You can do it. Yes you can. Draw that story. You're the (wo)MAN!

Just so I don't throw the entire universe out of whack, I decided (wink, wink) to skip several days of inktober - sidetracked by various stuff I won't bore you with.  Nothing new to see here.  Let's move on.  Like the KC Royals, I'm not out of it yet.  A few inking days left.

Today kids, I want to share a little motivation... another PSA from the artist.

1)  Related to the last don't-let-mean-people-get-you-down post - go watch Adebanji Alade talk about what to do with those less than supportive comments and then watch "Life as an Artist."  To say he is inspiring is an understatement.  His main message: If you want to be an artist, then draw, draw, DRAW...  Every.  Single.  Day.

2)  James Gurney's is a masterful painter with an average guy delivery.  He's the kind neighbor who talks to everyone, but this neighbor is brilliant and oh so generous with his knowledge.  Yesterday he blogged about a sketching/painting trip in Texas.  http://gurneyjourney.blogspot.com/2014/10/saturday-on-east-side-of-austin.html  He and his wife start out in search of interesting people to sketch.  They wind up on an ordinary street and he paints what seems to be an ordinary house.  He eloquently relays the story this simple house tells him as he is painting.  

THAT, my friends, is what illustrated journaling is all about.  Relaying the stories of things, places, people in the artist's own "words."  Tell the story.  Add words if needed.  Do it again tomorrow.

Esteem

We interrupt your regularly scheduled inktober post for this rambling public service announcement...

Life isn't fair.  Some people are mean.  Take away their power.  Let go & live your life!

There seems a persistent theme in life, and especially in art circles.  "I was told I'm awful, so I can't ________."  It pops up as "the monkey" in our SBS discussions.  Who do you blame?  How do you overcome it?  The discussion ebbs & flows.  I had some brilliant thoughts about this.  As brilliance goes, it was a flash & I forgot the rest.  Dang.  Here's what I remember.

1) I have the power.

I was fortunate to have supportive parents and an art teacher who cheered me on.  College professors were relatively kind.  I was blessed.  However, I was also a shy awkward geek with a few close friends.  We were sometimes antagonized and mostly ignored by the "cool" kids.  We didn't let them rule our lives.  I still liked school.  I still participated.  Sure, I often felt sorry for myself, but that's called being a teenager.  Eventually I realized the only one who could make me feel better about me... was ME.  You know - you have to love yourself before others can - stuff like that.  Does that mean it's all sunshine & daisies now?  Of course not.  That annoying inner critic is always lurking.  A good support system helps, but I'm the only one who truly has the power to soften that voice.

2) Teachers/parents/humans are NOT all horrible because one of them was crappy to you.

A recent Sketchbook Skool assignment revolved around drawing your first day of school from imagination.  Many drew a less-than-great memory of mean teachers and /or critical parents.  My kindergarten & 1st grade teachers were kind.  My 2nd and 3rd grade teachers were completely awful.  One slapped a friend right out of her chair.  4th through 12th were mostly good, some great, none awful, well, except the monotone government teacher.  I've compared notes with friends and - public or private - some teachers suck & some teachers were miraculous, with a whole variety in between.  Pat yourself on the back for surviving the inept.  Report the awful.  Thrive with the good.  Isn't that really how it is with grownup life?  We share this world with some horrid evil people and some incredibly saintly folks.  I believe the rest of us fall in between and weigh the scale more heavily towards good.  You just have to look closely and SEE the human being in the sour faced stranger at the post office.  And, of course, behind the wrinkles in the mirror.

You have the power.  Life is beautiful, if you let it be.

The (overly) Critical Eye

I received my ceramics paper back today.  We had written about each lesson and graded ourselves on creativity and craftsmanship and such.  The instructor added some comments to my paper, which began with the following:

"You were a bit too critical on your craftsmanship.  Rarely did I see you give up on a piece.  Your resilience and creative eye will take you places!"

I don't share this to point attention to my abilities, but to point out how artists tend to be their own worst critics.  We are so hard on ourselves it can be stifling.  The second sentence is not always true for me - especially when I'm sitting in my studio alone.  I'm tacking this up on the wall as motivation!

After too many days of bupkis, here's a bit of proof that I finally put pen to paper again.  Every fiber of my being wants to explain what is wrong with them.  Gaah!  It's so hard to not be overly critical!

Sketching in the Moleskine Cahier while my hubby checked on things at our business.  For once, I wish he would've been in there a little longer.

Contour drawing of negative space (drawing open spaces instead of branch lines) in our large locust tree.  It's remarkably easy to lose track in the many swaying branches.  The whiny cat interruptions didn't help.  (Milo hates wind).  He eventually won and we went back inside.

