Gray Skies

A good rule of thumb is to not call when I’m feeling homesick. My good friend tried to trouble shoot and thought I should just go back to CA. She had many suggestions for how it would work. None of which were appealing to me. I know that a little bit of home sickness on a dreary gray day isn’t an indication that I need to leave town.

It does have me wondering about what to do next. Do I go sign up for yoga? Do I look for a job? Do I start a new project or keep plugging along on this one? Maybe all of the above?

One thing I want to remember is to appreciate the good things, there are many good things. Just because it’s cloudy and windy outside doesn’t mean that I can’t find some joyful activities to do inside. I found two boxes of paints that I”d saved and brought and forgotten about. I have brushes. I have paper. I have a hot cup of tea, the peace and quiet of my attic studio and no where that I need to be.

We have been working everyday all day long in the yard since arriving and today, there is nothing pressing. The yard is mowed, the garage has been power washed, flowers have been planted, the beds are mulched, bushes have been removed or pruned, The dock is safely tied up and out of the water. I think one day inside, out of the wind, will hopefully be fine.

I love my view from the attic window. I love the option to be by myself up here. I love the potential of this space. I love that we get to plant a garden soon. I love my little containers of seeds in dirt. I love the tiny beach that is practically our own private piece of ocean. I love that we are planning on a little fire pit and a tiny cookout when summer weather arrives. I love these charming little beach towns. I love the friendly neighbors and the vacationy vibe we all seem to enjoy.

Anything?

What topics do you like to discuss?

My best friend and I talked several times in a single day. We’d talk in the morning, we’d talk through our workout, we’d talk as we cleaned up our kitchens after getting our kids off to school. We’d talk on our errands, we’d talk while making supper and sometimes, when it was super important, before heading off to bed.

WHAT did we talk about?!

Pretty much everything. Every next step, our kids, friends, baseball, my job, books, life. It seemed like every decision or dilemma either of us faced required both of us to make or solve.

Baseball was a hot topic for us and it was ongoing. Her youngest son, who I‘be known since before he was born, little miracle baby that he was, loved baseball. He played on every kind of team. Travelball, Spring ball, fall ball, pick up, any chance to play, From the earliest age he loved everything baseball. If he wasn’t playing, he was watching his favorite team and memorizing stats. Back then, I had a very limited knowledge about baseball, but that didn’t matter, because what we talked about were the politics, the parents, the coaches. Unfair this and coache’s son that.

As the years went by the discussions became more intense. Thomas went from a cute little guy who loved everything baseball, to a high schooler who needed a college baseball scholarship. Wendi was negotiating with three top schools and finally settled on Pepperdine.

Who would have guessed that all these years later, Thomas would be drafted away from college, move up quickly to triple A and now be a top pick for the cardinals MLB team. Who would guess that I would marry a Red Sox fan and learn baseball as a sport AND culture Who would have believed Wendi would be gone.

I spent years rolling my eyes over yet another conversation about baseball. What I wouldn’t give to have just one more with my friend now.

I miss my best friend. I miss ALL of our topics of discussion. It’s not the topic for me, so much as its the person I’m talking to. G taught me everything I know now about being a real sports fan. He taught me player by player, play by play. He made it interesting. I think I like discussing a lot of things if I enjoy the person I’m talking to.

Improving

Almost, but not quite.

But then I did it. I appreciate these long baseball watching evenings because they give me plenty of time to make a reel for Instagram.

I’m still learning so these things can take awhile. I had to delete my first attempt, but I’m getting better. If only marginally…

I feel a little proud of my progress.

Risky Art Projects?

When is the last time you took a risk? How did it work out?

Again with risks. Am I risking now?

Every time I start planning a new project and then start running through the steps of doing it. Even just setting up to do it. It all feels like I’m risking something.

My own approval maybe?

The approval of others?

I’ve know for a long time that you can’t please everyone. Art is an extension of that. All aesthetics are. Everyone has preferences and no artist should attempt to do art that appeals to the masses. I think I need to keep learning this even though it’s one of the most obvious lessons that I learned in art school. A funny side note about art class in college is that in the lower division classes, the way to get top grades was to appeal to the instructor’s preferences. I’ll never forget painting over a whole section of one assignment because I hadn’t learned yet that this professor didn’t like yellow. He suggested that it should be gray. I didn’t argue, I just did it. When I figured this out about art teachers, I felt like I cracked the code.

I cringe a little over that, but I was bearly 18 at the time. I had little to no art in high school (my school was heavily academic), so I was mostly leaning on my very raw talent and what I’d learned in middle school. I really didn’t know how to be an artist at that point, all I knew was that grades were important. Or thought I knew…

Risks are decisions. Decisions are risks. Any time I embark on a new creative goal, which is usually born from an idea which came from a bit of inspiration, I have a bunch of decisions to make which initially seem exciting. That’s the part that pulls me forward. Being excited will cancel out fear for me.

