Kreative Arts Room & Inspiration Nook

Bookmark and Dog Ear

2010-08-08T16:37:00.003-04:00

just a thought...

There are too many lists and reasons for lists. There is a list for groceries, and a list for tasks, a list of things to pack, a list of pros and cons, a list of things to do and a list of things forbidden. I have become an enemy to another list. It is the modern list which exists in the cyber world. It is a dangerous list because it never disappears. It is a long list or what may be considered a directory created for the infinite website places I've visited and wanted to "bookmark" so that I might visit them again with a simple click. It can be controlled, but most of the time, it isn't. Somehow, I had acquired this lengthy list over the course of several weeks, months and even years. It was growing slowly like the slim coating of an alien egg farm. Astonishing and quite alarming when I stop to think and wonder on it, really. Before today, I took pride in skating my cursor over to the icon to open my vault of internet wisdom and waste and I would scan my eyes down the alphabetical steps to all of my favorite places and click to my hearts content. I also, of course, had sub-categories in alphabetical order that would occasionally tease me and make me wonder to myself if the webmaster had made any changes to his front page. Oh, I could check on it another day. This new web-like list, unlike the ones that are harmlessly written down on paper, had become quite a library of places or rather of websites accumulated by my fingertips from mindless bookmarking which I felt were considered fantastic cyber venues at the time.

Yet after today, I have been looking with tender burden over my own shoulder and I started to notice the golden one who once was consistently giddy was now getting swallowed up by the crashing wave of "favorites" along with the never ceasing passing of time. As pointed out, it appears that many of the random titles that reveal a flashy icon and catchy phrase became lost as a misplaced stranger to that once euphoric bookmarking moment. Therefore, with a firm smack on the back of the head (done out of random necessity), it is time to return to the banal purpose of disposable lists. It is time to surrender the self from the bonds of bookmarks and dog ear practices, let go and release the suffering medulla oblongata from the predictable prison of obsessive compulsive categorizing. Catch the satellite and simply surf, dude, simply surf.

The Grasses are Calling Me

2010-06-15T06:20:00.010-04:00

When eleventh grade rolled around, my English teacher announced it was time to choose our subject for the final term paper and that we had had enough time to consider our choices. Now it is my spirited recollection I was sitting in my seat rather passively without a single idea running through my mind. I truly mean to say, yes, I honestly do remember that during that particular moment in time I was in a state of unwavering bliss with everything but a thought in my head. I recall hearing the teacher's voice asking each student one by one to announce an American writer to do research on and write a lengthy paper for. So in the same way, like taking attendance, names were called out and instead of the reply being "here," we were to say,

"Herman Melville."

"Edgar Allen Poe."

"Jack London."

"John Steinbeck." The match-up game continued and so on.

Now it is again my recollection that while the names were being called out like the click of a gun's trigger, I felt a slight tinge of anxiety. My eyes were darting around the room as I tapped my pen, thinking very hard, because in my own mind I was much more interested in Seventeen Magazine, playing air guitar to Zeppelin's Dazed and Confused and occasionally escaping to the mall with friends to look for guys, I mean clothes. Therefore, it is to me quite a mystery, and I am still in complete wonderment to this day, although by now I'm getting used to it, that when the teacher came to calling my name, and with her double sided classic red and blue teacher's pen poised in the air above her paper awaiting my reply, the answer rolled off of my tongue like soft ice cream streaming down a dreamy-eyed five year old hand on a warm summer day.

"Walt Whitman." I said.

"Walt Whitman." She murmured as she wrote it down next to my name and nodded.

How did that happen? How did I know who Walt Whitman was? How did his name arise in my head next to Leif Garret's? There was a brief moment, I think, that during that momentary exchange in that stuffy classroom I felt a hand on my shoulder. I can look back on this event, and realize that this could have been the very starting point of cosmic, angelic, celestial, heavenly-Nicholas Cage intervention. Someone in a higher place knew what was good for me and therefore put it before me, allowed me to taste it, follow it, reject it, thrive on it or hate it. It could be a random book, an extraordinary thought, a bad dream, a helpful stranger, a distant friend, or an event that scoops me up and spits me back out. I am sure there may be earlier accounts throughout my childhood I could wonder about and lean into, however, I believe, this was indeed one of those "look here" moments.

I still thank the forces that brought to me Whitman's Leaves of Grass. The Song of Myself held more deeper meaning that I could ever know, and from that day I felt as if it were my own song as it spoke to me.

I Celebrate myself, and sing myself,

And what I assume you shall assume,

For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

Darker forces have been after ever since.

My Coffee is Waiting

2010-01-02T08:52:00.001-05:00

Stillness and the new year arrives and beckons me to change into something extraordinary. Actually, I don't think I could actually change into anything. Haven't quite explored shapeshifting. Nor would I want to change into someone else. I am just fine the way I am. I am, however, learning to lower my expectations to avoid anxiety over fruitless moments. However, there is always room to change my way of daily thinking. So the momentous date stays ingrained in the brain. January one. New day. New year. I'm also hearing, "The start of a new decade." The dinosaurs could give a shit about a decade now that their contorted bones lye still in the earth. They continue on through lumbering dreams of tearing through flesh or picking up a ton of lake mud and grasses; chewing and pondering paradise. My paradise is here. Electrical fed momentum is my daily bread. There are no dangers here. At least not yet. Only good old fashion American want.

In this dirty and twisted world, to some people, I suppose, a new year is just another day for them to pick up a rifle, dig in and fight for instilled principles. To someone else the new year is just another day covered in bruises, a fat lip and maybe in a few months when the new year doesn't matter much, a broken arm. There are also some people who know the new year holds nothing more than business as usual in a foreign place that wants to see you naked and will pay for it.

My paradise is here. My coffee is waiting. Nothing needs to change, yet something needs to change.

Clouds

2009-06-30T07:40:00.002-04:00

Clouds cover the moving canopy
and stir the memory of restful times.
Of Sitting in trees and following bees
through the dark and lime green grasses.

Cool air songs rest upon the shoulders of thought
and send dreams running from their prisons.
Escaping the noise and restless voices
from troubled memories and painful lessons.

This is the place where the comforts of gray
turn the inward light in motion.
It soothes the moment and quiets the claw
that cuts through the morning's closure.

Suspension is bearing its weight on the room
while the spirits are unwittingly twirling
Among the blue hue the longing will end
while captured thoughts continue their yearning.

Weary and Dark Song

2009-03-12T06:38:00.005-04:00

I already had my morning imagined. I was going to approach my minutes step-by-step. I wasn't going to invite my expectations to get too far ahead. I didn't want to get caught in the net of disappointment. I wasn't going to invite the hoodlum of doubt into my hour of bliss. When the walls of obligation squeeze and suffocate the breath of creativity, it is time for the sledgehammer.