Artist Pants

I threw a casserole dish then spray glazed a few plates in class tonight.

Someday they will be paint-splattered artist pants.

Just Do It! . . . badly

"If something is worth doing, it's worth doing badly."

Though an odd twist on an old saying, after viewing the TED talk by Elizabeth Perry, it makes sense.  She wanted to learn to draw and began drawing daily... nine years ago.  She has never missed a day and is one of my inspirations.  Check out the video - "Do something badly" on her blog - quite inspiring.  Really, go watch it and then come back.

Ms. Perry's three bits of advice - draw every day, don't erase, don't criticize - can apply to many things.  What do you want to learn?  What dream are you chasing?  Do it every day.  Learn from your mistakes.  Don't tear yourself down.

An entertaining follow-up... This London artist sketches with a typewriter.  She is remarkably talented.  Intriguing, but I don't aspire to learn this skill.   Speaking only for myself - typewriter sketching is not worth doing badly.  My artistic agenda is plenty full without it.

Update: The video link has disappeared.  However, you can read about the artist and her work at her website - keirarathbone.com. 

What a Difference a Year Makes

I took the weekend off from everything except laundry and football.  Me and the hubby hung out in the living room trying to banish evil cold germs.  Sipping Sleepytime Sinus Soother tea with honey tonight and feeling maybe almost human again.  I scanned through a few days of blog posts and discovered one artist, Shari Blaukopf, is celebrating two years of blogging.  Her art & blog are a steady inspiration.  Today she inspired me to reflect on the past year.

September 24, 2012: One rusty artist starts a quest with no real idea where it will lead.

Follow-through is not one of my great traits.  This blog, intended to keep me accountable, has done just that.  I have not always fleshed out grand plans hatched in this blog, but I'm still at it.  I don't sketch every day, but I do every week.  A few times a week is better than a few times a decade.

What came out of the tackle box so far:

public sketching chutzpah

"Artist" print prize

vacation sketching

artsy Christmas gifts

illustrated Christmas letter 

virtual watercolor class 

family ancestor drawing

studio space   

college pottery class  

Sketchbook Project

two newly filled sketchbooks

a few readers inspired to draw or create

bravery with sidewalk art

a whole bunch of found moments to sketch

I've been beating myself up for not sketching enough.  Daily sketching is still a goal, but it's reassuring to see that list.  Thank you to my family and friends for your support and indulgence.  I am blessed.

Here's one of the found moments this past summer - a quick sketch of the newly cleaned combine as I waited for the guys to finish up a repair.

October 14, 2013:  Time to warm up my tea and continue the journey.

Failure is not Fatal

Tuesday night I found my pottery wheel mojo again.  It was more elusive Thursday.  The following two Winston Churchill quotes are stuck in my head.

"Success is not final, failure is not fatal.  It's the courage to continue that counts."

"Success is going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm."

I know he was definitely not referring to clay pots, but these wise words apply to my pottery throwing experience thus far...  Ugh - that's awful.  Yay - it's working.  Oh no - it's collapsing!  Ah - how lovely.  Bleh - not so much.  You get the picture.

I plan to sketch my pots and post the drawings, but haven't had the nerve to sit in a wide open classroom and whip out the sketchbook & pencil.  I'll get there - hopefully.  In the meantime, it's been awhile since I shared actual sketches, so here you go.

The garden sketch that resulted from my daughter's inspiration.  Cretacolor graphite pencils in my pocket Moleskine.

If the muses are failing, draw your feet.  It's kind of a mantra.  This is the first page in the Hand·Book sketchbook.  It is tucked away now until I finish the three other sketchbooks in progress, but I had to try it out with the new pencils first.

Centering - or - How My Daughter Inspired Me

Yesterday, after a few frustrating hours in the ceramics room, I wrote the following:

I HAVE been drawing, not enough, but I have.  I drew in a hospital waiting room yesterday.  More sketches will appear soon, but no photos ready at the moment. 

The pottery class is not only a kick in the pants, it is kicking my butt.  Frustrations galore.  I want to love it.  I already lost my mojo at the wheel.  Sometimes fine, but mostly lopsided aggravation.  Sigh.  I also don't know many of the standard procedures - like where certain tools are that haven't been discussed yet, but everybody else seems to know what they're doing.  They create much nicer pots and are at ease in the room.  Understandable, since most have taken this class at least once before.  It's like a dream where everyone knows what's going on and and you are clueless. I was there for 3 1/2 hours today working on my own - resulting in 2 small off-center cylinders and a few hesitantly stamped and carved pots from last week.  No mojo.  No comfort level (except while carving shapes out of one of the pots).  I feel ancient and challenged.  Rant over.  I'm sure it will get better as we go.  After all, there have been only 4 class periods.  Gotta' work on the patience level. 

