Musings Overview

I found a very tiny faux Moleskine in a bucket on the bottom shelf of a bookcase.  It is filled with beautiful, breathtaking, completely insightful and wildly delicate drawings, words, ideas from late 2007-early 2008.

I was in college then.

I remember these tiny sketchbooks I kept.  At the time they were merely a dumping ground for all the gunk floating around in my brain at any given moment.  A place to purge.  Remove.  Record.  Repeat.

I never suspected I would encounter one years later and be fully swept away by its contents.

It is truly a gem.  Anyone who knows me knows this is not a sentiment I reserve for my own makings.  I am simply that struck.

Tiny, itty bitty portraits drawn with one of those stupidly fine Micron pens, ones I would inevitably end up throwing away because I pushed too hard ONE time and the tip was toast.  Face after face of fleeting, careful moments in the day-to-day existence of a 22-year-old college student whose life just seemed so. Hard. Always…

Microscopic doodlings of J so delicately exacting the most perfect mark with a razor blade on a sixty pound chunk of stone.

The wiry outline of a Volkswagon sitting across the street from the bus stop I grew to love and loathe.

A crisp rendition of a bottle of Crystal Geyser water perched on the edge of my workstation, embodying the soul of those moments when I realized I had no idea what the hell I was doing.  Wanting to crawl away and sleep.

Haiku after ridiculous haiku about nothing at all, like I am a small child first discovering he has legs, and deeply understanding the power such knowledge wields.

And writing, too.  Poetry, sense impressions, thoughts... I will post a few here, as I'd like to continue enjoying them over and over again, and maybe you will too.

XOXO

Finding Figure Drawing

I've recently had a breakthrough of sorts.  I must backtrack.

I was farting around on Tumblr one day a couple weeks ago and I came across a painting that nearly knocked me out of my chair.  This painting, a HUGE portrait of a girl's face, completely took my breath away.

(To view, go here: http://www.elly.ca/)

I nosed around her website for a while and not long into said nosing did I start to feel bad about myself.

I know, I KNOW.  It is so stupid to compare your art to someone else's.  You can never make someone else's art.  There mere idea is fundamentally impossible.  However, I still could not keep my insecurities from bubbling up to the surface.  They don't very often, with art, but that day they bubbled quite violently.

I think part of it is this artist's work embodies something I would love to be able to achieve in my own work: painting emotionally and loosely, with careful and beautiful use of color.  

I moped for a while and then started thinking.

What do I feel my work has been missing lately?

Where do I feel I'm not exploring enough?

What kind of feelings am I trying to communicate?

How do I communicate those feelings?

To answer my own ponderings, I feel my work has been lacking an energy, a vitality, a movement that it once had years ago.  The gesture and brushy quality that launched my interest in texture and light.  I've swayed the other direction into a more careful and illustrative approach -- I don't believe "too far" the other direction is the proper way to describe this, as all explorations into an idea serve a specific, useful, and grand function in the overall body of work and pursuit of ideas -- but this stirring of insecurities I now see clearly as marking a shift moving back the other direction: painting more expressively, accessing emotions more, responding and reacting openly to the material and the surface, placing less judgment on a mark or expression, being able to laugh at myself and keep trucking on in a very "air" kind of way. 

I really do need to credit Jamie with helping me realize these things.  We were chatting online and she slapped me with this:

[Regarding stumbling upon other good artists]

I hate that so much. But we are who we are. We can't change it. 

But we can take bits of other people and make it our own

[and what to do about it]

Girl, your talent is better than tht. You DO have it in you. You gotta work it out! 

Keep pushing. Play with color. Spend a day mixing color even! Make a color wheel in your sketch book. Definitely find a figure group. This girl has great gesture an emotion and is good with color. 

You can be that too! But better cuz youre you. And f her website. It's better than mine lol

I cannot describe how much I love this girl.  She always knows exactly, precisely, what to say.

But her mention of figure drawing lit me up inside.  THAT'S the thing that's missing.  THAT is the key to communicating the energy and gesture in my paintings -- getting my brain moving, thinking, buzzing with form and movement.  FIGURE DRAWING.  Drawing from a live model, in a room with other people drawing, something in which I am so expert yet haven't pursued for... five YEARS?  Jesus Christ.  That is five years I've not done what my soul is telling me to do. 

Hipbone Studio has three sessions a week for $10 per session.  Two of them I plan to attend on a weekly basis (the third is during the workday).  I went to my first session last Wednesday and it appears I've still got it in me...

Pics of my most recent painting to follow!

As I Say: It's Never Too Late

I finally -- FINALLY -- completed a fairly simple project that I've putting off for just about forever: buying a large piece of wood to use as a surface to tack loose canvas and paper to, so I don't wreck the walls in my apartment.  I know -- I, too, cannot believe it took me this long...

