Change is inevitable--except from vending machines

Tom's at Home

If you don't like something change it; if you can't change it change the way you think about it.  Mary Engelbreit. 

Change always comes bearing gifts. Price Pritcett

I began writing this blog three years ago today.  I was inspired by the movie, Julie and Julia, to keep a blog of my own, and the reason for beginning this endeavor was the hope of breaking a crippling artist's block, but in the end, it became a journey of growth and healing.

My life has not changed, yet everything has. Some things are still frustratingly the same... I am still single, still in the same house, and still weigh more than I want; I have done everything in my power to change those things and yet here I am still the same.

However, everything has changed and I am grateful for God-given blessings, such as greater physical health and mobility.  Today I went shopping, taking advantage of the after Christmas clearances and I am not tired or in pain and I didn't have to cut short my time in the store or use a motorized cart.  After 5 years of struggles, surgeries and therapy, I am in better shape then I have been in almost 20 years.  I am loving that. As I walked briskly back to my car I whispered a mantra of "thank you, thank you, thank you." I thank God for a more active life-- I have gone bowling, dancing and tent camping. Instead of shopping until I drop, I can shop until I run out of money.

Since December 26 2009, I have become more creative and slightly more prosperous--showing and selling my work locally and through commissions. The internet has played a role in transforming my life, not only through this blog; social networking sites like Facebook has given me wonderful friends from around the world. I also interact with other artists and have shared and sold art online. My work is on 3 international sites, including one based in France. I recently entered an art contest and one of my paintings made it into the semi-finals.  http://ayame-kenoshi.deviantart.com/art/Train-Your-Brain-Semi-Finalists-343702716#/d5mae87
I am trying new things artistically such as moonlit painting above done in the honor of Thomas Kinkade, and I carry a sketch book in my purse so can I draw or doodle every chance I get.  At first I wasn't comfortable sketching in front of people but folks usually let me be myself and allow me to draw without making a fuss.

So I look confidently to 2013.  Maybe I'll win an art contest; maybe I'll sell my house or perhaps I will just modify it to make it suit me. I might find a sweetheart this year or maybe this new active lifestyle will help me to lose weight. Whatever changes are ahead, one thing won't change -- me.  I'll be the same ole girl.

Uphill

Of Tom and Bob

Balance, peace, and joy are the fruit of a successful life. It starts with recognizing your talents and finding ways to serve others by using them. Thomas Kinkade

My Imaginary Place

The secret to doing anything is believing that you can do it. Anything that you believe you can do strong enough, you can do. Anything. As long as you believe. Bob Ross

The last few months have been busy--working on the house and getting ready for an art show, but I haven't neglected to create.  Today I wanted to talk about a couple of guys who influenced my art... not Michelangelo or Monet... but the highly commercialized Thomas Kinkade and Bob Ross. 

Sunrise at Bob's Place

I know there were those who scoffed at Thomas Kinkade because he massed produced everything, but I agree with the Southwestern artist, Amado Peña, who said that art should be in the hands of all people, not just a few who could afford to shop in exclusive galleries. I love what Kinkade did with light-- not just radiating from windows but what he did with his skies. I wanted to see inside the houses he painted-- to enter the make believe world.

The Day's Leftovers

There are few people who haven't watched at least one episode of The Joy of Painting. Bob Ross and before him Bill Alexander, showed us how to render trees and grass and mountains, and how to create a landscape from nothing in a short time. I also learned to apply paint quickly and to not be surprised at the "happy little accidents."

These are three of my most recent works.  All are imaginary.  I titled one Sunrise at Bob's Place, honoring Bob Ross' dedication to art. I include the name "Bob" in the title of a lot of these type of paintings.  In these I applied the foliage with a sponge in just a few minutes and I am pleased with the results.

The drawing is from one of the small sketchbooks I carry with me everywhere.

Enjoy

On My Way Again

Crayola Colored Pencil

"God does not give us more than we can handle" I am told but I wonder if God doesn't overestimate me just a little.  Or perhaps, and this is likely, I underestimate God.  Julia Cameron

The last four months have been grueling.  I had a knee replaced with complications; I'm not going rehash the details but I have learned some interesting lessons.  One is that I am not immune to the frailties of life-- I didn't really think I was, but it wasn't fun learning that first hand.  I discovered how much I missed having a partner in life to stand by me in hard times and the loneliness was acute.

