with, I would take that as a big old sign that we would not be a good fit. My work is imperfect, messy, comfortable and full of texture. There are globs of paint on the sides of the panels, blotchy clumps of dried paint crud here and there and random gesso brush marks underneath it all. It would almost be unfinished if there WEREN'T a hair or two to be found.

I think most artists do what they can to get the hairs and whatever out of the paintings (I am particularly impressed with the efforts that Martha goes to, by cutting out the hair, sanding the ridge and reapplying the varnish. I have tried those sorts of things, but any kind of sanding will take my thin layers of paint right off so I am usually bettor off leaving it). But thankfully, we are not automatons and our studio environments are usually pretty relaxed. Pets are often included in the fun, not to mention expensive brushes that still lose their bristles. I have seen $20,000 paintings that are all slick and shiny and beautiful, but still have an occasional brush hair.

Personally, I love it when I see hairs and whatever in other artist's paintings. It's nice to know that others have the same issues that I have. And I love art that is so passionate that the artist doesn't notice or can't stop to pull out a stray hair before the paint dries over it. Seeing stuff in the paint gives it another layer of intimacy and a connection to artist and their environment. But while that is just my personal preference, what I love most about painting is that artists can do whatever they want, from having a warts and all approach to displaying their finest OCD tendencies, and everything in between.

So where on the scale are you? I think I am one step over from the warts and all approach. It's not quite anything goes for me, but it is close.

Gessoed Hair

Normally it's cat hair, brush hairs or a variety of other kinds of annoying fuzzy things that end up in my paintings. Most of the time I get them out before the paint dries.

This time though, one strand of my hair landed in the gesso, unnoticed (look closely, it's on the left). No chance of removing this one, so I will just pretend it is added character. At least it fell into a very graceful line.

I'd wear a hair net when I gesso, but frankly, I am just WAY too cool for that. Heh.

Weekend Update

I don't really have anything super exciting to talk about today. Since, finally, Doug was home on the weekend, I had him do all of the soccer games, errands and whatever else on Saturday, while I stayed home and worked in my studio. I did four large sized underpaintings, which WAS pretty exciting. Clearly, it's been awhile since I have worked much larger than 24x24. And while these are images that I have painted before, changing the scale is a welcome challenge. I would have liked to have done a few more as I was totally in the groove, but I don't have anywhere to put them right now. So I must save the groove for next time.

The rest of Saturday was filled with preparation for a belated birthday sleepover for my son. My nerves were a bit jangled what with seven, squeaky voiced, loud and boisterous twelve year olds in the house, but I retired early to watch tv and knit in our bedroom and Doug stayed up and supervised the boys downstairs. We are a good tag team-I got up at 7am to make waffles while he slept in.

I puttered around on Sunday, painted a few cradled edges, made some jalapeno cheese, and organized my sorely neglected desk.

See? Not so exciting. Although having a clean desk again might qualify as excitement for me these days. Heh.

Round Two

Must be like having twins two days in a row.

The Importance of Cheese

I have been rather frantically busy the last few days. In between extended hours in the studio, I have also had paperwork to do, all of the usual kid and house stuff because Doug was in the city on Wednesday and Thursday, prepping panels, and last night there was a memorable trip to the vet with a bleeding dog who got a chunk of her ear bit off while outside protecting us from intruders. AND I am still obsessed with making cheese.

This morning I waxed two cheese rounds that I made in the last few weeks. The unwaxed wedge of cheese on the plate is what's left of the very first successful (the first few tries were a disaster!) batch that I made. The cheese is supposed to age for at least 2 months for better flavor, but I had this smaller round and we were dying of curiosity so we tried it after only a week. It was really good! Anyway, I wanted to let the others age longer so they get waxed. One is cheddar and one is caraway cheddar. The cheddar round is a bit funky, I had trouble getting enough weight to press it and so it isn't as firm and solid as it should be. Then my neighbor loaned me her cheese press (yes, two people on the same road who happen to be making cheese, what are the odds of that?), and so that one, on the right, turned out much better. Today I have another batch in progress, this time with cumin.

I have also made several batches of goat cheese from milk bought at the health food store. It is incredibly easy to make and the flavor is much better than store bought especially if you press fresh herbs into it.

I know, I know, super fascinating pioneer life of a painter. I just feel that I should try to balance out all of the manufactured stuff we have with a few things that I can make myself. Making things, whether it's a painting or a sweater or cheese gives me a feeling of purpose and accomplishment.

