Aero 1... the saga continues....

You would think by now I would stop being surprised by my inability to be consistent. That seems to be my signature in art... no signature at all. I can't tell you how many times I have tried to create several pieces of work at the same time only to have them look like they were painted by several hands and usually there is a sharp learning curve on each. And so Aero 1 was born.

I like it. 

I do.

But it's not the same as the other two. 

And I knew it going in. But I couldn't help myself.

I just couldn't.

'sigh'

Anyway... at least with this aberration I think I have figured out the way I will approach the next projects that might ensure a bit more consistency. 

It starts with the computer... the medium of choice for the modern illustrator. I've worked in illustration for years....(usually in a constant state of irritation that leads to violent fantasies of wanting to beat the so called art director with his or her own arm but that's beside the point) and I've picked up quite a love of Adobe. I find it uber-relaxing to create in Illustrator as it tends to inspire me into a visual poetry of a sort... a pairing down of the work into the most simplistic and elegant shapes. It turned out to be entirely necessary for the bubbles...who knew the little buggers would be such sticklers for perfection? So the sketch begins here with a simplifying of reality.

Then I took the time to work out the palette and gradient in Photoshop.

Then the fun began as I started to work out ways to make it interesting on the canvas.

I think that was what sold this whole technique for me. The marriage of planning and spontaneity.

Truth be told... I have an unnecessary fear of using the computer with painting. The man who calls himself my father is an artist too (the best one in the Midwest apparently, according to him, but that's beside the point) and he wholly relied on it for the better part of my childhood. I've always considered that the static, over-thought out work was a direct result of his computer usage. That alone has always scared me from relying on it too much. But I am starting to get over it. I will just try to find ways to keep the work fresh and spontaneous while adding a bit of structure. Turns out that it's the artist that creates the mediocrity... not the computer, who would have thought?

Anyway... I think this is the way I'm going to go from now on with this series. Illustrator will add a bit of consistency and discipline. Photoshop will help me suss out more interesting color and texture schemes.  And I will add the chaos in the painting process...my specialty. Maybe I might get a consistent series yet... maybe.... oh who knows... 'sigh'.

First Incendia 1...now Atlantis 1...the saga continues...

My Latest Painting- Atlantis 1

It's official... it's a series. Sniff... my first one. It's so cute. So full of potential. My palms are sweating at the potential failure. You see, a series is hard. A series demands a certain amount of consistency. I am not consistent. Not at all... Nope... not even a little bit. Anything that carries over from one painting to another is sheer subconscious or sheer luck depending on who's looking. But now I'm attempting it. It's nerve wracking. Crap. 

So...

My first attempt at this painting failed miserably ( at a live painting of course... more embarrassing that way) and my intention was to show the before and after of a failed first attempt. However I became overzealous with the gesso... and painted over it before I took a picture. So instead,  I thought I might give a tiny glimpse into my process... if that's what one can call it. At least the process I am trying to implement for this series... that word again... ick!

 It all starts with a sketch... well, this one did cause I screwed the first one up so well. That's when I bother to work out the kinks before wasting more time. I am the very epitome of discipline...

Next I fling random color onto the canvas...

Next is a layer of abstract glazes... this is supposed to have a water feel so I chose to create a feeling of bubbles... well actually, Trevor, my husband decided bubbles as I suddenly panicked at the thought of a series and couldn't figure out what to do next.... Panic is an integral part of all my processes.

Then the final step... the silhouettes. This was the problem the first time. Unlike trees, I was unfamiliar as to how to take on the underwater plants. They had to balance well and be different... a much more complex composition as opposed to Incendia 1( the tree one for all of you who don't remember names...not unlike the artist herself ). As you can see...I stayed pretty close to the sketch but of course things need to change in paint. The balance changes with color and sometimes the art just wants it different.

Now for all of you out there who just tuned in to my blog and have no idea what the first one looked like from my last blog...Or for those who just can't imagine the two together in a ...nope not going to say the word again...
 Here they are side by side... 

Now it's time to do one another. And another. And I think I am going to throw up now. Maybe that'll be the next series. "Artist with Weak Stomache 1-13"

Another day, another experiment...

When I started painting for a living, I realized that I might be at a disadvantage with others who have been to art school. I have always been self taught and so my skills have been limited to those I choose to try. So in an effort to expand my repertoire and increase the likelihood of professional success, early on I began to experiment with self given artistic "assignments".

