five senses

SEE
- my new shoes. I wanted them since last winter. I saw them when they were first offered and then kept checking and checking over the months, pondering if I would take the leap and get them. They are leather with words carved into the shoes - quotes like:
Be the peace you want to be.
True beauty flows from within and spills outward.
 Stand proud in the love you have been given.
Wherever you go give thanks. Your soul will direct your future.
I feel like these are the shoes I must wear as I step into the next chapter of my life. I love how they came packaged too - with a special shoe bag, a little note, candy canes, a sticker and a button!

HEAR
- my nephew crying. He fights going to sleep at night so it takes at least an hour of tears before he gives up and falls asleep.
- the rain beating against the window like a meditative soundtrack

TASTE
- lentils over rice along with buttery cornbread
- a turkey, bacon and blue cheese panini sandwich on sourdough bread eaten with a new friend at a beautiful 4 star restaurant
- warm crab and artichoke dip served with herb sprinkled flatbread

FEEL
- sneezing, runny nose, body aches
- that sluggish feeling you get when you are fighting a cold
- my head spinning as I plan and work on future projects

 SMELL
- Vicks menthol
- my 'ocean' smelling bath gel

life at the moment

I've been meaning to come here but my head has been so full that I found myself with tunnel vision, only able to complete one thing at a time. I have been working on some big plans and it has felt strange to share them. Some of my closest friends, people I thought I could share my dreams and ideas with have made me a bit shy with their cynical reactions (which I seem very sensitive to).

One story I didn't share about Open Studios involves 4 completely separate, totally unrelated instances of strangers telling me my work reminded them or New Orleans, or asking if I'd been to New Orleans, or saying I should show my work in New Orleans. In my life, if I hear a message three times I decide that maybe I should pay attention so imagine my surprise when this came up FOUR times on the same day!

With all of that in mind I have been investigating this whole New Orleans idea. Mornings are spent reading a book I bought about New Orleans culture and life after Hurricane Katrina. I did lots of research this past week online looking at galleries and the local artists of New Orleans. I found a gallery to submit work to there as well for consideration for an exhibit. I have been working on other ideas as well. I have started working with a life coach so that's been a big kick in the pants with regard to defining what it is that I really want.

I am finishing up a new wire dress that has the spirit of the holidays. Still trying to decide upon a great paint color for it… My work is being included in a gallery show/ holiday show later this week so I had to do some last minute arrangements for that… I have kept myself fairly busy lately. I can't think about Christmas just yet. I am glad I made it through Thanksgiving!

photos from Open Studios

the risk of baring your soul

Another open studios memory...

The day before open studios I decided at the last minute to hang two male-oriented sculptures in my show because most of my work is female-oriented and men tend to ask if there is something for them, or if I ever create the male form. I hung a necktie I'd created. The fun part is it was made so that it could be hung as a sculptural work or worn as wearable art. The other piece was a torso of a man with his arms crossed across his chest. This piece always made me think of vulnerability and I found it unusual (or not so ordinary) to show a man in a position of vulnerability. I'd called it 'The Need' and it was a part of 'The Journey' - a series of torsos I'd created where the hands gave the works their sense of expression.

I like to show my work along with a short story or quote to invite the viewer in, a way to offer them an opening to reflect and dream. Yet because I chose this work so late in the process, I did not have stories or quotes for them. What would I share?

I went home, tired and ready for all of it to be over. I was so tired of working on this show! The next morning I woke up early and decided to flip through my journal and see if I could find something to pair with the male torso sculpture. I found a quote I'd written down. As soon as I read it my immediate response was - 'No. This is too personal." I immediately skipped that page and looked for another quote. Minutes later I found myself questioning why I'd had such a strong reaction. Then I decided, maybe - because I had such a reaction I should take a chance and share that quote - the one that made me feel vulnerable and as if someone was inside my deepest thoughts. I pushed past the uncomfortable feeling and created a label. On it, it said:
"I am lonely, yet not everybody will do. I don’t know why, some people fill the gaps and others emphasize my loneliness."— Anaïs Nin 