I was able to get a better view of my intention by just using my voice. A request was made through my spirit to ask for an adjustment of working hours. What might seem to be a minor interruption can forcibly blast a path of self destruction and sabotage to end the course set for purpose and enlightenment. This selfish intrusion only defines the illusion of my limited equation. It is within my own power to wield the hammer and smash the shadow that bears down on my mental capacity. I'll slice through the lies that bind these tortured thoughts and hold me captive in a fixed and weary longing. My head, my shoulders and gut scream for the warm rays of healing. Hands only sought and found between the layers of vapor through the grainy mirage. I'll drag my weapon and leave a trail for you to find me.

Bite Me

2009-03-06T06:18:00.018-05:00

Routine is an accident of preconceived self-discipline. Routine is the heart of mindless expectations. Routine is a dark and endless tunnel reaching only as far as the end of the room. Routine is our soul's prison and Eve's punishment for believing what she was told.

~k.guarino

Not Me

2009-01-24T08:04:00.008-05:00

I'm saving the world,

unplugging

and taking a walk to get ready

for alot of running and screaming.

Care to join me?

ATC Workshop Forming

2009-01-18T17:48:00.013-05:00

Here are a few ATC's I've been working on:

Spontaneous Art and Expression...click on each image for a closer gander if you so desire.

I'm going to be organizing an ATC workshop and eventually swap group at the new Candles, Creative Gifts and More shop. She's started allowing her vendors the opportunity to teach classes in their area of expertise. I decided to choose the trendy creative outlet found in designing Artist Trading Cards. I've got tons of paper and mixed media materials to do this with and I am eager to share an evening with those who wish to experiment and express their own love for collage and story telling. Further info with be announced soon. (As soon as I tell Luann!)

It's All There ~2009~

2009-01-03T07:46:00.007-05:00

At the start of every year I always find myself contemplating a new course to follow. Writing down the changes I'd like to make within myself. Wanting to feel and think and be an instrument of love to the current and upcoming events and challenges. I can only hope for daily inspiration to appear and help keep me on track. I believe this desire dwells in everyone and it appears to be a highly marketable idea. Why, I only have to glance over at my fresh roll of paper towels hanging above my dish drain to find inspiration. Discover! Dream! Believe! Till the soil of your dreams... Keep growing, keep dreaming. BountyTM towels; giving me words of encouragement and simple wisdom. While glancing inside my date book, there are famous quotes written along the sidebar to remind me of noble ways to think and reflect. "Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadow." ~ Helen Keller. We possess powers beyond our understanding. Our own thoughts are spirited tools revealing a higher calling for ourselves when practiced wholeheartedly. Wholeheartedly each day without fear, without doubt, without want, without hesitation.

So let's surround ourselves with words, phrases, quotes and even framed photographs reflecting joyful events to ease the burden of an angry world to soothe and feed our anxious soul. Absorb the tiny retreats found on book shelves, arranged in the clouds, spoken by a grandmother, viewed over the bridge and delighted on the trail of wind that lift and swoop the dance of winter birds overhead. These moments are presently ready to weave their way into our day and express the words that inspire, aleviate, elevate and bring to us a moment of pause and introspection. Some moments are many times far too awe inspiring for words.

God Bless this moment. Hold fast to this new calendar year. It is moving.

http://www.quotegarden.com/

http://www.wallwords.com/index.asp

My Christmas Touches

2008-12-19T21:31:00.011-05:00

I've finally put the finishing touches on creating wonderful signs of Christmas in my little home. I love my growing seasonal collection. It's all coming together so nicely. The best part of all of my stuff is that every piece is very meaningful to me. It's not just something I picked up at Target or TJ Maxx. If it isn't painted or created by my own hand, it was handmade and bought or given to me at some time.

Here in this snapshot is part of my snowman collection. I painted both plaques pictured here. The stuffed snowman was givien to me as a "thank you" gift for hosting a party. the ceramic snowman canister was given to our family from relatives and the little snowman sled was purchased from another painter from an arts and crafts show. The clock was an anniversary gift.

The other side of the shelf is more painted pieces by myself and the snow family fabric wall hanging was purchased from a crafter at the annual Bethlehem Presbyterian Church fair. The stuffed snowman is pals with the other snowman sitting to his right.

These two little quails are usually sitting in my Christmas tree, but I decided to let them nest in the ficus tree this year. They look pretty content.

I love Santa Claus and cookies! He is surrounded by cool blue LED lights and glass ornaments. Our tree is the bomb this year! We decided to go to the same Christmas tree farm as last year. Farmside Acres, which is owned by Robert and Leslie Nannini of Angola Road. It's the best way to get a tree.
TA-DA!

Another Santa ornament dwarfed by a keepsake glass ornament from WAAAAY back when my mom bought them at Barkers in Newburgh.

I Believe! I Believe! This is my hand painted sign that I made last year. I have three of them hanging around the house. I point to each one and yell out, "BELIEVE!" My boys think I'm nuts!

Ahhh, my sweet nativity. My DH bought this for me two years ago. It's complete with stable, shepards, and 3 wise men. Each figurine expresses biblical verse from the gospel of Matthew, Luke and John.

On the other side of the room is my Santa Shelf and it's where we hang our stockings. Ho Ho Ho!

I love nutcrackers! I've got a small collection. The store I work at has an attractive line for sale, but they really have to mean something to me, so I haven't given in to buying them. These two guys were bought when I lived in Germany as a kid. They were my mothers and I got to keep them. I see my big guy has a missing mustache! I should glue that on one of these days! Last year his little foot had to be glued. The other one is missing his sword. Peace on Earth.

December Thoughts

2008-12-06T22:20:00.012-05:00

30 days hath September,

April, June, and November.

All the rest have 31

But February’s the shortest one.

With 28 days most of the time,

Until Leap Year gives us 29.

It was first grade with Mrs. Grew that we recited this lesson. I remember just moving my lips and observing her and hearing the rest of the class chanting along in perfect rhythm. I had no idea what the hell they were talking about. Now, 36 years later, I know way more than I want to and I would prefer to return to being the toe-haired girl simply moving her lips knowing that somehow I was in good care.

I fondly recall quite a few magical moments in my elementary years. I remember sitting on the floor gazing up at my music teacher Mrs. Galloway with her long Lynn Anderson blonde hair. She played her guitar for us and swear I could still smell the pages of her spiral music book that held the whimsical songs she taught us. I remember another time sitting on the carpeted floor with a visiting teacher. I'm not sure what she was teaching, but I remember her taking a perfect piece of chalk and making the most beautiful circle. I was so moved that my voice broke through and said, "That's a good circle!" She thanked me. There was also the memory of my classmates and I practicing Goldilocks and the Three Bears play. I remember my teacher scolding me as I said my line, "This porridge is too hot..."

"Karen, how can we hear you if you don't take your hair out of your mouth?" She sighs. Goldilocks eats porridge, Take 5.

This year is almost over and I've used up all of my takes. This is the last scene for the year. There is no particular title, but there is a spirit-filled theme I believe in. It is as silent as snow falling on a powdered filled street and it is as certain as a night star. It is within all of us and it is who we all are. "Unto us a child is born" take 2009.

What Freakin' Day it is?

2008-11-28T06:45:00.007-05:00

Araaagh! I'm lying in bed this morning thinking it's Sunday, so I shuffle out into the dark, prepare my brew and lethargically stare into the crack box (computer). Lo and behold, after a sip of coffee, my brain begins to fizzle and then WHAM-O! I realize it's Friday and I have to go to work! Holy Hell!