Funny enough, that early paranoia was kind of unwarranted. My brief stint as a hiring art director gave me a depressing glimpse into the sorely unoriginal world of the typical art student. I have never seen such boring and unimaginative work... full of used visual puns and borrowing heavily from blatant commercialism. And the assignments were identical from student to student and school to school. A cookie cutter way to create "art". My stuff might be self taught but at least it's original and constantly evolving...and I would like to think I will keep it that way.

This latest painting is a nod to modern impressionism. I rarely add abstract elements in my work and yet I've always liked the juxtaposition of realism and pattern. I decided that it was time to brush up on my looser, more-abstract techniques when this image burned itself into a dream the other night. I tried it out at my latest live painting. The reaction was mixed but positive. Kind of "Hell yeah!" mixed with "WTF!" I think people get a little thrown when I jump out of the box they try to fit me in. And I'm doing that a lot lately. I just don't want to get settled into a definitive style while there's so much I might want to add. Also the way this style works involves all the crazy abstract colors first before the trees... so I think people just thought I'd lost my mind and hadn't really worked out a painting until the end of the night. Then it got a lot of attention. 

The best part about these ventures into alternate techniques is that, regardless where it goes, it's guaranteed to affect all my other paintings for the better. A bigger arsenal is always better. And I like it. So that's something. In fact, I like this technique so much that I'm planning a series. With so much potential, I'm excited to see how they evolve from here. And on the plus side, they're fun as hell to paint. And isn't that what it's all about?

No pic... just pain.

Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.

It has been the bane of my existence since the birth of my wonderful son. In the final months of pregnancy, it's painful tentacles crept into my arms and wrists so severely that it effectively shut down the process of creating his nursery mural. For months after, it would tingle and stiffen at random inconvenient times but then it seemed to be slowly disappearing into the annoying void from whence it came... I was finally free. But then again...

It's baaaaaccccckkkk (insert little girl's voice from poltergeist here).

I suddenly was struck with a horrible bout of pain in my neck and shoulder last week. Just in time for my birthday, it was a "gift" to remind me that I was truly getting older. It has lasted a week... well, at least the pain did... but even now it still feels like I have tight rubber bands around my wrist making even typing a bit like swallowing with a sore throat. I think if there really was a hell for artists... it would be an eternal bout with this stuff.

On the plus side, I have to say that the forced break has made my heart grow fonder. I have been marinating for the past week, throwing around ideas and sketches in my head... essentially going nuts with unused creativity. It's like being trapped in captivity. I am sooo going to tear into a painting as soon as this lightens up. Let's hope I don't go too crazy while I wait, not that anyone would notice the difference.

The Result... The Party and Aftermath.

So I am back after a week in my least favorite place in the world....Southern California. Paradise, my ass. It's just hot. And dry. And full of strip malls, concrete, and questionable ideals. Ironic that it should also be home to some of my dearest friends. The last vestige of humanity in a sea of frustrations.
I digress... ok, so the party....
I was not looking forward to the party. Almost a dozen loud kids packed into a house in California heat. Tons of attention with tons of pressure to not say or do the "wrong" thing. And a one year old to take care of.  Basically a chaotic blitzkrieg. It almost overshadowed my worry as to whether he would like the book.
But it went surprisingly well. It was kind of hellish on my nervous system, and I wasn't entirely thrilled with the attention, but it went on without a hitch and he liked the book. Loved the book. And so did everyone else. There really is no way to describe the feeling of unanimous praise after a month long effort. It is akin to the feeling I used to have standing on stage and taking a bow on the opening night of a show. It's the single greatest feeling an artist can experience.... the connection to others through one's work. And it made up for the screaming a bit.
I also "wow"ed them with my cake painting. To be fair, my mother made the cake... and it was yummy despite her  "it's too dry" campaign against it. But in the tradition started by my father, I painted the cake. Since my father's time at the brush, I have revised the technique... now instead of spreading icing around to simulate paint, I essentially "watercolor" it with food coloring. It's surprisingly effective and simple... I water down the gel colors, and then brush them over the icing gently, letting the color spread just like watercolor paint. It makes for a very vibrant result with realistic painting effects. Best of all, I can get an insane amount of detail. In this case, I recreated my giraffe from his invitation. Actually it came out looking like a younger version of the giraffe...a baby if you will, which suited the occasion perfectly.
Now truth be told, Skyler wouldn't even try the cake...his nervous system was as tapped as his mother's....but that was ok. This birthday really wasn't for him as I've said before in my posts. The one year old birthday party is for the adults. It's a celebration of him surviving the first year. It's a celebration of us surviving his first year. Hell, it's a celebration of us surviving the celebration. And most importantly, it's about friends and family.... I say this with an slightly sarcastic yet loving tone... that I still can't truly appreciate since my ears are still ringing.

