23 Stones and Breathing …

Each day, after my “treatment,” I have taken one stone from the grounds.  I wait until after I have received my daily dose of radioactive zaps and zings, and exit the building wearing my own clothing and once again in my own skin.  I walk slowly to my car taking note of the sky, the trees, the play of light and shadow which has changed since I entered the building some 20 or 30 minutes ago, these are my own place markers for reality.  Then I focus on the ground.  There are many stones in the landscaping of The Cancer Center.  They are laid out as an abstract river flowing against nature along the perimeters of the pathways.  I chose each stone with considerable criteria.  It must not be too large, nor too small; grey, brown, reddish, but not black or white.  Broken is okay, chipped is okay, although most are roundish.  When I first began picking them up I tried to do it in secrecy, not wanting anyone to notice me standing and staring at the ground in silence while waiting for the right stone to make itself known to my outstretched hand.  Besides the possible embarrassment of looking slightly crazy, there may be rules against stone pilfering.  This last week I have abandoned my secrecy in stone picking, deciding to openly snitch my stone of the day.

For the last three months I have allowed only five people to know of the blight that has invaded my body.  Last week I included two others with my secret information and suddenly realized that keeping my disease secret may have cheated those that know me from participating in a way that would have been important to them.   Breast cancer is a conerstone of fear for all women, but for me, along with the fear was shame that I had failed in some very basic physical sense and I needed to keep that a secret.  I am a private person, fiercely independent, secretive with personal information.  I do  not come gracefully to speaking of myself, particularly when this kind of sharing involves some perceived measure of confession.  I have come to accept (but maybe not quite believe) that this havoc on my body is not my punishment for being an imperfect human being.

My reactions have been predictable; fear, sadness, guilt, anger, fear, hope…my weeks of anger most surprising.  Anger is messy and “un-nice.”  We (women) have been taught from our babyhood to be “nice.”  Like anger, cancer is messy and it is never nice.  It is demeaning, demanding, devastating.  Some say being ill is a humbling experience, however, I fight on daily to retain my dignity and privacy and my arrogant belief that it is not humbling to have my breasts exposed seemingly casually to strangers (however long their medical degrees) with my backside, or my frontside on view in scant gowns made for the width of a child’s body, while my very persona balances between what I  know and believe and the greater chasm of the unknown.  Yet I am often in a state of grace – filled with gratitude – hope filling my chest around the stones as I breathe through yet another gifted day.

One Year Old

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Birthday to my grandson!  His first year of life has been one of learning, growing, seeking…he is a winsome little boy; curious, happy, charming.  He and his mother will be visiting me soon and I can barely wait to see him.   There will be a ‘baby in the house’ again for a couple of weeks, and all the baby things, and baby ways, and the sound of his happy chirps in the morning, and sweet ‘”kisses” before bed.  These last three months have been challenging for me and I haven’t produced much art as I navigate through this difficult time — but a visit from this little person will be a lovely respite!

The Blue Chair

 

  “The Blue Chair”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“The Blue Chair- Two” 

Mixed Media/Acrylic on Canvas 10″x10″

I bought this little blue chair about 25 years ago at a garage sale.  I love that the legs have worn down from years of scraping across the floor, and that its obviously handmade.  The older lady I bought it from told me it had sat on her mother’s back porch for all the years she was living at home, and that it came from her grandmother’s house.  She told me she was 88 years old, and just didn’t need to keep extra stuff anymore.  I have treasured this chair since I bought it, and once even had it hanging on a wall as an art piece.  I have a thing about chairs anyway – and this one really strikes a chord.  I thought it would be fun to paint it and add vintage photos to the background to give it some depth.

Generations…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 My grandson visited me this last June, and my daughter and I thought it would be fun to dress him up in his Great Grandfather’s baby clothing , worn during the mid 1920’s.  The little pants and shirt fit him exactly and I am so glad that we took the time to do this.  Its amazing how good the clothing showed up in the photo, and didn’t look nearly as frayed as it really is.  I love those big black buttons, and the little flannel pants are in perfect condition, which means they were probably worn only on special occasions.  Cabrin wasn’t really  in the mood to play dress up – at 8 months I think he did very well!  Just thought it would be fun to share!  We set up on my front porch to look like an old time kitchen using some of my primitive American pieces, (which I love.) 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is a photo of the original owner of the clothing.  I wish I had a picture of him wearing the little suit!

A single drop of paint….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How I love this sweet little drop of paint.  I like how it changes with each shot of the camera.  Imagine my surprise and delight when I found this accidental composition on the back of a piece of rolled up paper that had been left in a box near my work table.  I have tried many times to replicate the spontaneous quality, but it is illusive, much more complete than it appears at first glance.  When I first discovered it I asked my daughter if she had done it as she had been known to create miniscule compositions for others to find unexpectedly, but she denied any knowledge of this one.  I do remember the day I think it happened.  I was playing with watercolors; trying for the impossible, or so it seemed at the time, and leaving them  in frustration.  Weeks later I discovered the magical drop.  How could it look so complete, and only be an accident?  A perfect little drop of paint, slung from an over wet brush and landing on an upright surface at just the right angle that created something quite lovely in just a split second of time?  Like all found things, there is a mystery about it, a story that is unknown.  I’ve saved it for years, pulling it out when I need some inspiration, or the hope that creation really is a mystical process, and that accepting where I am in any given moment is important, and time will grace with with understanding!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DISCO – THE FINAL REVEAL!