Araagh! Thursday's turkey feast faked me out! I'm high on tryptophan and I don't even know what freakin' day it is! I was planning on lounging in my pj's all day. Sunday. Ha! Where did those aliens take me to last night anyway?

Araagh! It's BLACK FRIDAY! I shouldn't even be stepping out of the door. All those hung-over shopping loons are on the road. I'll just have to drive like them to assimilate otherwise I'm roadkill. The ride home should prove to be even more horrifying because everyone will be starving and broke.

Araagh! I'm working late because I promised to "deck the halls" at the store. Araagh! I have prescription deliveries too, so I'll really be caught in the zoom with the mall zombies and pillagers running red lights and screeching lefts. I gotta stay calm. I gotta get into the spirit, except I think the spirit is slipper sliding today and eating left-over pie.

Free Pic-Nic Baskets for Everyone!

2008-10-30T08:00:00.010-04:00

The photo above captures a disturbing trend that is beginning to affect wildlife in the USA . Animals that were formerly self-sufficient are now showing signs of belonging to the Democratic Party... as they have apparently learned to simply sit and wait for the government to provide for their care and sustenance.

Photo and caption courtesy of The Glenn Beck Program

Autumn Leaves You Laughing

2008-10-26T19:53:00.015-04:00

I finally tended to my living room shelves today and adorned them with the magic of filtered hues and celebratory colors of the Autumn season. It's my favorite time of year. I thought these snapshots would have been bigger, but alas my skills in digital photography....

Yeah, I know I should have been outdoors because it was a beautiful sunny 60+ degree day, but I spent the day inside making homemade chicken soup, oatmeal raisin and chocolate chip cookies.

In my homebody state, I decided to collect a list of words that I associate with, identify with and am attracted to in the mental sense. My intention is to meditate on this vocabulary with the hopes to inspire and generate a stimulating composition consisting of art and prose. Basically the conversation in my head with images. It's a fucking process and a journey that'll take me whenever I decide I'm to take complete blame for all of this delay.

Expressions In The Arts

2008-09-28T08:02:00.014-04:00

I crossed paths with an acquaintance of mine during a grocery store run. She is a fellow artist and it seems whenever we meet, we have lengthy chats about our recent ventures and struggles to "get our artwork out there". I have never seen her artwork, but for some reason, her and I have this relaxed understanding between us that confirms my nagging belief in reestablishing a meeting place for hungry artists. Hungry for reassurance, inspiration, motivation and a place to show and tell our tales of expression and strip away the layers; hiding our soul's intention.

In fact, I know and have met many creative souls that are always eager to talk with me about their craft because I love to listen. It's fascinating when I hear the language of spontaneous art. It is the emotional songs in our conversation that sing about intangible, imaginative and moving moments that can only be captured by the artist's mind and eye. Beautiful, irrational, ghostly, fleeting, timeless, raw and sometimes unintentional.

In the next few months I will dig through the files of "someday" folders and place them in the "today" pile. A few years ago I nurtured an idea and it was called Expressions In The Arts and was followed up by my monthly newsletter called The Artisan Article. The way I see it as the days unfold, the HUMAN spirit is in GREAT DEMAND!! A thread of ideas, forging community spirit, and creative ingenuity. Not just art, but a forum for inspiration, uplifting escape and personal expression. I'm sorry and tired of hiding and pausing my talents and good intentions. I can sing, I can speak, but I lost my courage somehow.

Courage: (noun) mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty

Got it!

Up To My Elbows

2008-09-06T08:43:00.020-04:00

Dirty dishes in my sink
Gives me time to stop and think...
What it means to wash a glass, a mug, a spoon, a plate and knife
Contributes to your well-being and purpose to my mundane life.

I don't like doing the dishes. Other days I hate it. My emotions fight it every time it is time. See? I'm here at the computer, instead of washing the morning dishes. It only takes about ten minutes or so, but it feels like an agonizing endless chore. I did time myself once or twice using the microwave clock-timer. I set the countdown at ten minutes and I raced through the whole pile give or take a few seconds.

Now a good stack of anxiety could consist of about four to five dinner plates, five glasses, several cereal/icecream bowls and assorted utensils. Throw in a coffee mug, some of those Chinese take-out bowls that accumulate even though you just want to throw away, and of course, a greasy frying pan with matching flipper. If I can arrange and rinse the mess in some sort of order on the counter before I begin, the roar and growling from irritated food particles isn't as audible. I robotically fill up the stainless steel sink with hot water, add about seven or eight squirts of liquid soap, swish, swirl and animate my sculpture of suds. There's no turning back now.

I have the classic set-up. My back is to the room and I have a window with a view. A view of the driveway, old mother tree, and the tree lined road. Like I said, I have the classic set-up. My back is turned, I am banished; facing a spotted and smudged, cobweb laden window. My anguish soars along the tree lined road hoping someone will rescue me.

I don't slip into latex gloves like some ladies. Indeed I have a pair. I even bought the hot pink Playtex ones over the yellow thinking I could fool myself to add whimsy to my cleaning experience, but I really only use them for the real scrub jobs. This is a ten minute dig compared to a hour scourge in the bathtub but that's another story.

Dishes stacked. Check. Sleeves rolled up. Check. Nose is itched. Check. My hands glide into the steaming water and my thoughts drift through the window screen as suds stick and roll along my hands and arms. If I hurry, I'm sure I'll break something, but if I can focus on the diligent rhythm of dip, swirl, dip, swirl, stack, rinse, stack, then this task will not reach that nerve. So in the words of the famous zen master, Thich Nhat Hanh, "The time of dishwashing is as important as the time of meditation. That is why the everyday mind is called the Buddha's mind." (from Present Moment Wonderful Moment Mindfulness Verses for Daily Living)

The moment arrives when the last orphan spoon shines in the running water and plops into the draining cup. Down goes the water. Down goes the soap. I'm free! I'm free! I have put aside all traces from my transcedental meditational session, and I turn around to embrace my release. I whisper never to wash another thing for the rest of my life and then I gasp and witness my youngest son filling up a clean glass with refreshing, cold milk. "Thanks Mom!" Ah Heaven.

What More Do You Want? A Political Statement

2008-09-05T04:46:00.013-04:00

(a letter to an Obama supporter)

Can you convince me that democracy will still stay in place and I'm not going to have to share MORE of my hard earned income and wealth (peace of mind) with lazy asses that collect welfare and sit in front of a computer all day upgrading their My Space (They've got satelite TV, cellphones, jewelry, drugs, nails, and fresh tattoos) and then listen to how they're really hurtin' and can't wait for the free stuff Obama's gonna give 'em. Y'know, that white collar computer nerd, stock broker, engineer, pharmacist "employer" just bought me Christmas dinner, gave me a raise and a 401K option so I can support a family. Who else is gonna do that? Joe Schmo, the union president, taking his 5th cigarette break and figuring out how he's going to stick it to the man, fuck over his fellow co-workers and fake some "on the job" disability? I certainly don't want any hand outs from the Government, although the economic stimulus package was helpful, but SURPRISE! you only got it if you paid taxes! People have to take care of themselves. We don't need a president who is going to coddle lazy people with more government programs. We already have Medicaid, and don't even get me started on Medicare and Social Security that I contribute to every week. I never met so many wealthy unhappy, unappreciative, selfish seniors in my life! "Whadda mean my monthly co-pay is ten dollars? My entre at Red Lobster is only $9.99!"