Been there..DONE that... Hell Yeah!!!!

It is DONE!!!!!!
Oh my god! It's been forever. I feel like I have been working on this book for the past millenia. I think I can now be considered legally insane.

Unbelievably the final assembly process went relatively smooth... only taking me two days. That was after I had already cut the entire book out only to realize that I had bought stretch denim. That is a no no... makes everything ten times harder to cut, assemble and eventually will stretch out of all form. It's basically the work of the devil. So back to the dreaded Joann Fabrics. Round two of cutting went much faster (as all mistakes go) and so did sewing it all into a cohesive whole. And so now I feel odd. It's like this space in my head has opened and nothing is there to fill it. I am relieved that it's over but oddly sad that it's done.

Hopefully this marks a turning point in my self discipline. For years now, I have been a very hard but very scattered worker. Not that any boss would notice since I always make my deadlines. But time management has never been my forte. I have often, in the past, found myself creating a 100 hour project in the wee hours of the last night before a deadline...with no obvious ill effects but my own dissatisfaction. I can't help but acknowledge that although I can do miraculous amounts of work in a small amount of time, the work suffers. It is usually riddled with mistakes and that kills it for me. I want work that I can be truly proud of. Like this book.

I also want to stop the burn out cycle. Time and time again, I will work till I drop out of sheer exhaustion and frustration. Then follows a dry spell akin to Death Valley. I become repulsed by the thought of work. But this time is different. I am tired. Well worn. But I am already thinking of things I want to do next. And I still have the energy to blog...(although I am not quite as in the mood as usual). So this is a huge step for me.

Now comes the party... I am soooo excited to have him finally play with the book. I can't wait. It's been a month in the works and I am so happy that he will benefit from it. I am also kind of expecting that he will like the wrapping paper just as much but hopefully the book will outlast that initial enthusiasm. It would be my luck that I find him dragging the ragged scraps of wrapping a year from now, while the book lies thickly covered with dust in the corner. Oh what am I talking about... Trev will play with it enough to keep that from happening. Ah kids....

Time to Face it.... the book is almost done!!!!

This is the face page of my book. By far the creepiest and most fun of all....even for grownups. Now let's hope it doesn't scare my kid. It's essentially a 2D version of Mr. Potato. As an educational buffet, this page will be a way to help Skyler understand emotional facial cues and vocabulary, teach the parts of the face and demonstrate how velcro works.  As a purely fun distraction, it's wicked weird and uber silly.

The page was essentially nothing very demanding after all the other pages.... just a series of appliques. But the challenge was making the little face pieces. They are all in vanilla colored denim with a fabric interface stiffener.... essentially stiff and puffy. The edges are satin stitched with heavy duty thread and then I painted them. I really was trying to avoid non-sewing methods... but this just demanded it. I could have spent the time trying to make the faces with stitches and applique but ultimately they would have been very simplistic. Not at all the weird fun I wanted to make. This illustrates a lesson I have long since learned in art... be flexible. Make a plan but be prepared to abandon it altogether when the art demands it.

 I think that principle guides my decisions as a parent as well. I try to plan the day for Skyler... so that he eats enough food, sleeps the right amount of time... plays a lot... but ultimately I let Sky determine how the plan actually turns out. I trust that he knows what's best for him. I realize that this goes against many parenting techniques but I truly think that my job is to help him be the best he can be.... just like my art. They both need my help to actualize but they inherently create their own destinies. I only hope to be wise enough to listen to and see them clearly so that I can provide the richest environment for that growth. And if I'm really wise, the art.. and Skyler will teach me something new in the process. I have to say that is the best part of this whole journey... the challenges, the obstacles, the learning. And it never ends. Kind of like this book. Now to finish putting it together... that will be a blog unto itself.

