Day Ninety: Strange Days Indeed

I smell a sweet scent in the air: delicate, alluring, illusive, and enticing. Spring of course is cleansing the skies often, showers and hail and winds. But still, it lingers there in the back of my mind, rekindled unexpectedly, at odd places. If I could put my finger on it... but its source, its essence, eludes me.

Entranced, I make art and it makes me. 

Wednesday March 31: Sharpie on drawing paper, 14"x17"

(Ninety days of art in a row! I kick ass!)

Day Eighty Nine: Official Capacity

There is bliss to be had in everyday, but apparently occasionally some shit must get kicked up so that bliss remains... well, blissful. If there is never a change of season, things get boring. 

Today I got the shit and the bliss.

The day surrounding my morning of less than desirable activities with officials had lots of wonderful: a  friend that provided morale, a friend that provided eggs, a friend that provides inspiration for my art, a friend that provided appreciation for my art, a friend that returned to me, a friend that rode with me, a friend that I desire, and a friend that I learned from. 

All in all, bliss kicked shits ass.

Tuesday, March 30: Sharpie on card stock. 9"x12"

Day Eighty Eight: Fish Art

The entire day Sunday was great, but I ended with friends, old and new, learning how to roll sushi. I enjoyed the process, the friends and the result. I think my efforts are worthy of art today:

Monday March 29: Rice, salmon, seaweed, veggies, wasabi

Day Eighty Seven: Just in case

Wow, what an amazing weekend. I am speechless.

Sunday March 28: Sharpie on Watercolor paper.

Day Eighty Six: smells so good

And still I am confused.

not confused, not really.


where I thought I was, I wasn't.

And now my smile is so important.

Saturday, March 27: yeah, what of it,

Day Eighty Five: The Hot Air Balloon Left WIthout Me...

*Click, Click* "There's no place like home."

*Click, Click* "There's no place like home."

*Click, Click* "There's no place like home."

How did I get here anyway?

t

Friday March 26: SHARPIE

Day Eighty Four: Inexorable Changes

I generally try to stay calm, quiet of mind and if not exactly focused, at least not prone to flights of imagination, fear and agitation. But here I am. Losing touch with now in deference to something that may occur. It upsets my stomach, this nameless irritant.

Hanging out in my own head is fun. But the outside world is beginning to intrude. I am going to have to paste on a smile, screw up my resolution and take on the tasks they require.

Where is my fairy godmother? The one who makes sure I only must make art, that I am fed, that my bicycle is handy, and the world stays at bay. I am content looking only where it pleases me and being blissful, even though sometimes it requires a bit of willful oblivion.

Apparently she is away and has left the task to me. Shit.

At least there is still the art. Moving inexorably onward. Thank you.

Thursday March 25: Sharpie on card stock, 9"x12"

"What other dungeon is so dark as one's own heart! What jailer so inexorable as one's self!" ~Nathaniel Hawthorn

"It seems to be a law of nature, inflexible and inexorable, that those who will not risk cannot win." ~John Paul Jones

"Adapt or perish, now as ever, is nature's inexorable imperative.  ~H. G. Wells

Day Eighty Three: Tell me about yourself...

My focus is divided today. I have tasked myself to become a better speaker. As an artist I have joked with the notion that if I had the words, I would not need the art.

Ha, likely story is that I suck at it. Or like the old adage that people fear public speaking more than death and would prefer to be in the box than give the eulogy at a funeral. Well, I am hoping for more than that. And I am actually generally not loathe to speak up, if approached. But what if I need to sound more succinct or interesting or clear?

So I have joined Toastmasters.

Wow. It is a change of pace in so many ways. Different people than my normal circle, which I appreciate. But we meet at 6:30AM. And if you know anything about me... What are you thinking? must come to mind.

In a few hours I give my first talk. About me. Ouch.

so you get this, the power of the orange:

Wednesday March 24: Sharpie on watercolor paper.

Did I mention my speeding ticket. $124.00 and the insurance papers in the car expired two days ago. Sweet. Suck-a-licious.

Day Eighty Two: Love and Encouragement = Yum!

 As my vision gets simpler, my images get more complex. Its fun in the making, simple, clear. Just the view that is skewed.

Tuesday, March 23: sharpie on card stock. 9"x12"

Day Eighty One:A Monday Again, Routinely.