People came into the studio and people went. I greeted people and talked - hugged and laughed as the conversations flowed. At one point in the day a woman came in with a group of her friends. They all admired the work and talked at the same time, excitedly pointing to pieces they liked. I introduced myself to them. Moments later one of the ladies grabbed my arm and led me away from her friends. She looked at me in the eyes and said, "I have to tell you something." I felt a little uncomfortable because the intensity about her made me wonder what she'd say. As I looked at her I could see the water in her eyes and she said - "When I walked in I felt immediately drawn to that piece (pointing to 'The Need') but then when I read the quote you paired with it, my heart broke. It's as if it was written for me." We stood alone off to the side in the crowded room as she talked about how she was feeling. It felt like we were in a strange sort of confessional, like she'd laid down the veil and let me see who she was even though we were strangers. I confessed to her that I'd struggled with deciding whether to share that particular quote and told her my fears about it as she looked at me while I talked nodding her head and rubbing my arm. Quietly she said, "Thank you." One of her friends enthusiastically bounced over and chatted excitedly about a dress she liked, unaware of the sensitive nature of our conversation. Moments later the woman bought that sculpture. I made sure to take the label down off the wall so she could take the quote home with her.

the woman in the corner

Another open studios memory...

The room was crowded but I noticed a petite woman over in the corner. She was in her mid-seventies, her hair pulled up in a messy french twist. She was very plain - no makeup and wrinkled. She wore grey sweat pants and a white sweatshirt that said something on it. I think it was a tourist sweatshirt from Hawaii. What I noticed most though was that she carried a big stick - this piece of driftwood that was taller than her. I glanced at her wondering if this wood was a walking stick or simply something she's found on the property that day. As I spoke with other people, I'd occasionally glance at her and notice her doing something unusual. At one point she stood rocking slightly and humming with her eyes closed. At another point I saw her near the window fanning her face and inhaling deeply. I watched her stretch and squint as she stood really close to the walls reading the labels that accompanied each piece. Meanwhile, I circled the room talking to people. As the crowd dissipated and the room cleared out, she was still there - standing close to the wall and whispering to herself. I felt a little uncomfortable and wondered if she was mentally ill or something. Meanwhile, my mom sat in the corner and chit chatted until the woman finally stopped what she was doing and walked over and sat down with us.

"Hello. How is your day going?", I asked.
She nodded her head and just started at me. (Awkward!)

Finally she spoke. In this really small but very clear lucid voice she began to talk. She told me how she loved the way I'd created storyboards to go with each of my pieces. She loved the way they invited her into a scenario and how she's found herself entering at least three of my imaginary worlds that day. She remarked at how the music was just right for allowing one's thoughts to drift and how she didn't know if I did it on purpose but she liked that my sculpture, (which I'd named 'Air') was right next to an open window where you could feel a perfect breeze blowing in. She thanked me for the chance to dream.

As she left the room I looked at my mom and said - "Out of everyone I've met she understood my work better than anyone. And here I'd wondered if something was wrong with her!" My mom looked at me with a flat look on her face and said., "Just goes to show - you can't judge a book by it's cover."

five senses

SEE
- my hands now that I finally broke down and bought some silver nail polish and painted my nails. I feel like I have jeweled fingertips! Lots of joy from a bottle of polish purchased at Walgreens!
- the book I am currently reading about New Orleans. It's called 'Why New Orleans Matters'

 HEAR
- a guy, I'll call him 'hustleman' tried to sell me a 12 pack of capri sun drinks for a dollar the other day when I came out of a store. His selling point, " You probably have kids and well... kids get thirsty." I've gotta give it to him
- he at least tried to come up with some salesmanship! - Some old man stopped me on the street the other day to tell me, "You are beautiful, absolutely stunning!" Then he said his name was Marvin and he's an Aquarius.
- A woman and her young son wait to cross a busy street in a crowd of people. He gets ready to step forward even though the traffic is driving by at a rapid pace. She says, " You step out in this street and get hit and I will hurt you boy! (I'm thinking there's pain involved either way.)
- the rain beating against the pavement

 TASTE
- salads that have a tex-mex feel to them with chopotle ranch dressing, avocados, cheese and tortilla chips among the mixed greens and tomatoes
- chicken salad
- apple juice

SMELL
- my favorite perfume
- vegetables cooking

 FEEL
- restless like I'm waiting for something big to happen
- like a cold is coming on even though I have been taking packets of Emergen-C every day for a week

human nature

Well, open studios is over and I have been in a fog the past week and a half simply absorbing what happened and moving forward. I've mostly been silent, just silent. Maybe I will understand and know my next steps if I quiet down a bit.

Open studios was incredible and filled with lots of little moments. I realized that while it was great to hear feedback about my work and to share it, so much of the experience was about human connection and recognizing that there is more to life than what we see, than what it appears to be. It was a blessing to connect to strangers in a way that wasn't superficial but rather, that left a lasting impression for both of us (I think...I hope). I thought I'd share a few little stories this week (because there are so many) so you can get an idea of some of the goodness that happened.