 

Who doesn't love BIG STIFF WOOD?

 

And because the only place for the wood to go is where the piano was previously housed, le sweet piano then had nowhere to live.  Solution?  She is now in the boudoir, and along with some very thoughtful and careful rearranging turned my previously lackluster bedside table situation into THIS miraculous piece of decorating genius!

 

...and my favorite painting has never looked better. <3

 



Utilizing Saturday

...and another!  Fantastic fun.

 

Jamie & JackJack

Graphite, Charcoal, Conte on Paper

28" x 36"

I Write Letters to People, Though I Rarely Intend to Send Them

September 29, 2012

Dear Jamie,

We're having Santa Cruz weather and it conjures so quickly those feelings I used to have when I'd start my mornings on foot and soak up the beach air along the riverbed.  The exact same feelings!  Distinct and specific, marking a time so distinct to my memory it almost makes me well up with that combination of sad-happy (sappy?); marking the transition into something big and important, that I would not know until much later how big and important it truly was: art school, making art constantly, forging friendships with some of the most influential people in my life, including you, and making art together.  Doesn't it feel weird?  That times are so distant?

The clouds are low and warm grey.  It feels like the beach could be right around the corner.

In my dreams, right?

Love,
P

A Blessed Unrest

Another one from J.

Another one that speaks to my soul.

"There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique.  If you block it, it will never exist through any other medium.  It will be lost.  The world will not have it.  It is not your business to determine how good it is, nor how valuable it is, nor how it compares with other expressions.  It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open.
You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work.  You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motive you.  Keep the channel open.  There is no satisfaction whatever at any time.  There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive."

-Martha Graham to Agnes de Mille

Meeting Degas

I had a painting lying around forever and ever that I hated intensely.  It had been through so many permutations I couldn't bear to think how to resolve it.  For more than a year it sat.

Then suddenly, today, out of nowhere: sudden inspiration.

I have misplaced the process photos from the original painting, so I must begin where I began today, with the first overlay.

Sometimes, there is nothing you can do to resolve a painting

other than just paint the fuck over it.

It freaks me out a little that I can still see her face in this one.

Channeling Degas and fellow artist S. Bertino...

S. Bertino

Acrylic

August 2012

It feels like the old lady is still in the painting, like her spirit contributes to the entire communicative experience of the painting as a whole.  I love that.

J-Chanandle put it quite nicely:

"That eye line is pure sex."

Thanks, J.  

Feeling really good about this one.

<3

Thoughts on Process

flow

loss of awareness and time
loss of self-consciousness
challenging, requiring concentration
requiring high level of skill
immediate feedback
lack of emotion

I produced a drawing, the final drawing of about 6 of 7, that gave me that fluttery, in love feeling.  The feeling that I used to get pretty frequently in art school, when I was drawing a lot.  The drawings preceding this one were apprehensive, careful, too self-aware.  It took making a number of those kinds of drawings to be able to let go and draw how I know how to draw, be how I know how to be, make something beautiful, effortlessly and gracefully and without regard for my own feelings, like I've done a hundred times before.

It takes making something lackluster, then thinking Well, I'll just try something else... and continuing on.  Ho-hum drawings can feel like wasted time and paper, but if that's what it takes to create a masterpiece, then so be it.

...

It's a process of following a thought rolling around in my head.  I try to express the thought, either successfully or unsuccessfully, then once complete I either try to express the same thought again or it has lead to another thought that requires expressing.  This can go on for hours, attempting to make visual a thought that is both image and deep emotion, intertwined inextricably.

Yup. Still Got It.

Graphite

July 2012

Sunflowers & Sweet Vermouth

I painted a little painting last night but I rightly detest it.

I texted J this morning after I'd slept on it.

I painted sunflowers last night and discovered the same thing I always discover: I do NOT UNDERSTAND FLOWERS.


Dude, me either.  Too much consistent inconsistency.

I think that's it.  The structure is too consistent and rigid but still, somehow, surprising and inconsistent.

I don't understand anything that's not a FACE.  Just give me a FACE.

Well, I guess it's okay now that I look at it on here.  But it wasn't what I was going for.

It's been a rough couple weeks.  I had a strange stomach ache for over a week that, no matter how I treated it, stayed and stayed.  Kept me up at night, wouldn't let me eat anything, distracted me and wouldn't leave me alone.  All I wanted was soup and crackers and 7-Up for days...

It feels allergy related.  I've only developed allergies since I moved to the big O and they're sneaking their way in gradually.  Each summer they're a little bit worse, a little more inconvenient, and little more Hmmm, is this what allergies feel like?  And I know it sounds weird, but this stomach ache was so resistant to anything I did I can't help but wonder if it wasn't your typical "bug."

