Hotel Art??

So you be the judge - does my tree qualify as hotel art?  Do I even care?  Because after painting, repainting and repainting yet again 95 friggin' leaves this SOB is going on my wall above the couch.  I had suggested I may take a photo of the hideous 80's art it will be replacing, but I just can't bring myself to do it.  I will share other intimate details of my life with y'all, but to show you what has been hanging on my wall for the past 7 years is way too embarrassing. So I just have to run out and buy protective clear coverage gunk to spray over it - thanks to pal Traci I know where to go and what to buy.

And I have to be honest about the design of this piece - it is not mine. There's a surprise.  The idea for the background border came from Pier 1 (couldn't afford the $400 they wanted for their painting) and the tree is taken from Stampin' Up of all places from their vinyl wall art designs.  I just have to keep practicing and playing and believing that my own style will one day emerge.  I have faith it will.  I think that must come with confidence - something I'm in short supply of at the moment.  When I have the courage to be me in my work then my style will come out. And I don't understand why I can't visually do that since I'm pretty much able to do that in my writing?  I write like I talk.  My voice comes through my writing why can't it come through my art? Is my art my writing?  

So I've just messed up my blasted mascara from a crying fit I just had.  Why am I so neurotic about creating art? I hate that word right now - ART. What the hell is it anyway and why do I not feel entitled to even use the word in regards to myself?  Why am I such a freakin' mess this morning?  Where are all these feelings coming from? It's like a bunch of sea gulls hovering over my head taking turns to dive bomb down on me.  Cheeky bastards just keep coming at me. Anyway, if you see a flustered woman walking around mumbling to herself and swatting at the air, that will be me - just cross to the other side of the street and say a pray of thanksgiving that it's not you - because you and I both know that it could be....

 

Create

This is a week off work for me so I have been busy on my canvas - I think I mentioned that I finally got to work on it after it sitting in it's wrapper for over a year!  Anyway, you'd think I was working on the the Sistine Chapel when in fact I'm fearful I'm on the verge of creating hotel art. Well, hotel art may be a bit harsh - even for me - but possibly reception room art! I have 21 more leaves to paint and then I must repaint all 95 of them because evidently red requires many coats.  I'll be brave and take a photo of it to post & no matter what, it's going on my wall because it is definitely better than the piece o' crap that is currently hanging on my wall over my couch.  In fact, just for the heck of it I will take a photo of that so you can see exactly what I've been living with for oh, say, the past 7 years!! Can you tell I'm rather slow to change?

But I am changing and I'd like to think for the better. Even though my last post kind of surprised my husband that I'd go into such personal details of myself.  My immediate reaction was to worry he was right, but then I stopped myself.  You know, I've spent most of my life putting on a good show for everyone.  Trying really hard to be things I wasn't.  It got me in a lot of trouble and it got me really miserable.  Perhaps I'm swinging too much the other way now - giving out TMI on myself. But this is me. I can't be anything other than that now - I immediately get too uncomfortable in my own skin when I try to be something I'm not.  I've worked too hard to come out of that black hole to willingly go crawling back in.  I sometimes sit on the edge of that hole - looking down into the darkness - but I don't stay there long.  Too risky and I know where that hole leads - I don't ever want to go back there again.

So I'll keep making reception room art if that what it takes to keep me out of holes. 

Painting the Roses Red

I just loved making the swirly roses with my watercolor pencils and then taking a small paint brush to them and watching all the colors swish around. Made me think of the cards in Alice in Wonderland painting the roses red. Hopefully nobody will cut off my head.....

Perfect Pen

Here it is - in all it's glory - my perfect pen. My pen that I have been searching practically my whole life for - well, for as long as I have realized I have a pen fetish. Yes, some women have a weakness for shoes and purses - I succumb to pens. I say once an addict always an addict - we just change our addictions. I have been sober almost 8 years now, but my pen purchases have been on the rise - along with my candy intake. I have a certain cabinet in my kitchen that houses my candy stash - yes, another addiction. Well, this stash had gotten so bad that my son recently opened the cabinet door and as candy was falling every where he turned, looked my in the eyes and simply said "Oh, mom." I felt horrible - like he caught me taking a swig of liquor. Anyway, it was one of the ah-hah moments and I knew I had to do something about my little problem. So for this Lent season I have given up all candy. Now, being the true alcoholic I am, I have left a loop hole for myself - I am still allowed to have desert type items - cake, cookies, ice cream - all fair game! Please don't be like my husband and try to point out the insanity of this reasoning. It makes sense to me. My candy stash was filled with sugar candy - Skittles, Runts, Mike & Ikes, Nerds, Sweet Tarts, Smarties, I could go on, but to maintain some dignity I think I will stop there - you get the picture. And let's face it, I'm smart enough to realize that there is something deeper going on when I see my candy consumption out of control. Time to do a little more life work.

But I have totally digressed from my perfect pen - fancy me going off on a tangent.....My pen. My beautiful rose covered pen that writes like a bird floating on the wind. It feels so good in my hand - chubby with some heft - it feels solid. I had spotted this little gem at a store in Portland called Oblation. I could move into this store. Beautiful stationary, journals, cards, hand made papers, and of course writing instruments of all kinds. If you are ever in town you must go there and breath it all in - yummy 'papery' smell mingled with leather and wood. So, now that I have this amazing pen I am suppose to be able to finally write my story - whatever that story may be! I have been procrastinating because I couldn't possibly write without the perfect pen! Well, now I have no more excuses - although I'm sure my back-stabbing friend, Fear, will help come up with some new ones!