Who's house? Shoe's House... I said who's house? Shoe's house!!!

Another day gone, another page done! I am getting pretty fast at this. The latest piece is the Shoe House. In essence, it's a traditional lacing page but I thought it would be fun to give a nod to the nursery rhymes and give it that "lived in" look. It comes complete with a window, door, and extra thick lacing for little fingers. The door even holds a little surprise for the extra curious....

So it took a couple hours to cut, and three hours to piece together with Trevor (my loving husband) aiding in the rivet process. I work pretty late and so he graciously offered to run up our apartment complex driveway to hammer them on without annoying our neighbors. He is a saint... don't I know it.

And all that was done by 2 am.

So why the hell am I up at 6:40am writing this blog? Cause our little one has inherited his father's curly hair and button nose, my enthusiasm and insomnia. He woke up wide awake at 4am. And when I say awake, I mean it's as if he's been fed jet fuel. As I type, he is animatedly singing in the kitchen and I am sucking down caffeine.

Normally I wouldn't mind. I have the same enthusiasm and insomnia. In fact, I often wear him out rather than vice versa, but I think I have been tapping myself out a bit with all the sewing. I think today is going to be a day off. I am tired. Since I gave birth a year ago, I haven't quite been myself. Between hormones and learning to juggle Sky's needs with my own, I have had quite the difficulty finding any motivation for creativity at all and so I have been in quite the rut. Now with this project, inspiration has put me into overdrive and as always, I take everything as far as I can. But that same energy can burn me out and encourage mistakes.... so before I tank this incredibly important book, I shall say adieu for a day and relax... if this little wired one lets me.

I'm on a kaiser....Page 4!!! The zipper page.

It's a moon. I've mooned you. Punny, eh?

Ok, so I'm tired and silly. Whatcha going to do about it, eh? 


Today's blog is about the next page in the infamous baby book. Honestly, I thought it was going to be a couple days before I got this one done. It has a zipper... oooooh scary. Zippers are universally intimidating. They require a different sewing foot, they need to be semi invisible, and they need to work without that annoying thing where the fabric gets stuck in them. That and they can eat your fingers....well sometimes...that and other body parts...American Pie anyone? It's enough to make the whole sewing thing go downhill for me... but guess what? I did it... rather well as first zippers go. 


I even did some quilt patch-working on this page, with seams and everything. I am sewing mistress extraordinaire today.... and loopy as I'm sure you can tell (it's really easy to tell with me... my writing gets extra dots...like everything is one long sentence....he..heh...heheheh)

So the underlying twist of this rather tame looking page is that it's a zipper surprise. Under this sleepy moon, lies a passionate explosion of color... our friend the sun...


Now before I get twenty comments about how a separating zipper is difficult even for an adult...I've already tortured myself enough with that dilemma so don't bother... both Trevor and I are going to help Sky with this page... and we both figure he can benefit from the challenge eventually (he's really smart) and most of his sweaters have this type of zipper.


Ok, enough of my infantile defensiveness...I digress....


So once he pulls the fun little star (very secure with button thread), he can open the page to reveal the peek a boo celestial body. It's a simple concept but it utilizes the most sophisticated sewing techniques I've used to date. I am getting better at this whole thing...this educational book for Skyler is an excellent sewing class... I highly recommend it as a self training technique for beginners. That coupled with how-to's on the net and you have yourself a one way ticket to competence town. 

Another challenge met...I feel all powerful. Now off to caffeine town...care to join me?

Steampunk Octopus....I really am that odd!

I'm married to an artist.
It's a wonderful and terrible thing.

 Wonderful because unlike all the men that have honored me with their love and patience over the years, he is the one who can understand me the best. He feels the siren call of our shared mistress. He isn't jealous of my art, my obsession, for he shares it. He speaks the language of children, as all artists do, and so we spend countless hours being silly and creative and we don't feel a bit bad about it. He is passionate, obstinate, and selfish. I am too. It's a match made in heaven.... and hell depending on who's looking.

Terrible because he is the single most devastating critic in my life. I so value him, so admire him, he has the power to destroy me with just a look, a sigh, or a word. And so often he does. But that isn't his fault. It's my own insecurity.

All artists are insecure. Even the arrogant ones....especially the arrogant ones. It's the driving force behind our perfectionism. So many of us are seeking to validate ourselves...carve a piece of immortality and be remembered for something. It's a need that pulls the creativity from us. I think of us as the children that never outgrew the need to see our work proudly displayed on the kitchen fridge. 