A Round Lumpy Bumpy Egg

I have had three babies, all born naturally and at home. Still, when I saw this egg in a nest out in the hen house this morning, I felt the need to cross my legs and close up shop forever.

And just to compare with the more classic egg.

Still Love Getting the Mail!

Deep Trees, 2007, Oil on Panel, 16x20

The Saturday snail mail delivery by Jim the mailman (who is also our neighbor and doubles as the guy who brush hogs our land each fall), brought me two lovely and much needed surprises. Doug has been out of town for weeks at a time over the last few months and we were nearing the end of another week long stretch. And so I was going a bit mental. Not from the kids so much (ok, well maybe a little) but from having to do everything, everyday, most especially cooking and cleaning up after dinner each night. The kids help, but, well, they don't really, know what I mean? And I was incredibly tired after having stayed up until 2am to watch The Good Shepherd (got a late start on that because I had to go pick up my daughter from a birthday party at 9pm Friday evening). Then Saturday morning there was soccer practice and another birthday party, a few manufactured preteen dramas as well as feelings of guilt over not going outside to do some yard work in order to take advantage of the stunning weather. And why oh why must I actually feel ill the day after having only a few hours sleep? I used to be able to do all nighters with ease and now if a miss an hour or two of sleep I become the worst crabby patty* ever.

Anyway.

Folded into the usual bills, junk mail and endless credit card solicitations were two hand addressed envelopes. Very rare these days! The first one contained an acceptance letter for a juried regional show in my favorite place ever, Woodstock, NY. I have stopped entering competitions for the most part, but I make exceptions for ones that have some meaning for me and whose organizations I like to help support. I entered this same show last year and had some luck getting in and winning an award, a gift certificate for a actual art supply store for $100. Which I used to buy four, yes, only four tubes of paint. Ones that I never would have splurged on otherwise. Since I love, love, love Woodstock and the Woodstock School of Art, I am very pleased to be included again this year, as well as having an excuse to drive down and spend a day there when delivering the painting.

The next piece of mail was a check along with an encouraging note from my New York gallery (that has such a nice ring to it), Multiple Impressions. They have sold a number of paintings now and I am feeling good about my possible status there. Of course, now they want more pieces, large ones of course (because they are the most difficult for me to do), so bright and early Sunday morning I found myself priming two 36x48 panels.

Days like that make me very happy that mail has not become entirely obsolete yet.

*Gratuitous SpongeBob Square Pants reference.

Zero to Eighty in Less Than a Week

Front and Center, 2007, Oil on Panel, 18x18

So for no apparent reason our satellite dish, yet again, moved just enough so that it lost the signal. Usually when this happens Doug goes up on the roof and fiddles around with it while I shout up to him through a window to tell him what number the signal strength is from the computer. We used to call for a serviceman to come out but they would take days and sometimes weeks to come and just do what Doug can do anyway. But naturally, this time, he was in Chicago most of last week at a trade show and didn't get home until last night. And while I can do many things, climbing a ladder (not to mention getting back down) to the roof is not one of them. The internet went down Friday, with just a few brief minutes up on Saturday and Sunday morning, leaving me feeling alienated from the entire world. For instance, I only just learned today that Larry Birkhead may soon be getting custody of his daughter and taking her back home to the US. Heh. It wasn't so bad actually, I got a lot done around the house, but did have to redirect whenever I wanted to look something up or check on the news or whatever.

Anyway, a few interesting things happened on Saturday, which I'll discuss tomorrow when I have more time. For now I just wanted to say hi again and to mention the fact that last Monday the kids had a snow day, while this Monday was 80 degrees and perfectly sunny and beautiful.

Gotta love spring around here!

OK, I Confess to Watching American Idol. So Sue Me.

In Front of a Pond, 2007, Oil on Panel, 8x10

Well, after five years, I finally caved in. This year I am watching American Idol. I never got on the bandwagon before for various reasons, but this year my kids were interested and I decided to relax their no TV during the week rule (but no voting, no need to actually participate in pop culture). So we watch it together and I have to admit that I have enjoyed it.

In fact, it has reminded me a bit of art school. Many talented hopefuls and really just a small percentage will find success within the field they prefer, and only one or two will become really well known. And if they do become successful, they will be revered/admired/envied/hated/branded a sell-out, by the losers. Oh and in art school, the hopefuls must endure numerous public critiques by professors who are much more cruel/honest than Simon, before they get weeded out.

