Chicken Butt

Half-assed crafting

I am so far behind on posting crafts I've finished or at least started. I took some pictures, but haven't uploaded off my camera yet. And really, pictures are required for it to be interesting. I made pattern weights with a yo-yo maker, a super quick bracelet with leather, ball-chain and waxed linen, and started a cross stitch kit.

Of course, before I made my first cross stitch I bought 3 books on the subject and read relevant sections in the emroidery books already in my possesion. I'm still too intimidated to start the Daisychain ABCs Crewelwork Kit I bought. It is so pretty, I'm afraid I'll mess it up.

I was going to upload a picture of the sculpture I bought with my birthday money from my dad, but I cannot remember the password for my flicker account, which is tied to my old yahoo account, that used to be my sbcglobal account, but is now my ATT Yahoo account. I'm so fucking sick of user IDs that are email addresses I haven't had for years. Not to mention that when I got my Mac Book Pro I ended up with second Apple ID that is separate from the Apple ID I already had for years for iTunes. Hm, uploaded via Camera+ app to Twitter. Not really liking the interface though: http://campl.us/eXmJ. Hate shortlinks too, never sure I trust source.

Ugh. More later. Probably.

Too hard. Hey look over there...

I'm getting the itch to paint. I know myself a bit better than I used to though, and I think it is not so much that I *will* paint anything if I clear away my currently in-progress sewing projects, but that sewing got hard (and therefore boring) and I don't want to do it anymore. As usual, I want the results without putting in the work. Yep, I'm still a spoilt child. It's disappointing really, but since I haven't changed my actions from my old patterns, did I really expect different results. (Yes, yes. Definition of insanity, I know. See image below.)

Today I was taken by Jane Mount's paintings of bookshelves. (via TMN)  I'd love a custom painting of some favorite books. The hard part is which to choose. I like her HP print too, but since I already have the books on a shelf, I guess I don't need a print of the books on the wall.

So book portraits made me think of toy portraits. I want to buy my sister a portrait of Peppy, her ancient koala bear. She wants me to make a shadow box of him, but I think these custom toy portraits are awesome. (via Suburban Bliss)

This then brings me to paintings I want to paint. Ages ago I bought a tabletop light box to take pictures of stuff I've collected and saved. My plan was to take pictures of everything and that possible I could actually let go of some of the physical objects if I had nice images to trigger the memories they store. And from the photos or from life I would paint the objects that I love or that interest me. Little paintings made regularly to get me back in the habit and learn how to paint with acrylics, which are so different than oils. I love the idea of painting a bit every day, but getting started is hard. I tried to start with painting fruit, because I buy a lot of paintings with fruit, especially pears and lemons. But I don't want to paint fruit. It's boring. And it's hard. And so I quit and put it away a few years ago and have moved the materials around my home with only an occasional twitch of longing. Until now, because now sewing is hard and painting looks interesting and less painful, theoretically.

I think I have to finish the damned shirt even though I'm afraid I'll never get the fit right and that the fabric I bought won't drape right and what if I put in all this work and then lose a ton of weight real fast.*

*It could happen! If I took action on this it could. I'll think about that some more and get back to you. After all this damned sewing project would not be in the works if I hadn't gained back 50 pounds after giving away my good summer fat clothes. If I suddenly dropped enough weight to make a new shirt look bad I'd have plenty of shirts in my closet that would fit again. (Cue my bratty, Bill-the-Cat-style raspberry reaction.)

More thoughts on writing versus Writer

I thought about my sporadic urge to be a writer quite a bit this weekend.

I also want to work on the production crew of a major movie some time. I want to do a job to get my names in the credits, like Assistant to the Assistant PA or set building. I’d love to see what it is really like to make a movie. But I'm not going to move to LA or Montreal and try to break into the movie business. I want Oprah to grant me a wish so I can take a six month sabbatical from my real life and be a movie production grunt for a while. I think I want to be a writer in the same way. "Poof!" I'm a writer, I'll just pound out this novella and wrap it all up nice and tidy in a few months, get published and then, "Poof!" back to real life. Which is ridiculous, of course it is. I’m not even sure the published part is really important. I’m always drawn to the NaNoWriMo event, and that isn’t about publishing, it is about finishing a novel. I know this, but I love reading so much, I want to participate in the whole scene, not just the audience role.

One thing that attracts me to writing is the process of critique and discussion of the craft. I get excited about writing workshops and stories about mentors. It makes me homesick for the good parts of being a painting major. Chatting with a teacher at the studios about broad concepts and specific techniques was lovely. Critiques were great if I had finished my piece and wasn’t ashamed of myself for extreme procrastination. It would be so cool to go back to that environment now, with better discipline and an appreciation for that freedom and opportunity.