I digress.... anyway...back to Trevor the destroyer..(heheh, he'll love that) and the relevance to the blog at hand.. Lately I've been seeking to find the type of mark I want to make in this world. The art that I want to be remembered for. Style is often the topic of much frustration among artists. It's the thing that we seek to find... a cohesive visual language that binds all our work together...makes it unique to us. The language I've been working on is a cross between surrealism, fantasy, whimsy, and bit of editorial. I like the work of the old masters with an edge and more of a childlike bent. I want texture. I want collage. I want it all. Actually truth be told, I don't know what the hell I want. But I figure I'll know it when I see it. When I look at my work and I want to buy it. 

So I do this painting at one of my live paintings, a steam punk octopus....and I love it. So does Trevor...at first. So here I am glowing. I am on the fridge with a big fat A+ plastered in the center. But it isn't finished. So I work on it... and work on it...damn it's detailed ...but after much griping and work, it's done. And I'm on cloud nine. It's exactly how I envisioned it. But the snag is... Trev isn't as enamored with it anymore. It's darker than it was... less whimsical... less cartoonish. It's off the fridge. 


Now what? This has happened before...ironically with my second favorite painting... the bee painting, "The Becoming".  I love it. He doesn't. It's becoming glaringly apparent that our tastes have found a divide. And I think this is a new turning point in my mental state. It's time to grow up. I've outgrown the fridge. I need to realize that this new leg of my journey is far too personal to look to others for validation. That needs to come from within. So it's okay that my wonderful Trevor doesn't always agree with me.... he's still the best friend that I could ever ask for. He might not be able to hold my hand from here on in.... but he's always there to break my fall..with silliness and a million kisses.  The benefit of marrying an artist... 

Texture, Texture, and more TEXTURE!!!

After successfully creating three pages of my "Baby Soft Book" for my son, Skyler....I can honestly say that this is a blast. Although I don't recommend everyone jumping into sewing a book, I do think that everyone should try to spend some time every day thinking like a small child.

Designing this texture page in particular, I was struck with the things that occur to you. As any one year old will tell you...if they could tell you, texture is a big thing. It's the very essence of tactile sensation and there just can't be too much of it. More is definitely more.

Now looking at this page as an adult,you might not see the appeal of this rag tag flower garden, but look closer with a toddler's perspective and you will see a veritable smörgåsbord of textural delights:

The sky is made of three different pieces of Skyler's old baby jeans complete with a miniature pocket and tons of seams. The ground is a combination of corduroy and satin with embedded round metal pieces (impossible to come off so no choking hazard there!). The flowers come replete with faux fur, bendable tiers of stiff fabric petals,"tags" made of folded ribbon, and tons of buttons. And the pièce de résistance? A miniature faux-leather owl that can "fly" out of the pocket.

I have to say... I found myself "molesting" the page at every step of the creation process. It's just too tempting. And what was even more fun was trying to destroy it. In an effort to baby proof it (gawd, the thought of him choking on something I made him... *shudder*), I have used all my strength to rip the buttons and petals. Surprisingly, it's almost as fun as creating them.

So a third page done and a new addiction to tactile sensation. I have a feeling that by the time I finish this book, I will be walking around with a block in my mouth, pulling books apart and loving every minute of it... till Skyler takes them from me... *sigh*.

Little Hearts.... Fabric in my Jewelry...

This morning needs to be soaked in extra coffee. In fact, if I wasn't so committed to this blog, I think I would be mainlining it while trying to take a nap on the couch.... of course that would be difficult with my 11 month old running around so maybe it's good that I'm trying to write.

So why am I so tired? The baby book deadline. I have this fear of not getting it done so I am pushing myself hard. I have 18 days till it needs to be done and wrapped. Depending on the difficulty, I seem to need between 2-3 days for each page. Including the cover, the back pages, and putting it all together, I figure I have the equivalent of 5 pages. So it should be enough. Should be... if I don't get in any serious hand to hand combat with my sewing machine.

So as a creative side trip, yesterday I experimented with some fabric jewelry options. I thought it might be good to have a few more options besides the hand painted jewelry. They turned out cute, I think. Soft and puffy, with old fashioned buttons, stitching, and even a mini safety pin.