I suppose I’m always risking, but when I make up my mind to do it confidently, I forget riskiness a little. When I doubt and question myself, anything feels risky. When I move forward calmly, my projects propel me. When I doubt and fear I feel stuck.

This has been an interesting post for me to ponder. When I think of risks, I usually think of rock climbing or hang gliding, as in death defying risks, not the usual day to day kind. Art overlaps so much of my life that I sometimes miss the metaphors. It’s not just with art, it’s with all of my life. Calm confidence is something I keep getting reminded to practice. Practice practice practice…

Four square house

Describe a risk you took that you do not regret.

I wouldn’t consider myself a risk taker, but sometimes, I can’t help myself.

Once I bought a house in a place I had never lived. I’d visited. The house was hundred years old and adorable, but nothing much had happened to it, besides shag carpeting.

Gs friends and family lived nearby, and had fixed up old houses so…what could go wrong? Oh, a lot.

I don’t regret any of it because I’d always wanted to fix up an old house and we made it look amazing. Unfortunately it had structural issues that were beyond our budget and didn’t increase the home value, so we sold our cute little four square house.

I can’t tell you how much fun I had picking out tile and reconfiguring the kitchen. I loved refinishing the hardwood floors and choosing paint colors. Friends in CA saw it and wanted to use some of my ideas in their homes. It led to helping people with design ideas which led to me staging for a real estate company. Which led to more staging for more companies.

That house helped me feel confident in my design decisions . I learned that I could trust G to pull off all of my nonconforming ideas. He learned that he could trust my eye. I saw how good he was at nailing paint color.

We now work together on many projects. Sometimes he just brings me in to trouble shoot when a client is making complicated decisions. Often we work together to bring homes to new levels of aesthetics.

Even though that project seemed crazy. and WAS challenging, I love that I got to do it. In the end we sold it in three days. It fell through when rain filled the basement on the day of inspection. It sold again in a day, then a third time. We had to disclose all its flaws, of course, but it showed so well that until water was obviously filling the basement, people just wanted it.

Plant Power

We have been working for days on pulling out this azalea bush. Its all dried out dead branches, but yikes, the roots are strong.

Speaking of strong, G’s mom on the walker (she fell an hour before we arrived, mowing the lawn) and her helpful neighbor make aging look easy

My hands are nicked, blistered and tired. My back feels like I’ve done a lot of digging. (We both have). Jumping on a giant crowbar helped pry the stubborn roots up. That was my idea.

After hours of digging and prying (and jumping) and cutting through so many roots, we hooked a chain to the wench thing on the jeep and pulled the azalea out! Tomorrow we need to get out the chainsaw again!

The whole thing needs to be chopped into little pieces so it can be taken to the recycle place. I put the new lilac bush into the hole. Tomorrow it might get planted. Gardening might begin tomorrow. Hopefully the frosts at night will cease..

These are the kinds of things delaying me painting.

Attic Space

I’m revisiting my attic studio.

It s still cold outside, but the attic is lovely! I have so many ideas! The floor is plywood. I was just at this discount store and they have FLOORING…

Even if I get the cheapest of the cheap and only enough to cover the main walking area, It will be washable! I was looking at rugs thinking of using one as a drop cloth of sorts…or maybe I’ll just get a drop cloth… I”ll need to figure out water and a sink…

Advanced Art

What I did instead (because it was too late)

Write about a time when you didn’t take action but wish you had. What would you do differently?

I wish I had gone to grad school. Of course it was art. No one would have thought an advanced degree in art would have served any purpose whatsoever, at least not in my family, (my patents and then husband). They may have been right, but I would have loved it! I loved all my art classes, the more advanced the better. I later took a few fiber arts classes after I had kids, but only because I was friends with the professors, I had no plan to keep going with school, I was busy with three little kids and a baby. I was also in an archaic marriage that didn’t support women doing anything outside of domestic chores and certainly not anything outside the home. My husband rarely ‘babysat’ for our own kids! It wasn’t his thing.

It was really a wonder that I did the things I did. Looking back, I marvel at everything I pulled off with four kids in tow. I stopped doing too much with painting, and one time, clay and a learning-to-walk baby, taught me that I needed a less messy medium. Fiber was the answer. I quickly taught myself to spin and weave and knit. I made inlay felt ‘paintings’. Dyes were my favorite. I had fun, my kids learned all those things as well. All my kids can knit and sew. So can my grand kids even though I’ve long since gone back to paint.

Oh to have taken some graduate school level painting classes! How different would my life be today if I had taken my art more seriously? In a different mindset, I might have gone all the way and gotten a doctorate. In art. I would love telling that story. Who knew I would be pushing at practicality anyway for my whole life.