Capturing Critters

Saturday afternoon was intended for garden cleaning.  Seven little distractions halted that plan.  

While pulling out parsley, I noticed a yellow-dotted caterpillar clinging motionless to the nearby dill.  Closer inspection revealed six more.  Either my activity or the falling temperature had slowed them.  I touched one and his little yellow horns flared out.  My inner child squealed with delight (really, I didn't do that out loud).  I dashed inside and brought out my bag of sketchbooks, pens & colored pencils.  I also texted my butterfly savvy sister & niece for advice.  The light was fading and temperature falling.  One quick caterpillar sketch and a bit of color and no time for more.  I plucked the dill, creatures and all, and placed it into the jars.  They're all hanging out in the garage now, munching the dill and getting closer to chrysalis stage.  We've done this a couple of times before and released the butterflies in the spring, but never with so many at once.  I'm a little bit excited.

I intended to draw more and still hoping I can do so before the little buggers change.  Homework for the pottery class prevents me from doing so now.  Time gets away from us.  Regardless, I'm glad I stole a few minutes to record the moment.

Throwing Dishes from the Roller Coaster

Okay - someone please find the roller coaster operator.  He's been away eating deep-fried Twinkies too long and it's time to give the riders a break.  Oy vey.

Life itself is one heck of an amusement ride (not always so amusing), but lets just focus on ART360 and yesterday's up/down-fest.  Our most recent lesson was bowls and sgraffito.  I finished the sgraffito carving on my split & rejoined bowls yesterday.  When you see the pictures, yes, the bowl is supposed to be noticeably grafted together.  I thoroughly enjoyed the carving and scraping.  Then, as usual, I was dreading moving on to the next lesson - throwing plates.  I was just getting the hang of bowls!  Why do we HAVE to move on?  Well, you know what I love about plates?  Plates don't have sides that go up!  My issues with wobbling off center as the sides get higher is not an issue with plates.  Yahoo!  I created one rather decent plate and am looking forward to Thursday's class.  However, we also will be making and using stencils for the first time.  Sigh.  Another new method to learn.  More angst of the unknown. I'm sure I'll be fine again when I figure out what I'm doing.  I only wish there weren't so many downs between the ups.

Photos from the classroom:

The dark side will be black.  The lighter side will turn dark blue when fired and the stoneware will show through where the leaves and stems are carved away.

There has to be some kind of metaphor here with bowls cut apart and grafted together to make something interesting and lovely.  It's not coming to me now.  Maybe when that slacker ride operator gets back I'll figure it out.

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.

Midterm Eval

I have not felt artsy lately.  Life has thrown wrenches at us from multiple angles and I want to pull the covers over my head and ignore the world.  Actually, I'd rather ride off on the Harley with my man to a quiet inn with big soft beds and then hide under fluffy covers with bowls of shredded chicken nachos and hot fudge (separate bowls) and peak out only to watch a Monk marathon or the Carol Burnett Show or The Princess Bride on repeat.  Now I have my husband's chest cold.  And, it's too hot outside.  And, it's too windy.  I'm a grumpy lump and I'm venting here.  Apologies.  The point of this is that the stress makes me want to skip pottery class.  However, I go because I paid for it and I know it's good for my artist soul regardless of how the day went.

This week is the halfway mark of the semester.  Tuesday night we were asked to write an evaluation of what we've done so far - struggles, achievements and such.  Here's a completely different self-evaluation.

• The pottery wheel is a sadistic medieval torture device disguised as a fantastic art tool ... centered, not centered, centered, not, good, not, sigh... another wonky pot.
• There are numerous types of clay and all respond differently on the wheel.  I'm overwhelmed.
• Working alone is my preferred modus operandi.  I'm a hermit.
• Carving into the clay has been the absolute best part of the class.  I'm a sculptor.
• I am relatively boring.  I have not died my hair, pierced anything beyond my earlobes, or sat in a communal hot tub with established artists.  (Please feel free to participate, just not my thing.)
• I am messy - always leaving with clay or glaze on my clothes.  I didn't really just learn this.  I've just decided to embrace it.  I'm a slob.
• I would love to continue working with clay (sans wheel) and hope to figure out a way to do this.