Monday is always a challenge. I hate the routine of a job, but perhaps I need some routine. I function well under the guise of routine. How can I possibly rebel if not against a routine.

and so I routinely produce this:

Monday March 22: sharpie on cardstock 9"x12"

Day Eighty: No Mimosa Sunday

Sunday was not so sunny today. Which is good. Some days I need to do indoor things and it is impossible for me on a sunny Sunday to do that. 

So, for the first day in a long time, I stayed in my fuzzy pants all day. And after a leisurely morning reading fang smut in bed I ambled to my tool shed and started puttering. Several pots of sweet creamy tea fueled me for most of the day. 

I started with a wander in the rain to survey the trees before I started. Everything looks so different outside under a stormy sky. And the trees are still so stark. While little nubs of buds are pushing their way out, the trees here are still without leaf. On other hikes, near the river, where it must be warmer the buds have the tiniest green tips not yet visible here. 

Then with my tea hot and the music playing, I worked with a plodding simplicity and quiet brain most of the day. I do love the process.

There were interruptions of course. Mine are not the only tools in the tool shed. 

My niece, at seven, is quite an artist in her own right. I do not need to give her any advice on art. I just provide some tools. And an example of focused concentration. And we have a sideways conversation when she comes to visit  the tool shed and we work. Not much eye contact, long pauses while laboring over a color, short questions and answers, followed by approving nods to each others efforts. Simple.

And then the boys with their new acquisition: the salmon colored boat. Good thing it is not quite summer yet. The relic... its a project for them. A fun one that I support! But as they work they are noisy, greasy, make loud comments used to goad me out of concentration and into conversation. I bite usually. And bum their cigarettes.

But days spent at the easel are good if the photo representation is lacking:

Sunday March 21: pen and sharpie on paper, 14"x17"

Day Seventy Nine: The taste of betrayal.

In the midst of the evening of too many changes of pace, too many veers, too many trips outside to smoke. 

In blows someone from the outside. And everything changes.

Saturday, March 20: sharpie on copy paper.

day seventy eight:: pupa

i have started this blog update several times in the last several hours.

but some strange hold is on me. hesitation? indecision? where would that come from? i would rather make a wrong decision than no decision. generally...

so i start and stop. re-focus, breathe, simplify. ignore. wince.

my chrysalis cracks. 

Friday, March 19: sharpie on cardstock, 9"x12"

Day Seventy Seven: Less is More?

Spring is having such an effect on me and those around me. And as nice as it is, the push is for more, more sun, more play, more blooms, more hikes, more, more.

Sometimes less is more peaceful, and more powerful.

Thursday, March 18: sharpie on paper

Day Seventy Six: Mom Says the Trees Need an UpDo

I am feeling off in the corner. 

Undoubtedly it is self-imposed, this feeling of exile. I got too exuberant again and scared myself. It felt so good, so easy. Then I realized I had climbed too high and the view though thrilling caused me to step back, look away, eat an orange. Now, for a minute, I am afraid to play. My ego is hard at work egging on my racing spiral.

Re-focus, breathe deep and shake off the fear. What could possibly go wrong? Right?

Wednesday, March 17: Sharpie, watercolor, graphite on watercolor paper 9"x12"

Day Seventy Five: Back to Spring

The sun was brilliant today. I saw bushes with small green buds preparing to burst into leaves. All the abundance ready to fill the world with color. The birds building the nest are still working away, though already there seem to be more of them. It managed to slip into a rainfall later in the day. We jammed early spring, April showers and May flowers into one day.

I am filled with inspiration if short on time. 

Tuesday, March 16: sharpie on paper, 11"x14"

Day Seventy Four: Two Feet of Halfpipe

This is number two, The Half-pipe. I am still impressed at the dexterity it took to hold that pose for so long. I tried it and found my toes white knuckled.

The terrain provided photo challenges. We attempted shameless sponsor placement to gain the sympathy of the judges.  I wonder about changing my medium to include more... dimensions...

And more photos.

Monday, March 15: Feet, tempera paint, card stock, sharpie, pipe cleaner, wire, rubber bands.

Day Seventy Three: The Flash

The art today is a departure. And a collaboration.

I do not generally collaborate. Not that I am against it, it's just that I seldom find the experience so delightful. The art of compromise is often a test of wills. Not in this case. My friend is such an open soul: unfailingly polite, gentle, humorous and sweet as well as patient (and athletic enough to hold some difficult stances for a long photo session). Sharing new ideas was a joy. Each was accepted and improved or rejected within such an amiable exchange that as we continued to improve the product I never felt unheard or unappreciated. I enjoyed the process so much that time flew deep into the early morning. I can't wait to see what we come up with next time. The possibilities seem endless under such a detente.