Tell me that I can proudly still hold on to my guns and religion, that I don't have to watch the family unit be mocked by trans gender legalized gay marriages, that the freedoms we enjoy today, like walking in a mall, visiting a historic site, traveling abroad, like to the Grand Canyon (lol) isn't going to be diminished because for the last eight years, we haven't had a single bombing incident on American soil. Please don't be one of those nuts who believes Rosie O'Donnell. Wasn't the National Guard in Louisiana for "the storm of the century?" See what happens when you have a real leader there that says, "Either you get the fuck out (evacuate), or you're screwed." And in came the buses. We've got a kick ass military, let's keep it that way, and let me tell you what, I want them over there on the offensive in the Middle East keeping an eye on those fuckers and helping the Iraq people live freely, kids play, people shop, eat, dress, speak their minds. We take it all for granted here.

And who the hell are these 21st Century 20 something anarchists breaking the law in MN? Get a fuckin' job you wayward brat! They've got is so bad. Did Mommy forget to put the jelly on both sides of the bread?

It's 3am...and I know where my children are, we are a proud hard working, law abiding contributors to our community, and this country. My DH works for a municipality with all its BS, but it puts food on the table, shelter over our heads, gas in our cars, health coverage, and all the other necessities we need to live and be . I work for a pharmacist who owns several properties, drives a nice car, has a fuckin beautiful Jag, doesn't know how to hold a hammer, but he's awesome to work for! I wish I made more money, but it's my choice to stay and work there. I could've gone and finished college, but I didn't. I'm not going to blame the government for my life! So we live within our means and when all is said and done, we're content because as you know, it's not ever about things. I do wish for you plenty of success and wealth as you pursue your happiness. See you at the polls.

“My friends, we live in the greatest nation in the history of the world. I hope you’ll join with me as we try to change it.” ~ Barack Obama

Call It What You Want

2008-09-04T06:37:00.013-04:00

During my earlier artistic endeavors, I illustrated and colored spirited and spontaneous designs of color and shape. It was very freeing to create. Controlled doodling, really.

Applying myself to that natural response, I completed this 12" x 18" colored pencil piece that you see. I was pleased to pursue my play and make mini frame and focus areas mounted for notecards. An amusing way to stimulate more expressive possibilities. Call it what you want.

Righting the Writer

2008-08-25T07:05:00.015-04:00

I have a lot of journals, notebooks, steno pads, sketchbooks gathered in piles, stacked in boxes, leaning in shelves and I know there is a constellation of meaning to them. This morning, as I rocked up from my bed, I grabbed three and flipped through the intended words and thoughtful works inside. Sometimes it is very sad to read my inner struggles from five or more years ago as they catch up with the ones that are still haunting me. Some demons are more imagined than real.

There is a line in one of my writings that prompted this entry. It is a sigh to the Lord.

Cloak me in your shield of light.
Save me from my imagined turmoil.
Is the Devil going to be as determined to keep me still?
("Be still and know that I am God")
Sit with me and tell me something.
Hold out your open hand
And allow me to gaze upon its Universe.
Follow and clean my footsteps from hesitating darkness.
It is only when I look ahead
Will I succeed.
04/06

Same journal, almost a year later:

Don't waste your time asking me "What?"
My answer extends beyond measure and cannot be expressed with words.
It is when you can find confidence without asking "What"
That you will find me.
03/07

There is this flawless path of knowing,
And the uncertain group of hopes with fears.
Endless anguish colapses in the frame of memory.
We also pass through this envelope of time,
Only to surface and gasp for heaven's air.

SLAM!!!
Well, that's all for now kiddies!

Internet Explorer cannot display the webpage

2008-08-23T21:27:00.010-04:00

Well, I finally did it. I've been wanting to for awhile now. I canceled my website. Yahoo was raising their monthly web hosting fee, so I clicked CANCEL plain and simple. The month's not even over and they completely erased it from the web like THAT! The bastards. Who gives a shit? Yeah, I saved most of my text, graphics and pix. Shake the dust off. Impressions by karen guarino is done and I'm glad.

So now it's time to keep walking. Sit with myself and think, think, think. There's a story, there's a tale and a miracle howl somewhere in this body of hope. So here I am at the burning barrel again, tossing in forgeries and devil maps of where I thought I was supposed to be. Jesus, everything makes so much more sense to me when I'm dreamy-still and entranced with an earful of songs. Where are the wooded areas? Where are those paths that led me to spiritual places only seen by me? The tiny voice speaking through pebble petting streams, cool, smooth tree bark, bending grasses and leaves that turn over and over on windy caresses. It's time for me to listen.

Autumn Leaves You Laughing

2008-08-23T09:23:00.008-04:00

What is this? Well, it was a honey brown stained piece that I bought for $2 from a Grandma's Attic table tag sale. It has two "mystery" dowels across the face of it and a pocket. I plan on displaying it with a row of mini drip candles or tied dried flowers hanging down for charm. At least I crackled and tackled it instead of letting it sit for a year or more. More fun in store for today!!

Morning Buzz

2008-08-10T15:07:00.012-04:00

Routine has its place. My early morning routine is a must. Don't futz with my slipper slide to the coffee zone. Don't tell me to snuggle for five more minutes because before coffee, I'm about as cuddly as a rabid badger. You're truly better off. So, with feet to the floor, I'm barely out of my dream state while I'm zombie rockin' over to the java machine. Please, just give me a solid hour to fill one up, sit, sip and stare into the web. I'll come around.

Cottage Additions

2008-06-03T06:46:00.005-04:00

Wood shelf with dowl rod for dried flowers, tea towels, drip candles, greeting cards...

Happy Birthday To Meeee!

2008-05-29T06:23:00.003-04:00

The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the coffee's brewing...It's a perfect day!

If I could only go back to bed
and pull the covers
back over my head...

Happy Birthday To Me ~

Just Shut Up and Work

2008-05-28T07:01:00.002-04:00

I work 6 hours a day in a retail pharmacy. It's a pleasant enough enviroment, there's enough to do and it pays my grocery bill. I don't particularly care about getting caught up in the mundane gossip and trivial trials of your life. I just want to do my job, smile pretty then cut loose. I've got a life to run.

Is This All Ya Got?

2008-05-28T06:42:00.005-04:00

I went to my local arts 'n craft supply store. I'm not even gonna plug them, 'cause I think they suck. Anyway, this is what I got after spending 2 hours spiraling around for inspiration. I'm going to eventually open them up, and play with them. At the moment, they're sitting to my left in a stack wondering where they are and what they're going to be doing. Where'd I put my scissors? GASP!

