The Road's Envy

As I sat in my studio painting today, I listened to cars passing on the road below my window.  The sound they made passing sounded like the road could have been yawning in its mundane role, just lying there, as I reveled in the thrill and fulfillment of mine, constantly creating.  Made me think that if it could, the road might just envy me...

WHY

is it SO friggin' cold in the southeast?!?!?!  I can't say I don't like snow.  But I don't like cold.  Cold wind cutting through my pantlegs and whipping around my neck makes me cranky.  I've learned, even since I left behind my childhood in the colder northern states, to be prepared and bundled up well so it wouldn't matter what shenanigans the weather got up to.  But sometimes I'm still caught off guard.

I scoffed when they predicted a light "dusting" of snow on Christmas day (in metro Atlanta??).  Then I found myself opening the door after Christmas dinner to see flakes drifting through the sky.

  

In short, the weather has been up and down here, with more chilly lows than I've been accustomed to in recent years.  Cold fingers have to work harder to be creative :o(.  So I've unearthed my old fashioned hand warmer and several space heaters to use in addition to the usual layers.  Think I'm ready to brave this odd cold spell.  Wish me warmth!

p.s. Merry Christmas/ Happy Hanukkah/ Happy Kwanzaa/ Happy New Year!

A Sweet, Simple Joy

Okay, I just had to write this to share something that has been a profound part of my life, initially afforded to me at a very young age by my very wise mother.  Years ago, when my brother and I were kids, we had a beloved ritual with my mother that still affects me to this day.  Every so often, she would drive us to the huge public library, and allow us time to pick out arms full of books.  This was often followed by a trip to the grocery store, where she would get the groceries for the week, to include treats such as licorice for us.  We would then go home and disappear into our rooms, to chew on sweets while we were absorbed for hours in whatever adventure could be found in the pages of our borrowed books.

To this day, there is a
special joy for me in the
free knowledge, adventure, inspiration, opportunities, and ideas that can be found at my local libraries.  Yes, the internet is a great place to do some research, and ebooks are a fine idea in some instances, but there's still something about curling up with a great book with actual pages.  A story that you cannot put down to eat or sleep.  Or a how-to that helps you teach yourself to do something new and fun or useful.  Or try something historical with amazing facts you never knew.

People seem to gravitate to coffee shops for a quiet place to read, work, or study, but the library is the originator of the quiet space, perfect for these activities.  The last bastion of respect enough for one's neighbors to be quiiiiiieeeet (no coffee shop music or posers).  You can't even get that in church anymore, because people seem to constantly forget to put their mobile devices on silent.

Because of my love for books and libraries, one of my dreams was always to have a big, beautiful library of my own, in my home, full of lots of beautiful books, especially plenty of art books.  I imagined that by the time I was a wrinkled little old lady, my library would be massive, and would be turned into a public library (with lots of reading nooks and art on the walls, of course) named after me once I was gone.  I hit Ikea a few years ago and started on that dream.  It's evolved beautifully and I enjoy it.  I still, however, love to go to the public library, and hope others do, too.   

Gimme a Moment

Okay, I must just take a couple of seconds to take issue with a phrase that's been in rotation since who knows when.  The other day I was talking to someone who threw it out and it struck a chord in me.  She said "I just have an hour to kill, so... yada yada yada".  Okay, anyone who knows me knows how ruthlessly I try to guard my time.

I can't stand waste in any arena of my life.  Don't like wasted money, food, supplies, energy, etc., but most of it I can get back or comp out on the other end somehow.  But since a day or an hour is a commodity that one cannot ever get back, why try to kill it, so to speak?!  I agree with whomever said that time is our most valuable commodity, because once lost, it can never be regained.  Don't get me wrong, I realize that the way I say it seems too literal for everyday application, and that one can save time here and there, but the concept of trying to rid oneself of a segment of time seems ludicrous to me, since I'm one of the freaks who'd love to get a 36 hour day once in a while.  Just saying.

Identity Crisis

Okay, gotta get something off my creative chest.  I mean, it's an innocent enough question, but it's a bit of a thorn in the side of someone like me who is trying to use her work to relate to various subjects and hopes to prompt thought, imagination, and creativity on the part of whomever her audience may be.  It is, I think, a result of societal conditioning, which demands we look for ways to define, understand, and relate to other people.  But I will admit to some teeth gritting when folks look at those of my paintings which happen to feature people and ask, "so who is that?".  I guess it gives me the impression that they are focusing more on insignificant aspects than on the emotion or idea I'm trying to express.  I feel like an artistic ogre because I expect folks to understand that, with

the prayer - work in progress   

the exception of special portraits, most of the faces in my paintings are just faces I created from my own imagination to express something in the painting.  I should remind myself that people who do not create and may

muses: #'s 1, 2, & 3, work in progress

not relate to my motivation to do so, may also have a very "black and white" approach to understanding the work.

Sister's Selah - work in progress

 Anyway, for anyone who ever wonders, most of the people in my work are, yes, figments of my imagination, sometimes influenced by features and mannerisms of real people I meet or know, but mostly made up to suit the sentiment in the painting or the conversation I'm attempting to start with audiences through my work.
Okay, now that that's off my chest, it's back to the dungeon for this ogre (or orgrette, whatever) - more figments to paint...