Ecstatic Colored Pencil

On the positive side, I learned that I am extremely blessed to have friends and family who did stand by me.  They fed me, visited me, did errands and chores for me, chauffeured me and checked on me; they celebrated my successes, mourned the struggles and prayed for me.  All this showed me that God was with me, even though I thought it would be best if He'd just take away the difficulties.  My condition was only temporary--others are not so fortunate.

I am on the mend and happy to say that I didn't come out of the dark time with an artist block.  While not able to sit at the drawing table I did accomplish a few things, like the drawings on today's page.

I'm looking forward to spring and summer, my favorite time of year and creating again, starting with a commission.

A Dream A Doodle

Embarking on a Third Year of Blogging

"Blogging is an art, same as any other method of self-expression.  Some are better at it than others." Hugh Mcleod
"Your blog is your unedited version of yourself."


The beginning of a new year is always a good time to look back and reflect, and I am pleased to say, I've had a very good year, in regards to improvement to my health, outlook, and social life and, most importantly, in the area of art. 


I started this blog December 28, 2009 and the purpose of it was to break an artist's block that seemed to have a grip on my life.  I could analyze how I got into such a state-- listing the difficult circumstances of the last few years, but I think the real reason is that without vigilance, we can let what is important to us slip out of our grasp. Creating seemed easy when it was part of my life and daily routine, but when life's circumstances interfered on a regular basis, sitting down to paint or draw became more and more difficult, until I found the drawing table piled with items that had nothing to do with art.


So the blog was my jumping off point.  I wrote about my accomplishments and struggles, and the process inspired me to create a portfolio; by browsing through earlier and recent works, I developed a picture of my skills and successes. I posted art in photo albums on Facebook and 3 other websites; the comments they've generated are wonderful and encouraging; I've made friends with other artists and people began to follow the blog. As I thought about creating, talked about it and wrote about it, I became more focused on what is truly important to me.

Essence of Tree

I often doodled, and began carrying a small sketchbook and pen with me.  I just draw whatever comes in to my head or more correctly-- out my pen.  Some of the results are stunning, but they are all valuable to the process of improving my craft.  


I stepped out of my comfort zone and took my work to 4 art shows in 2011 and exhibited some paintings in the local gallery.  Not only did I sell work in the shows but people contacted me afterwards wanting something they had seen.  This year, I had an opportunity to paint on the pots of my potter friend.  I also began beading.


I found people to be very generous, with their praise and encouragement.  Several people--who tried the hobby and found it wasn't for them-- gave me their beads and equipment and others passed on art supplies and magazines.  I am deeply grateful to them.

My Poppy Oil 9 x 12

2011 was a productive year, I completed 4 canvases, numerous drawings and painted on pottery-- some in acrylic and others in glazes.  I sold 15 paintings.  I didn't get rich, but some of the paintings I've had a long time and it was time for them to go to a new home, It was fun to see people happy to have original works of art. I have a couple of commissions in the works, and some canvases underway.

Swallowtail Oil 8 x 10

So the blog achieved it's purpose--to break the artist's block, yet I found I enjoy writing in it and plan to continue, even though some days I might write about what ever strikes my fancy. Thank y'all for your support; I can't begin 
to tell you how much it's meant. 

Magic of the Pen

With French easels...there are these "wing nuts" and after setting up and taking down 3 or 4 times a day, those little nuts become 4 letter words!! Betty jean Bullips
After ten days of battling the elements in the Florida heat, a veteran studio painter was asked 'so how do you like painting outdoors?' The response was, 'I realize now that I prefer painting in Plein-Air Conditioning!' Mary Erickson


One of the techniques taught in art classes is "en plein-air," --painting out of doors. I have read books, magazines and listened to professors on the subject and the consensus is that plein air is the very best way to paint landscapes, the studio being a poor second.  Working from photographs is frowned on. Plein-air painters are considered the elite of landscape artists.  I read an article about an artist who specialized in snow scenes; she painted en plein-air.  She sat cross-legged in the back of her station wagon painting while looking out the car window.  If it was too cold, she'd take photos to use as a reference to paint in the studio. Huh? Why not do that to start with? 

Plein-air was a tool developed by the French Impressionists in the 1870s and 80s to create fresh bright paintings, different then anything seen before.  However the French Academy of Art, with their rigid standards in painting, rejected the Impressionists' work because it didn't fit into the traditional norm of art of that time. The outlaw painters broke all the rules and only much later were they were applauded for standing up to the establishment and creating a new form of art. However the modern establishment teaches the Impressionists techniques as rules in creating art and rules were what the original en plein-air painters stood against.