Oh yeah, then my birthday rolled around (more to follow on that) but, wah, it was on a Monday and WHO in the WORLD wants to have a birthday on a MONDAY?  NOBODY.  Mondays are inherently stupid, even if you do go to a killer breakfast at Gravy when nobody is there, and the food is just as awesome as it is on a busy Saturday.

I guess there's just something... "off"... about having a birthday.  Even if you have tons of fun and surround yourself with people, as soon as you get a moment alone all these sad/weird feelings start creeping in.  A reminder of the swiftness of time, perhaps?  I think so.

Anyway, enough of that.  The weekend before my birthday was splendid, particularly my Girls Breakfast on Saturday.  When we do Screen Door, we each order our own meals and then put Fried Chicken & Waffles right smack in the middle of the table to share.

Don't be afraid.  I was skeptical at first, before I discovered the magic...

It's the thing I keep telling everybody: it's all about the Salty + Sweet.  The ice cream shops are finally starting to figure it out.  There is yet to be fried chicken and waffle flavored ice cream, but Pear & Bleu Cheese is certainly a step in the right direction (ten points for Salt & Straw).

[diversion]

[saltandstraw.com]

[Seriously, check out these flavors. You'll just crap.]

[...Pretty sure my mom's like "Ooooo, Coffee & Bourbon!"]

My lovely and adorable friend Nelle gave me a bundle of fresh sunflowers that now sit perkily in my sunny kitchen.  I've never had sunflowers before and I'm starting to understand the appeal.  They prompted the desire to paint and are just so darned HAPPY!

The next day, I had a coffee date at my house with Brother and that was as delightful as delightful can be.  I really do have the best kitchen for coffee-ing.  He mentioned the dangers of having a tall comfy stool next to my java station, however, and ever since he mentioned it I've begun to understand the perils.  Not to mention the "station" has slowly become home to not only the hot tasty beverages, but the tasty "adult" beverages.  I'm sure you can clearly see the perils of having a strategically placed chair of proper height next to the place that dispenses happy juice.

(Tonight was especially happy.)

Oh, that reminds me -- I need help thinking of a name for the beverage I invented.  Well, at least that's what Brother told me.  If it actually exists somewhere and he said that just because, then I'm going to be really mad.

Mystery Drink a la Summertime

Rocks

Vodka

Vermouth

OJ

Splash tonic

YUMMMMM.

I have this problem with blog posts.  I just start going on and on, as if they're going somewhere, and then I don't know how to stop them.  I don't know how to tie it up neatly at the end, to make it feel "whole."

How about,

Buh-BAM.

Spring Cleaning

The weather the past few weeks has been completely idyllic.  It's kind of unbelievable for May around here.  It won't last, because it never does, but MAN has this Spring been fun so far.

Last weekend the Boy and I had a "beach" day in the park.  Meaning, we went to the park across the street, bared our pasty white Portland skin in our swimsuits, sat on a blanket, drank iced tea, read books, and pretended we were at the beach.

I was totally convinced.  The sun was warm that day, but the air was crispy and the sound of the wind blowing through the tall trees sounded exactly like a roaring ocean.  Didn't need you anyway, Oregon coast . . . 

This morning I got up and kept trying to talk myself into going outside and doing things in other places, but I actually felt like being at home.  I actually felt prepared to tackle everything I haven't been doing -- but have needed to do -- for months.  You know the stuff: sorting mail, doing dishes, shredding stuff, cleaning the floors, sorting throwaway clothing into "Goodwill" and "try to sell to snobs at Buffalo," cleaning the mold out of the shower, blah blah blah . . . 

With each to-do I completed, I felt lighter and more at ease.  I had this huge round chair that nobody sat in that took up a lot of space in this little apartment.  It just collected piles of clothing and pillows.  I was finally like "You know what?  I am so done with this stupid chair" and I made a sign that said "FREE! In good shape, needs love <3" and put it on the sidewalk.  It was gone within a few hours, and I feel SO MUCH BETTER ABOUT LIFE.  It's weird -- getting rid of things that I no longer use actually makes me feel different physically.  Like I can breathe again.

I started cleaning stuff out because the Boy is [kind of] [technically] moving in.  We started looking for a new place months ago, but his lease wasn't up until the end of May.  The plan has been if we couldn't find a place by the time his lease was up, then he'd just move in here and we'd work it out.  He basically lives here anyway, so it won't be much different.  But it means getting rid of stuff I don't need anymore, because apparently I'm really good at keeping, collecting, and stashing anything and everything.  It's not as bad as those weirdos on that hoarders show, but I certainly get stuck in the "but what if I need it later?" thought spiral.  This is the problem: if I keep something because I might need it later, then I will never need it later.  If I get rid of something because I know I will never need it later, then I most certainly do need it later and it MAKES ME SO PISSED.  Do you see how this can be a problem?  Time and time again it proves to be true.

Stupid universe.