So, I'm an overwhelmed, sloppy hermit who likes to draw and sculpt.  To be honest, the last class went exceptionally well.  I created two mostly centered bowls, scraped clay off my Mishima design and participated in a Raku firing that was an excellent smoky distraction.  All in all, it's a good experience with some expected frustrations.  I'm looking forward to the second half of this adventure.  Really, I am.

Beneath My Feet

I chalked up a new art adventure Saturday - literally.  I stood, bent, squat, kneeled, sat & crawled over a 10' patch of sidewalk for about 4 hours drawing my first sidewalk art.  One week earlier I had no idea I would be doing this.

A month ago, my mother mentioned a chalk art contest during my hometown's Cornfestival.  I would be attending my class reunion at that time.  I said it sounded interesting, then promptly forgot about it.  Last Sunday, Mom mentioned she signed me up & did I still want to participate?  What?  My first reaction - "I can't do that!"  But here was another chance for a kick in the artist's pants, so I relented. 

Realism didn't feel doable for my first attempt, so I sketched up a whimsical scene the night before and am glad I went that route.  According to my creative cohorts, the sidewalk was too rough & too clean.  The pastel powder wasn't sticking as it should and would blow away as we worked.  Details just wouldn't hold well and the colors were not as intense.

In spite of the setbacks, I enjoyed my adventure and seeing everyone's pieces take shape.

This sun was by Karen, who was also a first-timer.  I love the colors and patterns.  She used a spray bottle of water to help the pastels stay.

I am impressed by the realism of the second photo.  Though Therese was disappointed with how her details kept blowing away, I was amazed by what she could accomplish on the rough concrete.  Something to strive for!  Therese was also very encouraging.  I owe this adventure mainly to her and my mother.  

The sidewalk across the street was filled with chalking kids.  These photos were taken the next day with my camera high above my head.  Mom and I both remarked how interesting the 3D effect was of the blocks in this first photo.  The images all look a little different from street level.  We didn't realize it was Mario until I looked through the photos on my camera! 

The Wolf Spirit is my favorite.  I don't know how old the artist was, but the imagination and use of color in this depiction of Native American folklore is fun!

And here's my whimsical tree...

It is faded from the chalk blowing away, but the flowers especially kept disappearing.

as seen from the street

from above

I didn't notice as I was snapping the picture, but now I see a bicycle tire mark along the bottom.  I wonder how long before the colors are worn & washed away.

a little perspective of the size of our squares... and a closer look at the tire mark

Cornfestival attendees were encouraged to vote for their favorites and I was surprised to learn I wound up with second place.  Second place came with a small cash prize.  I'm counting it as my first income as an artist.  Maybe I'll try this again sometime.

Blessed Branches

This past week was endless.  I looked up at the clock mid afternoon Wednesday and thought "Man am I glad tomorrow is Saturday... wait.... dang."  Wishing for time to pass is wishing your life away and I try not to.  Sometimes life just throws you curve balls.

Thankfully, I can count numerous blessings in my life.  Today I de-stressed while canning strawberry peach jam.  Time to think and focus on creating homemade deliciousness - good for the soul.  I also want to draw or maybe paint the cluster of red-orange jars after supper tonight.  

Last weekend's blessing was a trip to the farm to prepare for drilling wheat.  (Not sure what that is?  Check out this older post on my other neglected blog of randomness.)  I grabbed my sketching supplies on the way out of the door that day.  At the farm - I hesitated only a bit.  What to draw?  What medium to use?   First the Pentel pocket brush.  Within 30 seconds, my husband walked to the grain truck (my subject) to move it.  Crap.  Speed sketch!  30 seconds more and the comical results needed written explanation.

The truck was now under the auger and the wheat began spilling into the bed.  It wasn't going anywhere for awhile.  I switched pens and settled in.  Forty eight additional minutes make a difference.  My husband and son will recognize, though, that part of the cab is out of whack.