2008-05-28T06:37:00.002-04:00

Don't walk..Don't run but CLICK to Amazon.com and BUY THIS BOOK! My very good friend, Janet Baskerville and her fantastic wearable artistry is featured in it!

Gotta go!

Looking Back...

2008-03-16T15:12:00.010-04:00

When I find myself looking back, amazingly I'm still the same person who is moving and dreaming forward. Haunting me is the curse of how I might be wroughting bad karma upon myself for "looking back". This is simply a fairy tale. "Never look back!" I hear them say. "Don't look back!" says the band playing in my head. The past is the past, but I'm lost in the present moment forgetting what the hell it is I'm supposed to be doing. Where is that feeling, that spark, that inspiring phrase or image that brought me here? By looking back, I can pause and learn while glancing over my shoulder; remembering what my intention was before it fell apart days, weeks, months later and changed into something else for someone else. The songs that hummed along the rhythm of who I was becoming were somehow silenced by unintentional, humiliating events. Past failures can kill a person. Past fears live in present moments forever. It takes confidence and awareness to stare down the demons and take back the heart and spirit of creative pursuits. I have forgotten the opportunity that when one door closes, another one opens. It takes perserverance and hope to go through those welcoming gates of possibility. It's happened and worked out that way for me in the past. (Cue song, "Find Your Way Back" by Jefferson Starship.)

March is half over. March has half begun! We are experiencing the presence of The Lion and anticipating The Lamb. Spring is right around the corner, Easter celebrations are here. Today is the promise of sun, but I'll be inside working at my PT job. Which I like, but I really need a hiatus. I need some solid ArT with HeArT time!!! SH#@! I've got a wicked knot in my back and neck that's been the worst kind of excuse. I finally saw the chiropractor, for the first time and it was pretty wild to hear all those popping sounds. (cringe) I'm on the road to wellness.

Today is Good Friday which is good because I get to leave work at noon! This will give me ample time to knock off my "to do" list for the family Easter gathering coming up. "I wanna eesta-egg, I wanna eesta-egg!" Looking back, when I was a wee girl, Easter smelled like new carpet and wood; sweet marshmallow and chocolate smeared cardboard cartons, mixed with perfume and pipe tobacco. My sister and I would be wearing our white squeaky buckled shoes and pilled stockings posing with our Easter baskets for that memorable polaroid shot. Easter foil from wrapped chocolates would be littered here and there, and of course, the conversation was inevitably about not being able to find that one missing hard-boiled egg. "Oh! Here it is!"

March is National Craft Month. So after the Resurrection, I plan on taking some creative action. Hopefully, I'll be feeling more limber and I can feed my ArT WiTh HeArT spirit. Matthew 7:7

The Beating Heart of March

2008-03-08T09:30:00.003-05:00

Your humble friend begs to be all you would expect of me.

Today I would like to see
The path that is set for me.
Without a word
Or complaint;
To feign off ignorance
And apply restraint;
Still and quiet
While you show,
Love that is present
As I grow.

~karen guarino

While searching for, I looked within, and so my mornings should begin. To say it is one thing, to pray it is another.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gloomy, gray and stillness seek
The silent and the willing spirits
Of dreamers, believers and rooted divine
Who test the transparent doors of time. ~k

So how are we doing? Well, I'm frozen in routine. The grooves of the wagon wheels are deep and unwavering. I have a safe view for the five senses, but the sixth is screaming for release. Today I'll conform to nothing, expect nothing, want nothing, claim nothing. Surround myself with fillings to satisfy my soul.

Home Is Where The He-ART Is

2008-01-22T17:20:00.000-05:00

"Oh I wish I had a river ~ I could skate away on." ~ joni mitchell

It's late, it's winter, I'm tired and I'm cold, but the moon's out and my snowman's singin', so we'll stay up a little while longer.

I'm so grateful to be here;

My children are safe and full;

I am blessed I'm not alone ~ my heART is here at home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It's been a slow process trying to match my inspirations with my motivations! I did manage to finish a hardy stack of overdue note cards I custom made for the Madison Avenue Store here in town. She's been so patient with me.

Tomorrow is another day to work then chew up some chores and HOPEFULLY have some play-time.

Ringing In The New Year ~ Clearing the Cobwebs

2007-12-30T17:19:00.000-05:00

As I start to write this, there is a little over 29 hours left of 2007. What am I waiting for? What's going to change? I'll tell you what's going to change. First of all, I'm getting rid of ALOT of stuff. It's either being Donated, Ditched or Dungeoned. Donating is easy. You just throw it into a sack and leave it at Goodwill. Ditching stuff is always fun. You just load up the garbage bag, a black one preferrably, until it weighs eighty pounds and you haul it to the curb like the Helga of the North you were meant to be. Dungeoning is simply packing it up in hearty rubbermaid and sending it over to the in-laws basement for the next millenium. It's junk, that's not junk. It's sentimental crap that's taking up valuable space and sanity. Someday you'll serve tea in your Kentucky Victorian with quaint company using your grandmother's heirloom tea set, but until then, ya gotta dungeon it!

What else is going to change? Well, my gut ain't getting any smaller, but that's not an issue right now. I'm talking about changing my attitude. Lately I've been having a really hard time dealing with the little things. We've got nuclear bombs aimed at us and I'm having a fit over excessive twisty-ties. Where do they keep coming from? Those and milk cap rings are continuously returning everytime I clear the counter. Should I be aware of a greater message being sent through these nagging oddities? I've bagged quite a collection of these everyday pull tabs I run into when I have to open something up. I figure it should spell out something to me someday in a working collage about a housewife and her daily commands. "Pull Here", "Pop Up", "Push In", "Pull Out". It's quite something when you think about it. So, from now on I'll try not to freak out over the lip curling annoyances like static electricity that makes my hair stick to my forehead when I'm trying on clothes in the dressing room, the ache in my elbow and hip that makes me feel like I'm 75 years old, my misplaced scissors, miscounted money, sudden canker sores, dead batteries, relentless co-worker cliches and the neighbor's yapping dog that shares his morning glory in our yard. Hey, all this is merely a Yoga position away toward better understanding of the whole picture. Now if I took Yoga, I'd be half-way there, however, I'll simply transform and add it to all the interesting material I've accumulated in my mind to write about whether it's ugly or not.

With that said, the next area to clean up is my current artwork which is clashing with my soul. Once I'm finished classifying my household stuff into destination piles, I'll do the same with my unfinished art works. Let's see, it'll be Finish It, File It, or Fire It! If I don't finish it by the end of Winter, (I'm making this up as I go along) I FIRE IT UP! SWOOSH! Right into the burning barrel come March 20th. What a plan, but I better be careful. I've lightened the load many times and as always, along comes a day when I ask myself, "Why the hell did I get rid of that?!"

HAPPY 2008!

You'll Poke Yer Eye Out Ya Nit Wit!