Anyway, I confess to feeling a bit disappointed/relieved that Sanjaya was voted off last night. I rather enjoyed his presence and while he certainly was not the best singer, I found him to be one of the most engaging performers of the group. But I had mixed feelings about the votefortheworst.com campaign surrounding him. It was kind of satisfying to see the whole corporate, big money structure getting messed with, yet I felt badly that a 17 year old boy (not to mention the other contestants) was essentially being goofed on. However, I suspect Sanjaya will do fine now. He'll probably get a contract and maybe even have a few hits, thanks to fans like my "tween" daughter. Hopefully he will save his money just in case his fame is fleeting.

And so we will continue on to the end. My favorites are Jordin and Melinda, but ultimately I hope neither of them will win. While everyone wants to win a contest, winning isn't always winning, you know?

Cooking Frenzy

Two Parts, 2007, Oil on Panel, 18x18

So last week, I managed to get a little bit of work done, mostly by just spending an hour or two, here and there in the studio. Doug and our son were in the Grand Canyon for a boy scout camping trip and so I was home with the girls and our other son. I let them watch too much tv, but we also kept busy with some art projects and games.

Mostly though, what I did, was to spend many hours in the kitchen, cooking! It started with two dozen muffins that I made for a party/brunch/easter egg hunt last Saturday. They turned out great and I realized that I hadn't made muffins in about ten years. Which set of a three day obsession with making more, really good muffins. Unfortunately, none of the subsequent batches turned out quite so well, and so the chickens ate most of them. But in between making the muffins, as well as the usual cooking for dinners and so on, I decided to try my hand at making cheese. And yes, I have been informed that I could be insane because of this. I have had a book and a few kits for awhile, but have been a bit put off by how much work it seemed to be. Finally though, with a bit of extra time available it seemed like a good time to jump in. Turns out that it isn't a lot of work, it's just a project that needs attention at crucial intervals. My first few attempts failed because the milk didn't firm up, but after adjusting a few things, I finally ended up with something resembling a cheddar cheese wheel. And because when I do something that is fun, or successful, I always have to do more, more, more, and so I made another batch of cheddar and then a few rounds of goat cheese for good measure. The goat cheese is unbelievably easy, and tastes so much better than the store bought. The cheddar has to age for a few months which will be a good exercise in delayed gratification. I plan to make a few more varieties of hard cheese in the meantime, even though it is a bit of a risk as I won't know for awhile yet how the first ones turn out. But what the heck! I am just enjoying the process at this point.

And on Monday, the snow day, I topped this cooking frenzy off with a cake for my son's birthday. It was a three layer chocolate cake, with chocolate ganache between the layers and what else? chocolate butter cream frosting. We have all been in a sugar coma for two days now. Heh.

The funny thing is, is that while I was making the cheese I realized that the way I cook is the same way I paint. I like to do things that take awhile, yet I tend to choose simplicity over a lot of details or finesse. Patient, yet not. That's me.

Winter Weather

House and Barn, 2007, Oil on Panel, 12x16

I didn't intend to take a nearly week long break from posting, however Mother Nature must have felt that I should. We got a bit of the recent storm, and while it wasn't awful for us, mostly ice and just a few inches of very wet, chunky snow, it did knock out our computer satellite service for a few days and of course the kids had a snow day on Monday. Extending their "spring" vacation to eleven fun filled days. Heh. I admit to doing a little dance when I saw the school bus come up the road this morning.

Anyway, while I did miss ya'll, I also was quite productive without the constant temptation of the magnetic, studio time sucking super computer. There is much to discuss, but I have just one hour before I must play mommy again and so I have to finish up in the studio.

Tomorrow I will be back with a real post.

Voices

I have been getting just a little bit of work done each day. On Monday I finished up some smaller pieces and though I rarely do this (maybe I should, but that's a rant for another day) I reworked a painting that I had felt was finished, had already photographed and even posted awhile ago. It was sitting on the shelf just bugging me. You know, calling out, shouting at me and insisting that it still needed a few things. So I worked on it a bit and am glad I did. Especially since the voices have now quieted down. Heh.

Finished version of Tilting, 2007, Oil on Panel, 8x10

My Name is Tracy and I am a Chicken Killer

Two of a Kind, 2007, Oil on Panel, 8x10

It's true. I killed one of my chickens. One of the chickens whose beak I dipped in water to show her how to drink when she was just two days old. One that I have worried about, checking in the middle of the night to make sure there was enough warmth, saved from a cold night outside when the little hen house door accidentally slammed shut, leaving the flock outside, blinded in the dark. After climbing over a 10 foot snowbank twice a day for almost a month, often in subzero weather to make sure she and the others had enough food and thawed water, not to mention doing a number of things in order to save two of her sisters which included making a chicken regurgitate the contents of its crop and bringing another one indoors for almost a week.