I saw a variety of really interesting people.
- A guy in jeans, a grey t-shirt, and tennis shoes with arms covered in tattoos walked in holding the sweetest little girl ever! She a round face and chubby cheeks. On her head she wore a bright yellow knit cap with a big yellow gerber daisy on the side. Her mom, this long haired woman in a cotton dress and converse, who for some reason reminded me of Zooey Deschanel, said that her daughter's name was Saffron. There was something about the contrast I saw - a rugged guy with tattoos and the gentleness he showed his daughter that moved me.

- I saw a tall, very slender guy with long gray hair and a mustache which he tamed with mustache wax (the ends of his mustache curled). He wore faded jeans and a grey denim jacket. His hands were embellished with rings on several of his fingers and he had a few tattoos on his knuckles. His face looked worn and a bit intimidating at first glance. He came in with his dog and the two of them wandered around looking at the work. He introduced himself and told me that he was one of the art handlers at the Art for AIDS event. I asked him if he was the guy wearing the bright red boots that night. He was surprised I remembered him and we laughed together talking like friends catching up for a moment as he told me about his experience that night as an art handler.

- I saw a woman in her mid fifties walk in. She was a white woman, probably middle class, wearing a very conservative outfit - a twinset and capri pants. She had a very serious stern look on her face yet when she entered the room her face lit up with a smile from ear to ear. As she stepped forward and looked at the sculptures she began to giggle. Then she put both hands over her mouth as the glee welled up and the laughter continued. I watched as she crossed her arms smiling and hugging herself. When we finally met she said, "Oh - such joy in this room. It overtook me."

- An old man dressed in all black and wearing a really old tattered blazer walked into the room. He had a long gray beard and wore a wool sailors hat. I instantly remembered him because he's come to several of my shows and he always carries a spoon in his blazer pocket in case he needs a utensil to eat with. We greeted one another and he reminded me of all of the places he has seen my work and how many years it's been since he first saw it. Good times.

 - At one point during the weekend while the room was crowded and I was mingling, my mom grabbed my arm and said, 'Come here - you must meet this man." She lead me over to an Asian man who stood before me with tears running down his cheeks. He said in very broken English, "This" (pointing to the wall) "Make happy". Then he smiled and said, "I hug you." before reaching out and hugging me. After the hug he nodded at me and touched his hand to his heart. Then he left.

Those are just some of the encounters that took place. More to come...

a quick hello!

My open studios show was last weekend. It was incredible and magical and lots of fun. I have wanted to talk about it and share some of the stories of things that happened but I feel like I am still soaking it all in. Anyway, maybe eventually I will get a chance to share. For now - here's a few photos...

three days and counting...

The city was buck wild today with it being both Halloween and the SF Giants Homecoming Parade so even though I got up and into gear this morning, I decided to work from home because the buses were all behind schedule today due to people partying downtown. I did not want to risk spending most of my day waiting on a bus.

Yesterday was a painful and cranky day. My knees hurt like someone hit my knee caps with a shovel but I carried on anyway and went to the studio. I hung work on two of the four walls, planned out the room and then painted more work. It's coming along. I always have incredibly high standards for myself so it's laughable to me when I encounter other people who are so lackluster about getting their spaces ready. I met a fellow shipyard artist last week who remarked - "I don't see what the big deal is. I just pull out some stuff, hang a few pictures and sweep the floor." Meanwhile I am obsessing over placement of things, typing up labels that include little short stories, making a million lists....

I have made 14 large sculptures since April! (That's the most work I have ever done in such a short period of time! I am fighting back crankiness BIG TIME because I have no one to vent to. Then again, maybe venting and complaining would only make me feel worse. I don't know.

I stumbled upon this today and decided to share it here:

