pony ride

My sister and I jokingly refer to my rare opportunities to ride horses as my ‘pony ride’. She is an accomplished rider and riding instructor and is tolerant of me in the ring riding around while she teaches. I have loved horses all my life. Horses sent me on the quest to become an artist. As a kid I would copy pictures of horses onto loose leaf paper with a number 2 pencil. I had a binder full of drawings of horses….just horses. So for me the rare chance I get to be around them is like eating nothing but junk food for a day or traveling somewhere exciting. Maybe heaven. As the problems with my hip get worse I really don’t know how far I can go with riding. It is a issue that has begun to effect sitting at my drafting table, as well. Any extended period of immobility causes me discomfort. I often lament to my husband that I had not a thing wrong with me until I entered my thirties. Then came some sort of unidentifiable hip issue, allergies and the big one: endometriosis. I am convinced that they are all tied together somehow….someway and that they are meant to be. So, when I get to embark on a ‘pony ride’ I experience a hint of heaven and when my infirmities speak I remember that I am not supposed to live here…….

fast food entertainment

I decided a few months ago that television is slowly eating away my life and that I needed to read more so I started ‘Joan of Arc- Her Story’ by Regine Pernoud. I found it really hard to absorb being written in a academic style. So I picked up ‘Hemingway’ by Kenneth Lynn……I still had a hard time wanting to skip passages and get on with it. I suddenly realized how damaging t.v. has been…… I want to use a remote control for the books as well to get to the interesting parts. Fast food entertainment has made me REALLY LAZY. And though we don’t watch nearly as much television as a lot of folks, I am totally shocked at how much it has formed how I work. When I begin a new painting I find myself demanding subconsciously that it already be done or that I should just easily create the work and get on with the next. I am so divided in my focus jumping from one thing to the next like flipping channels. I hate that.

the great aloneness

There is a great aloneness to making art. No one tells you which ideas to pursue or how to convey those ideas. In each moment that an aspect of a work is confronted…a direction chosen in its progression…the death of countless others occurs. And when the completion of that work comes there is almost a mourning over what a piece could have been had you chosen another approach. So the decision making process in creating a work of art is overwhelming. With artists like myself who work largely from a surreal and imagined realm these issues are magnified ten-fold. I don’t use a set of rules and techniques to tell me how to work and I don’t copy from what I see. Those who work in this way have most of their work done for them once they master the assigned rules. Someone long before has already figured out the techniques and someone has already created the subject. On the rare occasion that I work from conscious reality not only do I find fewer challenges but I also find myself less interested…..

vincent

….in the low tide of my creative ocean. One of my heroes Vincent Van Gogh produced over 2,100 works in his short lifetime…..but then again he also shot himself at 37.

Most things have been on the back burner as we begin planning our move to D.C. in pursuit of graduate school. It is unbelievably expensive to live in the metro area and we are awaking to the reality that Atlanta is one of the most affordable cities in which to live….we didn’t know just how good we have it. As daunting as the high rents, pet rent (what a rip-off…), and ridiculous non-refundable deposits are to a student and an artist, we push on. Our life philosophy with shoes on……

I saw some guy with a t-shirt on that said "A lot of art is boring"……..right on.

Fruit Pie Factory

Craig and I like to compare dreams we’ve had thinking our dream can out do the others in weirdness. Mine are always bizarre and novel-like. So this morning he tells me about his dream that he was in class and all the students in there were none of the people that are actually in the class and then some girl stands up and offers favors to the professor in exchange for a good grade. What’s weird about that? I knew I had won this one…

In my dream I was a nine year old werewolf boy who was the head of a large and successful fruit pie industry. I lived in a big mansion and often visited my factory down the road. My fruit pie factory employed a unique hydrolic system to make the pies and on one visit I fell into the hydrolic system which was much like a big fast moving moat. I was in trouble because I was small and could not swim well. But because I was not liked as an employer, the employees took their time getting me out and left me along the moat where. being exhausted, I slept for the night. Upon waking I was angered to see that my servant had not taken me home or even brought me a blanket, so I chased her down in my car and shot her with an antique rifle. Then, of course, I had to flee. I was pursued by Frankie Muniz, the kid from ‘Malcolm in the Middle’ who was intent on turning me in….. no wonder I am always tired in the morning.