The truck was nearly full then.  I finished up a few shaded areas and turned the page.  Next subject...

The old tree below was almost completely destroyed a couple of years ago.  The bare trunk refused to die.  Drawing the spindly limbs was a huge frustration at first.  I just kept scratching away and it started looking like something.

Life lesson today.  Change is inevitable.  Expected or not - it can be good or irritating or devastating.  Regardless, take stock of your blessings, be resilient and rely on loved ones.

This too shall pass and the scars will soon be covered with new branches.

Hot Flashes & Reading Glasses

I am, of course, the eldest student in my pottery class.  A few gray hairs and wrinkles give me away, but hey now - I'm not out of my 40's yet people.  Some issues are not so apparent - like the ignored back pain last week while moving from throwing wheel to sink.  Back: "Oh, OW, stop moving!  That hurts!"  Brain: "Suck it up creaky old pansy."

Then there's the badly timed cooling failures.  I hesitated relaying this story.  The dreamer and the realist had a little chat first.  "What will younger readers think?"  "Young readers?  Really?"  (uncontrollable giggling)  "What about the guys?"  "Guys - as in men? ... reading this blog about art & stuff?"  "Yeah, there might be one every now and then." (laughter - can't talk - tears streaming)  "But it makes me feel old."  "So what?"  Thus, the realist convinced the dreamer to just do it already & stop being a nitwit.

Back to the busted thermostat.  I inherited my mother's obnoxiously sensitive body & hormones.  That means I get to go through the M word a little on the early side of normal.  Yup, menopause.  There, I said it.

Now, imagine sitting at a pottery wheel - in a circle of pottery wheels manned by kids who's parents I could've babysat.  La dee dah - how nicely the clay is responding...do dee doo... um... getting a little warm in here ... nobody else notices... hmm, yeah getting hotter ... aaand FWOOOOM!  75° in the room, but my furnace kicks in to, oh, lets say it's about ... 800 million degrees.  Tiny sweat beads form on the forehead, chin & back.  Don't let 'em see you sweat.  Casually pat back of hand to the forehead & chin.  Furnace shuts off & we're back to pretending we're young again.  Whew.

The latest event involved the reading glasses mentioned last fall.  We've been carving patterns into pots the past week.  Most of my carving was finished at home - with my reading glasses on.  Class time last night was strictly to finish up our carving.  I spread out my tools and picked up the pot ... "If you want this to look halfway decent, you know what you have to do."  (realist - she's so annoying)  Sigh.  Glasses on.  Maybe I look wise.  Yeah, we'll go with that.

Out Standing (sitting) in the Field

My "typos" drive me batty - fending off flies.

I sat in the pickup Sunday while my husband did fieldwork.  A ticker tape of "I should be drawing" sputtered through my mind as I sat waiting.  Did I draw?  Of course not.  Instead, I read the paper (tick tick tick) checked Facebook and email on my phone (tick tick tick) daydreamed... a lot.  (tick tick tick)  Why is it so blasted hard to start when I really do want to?  It's not a mystery.  That nagging voice insisting it won't be perfect so don't even try.  It's a sketchbook for Pete's sake!  It's not going to be hanging in some museum!  Yes, I do often have these internal arguments.

I finally pulled out my pen & a hand-sized Moleskine Cahier stashed in my purse specifically for these found moments.  What to draw?  The biting flies were persistent - hence the bug spray line drawing.  There's some satisfaction in quieting the voice - SILENCE!  Just as I was getting into the groove, the tractor pulled out of the field and rumbled down the road.  Time to stash the pen & put my shoes back on. (It was getting warm.)

A couple miles to the next field and parked again.  No hesitation this time.  A weathered wood post said matter-of-factly, "Me next."  It was an odd angle and the foreshortening was a challenge, but I dove right it.  We weren't there long and I didn't finish.  However, in the process, I realized something.  Though I have grown accustomed to, and will continue to use, the tidy dark Microns & Copics, a nice fine ballpoint is a better match for my sketching style.  Little discoveries like that make me smile.  Ahh - insight.