So this all prompted the Etsy discussion with my husband. He graciously offered to make my shop if I continued to make weird little jewelry and stuffed animals. I can't help but wonder if anyone would buy any of them... but I guess it couldn't hurt. And it will hopefully motivate me to get more creative with my free time... what little I have with the cute little squawker behind me.

Satan, thy name is Color-Matchy Flower Page

It is official... the second page of the infamous baby book is done! Ok....I lie. It's almost done. I still have to sew on the snaps but that can wait till my hands have recovered...(more on that coming). As you can probably tell, it is a color wheel flower with matching colored bugs. What is probably not as obvious is that it's a game. The cute, slightly rag tag bugs will snap to the flower in any number of combinations including the educational version in which he learns to match colors. Fun and deviously educational...my favorite combination.


Now that I have cheerfully given the "sweet" explanation, let me now digress.... Holy Sh#t!!!!! That had to be the most time consuming thing I have ever done. I am mentally and physically exhausted and I have the sneaking suspicion that I have a brain hemorrhage. I think I will now need a vacation from my back, my hands, and my eyes which are strained from the intense concentration of a woman desperate to bend the thread to her weakening will.


Never in my life have I been more determined to kick a cute little flower's butt. Forget how little and complex the bugs are. Forget the fact that I had the wrong presser foot for the majority of it. The real heart of the matter is that I was cursed. It's really that simple. I must have killed someone in a past life and karma came to reap it's payment in blood, sweat, and bad zig zag stitches. To break it down simply.... the thread broke endless times... the needle jammed 3 times (twice in my fingers... ooof!)...bobbins got tangled...knots spontaneously broke out in fist fights. It was mayhem. Bedlam. The Apocalypse.


Now you might be tempted to think that this in any way dampened my resolve or enjoyment of the whole ordeal. But you would not be entirely correct. While I did have a few fantasies of throwing the damn sewing machine out the window, most of the time it felt kind of like a video game. I like puzzles. Or maybe I really am a masochist. Most likely it's the memory loss after any birth. Now that it's done... I like the cute bugger so much that I guess he was worth all the headaches and nausea. Kind of like Skyler.

The End of Year One...

So Skyler's birthday is fast approaching. It's staggering to think that he has only been in this world for less than a year. I really can't remember my life before he existed.

So naturally we have to celebrate this amazing feat of parenting. I mean that's really what a one year birthday party is for, right? It certainly isn't for the kid. Sky will like the attention but then again he would also like to eat mud. In reality, the first birthday is a parental milestone. It marks a whole year that you managed to keep the kid from killing himself.

In that spirit, Trevor and I eagerly began our favorite activity of any party apart from decorations... creating the invite...

To start we decided on a theme. We both love carnival and circus themes. Deliciously twisted and full of mystery, it's almost as appealing to me as Alice in Wonderland (my absolute favorite in theme and decor). Trev and I especially love the old freak show posters (an apt metaphor for early parenting)...and this became the crux of our design. The colors were inspired by our new favorite toy designers..." B." toys (http://www.facebook.com/B.toys If you haven't checked them out... you have to. Target sells them and the colors are in a word, edible. Rich and luscious not the usual washed out pastels and Crayola primaries. And no... this is not a paid endorsement.)

So we agreed that I would do the primary illustration (done in a bout of brutal insomnia) and Trev would work out the backgrounds and text. The portrait of Skyler was scanned and colored in Photoshop and then fleshed out with layer styles and text. Then my husband pillaged my old watercolors for the giraffe on the back. Brilliant. My husband and I excel at this kind of collaboration...one of the things that drew us to each other. Separately we have very different artistic styles, but together we seem to be able to blend them into a completely new entity. It's almost like our collaboration is an artist in it's own right. And once again... it turned out better than I think either of us could do alone. So good, in fact, that the print shop told us that their designers were uber-impressed (always nice to gain praise from fellow artists). All in all, a worthy declaration of the past year's success. It's time to party and then begin year two of the Skyler Suicide Watch.

Finding the Fun. Relearning to Play!!!

As children, we all play. Unfettered joyful purposeless play. It's an activity we prioritize above all. I remember spending the majority of the day, every day, immersed in trivial pursuits that never seemed trivial then. When did it change? When did I start packing my day with endless chores and responsibilities? When did play become something I could do once everything else was done? 