That might be the key: nostalgia. I read a lot of blogs by writers about writing. I read a lot of craft blogs too, but haven’t found many artists’ blogs. Actually, I have a lot of artist blogs bookmarked, but isn’t much activity on them or they are badly written or boring to me. Maybe I’ve glommed onto writers because they are there, active, well-spoken and entertaining.

I want to be a writer (Or Navel-gazing again)

I read a lot about writing today. The Morning News has an essay by a student of Annie Dillard and two related links in the links in the Weekend Edition of Headlines:

1. Annie Dillard and the Writing Life by Alexander Chee
2. Becoming a Writer by Junot Diaz
3. Why I Write by Stephen Elliott

When I read essays like these I want to be a writer. I want to learn to craft words that change how people perceive their world. There are so many things wrong with that ambition I’m not sure where to start:

• I don’t know much about technicalities of writing. I looked up gerunds while reading the Chee piece. I have to think twice about what adverbs are and cannot diagram a sentence. I remember my sixth grade English classroom and taking my turn at the board to make marks around sentences. I even remember that it wasn’t very difficult. I just don’t remember what any of it means. I could fix this. I could read some books about it.
• Writers write. Usually from an early age writers write out their hopes and fears. Writers write no matter what. It is a persistence compulsion. This is not me. I wish this was me.
• When I read about technical business of writing (narrative voice, structure, moving time) I lose enjoyment of reading.
• When I try to think of a story I’m blank. Maybe I could write non-fiction. I like to research things. I’m not very good at follow-through. I’ve started to write out details and results from my hunts for assorted information. Most of those posts never make it past draft status. Does anyone want to know what I learned about making pettiskirts (with source links)? Maybe when I get some pictures of my attempts I’ll fill it out with that info.

I think my craving to “be a writer” is just another way I’m looking for complements.  I have sometimes been casually praised for my writing and I want more. I want to turn a slight talent into a gift, into genius. Freshman year my teacher Peter told me he liked one little swirl on a painted sketch for a project in Drawing 101. I became a painting major on the strength of the one complement. (This is a slight exaggeration, but still true. I was disillusioned by Graphic Design and the Photography department was a political nightmare. There was also no portfolio was required to become a painting major. They took anyone.)

What I want is to be a great writer without putting in the work that must be done to get there. Once again reality puts the damper on desire. THPTPTH!*

So where does that leave me? Same place I started but with a belly-lint filled post on writing.  I’ll continue to live vicariously through Karen (You rock star!) and write here on Chicken Butt and live my life. I know my writing has improved since I started this blog. I don’t think I slip into a writerly voice anymore. I could still use a better editor than myself but who couldn't?

Oh, and go read the linked essays above if you haven’t done so. Especially the first and third.

*This is a Bill The Cat style razzberry. Calvin & Hobbes style adds a B: THBPBPTHPT!

Plate of shrimp

This blog is such a cool idea: Different Strokes from Different Folks

Artists submit paintings based on a photo provided. Every couple weeks there is a new photo. There is a wide range of skill represented, but I have no doubt that regular participants are improving their skills from participating.

I didn't know about this site until last week, but I own two paintings created for the challenge. I bought one of the paintings sort of on accident because I thought I had already bought it. I had both in my Favorites on Etsy and bought the less expensive one first, then sort of lost track. They are very different except for the three white pumpkins. They are different sizes, medium and composition, and I didn't realize they had a common inspiration until now. I thought it was a weird coincidence, just something in the air. Looking now I can see that both listings clearly say where the inspiration came from, I just didn't pay any attention before.

I like them both and am glad I have them:
 

(Click pics to enbiggen)

Here is the blog post. (scroll down to end to see original photo) or just look at thumbnails of all submissions including the photograph.

I like the idea of voluntary assignments. I chaffed under assignments in school, but restrictions imposed from external forces usually made my work better. When left to my own devises my work was mushy and mostly without focus. This challenge could be a good way to brush up on basic skills.

Tangentially related: I sorted through most of the papers I possess while on vacation. I found slides of my work from my Bachelor of Fine Arts senior show. There is some other work I hadn't thought of for years in there too. I've added them to my list of things to scan into digital format. When I get to it I'll post anything that doesn't mortify me. Some of it still cracks me up.