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.

Where the Links Lead

I found something today that every single creative human should read, especially if you're an "I do it when I have time" creative.

The blogs I follow often link to another intriguing blog or article, which has a link to something else of interest.  This could go on endlessly.  Today it was James Gurney's post about Ernest Watson and his pencil techniques.  The comments section had a link to Kathy Hodges' Art and Nature post about the paper Mr. Watson used.  I then found her post about the struggles of painting when time allows.  In it, she linked to an Onion article "Find the thing you're most passionate about, then do it on nights and weekends for the rest of your life."

Go read it.  It's accurate, funny, sad and motivating.  Seriously - go read it.

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 Place

What a week!  I remember now how badly I procrastinate homework, no matter how artsy it may be.  I'm remembering how much I like working solo in class instead of in groups or pairs.  I'm even worse now than I was in college at becoming so involved in what I'm doing I forget to stop and pay attention when the instructor talks.  I'm feeling a bit on edge knowing each class will involve a new process or technique.  The learning phase is grating on the perfection bone & I'm fighting it the best I can.

Okay, enough whining - back to the reason for this next post:  The other kick in the pants.

Drum roll please...

"Aggie Doodles Studio"

I HAVE STUDIO SPACE!  Well, it's still mostly guest room -  2/3 bedroom and 1/3 art space.  But hey - it's a lot better than the ottoman.

Last weekend the mood struck and I hauled the ancient drawing table upstairs.  Then, I used the moving man coasters and my wimpy muscles to rearrange furniture.  My hubby arrived after I'd moved everything except the bed and, following his input, we moved everything again.  I spent the rest of the day arranging art tools, books and papers.

The items on the table will soon be hanging above it on the wall - next to the Normal Rockwell print that looks so much like my parents.

Draw or get karate chopped!

The doorknob sign came with my autographed copy of James Gurney's "Color and Light."  Tis fabulous!  Also - I love that his handwriting is nearly as sloppy as mine.

 

I am surrounded with memorabilia.  I excel in nostalgia.  In other words, I keep way too many ridiculous and wonderful things.  I blame my pack rat dad.  Above the shelves of art books, you can see the book my sister wrote & I illustrated a few years ago.  In front of it are several items that remind me of Dad.  Middle shelf - my black and blue grade school pot and my daughter's light blue 5th grade pot.  The polka dot ball is actually a circa 1977 paper mache light bulb - turned into a maraca.  I still call it a light bulb for inspiration.  Get it?  Light bulb = idea!  Right?  Anyway -  My first clay head (high school freshman) looks out from the bottom shelf.


On the dresser - aka taboret - the pot holding my neglected pen nibs and the wide-eyed owl were crafted by my daughter.  In the photo below you'll see a cup gifted to me on Valentine's Day, again from my daughter.

I don't know why I have so many daughter pots and no son pots.  A search of the house turned up more by her, but only one solitary clay item sculpted by him - have to investigate this mystery.



The chalk lays in probably the first pot I ever made - in 1974.  I only know this because of the scrawl on the bottom.  I have no memory of making it.

The other two pots were bought at the university pottery sale.  The lava lamp is my husband's.  He is nicely letting it stay there since he actually forgot he had it.  The wheat is from one of our fields and was used as decoration for my father-in-law's 80th birthday party 7 years ago.  See - I save stuff.


While my tools are now in one room, much of my high school and college art work are stashed under our basement stairs.  My future goal is to redo the guest room to include space to store that as well.  At some point the carpet will probably need to go.  I'm a sloppy artist and regardless of my efforts otherwise, spatters and spills are my norm.  My hubby is helping me research lighting.  Right now I'm TRYING to focus on drawing skills, but I want to paint too and that requires neutral lighting - not too blue, not too yellow.  I also yearn for a real easel.  I found a reasonably priced metal easel, but I'm hoping to someday talk my carpentry-gifted spouse into make one for me for Christmas. *cheesy grin*

I found this about a year ago while cleaning a drawer. No idea where it came from originally, but I know it's meant to hang out with me in my new "studio."