Time to stop sulking and go sit at the "studio" desk.

My husband arrived home at that point and I clicked save.  A few dominoes fell after I closed the laptop.

First, I didn't go sit at the desk.  It was supper time and we decided to eat out.  Second, when we returned I noticed a package on the steps - a box of new art materials expected next week.  Woot!  I now have the supplies needed for two free online classes from Strathmore.  There was also a new sketchbook I couldn't resist after reading Shari Blaukopf's post about her Hand·Book sketchbook and Cretacolor graphite pencils.

Then, this morning I woke to a text from my daughter.  She had sketched in the wee hours of the morning - the second night she has done so & a new event for her.  I'm delighted she has been inspired.  Finally, one family member has taken advantage of my gifts last Christmas.


This was a reminder of how badly I've been slacking off with the daily sketching.  Spurred on by the new tools and especially my daughter's drawings, I sketched while watering the garden.  It doesn't change the status of my pottery skills, but it's nudged the journey back on track.

Remind me to do this again tomorrow.

MY Voice

There has been a theme this past month in other blogs about that internal, annoyingly negative voice.  Much of it is helpful - quieting the voice, using the voice, ignoring the voice, just getting busy.  However, there are also suggestions the voice must be remnants from your parents or teachers telling you to drop art and get serious, or something to that effect.

Well, (sigh) I'm a little weary of reading that excuse - for art or anything else in life.  I'm sure it's true for others, but we're not all tortured artists - picked on and bullied by the less enlightened meanies in our lives.  I cannot think of one single person of importance in my life, or even non importance really, who ever told me to give it up.  Okay, one - my high school guidance counselor wanted me to pursue engineering, but he did not scoff when I was set on art.  In fact, the only negative comment that comes to mind is my graphic design professor telling me I needed to be more serious about developing my portfolio.  I think he sensed I was not passionate about graphic design.  It was my major because I (me, myself & only me) thought I needed to find a way to make my art pay since I (again, just me) felt I couldn't possibly be a good enough artist to make a living otherwise.  No teacher ever told me this.  Friends were supportive.  Art exhibit judges were complimentary.  The local junior college art instructors asked me to attend there.  (Seriously - not trying to brag here, just showing the lack of meanies.)  My family was completely supportive.  My parents were proud and vocal about it.  They wanted all their kids to follow whatever dreams we had.

So, where does the nagging voice come from?  The only thing I can come up with is DNA. *shaking fist*  Dang ancestors!  I believe some people are just hard-wired with a perfectionist nature and if you can't do something perfect the first time, why try?  That's what I fight.

If you're an artist, buck it up, stop blaming whoever & just get busy.  If you have an artist in your life, by all means be supportive.  But, don't feel like you have to tip toe around their fragile egos.  I find many people are too nice - complimenting regardless of what the piece really looks like.  I value my husband's opinion because I know he will be honest.  He likes to brag on me occasionally too, but he's not going to praise just to prop me up.  If I'm working on something and it doesn't feel right, he can give me perspective of what seems wrong to him.  I like that.

Now, back to work.  Time to quiet my own negative voice - to prove MYSELF wrong.

Artists Anonymous

Time out from the drawing project.  Actually, I was already taking a time out from the project and read this post on Danny Gregory's blog.  It's about the voice that stops us from doing what we love.  It really hit home for me, especially since I was reading it while procrastinating drawing.  It inspired me to finally write today's post now - before I get back to what I should be doing...

Last weekend, at a farmers market, one of the vendors wrapped our purchase in brown Kraft paper.  I said "So old school.  I can use this, because..." here the voice blurted out loud "I'm sort of an artist."  . . . sort of?  Why did I just say that?!?  I've wanted to be an artist since childhood.  I've been committed to rediscovering my art since last fall.  Why is it so hard to just say it?

This blog was started with a certain amount of anonymity.  I wanted to hold myself accountable and share with supportive family and friends.  They knew who I was and that was all that mattered.  Then, when I won The Artist print from Flying Shoes Art Studio, Kristy asked me for a little info so she could blog about the winner.  Um... hmmm... not quite yet...  I ramble on in this blog, but I'm a relatively quiet observer in person (except around my loud and wonderful family).  I wasn't ready, no matter how infrequent an unknown reader may stop by.  I remained Aggie and gained a follower to the blog.