Last week I noticed that another chicken had the same symptoms of the one that died in a cage in our laundry room about a month ago. I knew I had to remove her from the flock and resigned myself to setting her up either in the garage or in the laundry room. But I also knew she would die, no matter what I did to help her, just like the other one did. So I started to consider euthanasia. Not uncommon at all on a farm of course, but not something I wanted to do either. I am sure that there is no way in hell that I could snap its neck, like a neighbor suggested. Nor did I want to hit it with a shovel like my very mild mannered friend did to her rooster when it attacked her one too many times, beating it to death. Although, I have to add here that our Number One Rooster In Charge is getting closer to a meeting with a shovel every time he attacks me. Anyway, I decided to slip it into a Tidy Cat cat litter bucket (which are the handiest things ever when it comes to chickens-I use them to carry fresh water out to the coop each day, to carry out scratch or feed. I would like to kiss whoever invented them), snap the lid shut, and leave it outside. I felt horrible after making the decision, but when I put the chicken in and she didn't squawk, fight or even react, I knew that this was the best way.

So five days later the bucket is still sitting outside, next to the garage. I assume she either suffocated or froze to death (we are having a cold snap) within a few hours, maybe less, given how sick she was. Not particularly humane I suppose, but maybe not so bad either. Anyway, seeing it every day makes me feel awful. On Wednesday I will put the whole thing inside a garbage bag and put it out for the garbage man to collect. I admit that the perversely curious side of me is considering opening it up to see what's doing in there. However if I do that, I'll have that picture in my mind, along with the picture of her going in still alive, giving me the eye. Not sure if I need both.

Coincidentally, I took one of our cats in to the vet on Friday and described the symptoms of both chickens. He said that it sounded like a nutritional deficiency, despite the fact that what I feed the flock is an appropriate diet. It could have been a deficiency particular to a certain breed (both chickens were the same breed) however. So I felt a bit better, knowing that it doesn't seem to be a flock problem, although I will have watch the others closely.

So much for taking a break from writing on the blog this week, but I just had to confess.

Thanks Folks

Trees Barely There, 2007, Oil on Panel, 8x10

Thanks so much to everyone who sent their good wishes, publicly, privately and telepathically in response to yesterday's post about my mother's cancer. She had the Gamma Knife Radiation yesterday. And by the way, I love the sound of that, Gamma Knife, it's like college sorority and futuristic all at the same time, Gamma Knife, Gamma Knife. I could just say it all day. Anyway, the procedure went fine, she was enjoying the morphine when we spoke last night and she and her husband will be driving back home today (they had to drive several hours to another city to have it done).

Today is the first day of spring break and the kids will be home all next week. Great timing because I am just starting to feel intense pressure to get the work together for my upcoming show at Enderlin Gallery at the end of May. I was hoping to have the work finished at the end of April so that I can take a week or so to visit my mother, before the show opens. So between trying to get a few hours of studio time in here and there, coordinating sleep overs and play dates and possibly tackling spring cleaning, I think that my posts here will be a bit spotty next week. I may put up a few paintings, but won't have much time for writing, I think.

Which is fine, we can all have a break from my constant yammering. Heh.

No Smoking Allowed

The Same, Yet Not, 2007, Oil on Panel, 8x10

As some of you regular lurkers readers may recall, my mother, who has often been quite involved in my comment section, suffered a heart attack last September. I wrote about it here. At the time, she had a variety of tests and a spot on her lung was visible on one of the chest x-rays. After several months of tests, delays, and finally a surgical biopsy, she was diagnosed with non-small cell lung cancer.

She is currently having chemotherapy and she is handling it very well, without self-pity, not to mention subjecting the doctors and nurses to her stupid jokes and morbid sense of humor about it all. But the bad days still suck. Her hair is beginning to fall out just a bit and she feels icky for several days after the treatment. When she begins to feel better, it's just in time for the next treatment. And unfortunately, she has a small tumor in her brain as well and will be having Gamma Knife Radiation therapy today. She is telling her friends that afterwards, she will back to being "empty-headed" after the procedure. My mom, the comedienne.

She has been insistent that I not let this interfere with my work. As if! While I don't have to deal with this on a daily basis (she and her husband live on the other side on the country) of course all of this has been very difficult, especially around the holidays when she was having so many tests and procedures. I plan on visiting for a few weeks in May and to appease her at least a little bit, I am scheduling that trip around the work I have to do.