2007-12-29T20:40:00.000-05:00

So, am I the only woman who uses her toothbrush to smooth down, fluff up and shape her eyebrows in the morning? What a great beauty secret I thought I had. Who knew that one day, one spastic move and SMOOGE! Right in the eye! The pain was incredible. Later I would find out after an afternoon visit with the eye doctor that it was just enough force to put a gash into my cornea. If C.S.I. were to come into my bathroom, they would have found the microscopic splatter of my eyeball on my soggy bristles. If I could've watched that idiotic move in slow motion and saw the intense impact I had on my tender little peeper, I would live with goosebumps forever. Why is it I'm always in such a rush in the morning getting ready for work? That particular morning I was meeting my good friend, Reenie, for coffee. So I had to be out of the house earlier than usual. For some reason I was feeling ugly, hense the call for my beauty secret routine and Whammo! Bad timing and terrible aim. Maybe I'm going to have to cut my caffeine intake to one cup in the morning.

Now what would my mother have taught me? What would she have said? She probably would have reached into her make-up bag and said, "Here's an eyebrow comb, honey. Be very careful and use slow sweeping motions away from your eye. If you're in a hurry, dear, you'll poke yer eye out!"

ps ~ I don't know who the baby pictured above is, but I hope his mom doesn't mind my using his photo for this. He's absolutely adorable!!

Christmas Greeting and Pause

2007-12-22T07:45:00.000-05:00

"Does anyone know what Christmas is all about?"

"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, 'Fear not: for behold, I bring unto you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the City of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.' And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.'"

Wishing my family both far and near, my best friends who I hold so dear and to so many more I've yet to meet a very beautiful Christmas and a New Year filled with hope, love and peace.

karen

Help! I'm Trapped in a Homebody!

2007-12-08T21:33:00.000-05:00

What's the big deal? So I didn't follow through on another desired impulse. I guess I shouldn't feel so twisted up about it. I'm tired and I'm mentally wearing myself out. Like a Suzanne Vega lyric, "...I'm fighting things I cannot see." I just couldn't warrior myself enough to jump into a frozen car at dusk, spend MAYBE an hour at the gallery, then regretfully speed home so that I could pretend I never left and throw together a half-assed meal. I missed my artist friend, Janet Baskerville who was there and that would've been fun and worth it. Ohhh, I need to coop up and forget it.

I got a call from one of my customers from the craft show. She'd like another Christmas illustration personalized for family friends. It's the Santa list design. That's cool I guess. Now I wish I had charged more, but, really, it'll be cake to do. I should be working on some kid cards for a shop I sell to. My art area has been excavated to make room for the Christmas tree! So most of my stuff has been relocated to the basement. It's accessible, but it's in a bit of disarray. I'm going to do myself a favor and invite the Sandman in early. This cranky girl needs to get buried. Sweet Dreams!

Look Within Without

2007-11-16T10:14:00.000-05:00

I have two opportunities brewing and an upcoming show. The show is organized by the PTO, so I'll be relaxed and will hopefully have enough "wow" to make 'em stop and exclaim, "What a wonderful gift THAT would make!" I'm re-working my drawings/illustrations right now. Which is it? What do I do? I suppose a drawing could be considered a sketch or artistic expression, where an illustration definitely depicts a subject, story, or character. OK. They are Christmas illustrations that can be personalized. It's a bit corny, but it's appropriate for the time being.

There is a larger picture I would like to become a part of, and I had better get my skull on right if I want to jump in! I had previously mentioned The Wallkill River School and their kick-ass, up-my-alley classes. Well, the latest is they are opening up a juried artisan gallery; a haven for local arts and crafts. My good friend Janet Baskerville was the first to post this good news to me. The Grand Opening is this Saturday. I have to get my ass in gear if my works don't want to remain homeless.

12/4 ~ Well, I did well enough at the PTO show. It was a bit what I expected, but I was able to sit at my table and be Contented Artist while I colored my drawings and penned in personalized requests. My biggest fans were nine year old girls who hovered around me to watch. I'm just glad I didn't bomb. The unfortunate thing about it was the OVERWHELMING direct sales folks. I have nothing against them, but I had Pampered Chef to the right of me and Home Interiors to the left. Avon, Tupperware, Mary Kay, etc. Next time....more crafters, more advertising, more atmosphere!

C'mon Baby Finish Whatcha Started!

2007-11-06T22:21:00.000-05:00

I'm being haunted. The spirits usually startle me when I'm walking through my basement. Just before I head toward the stairs, their persistent presence glare at me and encompass my head with deafening shrieks, "What's wrong with you! I should be finished by now!" Among the shadows along the wall, my horde of wood frames are waiting to be released from prostrate agony as they sigh and moan toward me; I struggle to pass, carrying packages of groceries. Shivers coarse down my spine as I catch a horrible glimpse of another positioned pile of mache boxes rolling around in their plastic, not yet torn away from whence they came from. Taunting me over and over. "Get your ass over here and give me some paint! Give me some paint!" Piles of colored paper telling me, "Cut me up! Cut me up!" Partially painted canvases, "Finish my hand, Artist B***ch! Figure it out!" The more I run away from them, the louder they become. Someday I'm going to keep running, and someday, they will never call for me. That is by far the most frightening thing that could ever happen.

I got shit for supplies!

2007-10-15T21:19:00.000-04:00

It's already a freakin' strain getting me to draw, emboss or paint something lately. I don't need my supplies crappin' out on me! When I reach for my pen and I'm ready to wham out some freeing lines, I don't expect it to scream in silence across the paper. Why do I keep this shit? Trash! I've got a list 11" long of stuff I want. Stuff I need! Tomorrow is money day. I gotta squirrel some away for Christmas, but I gotta buy some art supplies to inspire this pissed off chick.

I'm going to find a way to indulge and take some art courses this winter. The first one will be given by my friend and artist Beverly Brand Donato. She's teaching a course using the workbook, The Artist's Way. It'll just be a nice intro course to get my juices flowing. The Wallkill River School has their new workshop schedule and they are freakin' kick-ass. It reminds me of the courses that were available to me when I was attending college before I lost myself in a shameful state. No matter, I'm here with the want, so off I go...

Confident Impulse

2007-10-11T21:28:00.001-04:00

I've been doing alot of ironing lately. I've recently added a couple of work wardrobe additions that require a little smoothing out. So I resigned to the fact I couldn't escape this chore even though not too long ago, I would have considered the task decidedly avoidable. The once peaceful morning is now occassionally jolted by the distinctive ear splitting screech from the sound of the opening metal ironing board like prying the jaws of an aluminum alligator. Then I methodically reach up, bring down my trusty iron, set it up, plug her in and focus on positioning the garment. Just this morning before I even took three sips of coffee, my son projected a cotton shirt toward me and said, "Could you iron this?" Like wonder woman I instinctively knew the motions. The merciless sound, SCRREEEECH! Reach, plug and set and I'm as capable as you could imagine. Within minutes the pressing deed is done and I'm filled with satisfaction; my son is also pleased then proceeds to tell me that he picked something else to wear today, but thanks anyway.

So why am I talking about this? What does ironing have to do with being creative? To me, chores and creativity are natural enemies, however, I did step back and wondered about how I understand and respond to chores and how quickly I acted upon that particular spontaneous "son needs ironing" circumstance. I figured it out. It's because I know where everything is, and I know what I'm doing and I know what the results will be.

