Marketing
Posted on | February 22, 2009 | No Comments
I loathe the word marketing. The whole idea of marketing myself has never been appealing. Unless, of course, we are talking about when I was single and going out for the night. That was always a blast. But I am talking about marketing myself as an artist, obviously.
I need to make my Art. I will always be making it. This has not changed. It has been one of very few constants in the life of ME since I was very small. I am realizing now more than ever though, that if I want more time to make my Art it needs to provide a certain level of support. The exposure would be nice, but income would be very nice. This will never happen if my work remains in my studio. Its been too long since I have had a show. Parenthood, divorce, a battle with addiction, and trying to finish up a degree kinda got in the way.
Now I am reasonably settled, and have lots of work finished, and all the galleries are closing down because of the failing economy. Crap. I like showing local. I will have to look elsewhere I suppose.
Right now I am looking at my paint covered pants, and wondering if the unconsciously created abstraction on my thighs is better than my current CONSCIOUSLY created work. 
No Painting Today
Posted on | February 5, 2009 | No Comments
I suppose if I were die-hard I would still be painting despite my raw throat, and congestion, and feverishness…but its beyond that. My studio has become so cluttered. I have already outgrown it. We just moved in a few months ago. No matter where I go things seem to multiply around me. I always outgrow my studio spaces. I do not find it inspiring. I do not feel like painting today. What if I had a whole warehouse?
Waking
Posted on | January 28, 2009 | No Comments
Often I sleep longer than I should. I awaken feeling rested, but still want to stay in the tranquil space between the sheets. This is when the strangest dreams are likely to evolve, and when my head feels heaviest and almost stuck behind my closed eyes. I am aware that I am sleeping, and it is difficult to wake up. Waking up would require a strong push upward and out- like touching the bottom of the deep end, and then knowing there is very little air left, and having to surface quickly- kicking and stretching every muscle. I have a love-hate relationship with this part of my day.
If only every day were like Christmas when I was little- eyes wide open at the crack of dawn- no desire to sleep a wink longer. Then I would stretch, make my tea, and head into my studio. Get right to work- even on days I teach. I would get up hours too early ( which would have to be no later than five). There is painting at night. Sometimes this is what I do. The evening hour settled into after the day has passed. There has never been any sort of structure to my work as an Artist. The closest to structure was art school. Project deadlines.
I work when it hits me that I have to. I do have to. That is how my work works. I just have to do it.
Here, right here.
Posted on | January 26, 2009 | No Comments
We all place things. There is almost always a place, a face. A sound. A taste. Scents are the most difficult sometimes- catching me off guard. I try to place them in little boxes of memory as I travel through the days. There is a catalogue of scents in the spaces between all the thoughts. My husband is often amazed by my ability to smell. Like an animal I am. I pick them up everywhere, and they sometimes take me to other places- though never leading me anywhere.
I hate the smell of thrift store clothes- a hundred bodies mixed together and left to go stale. I wash all my finds immediately. I never buy unscented detergent. I am not shy about unscrewing caps in the market aisle- one by one- searching for the right one. I never commit.
I love the smell of the bodies I know. The crown of my daughters head, nestled under my chin as I read her a fairy tale, or watch her draw her scratchy, detailed pictures.
The smell of my husband when he comes home from a long ride in the woods.
The smell of my sister’s familiar perfumes. Sometimes with ginger. Sometimes with Orange.
The smell of my cat’s fur as she lounges beside me purring rhythmically.
Funny though, that when I get one of my headaches- there is no smell, or sight, or taste, or sound I can tolerate. It is as if the headache was caused by sensory overload, and I crave NOTHING. Nothing is impossible. There is always something.
This is a test
Posted on | January 22, 2009 | No Comments
This shows that I am here