This is the type of cancer closely associated with smoking and yes, my mother has been a long time smoker. I always hated the smoking and I bugged her endlessly to quit. She tried many times, but never could stop for good (nasty, addictive things).

So I hope that if you (or someone you know) smokes cigarettes, please do what you can to stop. Or better yet, don't start. You do not want to go through what my mother is going through.

And while we are not religious, some good wishes and hopeful feelings sent telepathically towards the mother of some virtual person that you have never even met, would be accepted with much gratitude. And try to humor her next time she leaves a comment even if she is doing her best to embarrass her middle aged daughter. Heh.

When a Field is Just a Field

Just a Field, 2007, Oil on Panel, 8x10

I think that after yesterday's post, I might sound as if I am on the edge. I am not at all and the ear reference was just a joke. Really.

The truth is, how I feel about my work is very fluid, yet not. Overall, I am exceedingly pleased with what is happening. And on a day to day basis I am pretty solid. But some days can be good and some be a real drag. I can feel super confident, rather than just my usual normal confidence (which is what allows me to put myself and my work out there). The super confident days usually happen when I have some kind of success, perhaps a good sale, a near sell out show, a good review or high praise. That sort of feedback is great and is really exciting, but can also be the most damaging to my work, much more so than self-doubt. I get an attitude and then I have a tendency to not put everything that I can into my work on those days, because, well I am feeling like everything I do is great so why bother. You see? Attitude. I have to work hard to keep that in check. The best and most productive confidence comes from having an excellent day in the studio finishing one or more real kick ass paintings and I am more productive, I suspect, because the confidence comes from within, rather than being a reaction to an outside event.

There are a similar variety of bad days too. The bad days that make me doubt myself and what I am doing come from outside forces, like being turned down by a gallery or thinking that I should really be selling much more work than I do, don't really bother me so much that it affects my work in the studio. If it does, it is to spur me on a bit and get me to work harder. So it becomes a positive. The bad days that come within, for example after struggling with a painting or being frustrated by color happen often enough, but usually pass fairly quickly and there is often a corresponding leap in quality and/or productivity. Getting over the hump I guess.

And none of this is written in stone of course. A bad painting day can happen after hearing about a sale or I can be feeling super confident for no good reason whatsoever. Fluidity.

With the exception of post show meltdowns, which are much worse after a good show by the way, none of these events really affect me for any length of time. I have enough life experience (raising four kids!) and I have enough self-discipline that I can work through these minor ups and downs. And I do consider them minor. While my feelings yesterday, concerning getting work back from a gallery affected me and was something that was on my mind enough to write about it, it didn't affect my studio time (um, well except that I didn't really get to the studio, but that was because I had laundry to catch up on and important work to do on the computer all day. Heh) and won't be a problem that will stick with me. Other issues will move me along, such as planning the work for an upcoming show, gathering the tax info or deciding what to make for dinner and will it be something that everyone will eat or will someone end up with cereal?

So really there is no tortured artist's life here. Perhaps by writing about my feelings of demoralization gave it more importance than it really has to me. I just wanted to explain some of the things that I go through while trying to have some kind of art career. Getting unsold work back from a gallery is one of the things that art school did not cover.

And while this art career thing is very important to me, I will not be cutting off an ear for it. I have nicely shaped ears and it would be a real shame to mess up the perfect pair.

Left Ear or Right?

Tilting, 2007, Oil on Panel, 8x10

Well, after the pride I expressed in my last post about how well things are going lately (and thanks so much to all of you who were so pleased for me about all of that), I was brought back down to earth this weekend. In a very gentle manner, at least.

Saturday morning I loaded up my car with 19 paintings and my daughter and began the five hour drive to Cape Cod to deliver work to the Salt Meadow Gallery there, and then a second delivery to The Harrison Gallery on Sunday on the way back home. Generally, if it's possible, I take one of the kids with me on my short trips, alternating each time. Thankfully, because this was a lot of driving, it was my quieter daughter's turn to come with. Now of course, I dearly love my youngest, but she NEVER stops talking and I confess to some irritation with that, most especially in the car. So this particular trip was rather quiet and harmonious. We listened to music, worked on some crossword puzzles (she did the reading and writing and um, got most of the answers), and we stopped and did some shopping at the mall in Albany on the way back on Sunday.

Anyway, we got to the gallery in Cape Cod on Saturday afternoon, no thanks to the seemingly incorrect mapquest directions and I spent some time visiting with Glenn, the owner. I had a solo show there last summer (read about it here) and will have another one this July. He has sold A LOT of my work over the last few years, however I have also given him many pieces and so we had finally agreed that I should take some work back this time. Of course this makes sense (I am the one who offered to take some back, conscious of possible storage space issues) and he had 12 paintings ready for me. My practical mind is fine with taking back work from a gallery that shows it, and I generally make the suggestion if it seems that sales have slowed or if it's been awhile since they have received new work. But I admit to still feeling a bit demoralized when a stack of paintings return to my studio.

