I never signed up for this...

An Accidental Artist

Even though I have a studio and I make mosaics and people buy them, I have to confess that I'm kind of embarrassed to describe myself as an artist.  I feel like someone's going to come and arrest me for impersonating an artist.  Because I was always artistically challenged.

My mother never kept a single piece of my childhood artwork.  C's in Art kept me off the honor roll.  I could not draw a dog or a horse.  I couldn't even appreciate art, or fully understand it.  I didn't have enough confidence to pick out fabric for a couch.  I figured me and art were not meant for each other. 

And that's how it was until the day I took Daniel to one of those little studios where you could paint your own ceramics. I was still reeling from my cancer diagnosis a year earlier, and it was all I could think about--even as I made this attempt for quality time with Daniel.

He was 8; and he finished his project in about 8 minutes.  I went back to finish mine the next day.  And even though it looked like it was painted by a kid Daniel's age, I had enjoyed it.  And I thought maybe I'd try something else. 

V's birthday was coming up, so I chose a picture frame.  This time there was a little more pressure, so I gave more time and thought to the colors and design. 

In retrospect, what's most embarrassing is that I actually gave this to V for his birthday.

Sometimes people don't believe me when I say I had no artistic talent.  I think they will now.

It wasn't the product, it's the process.  I had never done anything artistic, or even crafty.  Now I wanted to go back and paint again.  By the fourth or fifth time, I was hooked.  And pretty soon, I figured out why.  While I sat there, concentrating on painting, I wasn't thinking about anything else.  Which mostly meant, I was NOT thinking about cancer.

I had tried everything they recommend to relax--Meditation, yoga, guided imagery, music, nature--none of it worked.  But painting the bisque was magic.  It's something about working with your hands, and needing to focus and concentrate.  Everything else floated away.

I still had no talent, but I loved it and I kept painting.  And then something happened. 

 My daughter Alli says that chemotherapy altered my DNA.  Which maybe explains the explosion of creativity--as if someone turned on a tap and a surge of ideas rushed out.

    What you can see here is the tip of the iceberg.   

 

The flow of ideas continued as I discovered mosaics, and other outlets, including this blog.  I have no idea where this creativity was buried during its long latent phase before I had cancer.  I just know that it still hasn't stopped.  And at some point someone told me that you are an artist if you believe you are.  

After the balloons...time for a little soul food

I was hoping I'd wake up today and realize the past week was a bad dream.  But when I woke  up, prematurely as usual, my brain was already spinning like a political Mixmaster.  The notepad I keep by my bed was not there.  Duh.  A few days ago, planning to type my notes into the computer, I moved the pad from my nightstand...to my desk. And you know what that means. The black hole.

Half asleep, I tried to capture my spinning thoughts--scribbling them inside the cover of a crossword book, the only blank surface within reach.  Thoughts like:

Those balloons: why must they be an integral part of political conventions?  Is that why people think most politicians are full of hot air?

Country first?  How can McCain say that with a straight face?  When he made the decision to choose Palin--he was really thinking:  "Country First"?

How can he talk about change?  How about selling one of the houses he can't remember he has, and using the profits to pay a computer nerd (apologies to nerds everywhere...) to bring him up to speed?

What about the anti-war protester (possibly the only thinking person in the hall) dragged up the aisle who drew McCain's attention in the middle of his speech but drew no attention from the commentators afterwards?   Also missing--coverage of more anti-war protestors and even members of the press---roughed up and arrested-- far from the balloons.

More than anything else, however, I want to know this.  Every time I saw the Palin family, no matter what time of day, in every photo op, surrounded by screaming crowds and waving signs, no matter who was holding him from his 7-year-old sister to Cindy McCain--how was it possible that Trig Palin was always asleep?  Just for all those moms, including me, who suffered with sleepless babies--what's the Palin family secret of that???

It's a lost cause; I can't stop thinking.  But I need a break.  So today I called on my own secret.  The only foolproof way I've ever found to escape from stress.  Since my secret weapon worked to help me stop thinking about cancer, I figured it could work to help me stop thinking about politics.  So I went to my friend Jane's house. 

Where she has that glass jar filled with chocolate candy.

Okay, I admit I had a few ....

Okay, okay.  More than a few.

But this time I was more interested in feeding my soul.  And there is something else at Jane's house that lasts longer than Mr. Goodbar.

A few years ago, having never put brush to canvas in my entire life, I discovered painting, together with Jane.  She now has a studio where she paints, which she's always willing to share with me, just as she shares her chocolate. 

 

Though I can't offer to share Jane's art studio, which is pretty spectacular, I can share what I find there-- the secret I discovered to escape stress:  Do something creative with your hands. 

The end result doesn't matter.  What matters is how you feel while you're doing it.  Whether it's paint or clay or crayons or beads or plywood, something magical happens when you work with your hands.  At least it does for me.  The whole world drops away.  Conflicts.  Cancer.  Politics.  Even Sarah Palin. 

And now....I really do feel better.  Have a great weekend. 

The Art of Procrastination

The perfect title for this blog.  Art.   Procrastination.  The connection between them.  But honestly I don't even know where to start.  

Should I start with the fact that there have been photos of mosaics on this blog since day one?  But I've been procrastinating and haven't yet explained why they are here?

Or that I've been blogging for two months and haven't even learned how to insert a picture?

Should I get into the heavy duty stuff?

That I rent a studio where I work on mosaics, but since I started blogging I've barely been there?     

Or how many projects I've abandoned in various stages of completion which are waiting for me to finish? 

That if I focused on what I started I could have painted the Sistine Chapel by now?

When I say I procrastinate, I wish I was exaggerating.  I procrastinate about almost everything, but rather than admitting everything all at once, I'll confine myself to the subject of art.  I would try to avoid discussing this even now, but the longer I wait, the worse it gets. 

People who know me best know all this is true.  Just like they never doubted the truth of what I found on my desk.  My daughter Alli wondered why the list wasn't  longer---knowing there had to be more stuff.  Which there is, but I didn't find it yet---because I never finished.

Although we are related by blood, my niece Rachel is the flip side of me: compulsively neat and efficient --with her own business as a personal organizer.  I am like her ultimate "before" picture and constantly dare her to come to California and take on the project of her life.  Rachel has never asked me what happened to the mosaic mirror I promised to send as a baby gift for her twins --who were born last January.  I admit it's not finished or grouted yet, but Rachel will be shocked when she sees the evidence--right here--since she probably thought I never even started.

The worst example involves my friend Gale.  I'm not sure I could even begin to describe the series of events that led to this.  But somehow, Gale still speaks to me even though the mosaic tray I made for her is sitting right this minute wrapped up in a box in my house.  I made this tray as a gift for her wedding...which was almost 3 years ago.

But all that is over.  Tomorrow (or maybe the day after....) I'm going to ship out Gale's gift, and grout Rachel's mirror and start fresh.  Summer is over, Labor Day is over, my blog is going, my studio is waiting for me to come back. 

After two months, today I finally learned how to put some pictures in my post.  And since a picture is worth a thousand words, that means I can avoid writing what I was planning about why I'm doing mosaics and art in the first place.  I'll write about that some other time....