Do not despise your inner world. That is the first and most general piece of advice I would offer… Our society is very outward-looking, very taken up with the latest new object, the latest piece of gossip, the latest opportunity for self-assertion and status. But we all begin our lives as helpless babies, dependent on others for comfort, food, and survival itself. And even though we develop a degree of mastery and independence, we always remain alarmingly weak and incomplete, dependent on others and on an uncertain world for whatever we are able to achieve. As we grow, we all develop a wide range of emotions responding to this predicament: fear that bad things will happen and that we will be powerless to ward them off; love for those who help and support us; grief when a loved one is lost; hope for good things in the future; anger when someone else damages something we care about. Our emotional life maps our incompleteness: A creature without any needs would never have reasons for fear, or grief, or hope, or anger. But for that very reason we are often ashamed of our emotions, and of the relations of need and dependency bound up with them. Perhaps males, in our society, are especially likely to be ashamed of being incomplete and dependent, because a dominant image of masculinity tells them that they should be self-sufficient and dominant. So people flee from their inner world of feeling, and from articulate mastery of their own emotional experiences. The current psychological literature on the life of boys in America indicates that a large proportion of boys are quite unable to talk about how they feel and how others feel — because they have learned to be ashamed of feelings and needs, and to push them underground. But that means that they don’t know how to deal with their own emotions, or to communicate them to others. When they are frightened, they don’t know how to say it, or even to become fully aware of it. Often they turn their own fear into aggression. Often, too, this lack of a rich inner life catapults them into depression in later life. We are all going to encounter illness, loss, and aging, and we’re not well prepared for these inevitable events by a culture that directs us to think of externals only, and to measure ourselves in terms of our possessions of externals.
What is the remedy of these ills? A kind of self-love that does not shrink from the needy and incomplete parts of the self, but accepts those with interest and curiosity, and tries to develop a language with which to talk about needs and feelings. Storytelling plays a big role in the process of development. As we tell stories about the lives of others, we learn how to imagine what another creature might feel in response to various events. At the same time, we identify with the other creature and learn something about ourselves. As we grow older, we encounter more and more complex stories — in literature, film, visual art, music — that give us a richer and more subtle grasp of human emotions and of our own inner world. So my second piece of advice, closely related to the first, is: Read a lot of stories, listen to a lot of music, and think about what the stories you encounter mean for your own life and lives of those you love. In that way, you will not be alone with an empty self; you will have a newly rich life with yourself, and enhanced possibilities of real communication with others.
- philosopher Martha Nussbaum

I think vulnerability is a difficult thing to deal with at times. It's uncomfortable to feel alone and raw and just so in need of comfort...

monday randomness

Some of the greatest battles will be fought within the silent chambers of your own soul. – Ezra Taft Benson

It was an awkward morning caught in my usual feeling of 'lost' that I get into on a Monday. I'd planned to go to the studio but decided to try to work on my email newsletter. That sucked up so much time that the next thing I knew hours had passed and I was still not ready to leave. I decided instead to go to the fabric store and look around. I just went to the fabric store for a mental break and to daydream a bit. I found and then carried around this cotton that had a hand drawn pattern on it made with wax printing. It was blue, and red with bits of white. It was vibrant and cute - would make a great skirt, but I didn't know if I was just that bold to pull it off. Maybe when things get back to normal, I'll buy some of it and see.

Because of my stupidity and not backing things up properly, I have to recreate a list of email addresses for my newsletter. I went through my email account but now I need to find my paper trail and finish the list tonight. I'm also working on completing a wire skirt and making bags for my pieces as well as doing laundry and gathering things to take to the studio tomorrow. Five days and counting...

five senses

SEE

- people wearing lots of orange and black as the SF Giants play in the World Series.

- this quote, which brought tears to my eyes - 

"God is always seeking you. Every sunset. Every clear blue sky. Each ocean wave. The starry hosts of night. He blankets each new day with the invitation, “I am here."

- a black girl with really outrageously long false eyelashes, bright orange and metallic grey eyeshadow, platinum blonde weave, wearing a really tight pair of jeans and a t-shirt get on the train. She pauses as she goes down the aisle and says to a woman sitting on the train, taking in this vibrant sight - "Whatchu lookin' at?!"

HEAR

- a man say "Here love" as he hands his wife her bag on the train. You could hear the love in his voice.

- a woman complaining that she'd waited over an hour for the bus. Someone tried to stop her from continuing on after 5 minutes of ranting but this only made her more upset. She was still venting when I got off the bus three stops later.

TASTE

- beans and rice

- tuna salad on toast

- Sumatra coffee

SMELL

- the smell of fall

- urine and garbage on the bus

- fresh donuts as I wait for the bus in front of a donut shop (and wish I could go in an buy some)

FEEL

- impatient

- like I'm catching a cold

- anxious as the days tick away until my show (only 8 days left to prepare)

little reminder

“You may fear that the Lord has passed you by, but it is not so: he who counts the stars, and calls them by their names, is in no danger of forgetting his own children. He knows your case as thoroughly as if you were the only creature he ever made, or the only saint he ever loved. Approach him and be at peace.”

— Charles Spurgeon