Train to Productivity derails near North Pole.

Ah the holidays... conceptually, I like the idea of the holidays. I like holiday lights and pretty snows and spiced wine. I like when people mistake my everyday striped socks for elf-wear (striped socks make a great gift, by the way--I don't think I know anyone who doesn't like some striped socks every once in a while). However, I'm unhappy to report that the drawing for my next print has been delayed by the crash that almost yearly is the result of the treacherous conditions on the track near the holiday season. The drawing was on the train but is okay--just a little slow getting restarted.

It's trouble for artists who work to get days off and be required to spend them entirely accomplishing nothing but alternately reaffirming then straining familial bonds. As many artists will tell you, one of the hardest things is to get past the inertia when you've stopped working, especially if you also had to put other things on hold. Then you find yourself starving and needing to hit the grocery store, dying your hair, cleaning your bathroom, fixing a chair, returning phone calls and still just thinking about getting back to that drawing while the hours count down to an event you've already promised to attend this evening. Aack! The struggle for balance continues...

I see you, Turkey!

Happy Thanksgiving!

I saw this funny turkey the other day when I went to visit my cousins and their triplets. Joe (my cousin Suzy's husband) writes a really well-composed and amusing blog about their 3 little ones, which you might also check out here, especially if you like to look at pictures of babies.

I have nothing else to say to you today. Eat some wheat and dairy for me at your festivities!

Nobody likes you being a snob.

Lori Lupe Pelish,
Human Anenome: Want and Desire

Now, I'm not here to comment on the art v. craft issue, but I was talking to Spring earlier, who said she's had some lack of motivation about her painting lately and was thinking about doing some quilting. It reminded me of these quilts I saw long ago in Schenetady, NY, of all places, that nearly made my head explode. Lori Lupe Pelish had an exhibition there of her exquisite art quilts--the ones I saw were mostly figurative and all amazing--the use of pattern and color, the way they resolved at a distance like many a good painting... I only wish she had more detail shots of these things on her website so you could see what I mean. I see a lot of art that I like but not a lot that compels me to consult the exhibition checklist for prices. It wasn't out of curiosity, either. I want one. If you have a chance to see them in person, do it!

I've bought in.

Ok. On Saturday I bought the materials for my next (second ever) woodblock print at Kozo Fine Art Materials. I've decided to make a triptych with these smaller blocks and started some drawings on Saturday. I need to get used to drawing again--I do a lot more writing these days, and by writing I mean actual writing with a pen on paper, often accompanied by horrible sketches that only I would understand. I think there was a bit of a failure of the initial drawing on that first print, so we're working to remedy that here (we? That's right, you and me). I forgot to pick that up again today, so I'll have to show it to you later.

I talked to Rob Gratiot earlier today, and he was supportive of this pursuit of printmaking (though he's never seen my artless drawings), and Rob is also a really nice person, so he would probably automatically refrain from flinching upon learning of my plans. Still, it's nice to be encouraged artistically, and I recall again that I work where I do on purpose. Good to remember. Here's one of Rob's paintings for you to see (Denver is shiny--which is not the title, just an observation).

Why not designate an area?

So my sister stopped by the last night and was telling me that my niece seems to be having some trouble adjusting to her new 'toddler' class at this hoity toity montessori 'school' she attends. Now, at 17 months, it's really just a daycare, right? Don't get all inflamed if you're all about your montessori--I don't actually care at this point in my life.

What interested me was this new device they use (or at least that I've never heard of): the Crying Rug. The Crying Rug is where you go if you just need to cry it out for a few. Kelley mentioned this, and I immediately said, "Can I get one of those at work?" Now, I was kidding. I know people who hate their jobs, and I certainly don't hate my job like they do. I have other things I wouldn't mind spending more time on, but... I'm definitely not Aaron and not you either, Jim.

Would we be better off if we could designate a physical place for expressing certain things? If you were forced to head over to the B*tch*ng Rug before starting off on something, would you even make it over there? What if it's the good stuff? Can I love you only in the confines of this space and never think of you while I'm away? No, I guess not. When you put a happy feeling in there, the whole thing doesn't make sense. I suppose the Crying Rug is an early lesson about how to confine fears and sadness so you can put on a brave face at all other times. In normal society, I would say this skill is at least as useful as using the potty.