So I try to look at it like this: it's a good reality check to learn, once again, that not everything I do is so fab that it immediately flies out the gallery door. I think my work really suffers when I fall into thinking how great I am. Not much to strive for when I start doing that, you know? So these reality breaks are good and will help me in the long run I think.

Now if that urge to cut off my ear would just go away. Heh.

PS. I should add here that personally, I do think that most of the returned paintings are pretty dang nice, which only proves how subjective art can be. A piece that I am proud of doesn't always translate to one that touches someone else. Or perhaps for a myriad of reasons and circumstances the painting doesn't find the person for whom it is meant for. These are things to remember too, especially when the ear cutting thing flares up.

All of a Sudden....

Tucked In Between, 2007, Oil on Panel, 8x10

.....I am in a very surreal position. Every piece that I am painting lately (except the bad icky ones that go into the sand down pile) is slated to go out to a gallery or an upcoming show.

This is new to me. Even last year when I was so crazy busy, I overproduced and ended the year with stacks of extra work in my studio. This weekend though, I will be delivering much of that work, plus some newer pieces to two galleries in Massachusetts.

From then on a jpeg of every painting that I do in the next few months will be emailed to various gallery directors so that they can claim the ones that they want. Or paintings will be put aside for the solo show that I have coming up.

I had no idea that any of this would happen when I decided to sit down and see if I still knew how to paint on the day that my youngest daughter started school. I figured I'd push some paint around and maybe show in a few little art shows in the area.

So this is all very exciting, of course, but like I said, surreal.

However, before this sounds too self-congratulatory (too late maybe!) I should add that not everything sells. My return rate of unsold work is way higher than the zero that I would prefer! So I gotta work on that.

Woo-hoo!

My blog is worth $37,824.18.
How much is your blog worth?

Holy cow! Now I can build a new studio!

While cruising the blogs I found myself here and found that I could go here and see how much my blog is worth. Not bad for a year's work.

Oh right. It's pretend.

Never mind. (She said, in her best Rosann Rosannadanna voice.)

About New York City Part 2

Gordan Matta Clark, Splitting, 1974

On Saturday, I took the subway up to the Whitney. I had read a few articles here and there about the Gordon Matta-Clark retrospective and so I was very excited to have the opportunity to see it.

As other have written far better than I could about his life and work, go read this, this, and then this, and then come back. And then google him later if you still want to know more.

I loved this show. Somehow I felt an affinity towards the artist and his involvement with creating an art community in Soho, his quirky projects such as growing his hair out, cutting it off and then sewing the cuttings back into a wig for himself (an unfinished project, but still, an interesting concept), collecting bottles and melting them down into glass bricks to use in building projects, and his experiments with agar. His energy must have been endless and his interests were varied. His work was well documented with drawings, cibachromes and film, which become the art he made as well, especially valuable since so many of the original works no longer exist.

There were several films continuously running and they were all fascinating. I watched the artist and his friends and assistants split a house down the middle with chainsaws, cut down the foundation on one end and I had goosebumps when the house shifted and daylight spilled out from one side of the structure to the other. (Splitting, shown above)

Another film that I really enjoyed was a documentation of a day in the life of the restaurant, called Food, 1972, that Matta-Clark and several other artists and performers founded and operated. It was a pretty low-key and rather mundane film but I loved seeing a real representation of that particular time and place. It began with a trip to the fish market, then showed the all day preparations for the day's menu, including gutting and preparing the fish, cutting and chopping vegetables and the cooking of some very suspicious gruel like substances. Before the dinner rush, the employees stand around and smoke a joint, then later the customers are shown eating. At the end of the day the employees congregate for their meal at one long table in a flush of community spirit and friendship. The film ends in the small and silent kitchen while the baker prepares loaves of bread for the next day.

Food was located at 127 Prince Street, just a few blocks from where we were staying. On my way back home, I stopped in. Although it is now a kid's clothing store I could get a good sense of the space I had just become so familiar with on film. Ok, a little weird but I love spaces with history and I enjoyed going there. The nice thing about NYC is that you can go into a store, stand around looking at the walls like a dork and no one pays any attention. Especially if you are a middle aged woman. Heh.