I've noticed most artist bloggers use their real names, or at least a portion of it.  I mentioned to my sister recently that I think it might be time to share my real identity.  That sounds so Clark Kent and important!  It's not THAT important.  It's just been feeling appropriate.  I still hesitated.  Then the doubting voice incident happened and then I read that inspiring post today.  Sheesh, not a big deal, just do it already!

Well, I don't really know where I'm going yet - for fun? for family? for sale? for all of that? - learning as we go along.  However, I've been at this long enough to know I don't want to stop.  I will still blog as Aggie.  It's part of a nickname Dad gave me as a child and it is still me.  However, in the spirit of any other 12 step program... 

My name is Janet Kohl and I am... an artist.

A Case of the Why's

Bear with me dear reader, as I ponder a bit today.

Why draw?  Why paint?  Why care?  Why blog?  Why? Why? Why?  On a ridiculously regular basis I ask myself why I started this trek and why my art, or art in general, should matter to me or anyone else.  Sometimes I remember the answers and sometimes not.  Sooooo, here are the top 10 wise me pep talks to grumpy me:

1) Drawing makes you focus on the details - really seeing things/people (regardless of how lovely or crappy the end result is).  A side bonus is a more vivid memory of the moment - weather, smells, sounds, conversations - because your brain tosses them back to you each time you return to that sketch.

2) There's something much more personal about creating your own view instead of snapping a photo.

3) I have a gift, regardless of how much or little talent I really have, there is some, and it's a waste to ignore it.

4) Creating/viewing art is simply therapeutic.

5) After reading the post about my artistic style, my sister commented that I do have a certain style in both my handwriting (which is horrid) and my art, no matter the medium.  I replied "sloppy?"  She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it's something to do with upbeat, uplifting... something up.  Maybe I paint in the style of a messy optimist.  Someday I'll be famous & they'll write books about the Messy Optimism movement.  Ha!

6) While we're on the subject of my supportive sibling.  I was ruminating awhile back on what useful purpose there could possibly be, other than my own selfishness, for this blog.  Then I read her post on Fierce & Nerdy - let your light shine - where she linked to my blog as an inspiration.  I can be inspiring!  Woot!  Maybe not to a whole herd of people, but to a few and that's better than none.

7)  Blogging holds me accountable - 1 reader or a bevy of imaginary readers or just me - we've come to expect a post now and then and they can't all be about quotes or art book reviews.

8) Sometimes what I create can affect another person's life.  The last lesson of the virtual watercolor journal class was painting man made objects.  I challenged myself by painting glass & plastic.  These items were reminders of Dad.  I added journaling and posted it on Mom's Facebook page in hopes of making her smile.  My aunt (Dad's sister) then commented how it touched her as well.  I was delighted to make a small difference with my dabbles of paint.

And then there's this.

9) This was my first and only oil painting.  18-year-old me painted this in the spring of my senior year.  It hangs in Mom's sewing room.  My daughter took this photo with her camera phone a few years back and posted it for all her friends to see.  There were several "She should do this all the time!" comments.  Granted, it's no master.  However, if I could do this once as a teenager, it seems important to explore what I might be capable of now, if I just stick with it!

10)  Milo seems to think every photo session is really meant for him to paw-test the sketchbook.  He has come to expect this and it's just thoughtless to disappoint the cat.

Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner

What is my style?  Do I have one definable style?  Can it really be defined at this point or ever?  I suppose so, to some extent.  Upon seeing some of my work from the watercolor journal class, a friend said "So, your style is kind of folksy?"  Say what?  I wanted to burst into laughter.  That is probably one of the last words I would've used, but seeing the direction of this particular class, I get how she thought that.  Plus, maybe I do have that look and don't even realize it.  Unnamed friend, if you're reading this, don't worry, I really do understand and I appreciate your interest.

Why does it bother me when someone tries to define my style?  Perhaps the perfectionist in my bones wants to hear "Your style is perfect."  That's just silly (says my inner smart person).  Perhaps it's because I can't seem to settle on one medium or technique.  Perhaps I don't want to be limited, or expected, to draw and paint a certain way.  (Cue Roy Rogers - Don't Fence Me In.)  When someone grabs the specimen frame and tries to pin down my style, I wriggle away and want to prove whatever they just said is wrong.  Why?  Perhaps it's just human nature.

Okay, so here's the deal world - I don't want to paint (or draw) myself into a corner, so don't plan on putting me there.  I'm breaking out - trying new things along with "perfecting" the old.

Now, where's that Dirty Dancing soundtrack?