But for today - there is a need for new snowboarding boots. And there is a website that is offering a pair of New Balance 686s for the best foot art.

We did two versions for this submission, this is the first one - The Flash.

Not the comic, the foot art:

Sunday, March 14: The Flash foot - Tempera Paint, card stock, sharpie

All great art is the work of the whole living creature, body and soul, and chiefly of the soul.  ~John Ruskin

Every increased possession loads us with a new weariness.  ~John Ruskin

Day Seventy Two: In Absentia

My new word of the day: absentia. Meaning I am not here. There are too many things today to tell of them all now. Suffice to say I am probably not doing my full part in all of them.

But this is here:

Saturday, March 13: sharpie on cardstock, 9"x12"

Day Seventy One: I hit the curb and got a flat tire. Thank you Ian.

Today I acquired respect for my tires in a new way. In full living color, I apparently careened into a curb. My tire soon went flat on a busy street. I fear that I might have killed it completely by driving to safety around the corner.

I wish I never had to drive.

I prefer to ride.

My favorite cities have always been where I can ride my bike or take public transport anywhere I want to go. It keeps me in the mix in a way that my bubble can never do. And even though I like to drive occasionally, I prefer a driver. Why would I not. Someone to take the wheel, navigate the tide. I get to ride, make art; appreciate the journey.

 For now, I take the wheel And make art. I fight with each other. Incompatible. 

 March 12, Friday: Sharpie on cardstock, 9"x12"

See you.

Day Seventy: Racing against the clock speeds it up

 Days at work, time with friends, nature to observe, art to make. A happy blur, and getting better daily. Opportunities arise unbidden from the most interesting places. But still, sometimes just the blur is evident to me. 

 I would forgo introspection in favor of wordless now moving through the process of forging another small piece. The silence is the most powerful time for my art. I find it more the more that I stop looking and just work the colors. Ah the colors. Any excuse to bring more to the mix.

March 11, Thursday: Sharpie, pencil on card stock, 9"x12"

Day Sixty Nine: Snicker...

It frosted last night and even now with the sun bright, all shaded areas are fuzzy with icy cover. I took a walk, crossing the field through the short forest of young trees planted lovingly on the prairie. Still no signs of life in them, all tightly closed up. But down further, the ground cover, now that is awake. Moss and ferns and many others I don't have the foggiest what they are called: they all have that renewal of spring glow, growth vibe, lust for life. They green up daily.

Near a cluster of taller trees two birds, magpies, are gathering twigs for a nest in the boughs of a pine tree. Turns out I am standing quite close. They flit from tree to tree closer, giving me the eye the whole time. Never the less, work to be done, off they glide to the next twig out there. Your secret is safe with me; even if I prove to be a nosy neighbor.

Soon, all heaven will burst forth from the earth and the chicks will be in my pine.

Until then, I see renewal and its possibilities everywhere:

March 10, Wednesday: Sharpie on Paper, 11"x14"

Day Sixty Eight: Seasonal items are on special now.

So spring has subsided today for a time. Frost is on the ground even now as the six inch tall daylilies in the yard shudder. Bike riding took a turn from sublime to subzero. 

Even so, my heart is aflutter with the possibilities that spring presents. My imagination soars with the added excitement of those around me that are similarly aroused by the change of seasons. 

Molly the Turtle came awake from hibernation today. Spring is truly here. 

Today's chilly reminder aside, I await the budding forth!

March 9, Tuesday: Sharpie on paper.

Day Sixty Seven: Loss

Just as I was nearing this post, I heard news that a friends mother died. My thoughts rushed to my own mom and how that would feel. 

I did not know his mom, but I can appreciate his loss. I will think of him all day now. And my own mother.

And me, all deep in the tree of life:

 

Monday, March 8: Sharpie and pen on paper, 11"x14"

Day Sixty Six: My face is Sunkist.

Some days I ponder myself into an ontological quandry. And then some days I just ride my bike and its good. Today was a beautiful mix.

My friend also likes to ride and take in nature, but also ponder bigger issues.

Today was a splendid day to ride in the sun with the preening masses of others. And it was a good day to ponder.