While some people enjoy painting outside--I wish them great joy in it, I have problems with it.  One-- I am too slow.  I can't rush the painting and the light changes and my leg cramps...it is not fun.  Two-- The landscape out doors has too much information for me to process.  If I look at a tree, I have a hard time deciding what shapes to include or which to leave out to suggest the tree. Three-- After being led to feel guilty for working from photos, there is nothing wrong with using reference photographs.  Certainly I don't want to COPY the picture.  A good artist can take elements from several photos and put them together in a composition.  

Essence of a Tree

An art teacher once told me that the key to being an artist is to train yourself to see.  So I look.  I study a tree or a barn or clouds--I never stop looking, whether riding in a car or waiting somewhere--and somehow this magical gift from God comes out when I need it.  When I start moving the pen around on the paper out came this tree--not any particular tree but the essence of what I have seen, and I did it inside while listening to people speak at a meeting. Who needs plein-air?  

Confessions of a Wife of a Redneck...5. The Food we et.

You might be a redneck if..
..you have filled your deer-tag on the golf course.
..the main course at potluck dinners is road kill.
..you think that potted meat on a saltine is an hors d'ouerve.


Once someone gave us a bunch of canned chicken and the kids wouldn't touch it until my husband told them it was buffalo meat; then they scarfed it right down--eating it right out of the can.  You see my kids were used to eating weird things.


Like I said in earlier posts, I was a city girl--raised in the North and everything I had eaten came from the grocery store or garden or Grandpa's farm.  The first odd thing I notice about my Hubby was that he put peanuts in his Coke.  That didn't make sense to me.  If ya want peanuts why fix it soes ya have to chase 'em around with yur tongue?  And he called 'em goobers.  I don't know about you, when I thought of goobers, peanuts didn't come to mind. It went down hill from there.  I don't just mean things like head cheese and grits and okra and squirrels and coons and sech... it's worse 'n that.


The first odd food I encountered was frog legs.  Southern men love them and go off in the night with lanterns and frog gigs hunting big croakers, and all that can be used is the back legs. I had a policy-- I didn't eat anything that I couldn't stand to look at when it was alive.. and that purdy much leaves out reptiles.  The first thing I noticed 'bout frog legs is that they jumped around in the skillet when my mother-in-law was trying to cook them and that sealed the deal for me-- not only would I not eat them things but there was no way I could be talked into cooking them.  One Sunday Hubby and the boys went out and shot a big mess of legs and for the first time I was sweet-talked into cooking them.  Hubby told me that he cut the tendons so that they wouldn't jump in the hot fat.  I knew he was lyin' to me but I agreed anyway.  I had a big ole mound of them on a plate covered with flour and remembered I hadn't salted them.  So I liberally sprinkled salt on the mound.  One thing I've learned bout frog legs--the nervous system dies 5 days after the frog does. Once the salt hit the meat the legs started quivering-- the whole plate of them was moving.  I woke up my napping husband and told him they were going over the back fence in about 60 seconds and if he wanted them, he'd better rescue them.  He did and he cooked them his own self.


Then there was the Rocky Mountain oysters.  Not really oysters.  In West Texas they called them "calf fries."  When I worked at the Big Texan Steak Ranch in Amarillo I had to explain to customers what they were-- well... when you turn a bull into steer, you have to, uh, remove something.  And the oysters, which aren't really oysters, is a bi-product. The women would turn pale and the men would order them.  When Hubby explained calf fries to me I was outraged!  I wouldn't touch them things!!  I was taunted with them by Hubby and the in-laws.  What kind of family did I marry into anyway?  Then one day I visited my mother-in-law when she was frying some up and there the calf fries lay all hot and golden brown on a paper towel.  I don't know what came over me... I ate one.  Oh my, them things are good! I became an immediate fan.  Anybody know where I can get any in Northeastern Washington? It is the only weird food I'll eat. Nope won't eat the tongue, or heart, or brains but..


Then there was the road kill.  Armadillo.  When we lived in East Texas, Hubby wanted one but they are a protected species in Texas.  We'd be camping and hear rustling in the bushes and he'd take off hoping to catch him an armadillo but those suckers are fast and he always came back out of breath and empty-handed.  Late one night him and his buddy were out drinking and on the way home they hit an armadillo with the car.  He was so excited--he finally got him one.  The two of them spent the rest of the night in the shed drinking and singing while they cleaned it.  By daylight he was frying some up for breakfast (by then he knew that his wife wasn't gonna cook anything suspicious.) "Get up kids," he shouted, "we're havin' us some armadiller for breakfast!"  The kids got up, like I said they were used to eating weird things.