 

 This is the final product from the “Disintegration Manifestation” bundle.   I chose to focus on the passing of time, the changing of seasons, the elements of the earth, and the gratitude of “Grace” as an art form for the pieces from my bundle.  I altered this recycled plastic clock , which I found in a thrift store, as the substrait.  I added the pieces of paper, charms, an  invocation, a set of all seeing eyes, and of course the ‘travelin’ legs’  from the orignal bundle.  I wanted the final piece to look as if it had withstood the passing of time with the promise of future  time, and how preciously the earth offers time as the days pass, the moon rises, and the trees, passing seasons and elements remain constant.  I chose this particular, “seen better days” clock because of the word “Grace” printed on the face.  I saved that single word through the many layers I added over the clock face because the word “Grace” offered exactly what I struggled to achieve in my every day life.

The photos above show the finished art, the first one is hanging, as it is meant to be viewed.  The second photo is laying on the table.    I used pieces from the bundle, but also used other found objects as they found me, including the owl on the top to guide, or to guard?

 As seen from the bottom.  I used an old door keyhole plate on the bottom to thread the legs through – The legs became the symbol of myself, trying to find the secret of escape.

 As seen from the left side.

 As seen from the right side.  I used local twigs and painted them antique gold (acrylic) to symbolize the tree the original bundle faced the elements in.

 The niche.  A peek into the future, or a glimpse from the past?

 

 First version of the clock face.  The word Grace, an acorn top, a maple seed, a delicate hand holding onto time, a postage stamp, a crown for triumph.

Final Clock face.  The moon (a constant) angled hours of time, copper wire encircling the whole thing, randomly stamped numbers, the north star to guide us.

 

Original sub-strait  with some sanding, and the clock face disassembled.

 

Gessoed over and ready to begin painting the surface, which I wanted to look like aging metal.  I used  Payne’s Gray, Burnt Umber, Quinacridone Gold, Turquois (Pthalo), Prussian blue,  and Yellow Ochre acrylic paint applied in layers to achieve an aged brass, or some ancient metal.

The bundle became known as the “Destination Manifestation” and was a focus for my desire to leave central Oregon.  I included a small piece of paper with my bundle stating my intention to leave, buried it in between boarding passes, airline tickets, postage, old envelopes, and travel money.  I knew I needed a change and I asked for it and then hung it on a tree limb in the front yard and hoped the universe would “grace” me with what I wished for.  I haven’t left central Oregon, but I have experience many changes over the last 6 months.  The first change to occur was the ending of a very stressful and toxic work situation.  I was suddenly and unexpectedly freed from working three jobs for the price of one  – and after the shock wore away, I realized what this really meant to me!  Freedom!

 The original bundle, hanging in the night. (Above)

 In May, bundle ready to take down. (Below)

Contents of bundle after hanging outside for 5 months.

Recycling a Bad Painting

This was the worst painting – I couldn’t even find a photo of it – and if I did, not sure I would have the courage to share it.  I was reading “The Creative Edge” by Mary Todd Beam last night and I got inspired to try and save this painting.  As Ms Beam says, “it’s so easy to throw away things in our culture, we sometimes don’t think before we toss it out.”  It already looks 100 percent better and all I’ve done is glop on some black and white gesso and blot it away in places.  I like the floating hands in the right bottom corner, sort of reaching out to you.  Tomorrow I will put it on the easel and see what else I can come up with!

The Big Reveal – Coming Soon

I am busily at work putting together the various pieces and parts from my bundle, to create a collage to share on August 1.  This project was created by Seth Apter from http://thealteredpage.blogspot.com/.    As you know, my bundle was called the Departure Manifestation, and I hoped it would help me relocate to a different area in the state.  So far this has not happened, but I have learned  these things progress in their own time and there are usually good reasons for that, so I haven’t given up yet on the idea of moving away from central Oregon.  In the meantime, and I don’t know how much “the bundle” had to do with this, but I have a lot more time now for art making, and its been a very lovely summer!  This was a great project!

The Bundle, ready to hang.

The bundle hanging outside in the night February 2009.

May 1, 2009

Unwrapped

Artist Journal – “Time Traveler” -finished!

Here are the last two pages – see previous two entries for other pages.  I am so pleased with myself for finishing this!  The book  measures about 9 x 6 inches, and has 15 entries; 13 double pages, and two single pages. I used oil pastels, soft pastels, pencil, collage, gel transfers, and printing directly on cloth with ink jet printer.  All the words are taken from the magnetic poetry left on my refrigerator by family and friends over the last three years.

“Just dream blue peace happiness”

“Here baby go heart and dance” (This is the last page)

This is the inside cover page.

 

This is the cover.  I glued three washers, which signify to me the circles of time, to the front of the journal.   (I recently visited an estate sale and found a jar full of  lovely old rusty washers and these were in it.)  The largest is some kind of a gasket made of cork, the second is very thin metal and is a unique red and blue stripe, and the smallest washer is a delicate brass ring.

Artist Journal more pages

Here are the next two pages.  There are two more layouts to go and it will be finished.  I rarely finish these kind of projects as I tend to become distracted by some new idea for a painting.   I am trying to teach myself to focus more when I am working on a project instead of always looking around for the next thing!  I think I will begin work next on the collage using the parts from the bundle “Disintegration Manifestation.”  I think there was something about an August deadline? 

“Sleep, old book ,blue jeans, kiss you”

 

“Long week after old she being cake”