I have been frustrated lately because too many times during the day, I encounter a visual image for a potential painting or design. I know it's good practice to write it down or sketch it out, but I haven't always been very compliant. If I'm lucky, the ideas will transpire while I'm in my studio space and I could ... yeah... get ... right ... on... it. Uhhh...maybe later. Well, this makes perfect sense to me because I think the problem is, I don't know where anything is, I don't know what medium I'd like to express it in and I don't know how it's going to turn out!

So from now on I want to respond to an artistic opportunity the same way I tackle a grocery list. With focus, intention and delicious results. I can whip out some paper, grab a pencil and with confident insight, longing and knowledge, render the idea and don't stop until all the wrinkles are out.

Pursuit of a Better Gift Tag

2007-07-28T16:34:00.000-04:00

I told you I'm not crafty! But here I am making these craft-like paper gift tags to be presented to area shops. Sure they're cool, but they require a certain dexterity and endurance. There's a bit of assembly line construction going on, and I'm born and raised on original sin. They are one-of-a-kind, but there's going to be hundreds of them (i hope) by the time I get my line going!

My good friend inspired me, or should I say commanded me to make gift tags. She's always giving me great advice, but y'know I'll "yes" you to death before I even consider it. I'm all about self-sabotage. When I finally showed her my sample, there wasn't an immediate reaction like a squeal or gasp. I could tell by her initial look that it took awhile for them to grow on her. As time went by during our visit over coffee, her compliments would get closer and closer apart within the conversation. Thank goodness. Now she makes a point to remind me in e-mails how much she really likes my gift tags. Lord, there are men and women sacrificing their lives for me so that I can make gift tags! I better make them good. It ain't art folks, but it's keeping me out of a funk for now.

Why do I do what I do? I'm surrounded by paper scraps. I can't throw away anything bigger than an attractive 3x3 inch square. Especially if it's 110lb weight. I still have my boot box (see post "Wanna make..." filled with paper remnants. I have to create something before it becomes campfire kindling! I'm sure my mere stash makes me a lightweight next to some of these scrapbook nuts. I'm not a scrapbooker or a big time rubber stamper. It's too scary and conforming, but I certainly think ripping, folding, embossing, painting, collaging and gluing paper is way awesome. That's why I'm writing this post because I just want to justify why I'm making these domestic gift tags. I'm doing it for my friend to honor one of her heartfelt suggestions. I'm doing it to make a few bucks and I'm doing it for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness!

Now Where Did I Leave Off?

2007-07-01T08:10:00.000-04:00

This is agonizing really. Listening to this music. Without a mirror I know myself much younger. I am free-spirited; sitting on the floor and sketching, while the melody holds me suspended and keeps me alive. To those few friends that remember, I'm relishing in the plush lime green carpet and Ikea-like furnishings around me. I have posters of Bjorn Borg, florescent panthers, Heart, Frampton and spontaneous imaginative drawings animating my walls. It is a teenage haven. It is a room I could escape to and find the comforts of individual expression exploding on all available surfaces. I've never grown apart from this moment.

What did I know of life? My mother told me nothing. She led by example and I merely followed the songs of sun and sunset. I was naive and undeserving, however, my units were there for me to feed, shelter and support my immediate needs. I wasn't hindered from exploring and I observed their ideals but never understood their expectations. I knew where the fork and the spoon went, but I was free to turn my head either way. I missed out on knowing my mother's rebellion because I was too busy working on my own. She never led on, so I had to figure it out for myself. I am 22 years, what feels like light years, away from the heaven I knew.

1984 a dream, death and insanity were just the beginning signs that would prepare me for the worst years of my life. It was the fuckin' music like Heart, Foghat, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Led Zeppelin, Thin Lizzy, Benatar, and The Pretenders that sustained my confident and rhythmic stride. Many times this stride would stagger and on occassion I would crash and burn hard at the expense of a few observing friends who would smack or tuck me under their wing to safety. If not them, then the winds of angelic sympathizers would roll their eyes and guide me home. It had to be. I was saved for something or someone.

Never mind that. Right now I want to be lying flat on my stomache with my hands fanned out and my nostrils breathing in the fibers of cool lime green carpet. My soul aches for it and I ask why was it ripped away? I long to go back to my room to escape behind my closed door and listen for traces of familiar sounds that would remind me of the place I came from. From so many moves, I have lightened the load too often and now I am heartbroken again. I will never know what it's like to "come home." When will I be saved from this pillar of salt.

Music moves with me and I can only rely on its harmonic company to keep me sane. All doors are open...

Wanna Make Somethin' Out Of It?

2007-03-05T07:29:00.000-05:00

I can't help myself. If I come across an ordinary object that looks like it could possibly become something artistic, I'll pocket it, horde it, store it, keep it and hide it like treasure. Some time ago I found a southwestern looking button on the floor of the dressing room, and to me, it was like finding a missing puzzle piece. I was thrilled. Last week while changing the roll of paper on the office adding machine, here in my hand was the perfect plastic circular donut thingy. It's still in my purse and now I have several. The other morning, I had a pile of blank cardboard cards on my table. My son decided to "test" out his pen to make sure it wrote on one of the paper cards. I gasped and became a bit offended at this thoughtless act. "Hey!" I exclaimed. "What are you doing?" He looked at me pathetically which basically told me to get a grip. I rushed in and said, "But I'm gonna make somethin' out of it!" My new phrase for the week and my lifetime mantra.

I once carried around a ziploc bag of at least 40 round metal frozen juice lids. The family was in turmoil over it. I don't know why. To me they were the perfect size, shape and surface for all sorts of things. I was gonna make somethin' out of it! I was down to about 30 and I finally recycled them out of my life. I have one boot box designated just for paper scraps. I've had it growing for over 10 years. I love paper and cardboard. I brought home a rather large piece of cardboard that took up the entire backseat of my car. I slid it between the wall and my dresser and envisioned myself freely composing a huge collage or painting. After several months of threats and complaints, my husband adopted my prize as the perfect surface to lay on as he changed the oil in my car.

Looking around I still possess plenty of inspiring trash to treasure findings and trinkets to keep me enchanted. Some of my finds are disguised as books ready to be torn apart to tell a more outlandish tale with paint, glue, beads and shiny things. I've learned that if I can't hide it behind my back, it'll never make it past the glare of space control. From now on I'll try to refrain from taking home styrofoam packing sculptures in the shape of what could be my next expressive adventure. My bursts of "I'm gonna make somethin' out of it!" will need to be replaced with "Ya wanna make somethin' out of it?" GRUNT!

Breathe In, Breathe Out

2007-01-21T22:38:00.000-05:00

Beaucoup going on. I finally made some money via my notecard line for Madison Avenue Shop. Money in the bank, and the owner wants more! Tres Bien! I had a much needed gritty talk with my big sister. Her written expressions are more colorful and witty that I could ever hope for. Gotta love e-mail. I don't know where she gets her crankin' forwards that drive a nail thru the source of current matters, but they are ace. I've got an Artisan Market opportunity ~ location clanging around my brain. I'm going to get together with my crafty friends and work on some momentum. I'm dying for a nite out! I feel like I've been grounded for a year. Work is kick-ass! There's a change of pace/scenery for me next week. Get a grip, got a grip and thinks everything is fine. Small wonder. Oh, well, just so long as I can get away for awhile. This week better be sunny and cold. I need some warm rays on my face while I'm trotting here and there.