 

Sunday, March 7: Sharpie and pen on Eddies Spanish lyrics. 8.5"x11"

Day Sixty Five: Sun, Fun, Anticipation

Dreams, colors, sun... I see a good day.

 

March 6, Saturday: Chalk, Sharpie and pen on paper.

Day Sixty Four: Sleep is Bewitching me.

I went to see art tonight. Always an adventure. But upon my post here, I find that the piece I was going to show you is not here. I left it behind. Totally recoverable, just not now.



Never fear:

March 5: Sharpie on postcard stock 4"x6"

Day Sixty Three: Laurentia Inc.

It is sunny and I keep getting distracted by that.

 

March 4: Pastel and sharpie on paper.  Does that look like another scarf to you? It does to me.

Day Sixty Two: Redemption on they daily...

 

Oh boy, have I been taking myself on a ride. Yet even as my mind runs wild with imaginings and scary dark corners, I watch from inside and wonder at my tizzy. And how can I both calmly observe and completely panic at the same time I ask myself.

I take a breath and find solace in a simple ritual, walking, doing, moving.

Painting.

Surely that is my hiding place, my secret safe place. When all around becomes a blur, I run to the easel, the sharpie, the brush, the comfort of a star, a feeling that is not so much thought any longer, but is. I am. I paint, create, hum, sing or move in silence, it matters not what else surrounds. What happens there, well, if words could describe it, there would be no need for the art.

But words fail and on I go. 

Wednesday, March 3: pastel chalk, sharpie on drawing paper, 14"x17"

"Hell is yourself and the only redemption is when a person puts himself aside to feel deeply for another person."  ~Tennessee Williams

"Redemption can be found in hell itself if that's where you happen to be." ~Lin Jensen

"Redemption comes to those who wait, forgiveness is the key." ~Tom Petty

Day Sixty One: Adventures in Self-Delusion

I have a theory about citrus. So far, in personal experience, it bears out. An orange can indeed cure a cold. Not just juice but the entire fruity goodness inside of the peel. And that same fruit, or even a tangelo, can cure a panic attack, or bring you down just a little when things get too euphoric. Not that I have panic attacks often, but sometimes, things do seem a bit too euphoric. And that can make me panic, just a little.

And then I eat an orange.

The work it takes to get to the fruit is part of it. It must be peeled. Since I was a kid I have always strove to get the entire shell off in one piece. That has taught me a lot about how to squeeze an orange and tell if the skin will come off easy or should I perhaps cut it up with a knife because it is thin and dry and stuck to the fruit. Next, the smell from the rind as it pulls from the fruit is exuberant, it peps me up, makes me think of zest and sunshine and sharing sections with a friend. Years have turned the removal of the orangey white strings that cling to citrus like a net into a small ritual.  Finally, the sections are clean and each available like bites of health and sanity.

Okay, that might be a bit much.

But it never fails that a sweet juicy fruit can change my state of being. Even if just so slightly, usually that is enough.

So, I sat in my car and slowly ate a tangelo a while ago. Its all good.

And Spring is Here....

 

March 2: Sharpie on drawing paper. 14"x17". 

Day Sixty: Heavenly Bodies

I feel heavenly bodies orbiting around me. Or perhaps I am in their orbit. No matter really, I am enjoying them either way.  They add interest to my day, spice to my visuals, juice to my loins. 

Their patterns seem random, rendering them continually fascinating. I watch and I ponder and add my spin to the mix. The swirling has me giddy. I think my skin glows and my smile blends smirk with knowing. My art keens to take a turn, dreaming of captured souls, stealing colors from auras, moving brushes into crevices.

At least in my head. And there the possibilities grow.

March 1: Acrylic paint on canvas, 24"x48". I love this one. Its heavenly bodies are happy.

"Care I for the limb, the thews, the stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man!  Give me the spirit"  ~William Shakespeare          (my apologies William, I will take  both!)

Day Fifty Nine: Farewell February

Another month ticked off the list.

It went as a month without a whimper, February. Hell, it dusted with snow and ended with day lilies in the yard. And yet, here we are.

And, as a send off, it was good. I got to ride my bike in the full moon. And have conversations that reveal. And plan a time that will shape the next avenue I travel.

Perhaps it was the moon dust, perhaps was the company of sweet faces, perhaps it is a grand plan, but tonight was fun in surprising ways.

I am bereft of the correct words....

February 28, Sunday: pen, sharpie on drawing, 14"x17"