What's all that writing you're doing?

Something I didn't realize for a long time, until once I requested to have my medical records: your doctors are totally judging you. I was at the doctor today, remembering when I found this out. My doctor at the time (chosen not randomly from a list of providers, but because she had a lovely Irish name) had a this to say about me:

Generally well appearing. Neck supple... heart regular... lungs [have] good and equal air expansion. Her affect is pleasant and appropriate. She is well dressed and on time, does not appear cachectic.

Well, thank you. To be fair, I was on my way to a dinner date, so I'm can't totally claim that 'well dressed' is the general state of affairs, but I'm pretty sure I'll just copy and paste this text directly when I create a personal ad. A pleasant and appropriate affect can be hard to come by. Add in punctuality?!

Do you check what you're wearing when you go to the doctor? You might want to--it could become part of your record. I had second thoughts about my shoe choice today... "Will I still be deemed 'well-dressed' if I wear these comfortable shoes with this outfit?"

Quang Ho is not just an excellent painter.

Quang Ho,
Flowering Quince

Through November 30, you can stop by Gallery 1261 and see an amazing show of solo work by Quang Ho. Quang, if you're unaware, is a freaking fantastic painter. I picked this painting of a quince tree as my favorite from the show (it might just be my favorite one of fruit, but I'm a sucker for greens on greens and I love the plastic bucket). Is it a reference to Antonio Lopez Garcia? Who cares... it's awesome. I wanted to touch my face to this painting (I did not).

Something that many members of the public may be unaware of: Quang Ho is also a good guy. I've seen people who are bad, greedy and unfeeling become successful. You can papier-mâché stinky garbage with money if you want, but it will still stink. Quang is a sweet person who loves what he does, and he's successful but also humble. Additionally, he gives good hugs. So two things: 1) Go see these paintings and 2) Good guys do still win (your results may vary).

My violet blooms!

Sometime last week I noticed that something strange and wonderful was happening in my bathroom (if you need to remove your head from the gutter before continuing, please do so now). In 2002 I moved to Albany, NY, and my dad bought me this plant, which was in bloom at the time but has not flowered since. My grandmother kept violets--a lot of them if I remember it correctly--and I'm told I look like her, but I did not inherit her green thumb. The fact that the plant is still alive is pretty amazing actually.

A few months ago, I moved to my own little place in Denver, and my violet seems to have finally found a happy place here. Seriously, look at it. I feel like it just got contact lenses and those curly bangs finally grew out.

Part of me would like to take this as an omen of good things. Another part of me thinks that's dumb, but I guess we'll wait and see. That's pretty much been my system with the plant, and now that it's in the right spot, that seems to be working. Admittedly it varies, but I am not without patience.

On why I'd write a blog.

It is true that I've often thought blogging is a little vain, and it is also true that while I often joke about my vanity, I tend to be less impressed with myself than I let on. Anyway this friend of mine (who we'll call Aaron) and I discussed me becoming a blogger once or twice before, and I accused him of just wanting to keep me writing for his amusement at work (Aaron may have the most boring job I've ever heard of--I'm pretty sure I fell asleep briefly when he was telling me about it the first time). Anyway, it's become a bit of a joke with me, when talking about something random (as I often do) to close the comment with "... that's my next blog post." Honestly, I think it's better than the old standby "... then I found five dollars." We'll have to see if that's funny to people when they know I might be serious. I might be, too, so look out. I'm not changing your names (it will just confuse me later).

Here's the real reasoning and justification, as I wrote it to Amber the other day:

"I've also been thinking about starting a blog for real, partly to make myself accountable to my readers about how I'm spending my time, partly b/c it will make me write. I think when I don't take time to write,... I tend to forget what I've been thinking about, and there's a lot of useful imagery and material to be had in all that jumbled mess... I think I just convinced myself to do this."

As of now, I have no followers, and it made it easier to write this first post (like the proverbial blank white canvas--more on painting later), but as noted above, the accountability is missing. I suppose the first person I'll invite will be Aaron--it was his idea--and later I'll blame him as well, if somehow this goes badly.