I have always been intrigued by structures, old houses and dwellings where people live and spend time in. I think this is because I have lived in such a wide variety of homes over the years, including numerous apartments, old and new houses, mobile homes (yep, it's true, I spent my early teenage years living in a trailer park), lofts, row houses and even in a high rise. Perhaps my brief time in so many different environments that either don't exist anymore or are now significantly changed helped me to connect with Matta-Clark's alterations, most of which have been destroyed.

Anyway, I was so invigorated after seeing all of that. I did go through the rest of the Whitney, but it felt cursory, though it was nice to see two beautiful paintings by Willem de Kooning, and I ended up going back to the Matta-Clark floor again and spent another hour or so there.

Finally I left and since I haven't been to the Guggenheim in about 20 years I decided to go there. Alas, when I walked into the lobby, there were about nine million people waiting in line. Since I was still on an Matta-Clark high and didn't want to lose it, I decided to skip it and so I headed back to Soho. I went to Doug's store but he was busy with customers and so I walked around and looked into a few more galleries. Ordinarily I would have been interested in seeing some paintings, but I couldn't get into it. I just kept thinking of the work of Gordon Matta-Clark.

And now it's still on my mind. I don't know if it will really affect my own work, but since I am already heading towards more structure oriented imagery, who knows? I have spent some time reading more about him on the internet and each evening I have been poring over the exhibition book that I bought at the Whitney.

So I am certainly obsessing about a kind of art that I am usually not so interested in. Sounds silly and melodramatic but I feel as if I have been changed a bit.

About New York City

Me! In a window! In a gallery! In Soho! In NYC!

We decided to drive the whole way into the city last Thursday instead of taking the train. I had some paintings to deliver, Doug needed to deliver a fossil to a client on Saturday and we also planned to pick up a load of birch panels at Soho Art Materials on our way home. And since we left later than planned, we drove into Manhattan at rush hour. Yay. Although Doug is a good driver, I was filled with terror. I don't think you could pay me enough money to drive through that city.

Anyway, we stopped at Doug's showroom and then went down to Multiple Impressions to deliver a few paintings. It was nice to look at the other artist's work as well as to finally meet and chat with Betty, the owner. We settled into the loft space that Doug's company had rented for the month and then went out for a really nice dinner, where the waiter only had eyes for Doug. Literally. He never looked at me once and he practically rolled his eyes when I spoke. And despite the fact that we insisted on no desert, he brought over a piece of cheesecake, for Doug, of course. When we left he looked right past me to say a heartfelt goodbye to Doug. I would have felt offended except, well, it was funny.

On Friday we met up with Chris Rywalt in Chelsea and visited about 859 galleries. I thoroughly enjoyed hanging out with Chris, he is very funny, silly and smart all at the same time. Doug and I totally enjoyed seeing so much contemporary art and the highlights for me, were seeing a few of Jeff Cohen's paintings (I used to read his blog, which seems to be gone now), Ron Ehrlich's work at Stephen Haller Gallery, and David LaChapelle's photography at Tony Shafrazi Gallery. I really connected with the show at Dillon Gallery. Michael Ryan's paintings remind me of my own, but are much much better. Bigger, more colorful and more abstract. I loved them. Another show I enjoyed was at McKenzie Fine Art. The work of Marietta Ganapin should be seen in person as it is incredibly and wonderfully obsessive. In a very good way, of course.

After getting back to the loft, I dozed on the sofa (I never sleep during the day, but I was beat and what the hell - I was on vacation!) and my husband, the workaholic, went to the showroom and spent a few hours working. We ordered pizza and watched tv for the rest of the evening. Pretty exciting night in the city, eh?

Tomorrow I will write about my visit to the Whitney, which was life-altering!

Off for the Weekend

Pink Barn in Back, 2007. Oil on Panel, 18x24

Doug and I are leaving tomorrow to spend a long weekend in the city. So today I am busy getting everything organized for the kids and the babysitter, grocery shopping, and finishing up a few paintings that I will be delivering to the gallery while we are there.

Today's image, shown above, is based on a house and a barn that we saw in New Hampshire last summer. I have painted it several times with quite different results. Below are two of them, painted last fall.

See you Monday!


Cast Shadow, 2006, Oil on Panel, 16x20

New Hampshire Barns, 2006, Oil on Panel, 12x16

Best Friends Forever

BFF, 2007, Oil on Panel, 24x24

I have been wanting to put purple and red together for quite some time. While I use each of those two colors often, I have rarely put them right next to each other. It can be a tricky combination as I have found. Many previous paintings have been scrubbed back down to the underpainting because I couldn't get the right red and the right purple AND get them to harmonize rather than clash or cancel each other out.