And the sun burns into your eyes

I bought a little painting of a lemon at a fine arts fair this weekend. It is a reverse painting on glass and a bit modern compared to rest of my kitchen paintings, but since is mounted on a black plaque it looks fine. Except that the colors are muddy. I didn’t notice it in the booth because all his work was in the same palate, but compared to the bright primary colors in most of the other works it looks drab. I almost bought an apple and pear too. I’m glad I didn’t. It would probably look okay on the wall over the piano if I can get over my OCD instinct that puts all the produce in one room.

I really should take down all my art and redistribute it better. There are a lot of things I should do in my condo. There are paint swatches taped to my walls for about four years now. And my head ran off into the billion big and little things I have not done at home. Gah!

I stayed up way too late last night (um, this morning) reading Killing Floor. It’s the first Jack Reacher book from Lee Child. It’s pretty good. It’s actually the second one I read. I downloaded Persuader, the eighth book in the series, for free and then bought the first and started reading without even a bathroom break. According to Child’s website there are thirteen Jack Reacher books at present. (And I Don’t Know is on third.) I finished the book at lunch today and just bought number three on Amazon. So when I turn on the wireless on my kindle I’ll have the book to start reading at dinner. The battery lasts so much longer without wireless on all the time. Not sure why I was so reluctant to turn it off before. It is only three clicks to toggle it on and off.

I've also decided if I even need to do a cover of a song or use a song to illustrate a movie it must be TheThe's That was the Day. Just so you know.

HP7 just as good the second time

Yesterday at lunch I finished up Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the second time. I read it in two days the first time, then started again a few hours later. I've discussed it over at Karenworld so I'm not going to get into it here. Not today.

The HP7 Midnight party was a blast. ksl has awesome kids. Why does it take a major event for us to get together? That's madness. The radish earrings went over well. Of course now I know that they are actually a fruit that grows on bushes and that they enhance one's ability to accept the incredible. I'm trying to remember the name but it isn't coming to mind.

I went to the Geveva Arts Fair on Saturday and bought two watercolors, an etching and a purse. I hung three of the four in my kitchen Saturday night. They look awesome, although the etching gets sort of overpowered. The new ones are grouped in the center: daisies and lemons on the red background, three pears on a dramatic black scarf, and the etching of a window shutter, a table and a chair (titled The Tempest). Click on the image to see it bigger.

Which also illustrates why I'm pissed off at my camera. The digital noise is killing me. I want to throw it away and buy a new one. I was standing in my kitchen taking a picture of a wall. Why is everything so grainy? The spider plant is fuzzy. The wall is fuzzy. I don't want to post-process all my pictures to make them look decent. I hate it. It looks and feels good, the software is well designed, the lens maker has a fantastic reputation, but my old cannon elph 4 mp was so much better.

Oh, and I want a sewing machine for my birthday. I've got some research to do. I want a basic machine with enough power and flexibility to handle tough materials like velcro, fun fur, and vinyl. I'll use it for crafting and Halloween costumes more than anything so that's probably the most important feature. I've started with this post from Not Martha. There are lots of good links there that lead to other good research too. For those keeping score at home, my B-Day is September 3rd.

Oh, but I'm not done yet

I’m a non-practicing artist. I want to paint again, but I’m stuck. All my fears, expectations, and insecurities are bubbling up and I just can’t start. I keep buying supplies and thinking about painting, but I don’t pick up the brushes. I bought acrylic paints. I only played with acrylics once in college. I’ve heard they are wonderful and the smell/mess factor swayed me to try them. I thought maybe if I had plenty of blank canvas and canvas board I’d lose some fear. I bought about bunch of 8 x10 and 5 x 7 canvases. This is tinier than I ever worked before.

I walk around my condo looking at my stuff and can’t see anything I want to paint. I’m drawn to paintings of food, but this may not be the best idea for a compulsive overeater. I want to work on still-life paintings. I wish I’d done more of that in college. Most of my teachers were all about concepts and meaning. It’s hard to paint what you see in your head if you can’t even paint a convincing apple. So basically I want to start at the basics. Paint what I can see. Not worrying about the results, just practicing and exploring the medium.

I don’t really want to practice though. I want to sit down and be brilliant. I want too whip off masterpieces from stroke one and sell my work at etsy.com and become a full-time artist. Yeah, I know. No pressure there. No fantasies to be shattered. For years I’ve been making piñatas and Halloween costumes. They are good. I put a lot into them and enjoy the praise I get. People say I should do it for a living. This is lovely to hear, but not reality-based.

In program I’m learning to be honest with myself and others. It isn’t fun. I am afraid to paint because it is hard and I’m pretty sure I’m not as talented as people think I am.

