Interesting...

So in my daily scan of tech news stories that actually are interesting to me/ I understand how they directly affect me this week, I came across "Reset the Net". 

https://www.resetthenet.org/

I wish that they had set up to join the petition without cosigning up for emails though. 

Seriously EVERY ORGANIZATION DOING ONLINE PETITIONS: 

STOP instantaneously signing me up for your weekly/daily email. 

I'm slowly unsubscribing from more and more groups because of getting too many emails and notices about the same subject. Also, getting too many emails PRESUMING my views on subjects. You can be a conservationist and not hate firearms. You can be pro-choice and have religious faith. Screw all y'all for trying so hard to put me in a box and close the lid. Ain't gonna happen.

Rebeginning

Re-beginning

I just made every English major I know across the country cringe, but I don't care.
Rebeginning happens in creative mediums, and even sometimes those not so creative ones.

This week I returned to working on a painting that I was literally dreaming about because the experiment I was testing out worked, my vision was actually developing in front of me as it was in my mind.... then I retouched the canvas to "fix" something.

That fix then spread...
and now that vision was no longer possible in that space...
Unless I overdid the fixing and tried to start from square one again.
That is HARD.
Re-beginning sucks.
No one says it, but it is frickin' difficult.

Alas, it's life.

Love and Friendship

10 years later update

In slowly going over some old posts I realize I didn't update with continuation where I could have.

Previous ex-best-friend-ex-roommate and I ended up being at the same overnight outing later in the summer held annually by mutual friends. It was awkward for me, but I just did my best to talk to her as little as possible without being rude, without being overly obvious, yet still be in conversations that everyone was having.

I finally got my apology. An apology 8 years too late and much too much too short, but the words "I'm sorry" actually came out of her mouth to me. I had hoped getting the apology I deserved would put the anguish of being so hurt by someone so close to rest, but without an explanation of why the person you stood next to through their public follies and very bad moments would so directly turn on me it wasn't the apology I deserved, it was just an apology.

We are both a little better for her finally saying the words to my face.
But with it being so little so late, it doesn't change anything other than my stress level when we next run into one another. For that though, it is good it was finally said.

2014

A new year, almost another year older, and after listening to other artists I've decided that I should breathe life into this blog again, but with gusto this time around. I know it sounds incredibly corny, and it is, but so am I. At heart I am a sentimental "my rules make sense to me" artist and mother whom really wants to have a simple life of making great art that sells, meeting my kid at the bus stop to come home to giggle over afternoon snack then help him with his homework as I start dinner. The occasional concert and game night (red wine required!) with good friends and a working hands and arms that aren't in constant pain.

Disclaimer: My arm is still screwed up. This blog will contain rantings and cursing due to this flipping unacceptable condition. It happens. The pain and thus intermittent inability to use my dominant arm and hand affect every aspect of my life. I haven't given up, but I also am not going to waste the energy pretending the pain isn't there and that I can do everything I could just 3 years ago the pace that I did.

For anyone reading this currently, I am already pieces of the pieces I want to be above, and for that I am blessed. As for the real life applications of all of that, it's not as pretty as it sounds.  Similar to how the lovely Art Teachers Hate Glitter (who's awesomeness can be found: http://athglitter.com ) describes the good, bad and ugly of a classroom, I hope to combine the good, bad and ugly of being an unrecognized artist living in a real life with a physical studio and a very physical limitation that is totally impeding my ability to get a desired fraction of the thousands of images that go through my head in a day down on paper or canvas or typed. To top that off, I'm finally "of that age" to start thinking "I'm of that age" but young enough that to actually say those words aloud with anyone other than my closest friends who are also in their 30s, would kill me. Or the laughter of everyone would be so loud it would pop my eardrums.

I've been reminded kindly by the universe this week of some of my most supportive friends over time whom I no longer talk to, and the quotes they left me with, in writing, have me remembering that I should be doing what makes me happy - and that if it hurts I'm doing it wrong. Hence the blog reboot. If I find myself not sleeping because my brain is overactive (like tonight) I will write. If pincer grasp required for a lot of my art is too painful; or the tremors in my hand too great to work on my art, I will blog. Next time I find myself reading the inspiration to join the studios over and over like an obsession, I will blog and share the note. Should I ever either acquire the skill to take great photos of my own work or figure out what to barter with the photographers I know to get my pieces photographed without paying them from my non-existent earnings, I will share.

For me, openly sharing my work and my thoughts with strangers for criticism is EXTREMELY daunting. It is the second reason that this blog hasn't grown before: I am a common cowardly artist. Art is something that is bringing the inside out, it is sharing how you see something, the perspective that is yours, the voice that is your own. There are moments where putting a new piece of work out for public display feels like you've posted a picture of yourself in a bikini on an online forum. It is just uncomfortable.It's daunting. It hurts to hang art. I've had a studio for over 2 years... and because of how critical I am of my own work, hanging work hasn't gotten any easier. Then there's the physically "Hanging work is a pain in the ass for everyone." part of art that doesn't get talked about much. Rarely would any two people hang a group of work the same for display. RARELY. I find great comfort in that. Remembering that, overhearing the hemming and hawing of any two artists over which arrangement should be used, makes me feel a little less inept for my hesitations.

Oh, in case you're wondering, the difficulty doesn't keep me from doing it. The only way out is through. Fake it 'til you make it and try to enjoy the ride you're on.

It's been a long while since my last post, and I'm still having arm pain even after my arm surgery in July...
so instead of a "real post" I'm going to link up to a joke.

If you've taken a foreign language by choice, if you're a teacher or if you're deaf I expect you will appreciate the punchline.

No hate. Just love and laughter.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2upAsFzO9AU

:-)

10 year later

I went to my 10 year college reunion last weekend.
I did not, for one moment previous to getting there, feel confident that it would be worth my time and money.
It was.

A whole lifetime can occur in 10 years. It truly can. People can change. Change as in change, not change as in completely become utterly totally new or different people, but positive changes do occur. I was thrilled to find that they had.

The most awkward moment came at the end, brunch the morning directly before leaving for home.
I'm sitting in a booth with my friend and three classmates I never was friends with during college but apparently get along with fine now, while the next table over is my old after-college roommate who had been my best friend... the best friend who did her best to turn everyone against me unprovoked. To this day I have no idea why she turned on me and felt that I, the person who adopted her as family and stood by her through thick and thin, had horribly wronged her. I still have no idea why and this, the first time seeing her in years, she acted as if nothing wrong had ever happened. Her husband asked me for a hug. So awkward that my classmates even remarked it was odd.

What I wished I had said, and hope I say if we meet again:
"You hurt me deeply. I wish you no ill but I am content that I rarely think of you at all."