The underpainting that I posted yesterday was a good candidate as it only has two structures. Last week I found out how difficult it can be to coordinate three different colored structures so I wanted to stay away from that particular challenge this time. I started with the red on the back building and then added the purple on the front structure. After I added that, I decided that the Perylene Red wasn't right and I went back to my trusty Cadmium Red Deep. I still wasn't sure about the colors together but I decided to add the surrounding colors and then reassess. So once I added my worker bee colors, usually blues, yellows and greens, I thought the purple and red were fine. But the roof on the front building, which was initially dark purple, bothered me and so I partially wiped it off. Once I did that the light purple side of the building really popped and gave the piece a different look. Not better necessarily, just different. So the roof probably could have gone either way, dark or light but I decided that I liked how the light roof affected everything else and I am calling it finished.

And because I am pleased with the results I will probably beat this combination into the ground for months and months. Heh.

PS. You'll have to take my word for it that the colors are working together. It's kind of a dark day and it was tough to get a really accurate photograph. I'll try to get a better one later.

My Art Star Status

More houses on deck for today. I did this underpainting last week.

Despite trying to spend less time on the computer I ended up in a blog and internet-reading marathon on Saturday.

(By the way, I completely jinxed myself with the post on Friday. I said our snow was melting and then we had a storm that day that dumped almost another foot on us. I said I was going to have the house to myself all evening, so then naturally the circus was canceled and I watched a movie with my husband with 3 interruptions involving the most trivial of childhood disagreements-who did what to who first and who gets to watch what on the other TV. I said the sick chicken was doing ok and then she died on Saturday afternoon, during the one hour of the day that we left the house to go to the neighbor's maple sugaring off party. God only knows what will become of my painting when I try to get back to it today. Heh)

Anyway, I got a kick out of my -30 score on Lisa Hunter's Art Star Game. Clearly I am not art star material. Darn! Luckily though, no one that I have worked with as of yet, has ever been concerned with my age, my looks, my degree or my waistline (except for me, but that's a given). Of course I am not in the blue chip, NYC art world, and I suppose things are different over there, but I don't really care about all of that. And actually being an art star sounds like a pain in the ass. Twenty years ago I might have been interested but now I realize that all of those distractions probably wreak havoc on personal relationships, family, studio time and whatever mental issues one already has. I just want to raise my kids properly, paint, and hopefully make a half decent living at it.

Speaking of painting, I must get to work early today. I have a number of pieces that I must finish up this week, and since Doug and I will be going to the city on Thursday, I only have a few days.

Updates

Every Other, 2007, Oil on Panel, 20x24


A few super thrilling updates on life here in the country.

The chicken in the house (the laundry room to be more specific) is still alive. She isn't exactly better but she isn't worse either. Which leaves me in a bit of limbo. She can't go back into the coop because she still seems to be unable to walk very well, but I am not sure how long we should keep her in the house either. It doesn't seem to bother her to have numerous cats staring at her all day or a bird dog sleeping in the crate below her, so I will give it some more time I guess. She is eating though which is a good sign.

We have had enough rain and warm temperatures in the last week or so to make some excellent progress in getting rid of a lot of our snow. The huge drift on our patio is still pretty big, but it's much easier to get around to fill the bird feeders and get to the chicken coop. I felt giddy the other day when the front sidewalk became visible.

Painting? Oh right, this is a painting blog. I have been working each day, still at a fairly slow pace and starting too late in the day to be really productive. Yesterday I worked on another house painting, got the whole thing painted and then decided that the colors weren't working. So I rubbed off parts of it thinking I could try a few different colors to make it work but finally I just took all of the paint off and will go back to it today. I am not as frustrated as I probably should be, because I had this hinky feeling the whole time that I was working on it and was not in the groove at all. Which is totally no fun. So I am glad to be able to start again today as it is a nice composition, worth saving.

Despite working so slowly when I was hibernating and should have really been able to crank out some paintings, I actually have quite a bit of good work stacked up, waiting to be delivered to various galleries. I will be taking a short trip soon to do that.

And Doug is finally home, which we are all very happy about, believe you me! He was in the city for two weeks doing back to back trade shows and even though we are used to how much he travels, this was a bit much. The up side for everyone now is that he is totally in charge of everything this weekend. Darn, that means I'll be missing the (lame) circus to be held in the high school gymnasium tonight. I'll be so sad about that while I sit home in a quiet house and watch a DVD. Without interruption. I am practically in tears just thinking about it.