When I was a painting major I said painting was the best and hardest thing I ever did. I was very into my disease of compulsive overeating in school. I did the bare minimum to get by and never quite finished anything. If you don’t finish a piece you can ignore any criticism because “I’m not done with it yet.” So here’s the thing. I have a natural talent for art, but I’m no genius. Nor have I ever had the drive that can take talent and with enough work, mimic genius. I never intended to paint for a living. I was going to open a book store/art center/tea shop. This was, of course, prior to the big book stores moving in to every town. Plus I really don’t like retail. So that dream died.

I have a good job; some might even call it a career. It’s good to have fantasies, but I want to paint because I used to love it. My therapist told me once that non-practicing artists scare her. I forget what she meant by that, but for me it’s another way to hide and live an unfinished life. If I love painting, but don’t paint there isn’t anything to judge. I get urges to create. I sometimes have to get out of bed to capture an idea for some piece that is keeping me awake. But those ideas just sit in journals and never go anywhere. I’m tired of not being done yet. I want to put aside my internal judge and just learn to paint for the joy of it.

I can’t remember ever painting purely for the joy of it. Even as a child I was approval seeking. I was the artistic smart one, so I did artistic smart things. I may never learn to shut off my internal critic entirely, but I need to shut her up enough to risk failing. If the process itself gives me pleasure, than the only failure is to not start.

My toe itches!

My right little toe is driving me nuts. As you can see, I got it re-inked on Friday. I took the shot right when I got home. I like it very much. It looks intentional again. The blue shouldn’t be as bright once it heals and peals. I had him skip the outline and use a couple shades of blue. I will not wait another 18 years to get it re-inked.

The ring should go further around the inside of the toe; I’ll have to get it touched up. Without weight on the foot it looks fine, but if I’m standing on it you can see where it stops.

It was incredibly hot this weekend and I could not swim. Okay, that will pass. Now I’m wearing shoes and socks for work and the tattoo is really sensitive and itchy. I wore flip-flops all weekend, like I usually do, so the only problem was keeping it clean and moist (A&D ointment). ARG!

While not swimming on a hot muggy Saturday, I went to the Hinsdale Fine Arts fair. I picked up a cut paper piece I bought a few weeks ago and bought a lovely little oil painting of a squash. It’s called Front and Center. I forgot the artist’s name. I’ll look at her card later. I love it. The signature was still wet on it. The frame rocks too. I hung it on the little wall that is next to my kitchen doorway. It’s technically in the dining room I suppose, but I can see it from my recliner and when I walk in the front door. I’m very pleased with it and hope to soon forget how much I paid for it.

Happy Valentine's Day!

I have used this over-commercialized holiday as an excuse to buy myself some art. I've had my eye on these things for a bit now. I intended to buy one, but went a bit nuts. Thing is all of them are prints and cost $20 or less.

I also bought two bug etchings for my eldest nephew. He turns 8 in less than a month. He has been into bugs for years now. One print is a beetle and the other has a dragonfly and a bee. They are both quite tiny. I thought they would go well with his cicada shadow box. I think he might appreciate having his very own "real" art. If not, he'll still have some new bug stuff for his wall. Here again, I meant to buy one, but could not decide between two. I may just give him the beetle first to see how he likes it.

I stayed inside all day yesterday. Remember when snow days were presents? Now when it's too crappy to get to work, I just log on from home. It's nice, because I don't have to risk my neck, but it's a pain because the show must go on regardless of weather. I have little discipline working at home, therefore I was working until 1 am this morning because I frittered away my day. Silly girl.

Some coworkers have gotten roses at work today. Which is nice, but I don't feel left out. The one time I actually had a boyfriend on Valentine's Day was horrendous, a complete disaster.

I was eighteen, deeply in love for the first time and overflowing with expectations. Matt drove down to U of I for the weekend with one of my best friends, David, who just happened to be in love with my roommate. They swung by Western Illinois University first to pick up Brian. Brian brought along his girlfriend and her roommate. The roommate intended to surprise her boyfriend, but he wasn't in town so she sulked in my dorm room all weekend. Sounds cozy, no? Take seven teenagers in a dorm room for two, add alcohol, drugs, and the couple across the hall and you've good yourself a dramatic farce.

I have some lovely photos from that weekend and a healthy attitude about February 14. I spent 17 years pining for my own special valentine. My expectations led to nothing but disappointment and resentment. The next year a small group of us went out for a non-romantic lunch and gave each other silly little toys as friendly gifts. It was fun. A few years later I regressed a bit and baked heart-shaped pink icing cookies which I delivered anonymously. But since then I've been drama-free on this date.

I don't resent or envy the romantic gestures of others. I just find it safer and saner to abstain. Wishing you a drama free Valentine's Day!