When we are little we make promises to ourselves that when we grow up things will be different. We will jump on the couch and bed whenever we feel like it. We will stay up late and play as long as we want. We will eat ice cream whenever we want. Then we grow up and suddenly we worry about being perfect. We have to be thin. We have to have a clean house. We have to have a successful career so we can buy stuff that we will never have time to use. We regulate our bedtimes and become slaves to routine. Play becomes the rare minority of our time. We start to forget our awe and wonder.


Having Skyler... seeing his pure enjoyment of the silly and fun... has prompted a sharp look into the dullness that is my present life. It's become, of late, a giant to-do list. All the promises I made to myself as a child have been broken. Even art, once a cherished playtime activity for me as a child, has become one of those endless chores for me. Another way that I can pressure and berate myself. That coupled with a complete lack of "fun" in my life has left me feeling empty and tense. Time for a change.


In my last post, I talked about my newest project.... the baby book. This has been a revelation for me; bringing back the fun, spontaneous side of my creativity. Thus "Bloopy and Needles" were born. These little stuffed thingys are essentially sketches in fabric... born of silly decisions and no real direction. They are the stuff of play and funny enough, they have even evoked the same childlike silliness in my husband. He has commandeered Bloopy for himself. He carries it around with him like I imagine he would as a five year old. He really loves it deeply, with that child that still resides with in him. 

This hopefully marks a beginning. The beginning of my adult childhood. Not the kind that shirks all responsibility and adult trappings... but a kind of balance. A return to play. I think I shall make it more of a priority... top on the to-do list. I think that I will paint my day with brighter colors, trim it with unfettered freedoms and add a bit of fluff and silliness to every artistic endeavor. I will try to honor those old promises.

Branching into the World of Fabric...

When I was young, my mother was an avid seamstress. I was constantly showered with handmade stuffed animals, unique dresses, and elaborate Halloween costumes that seemed to appear out of thin air. It was magic to a little girl. Even as I grew up, I would look in intimidated wonder at the complex tissue patterns, tools, and fabric cuts. It seemed like alchemy to an impatient young woman. Impossibly complex, mindbendingly foreign and seeming anything but fun, it was a language I could admire but would never want to learn.

Now that I have a son, the memories of those homemade gifts have actually prompted me to wonder if hell has officially frozen over. I am attempting the blasted alchemy. As his first birthday approaches, I have suddenly been filled with this desperate need to somehow embody this overwhelming love I feel for that amazing little boy in an appropriate gift. Instantly I was reminded of the soft book I had as a child. It was one of my favorite toys in my early years. Filled with buttons and zippers, flaps and snaps, it was very precious to me. But it was sewn. Oh crap. The dreaded sewing. 

So I am sewing. Oh and of course I couldn't be happy with time-tested established patterns. I just couldn't make Skyler a book that's already been made and save myself the trial and error process of an already new and intimidating learning experience. No... I am not that person. I am never happy until I am pulling out my hair and cursing the art in front of me.

For those of you that don't know me.... I am not that artist walking around with the bemused expression, exuding love and peace in light of my commune with art. I am not an artist by choice. I am an artist tortured by the need to create (usually far above my skill level)...all the while hating the process.... until it's over and there's suddenly a new little wonder in the world. Its akin to birth...(actually I think having Skyler was easier and more pleasant). I am the artist that exudes tension, energy, quirkiness...but in the end...I wouldn't want it any other way.

Anyway.... back to the sewing... ugh. So I ambitiously worked up six pages so far in Illustrator using the prints for patterns and I have begun. I have to admit that it's been somewhat fun....and for me that's something. All the years of watching my mother helped me learn a bit of the language a little faster than I think it normally would but it's still full of start overs and missteps. I have cursed a little and pulled out a little hair but for the most part... it's been interesting to take a detour from my usual painting. 

So here is my first page. It's the button page. The little girl's dress opens to reveal her stitched heart. It definitely came out much better than I should have had a right to hope for with my lack of skill. Of course, my inner critic could tear it apart but it seems surprisingly easy to ignore her when it comes to sewing. I wonder if that's because I never even considered it. This is play. It might also be that this is for Sky... and I know that he will only care that it's bright, fun, full of surprises, and texture. It might be that I'm just a little proud of myself and the little girl who finally learned a little magic.

www.toxicpretty.com