(I know that I used improper grammar and spelling, but this is a redneck story and my writing teacher said you can do that as long as it is on purpose. ;o)

Confessions of a Wife of a Redneck...4. The language we spoke..

You might be a redneck if...you have moved your refrigerator and the grass underneath it has turned yellow or if taking a dip has nothing to do with water or if your hood and one door is a different color then the rest of your car. 


I first noticed  Hubby and I had a communication problem not long after we were married.  We had just moved into our apartment and I was busy scrubbing cabinets; he came into the kitchen and asked me something. I thought he said, "how much do you like doing that?"  Oh, I thought, he wants to help!!  I told him I didn't like it very much at all.  "No," he said, " I asked you how much you lacked."  As in how much did I have left to do.  He wanted me to finish up so we could do something fun.  And he weren't gonna help.

He married a Yankee city girl and immediately set about tryin' to change her and he started with the language she spoke.  I annoyed him to no end how I pronounced words, and he would correct me.  Like the word "pecan."   I pronounced it like it is written, "PEE'-can."  That was wrong, he told me, "that sounds like yur wantin' to pee in a can," he says, "It's pronounced, 'puh-KAHN.'"  I still pronounce it that way to this day--I was a very obedient wife.  His correction was especially harsh when I asked him if he wanted Vienna  sausages.  I said, Vee-EH-na --isn't that the way they say it in Austria?  No, he insisted, it is Vie-EEN-nees. "Fetch me up some vie-EEN-nees," he'd say. What? there is no "s" on the end of Vienna!!  I still refuse to use that pronunciation-- he had a very stubborn wife.

So in this post I giving some words I learned during my transformation into a Southern girl. This is an incomplete list and I am sure I will think of more later.  Enjoy.

Y'all.  Y'all can be singular or plural.  I could be addressing every one in the room or only one person and use the same word.  "All y'all" is definitely plural jus soes there's no confusion that I am speaking to everyone.  It is part of my Southern up-bringing I refused to let go of when we moved North.

Plum. It's not referring to fruit or something in alignment.  It means complete. "We done run plum outa butter."  Oh yeah, notice the use of "done."

Tickled-- Pleased or happy.  "I'm plum tickled ya bought some butter."

Sugah.  Sumpthin ya put in yur iced tea or plant on someone's lips.  "Honey, give me some sugah."

Munts - noun. A calendar division. "Bubba got six munts in the slammer."

Over Yonder.  Not here but in the general direction of there.

Whistle britches - noun.  Someone who is not highly thought of. A doofus.  "Where's ole whistle britches?"   The origin came from when boys wore corduroy pants which was totally not cool.

Britches. -noun- the garment with two legs that ya wear on the lower part of yur anatomy.  This word applies to all kinds, including diapers.  "Honey, Sissy needs some clean britches."

Horny toad... No....it's not what you think. It's a reptile --a horned lizard.

Them there.. "Gimme some a them there grits."

Fetch-- go get and it is not referring to the dog.

Idinit: (Isn't it?) Term employed by genteel Southerners to avoid saying "Ain't."

Ast--to inquire.
Dayam--a cuss word.
Muchabliged--grateful.
Whup-- beat up or spank.
Squarsh -- a vegetable or "to flatten."
Yaller-- a color.
Fixin'  --about to.
I reckon -- I suppose.
Goobers--peanuts.
Rile--make angry.
Tarnation-- a nice way to say damnation.
Tore-up --hurtin or sad.
Druthers --preference.
Varmint-- a pesky critter.
Hankerin-- yearning.
Heap-- a lot.
Liked to --almost.
Piddlin' --insignificant.
A toad stabber, or Arkansas toothpick-- a knife.
Bowed up --bristling for a fight.
Burnin' daylight --sleeping in way to late.  ( I do that a lot. :o)
A tank -- a pond usually man-made for watering cattle.  And it is usually stocked with catfish to keep the miskeeters down.

I'll let y'all figger these out:  everwhichaway, cattywampus, good ole boy, hunkeydory, likety split, sho'nuff.

Law enforcement officer: PO-leece, Johnny Law, Polecat, shuruff.  These are the polite ones

I hope this post plum tickled ya.  Y'all come back, ya hear?"