Speaking of apartment hunting, have I told you it is turning into my worst nightmare?  I've been actively looking for a place since January -- literally, since January.  We've looked at two places, the only ones that were even remotely worthwhile and proved to not be scams.  We didn't get one of them, didn't apply for the other because it was kind of atrocious, and turned down an offer from my boss who rents a property because it's just way out of our price range. I don't remember finding housing being this difficult.  Like, ever.  

Am I being too picky?  I hope not.  This is the way I see it: I'm not going to move unless a lot of things are better than our current situation, ie: closer to jobs, more square footage, at least a little bit cute and/or funky, some decent light, a normal sized kitchen.  It will be a waste of time and money to move just because, to soon realize our situation is not much better than before.

So if you know of anyone who has a place, is leaving a place, knows somebody who knows somebody who has a place, or even someone who has a large garage or perhaps an unusually luxurious cardboard box, let me know.

All of this means I need to make some amount of peace with my current apartment.  I have spent a lot of time being mad at her, but overall she's been good to me.  I can't deny that.  So I must figure out a way to make it work for the time being.

That's what today was about.

And *this* sweet little setup lit my freakin' fire -- I find I don't usually like having my own paintings hanging up in my house, but when I did this I just about crapped.

Not only does it make the room look waaaay bigger (how?!) but these paintings make me SO FREAKIN' HAPPY.  The photos really don't do them justice, especially the one of Lo, but hanging them up like this sparked something inside me and I just feel delirious with excitement.  It's probably in part due to this vein of work I'm in right now.  These paintings express something I have been trying to express for years, and have never been able to.  I don't know what's different.  I don't know what shifted.  But something was ready to start producing paintings with this feel and I'm stoked.

I've also been daydreaming about having a place with a room to call my studio, instead of a corner.  

Me:  I'm going to rearrange the apartment and turn half of it into my studio.  Okay?

Will:  Awesome!

(I love that goofy bitch.)

I'm thinking, Why not?  Why not turn my whole dumb apartment into a big fantastic art-making lair?  Didn't do it yet today, but . . . . . . . . . . it's on my pre-To-Do To-Do.

Puttering around in my apartment today was exactly what I needed.  I feel more quiet today, and in cleaning and rearranging I did end up finding some peace with the place.  A few minor tweaks made a world of difference, and I soaked up the light and patterns and colors I'd stopped seeing after a while.

Art spaces are just messy.  No way around it.

I will never stop loving you . . . <3

I brewed some more coffee at 5pm and soaked up my handiwork.  Life's pretty good . . . I GUESS . . . 

;-)

This One's for Jamie

More adventures with opposite-hand drawings

A Right Hand with a Left Hand
Ink on paper
2011

Little Drawings, etc. 8 Nov 2011

From one of those miniature Molskines.  "Caches" I think?  They’re quite handy, especially in an airport.

Left-Handed Drawing

I have a feeling this will prompt further left-handed adventures.   It hearkens back to the idea of “un-learning,” something many artists may encounter when trying to relinquish control.

I highly recommend it!

Art Sesh with Brother 10.18.11

I scheduled an Art session with Brother last week.  I don’t recall that’s something I’ve ever done.  Nevertheless, it turned out to be productive and (duh) raucous.

Not that I have any particular affinity for Chuck Klosterman — never having read any of his writings (he’s a writer, right?) — I just happen to like his face.

And I have since bought some better paper.  This stuff is shit.

On Art and the Inherent Preoccupation

Making bundles of balloons out of white price tags
colored with pink and green, inked with wandering chicken feet
and bouquets of flowers and wise words:

Live
Rinse
Repeat

What good advice I gave myself when I drank until six AM
and pieced myself together enough to get to class by eight;

I boiled the eggs and bought the milk and la-dee-dahed the day away
unable to get it off my mind, even tried a nice salty float
but had a hard time --
she's weird about things in her ears --
and my mind kept going back to that stuff;
plagues every train of thought
every avenue of existing comfortably in my skin
and comes back every time
like it did back then when I used to drink a lot
and make things --

What is different?  Have I changed?

I'm still me, pretty sure,
I have the same ailments, same mental emotional retardation
and latent anger I keep thinking is destructive a little
but GOD DAMMIT it feels good sometimes;
I drank some wine and that made it worse or maybe better
depending how you look at it,
maybe better like it used to make it,
but J. Chanandler Bing would say it's fucking awesome
'cause I think she wants to drink the wine with me too;

I feel in love and alive and level and clearer than I've been in a while
even though my dreams are nuts and grossly epic,
I still love when Bear ponders the emotions flitting across my face --
'cause there are thousands, just thousands of them --
because it lights up his and I love
when his face looks like that, so sweet and eager,
and damn that fucking charming beard.

 

Oh hello, MOST STUPIDLY PERFECT LATE SUMMER DAY

A Nice Meander

 

 

 Crotch shot