Dizzy From My Tizzy

2006-12-31T20:53:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm still in my mental rut, however, I'll bow my head to the arrival of the new calendar year. I'm over here, you're over there. Which is better? It's all about perspective.

My beloved birdfeeder is such a great distraction. Matt keeps them very well fed. I vow to eat with gratitude. Live with pause and thoughtful process. I have all the basics. I'm surrounded by love. I haven't been thankful, and I am exhausted from ambiguity.

So, where do I find the "kick in the ass" that I so need to give me a healthy jump start. Some where in a Foghat tune, I'm sure.

Where'd The Year Go?

2006-12-26T07:19:00.000-05:00

HS! Where'd the year go? I'll tell ya. Right here. It hasn't moved. Time is a block of frozen anxiety with me. Nothin's changed. I'm still staring at my old designs waiting for them to animate themselves and I'm about ready to heave ho everything. What the hell happened to me? I'm surrounded by the same stuff I did in 1992! I gotta get skinny and I gotta get this crap outta here!

I've got about a 1/2 hour window of time before I collide with routine. Here I sit, trying to figure this out. I can't believe it's happening. I'm getting swallowed up by the Nothing! I need some heavy tunage, a sound book and some strong coffee to snap out this...

Keep a Knockin'....

2006-01-09T22:27:00.000-05:00

Presently I function in a space at home where I can draw, paint and dream art. My area consists of a draft table facing the wall, basically in the middle of the main room with my Craftsman drawer unit to the right that acts as my storage and computer desk. I've got all of my "stuff" around me and ready for action. The only problem is I feel a bit too exposed and I'm a bit too available. There is too much noise and there is too much of an opportunity to become distracted by wants and needs and glaring chores. I need to make another sanctuary for myself away from the everyday. I need to shelter myself away from the breezes of living reminders that I'm needed for something. I'll take a break and enter another room in the house. Hmmm, glancing around at the four walls, the ceiling, one window, some closet space, a door. This would make the perfect studio! Ok, so I've gotten desperate, but maybe the bathroom could suit my spontaneous artistic moments. They would have to be brief so noone could catch on and find me, but it just might work...

In the past, I've been rescued by the bathroom many times when I looked for some solitude and sanity. When the kids were young and tearing up the place, I would sweetly tell them, "Mommy will be right out." Then a minute or two or three later I exited fully charged and capable. During other times when heated arguments became explosive and I needed refuge from verbal bullets. Holing up in the bathroom offered sanctuary for a moment because it was, in a way, Home Base. For reading, ranting, crying, and now creating, this room with it's four walls, ceiling, one window, some closet space and most importantly, the door, has invited me once more.

2006 challenge

2006-01-06T06:17:00.000-05:00

MERRY CHRISTMAS! and Happiness in the NEW YEAR!

I have a bright and hopeful outlook for '06. I don't think '05 lived up to my standards and expectations as far as experiencing enough change in my creative explorations. I need to hook up with some support that will prompt me to try new things and fearlessly step beyond the safe boundaries that have anchored me into the mundane. There are pages of notes and sketches, words and ideas that are screaming for me to forget loss and with confident sweeping motions, find pure freedom and inner release.I received some wonderful gifts under the tree this year. Two new instructional books on painting wildlife and painting birds. I fear the challenge from either, but my husband is determined to tap into my "less than refined" side of artistic capabilities. So it will be in these next few wintery months that I will indulge in some new territories to vanquish that horrible spirit of fear that binds me.In all that we do, let it come from our hearts so that we may be sure and confident it will produce a truth beyond our own understanding.

Ready...Set...Rest!

2005-11-24T22:20:00.000-05:00

So Christmas is blessing us with hope, love and song again in 30 days. What am I going to do differently? I know what I'm NOT going to do...I'm not going to get caught up in all the cliche conversation about how cold it's getting, how much traffic there is, how broke they are, how Uncle Marvin always ruins the holidays, why Christmas is such a hush, hush in the public schools etc. etc...I don't want to be comfortable to that noise what-so-ever! We reap what we sow. Shall we carry on?

I want to surround myself with soothing pillars of scented candles and satisfy my short moments with flickering light. I want to hear songs celebrating the season of slumbering trees. I want to read peoples pain and suffering and offer my light to strengthen their spirits and allow their souls to breathe. I want to eye color as I walk into a room and feel its vibration; focus on its gift. Have you ever?

This will be my December.

Where's the flowers and fine china?

2005-11-16T07:28:00.000-05:00

I have these slides but I haven't a projector, so I have be painfully shrinking myself enough to get a glimpse of where I came from and the family that provided the colors of my memories.

Yeah, And Who's Gonna Stop Me?

2005-10-28T19:16:00.000-04:00

I'm at the intersection and my blinker is ranting right, but my yearning is punching straight ahead. Don't look back until my soul reaches the level it understands. Forge through fears of uncertainty. Drive past the river. Drive over the mountain. Drive through the barren place that is alive with unfamilarity. Who's gonna stop me? My husband? My kids? My job? My friends? My website? Myself?

Shit.

So What ~ Who Cares ~ Whatever

2005-09-09T22:40:00.000-04:00

Just get me to where I gotta go and shut up already! This is my prayer...

I'm a week away from the anticipated show to sell my thought inspired wares. I curse! I'm not ready. I'm never ready. I'll be surrounded by GWB haters and I'm trying to stay calm. I'm an artist. I have works to be shown. I have a business to run. Who cares about anything else? Just everybody else. Who's in the mood to buy anything when everyone is scrounging to save and donate all in the same day! Tomorrow is my day to make it or break it. Just like every other day. Stay tuned...

Take A Seat Dan Brown, Maeve's Back In Town!

2005-09-03T19:14:00.000-04:00

I just received an e-mail from one of my favorite authors, Elizabeth Cunningham. She's just announced that she has a new publisher for her astonishing long awaited trilogy of Maeve, the fiesty red-headed Celt who befriends a male mystery from Galilee, Esus. The first of this series was called Daughter of the Shining Isle. I've been told the Part II title has apparently been changed from Maeve of Magdalen to The Passion of Mary Magdalen, which I don't really like, but...I guess if you want to draw people to buy your book. I feel her writing is unmatched and filled with such poetic flow that it brings forth both emotional relief and deep rooted screaming. I'm going on a campaign for her because Maeve wants to tell her story before Dan Brown does!! It should be an interesting year since Pastor Cunningham will be releasing her book April 2006 and The Davinci Code the movie will be released May 2006. Woo Hoo! Her other books which I have read are ~ The Wild Mother, The Return of The Goddess, and How to Spin Gold. All kick-ass!

Freedom to paint & baptism by carwash

2005-08-27T20:19:00.000-04:00

AH HA! I painted today and pushed myself to play instead of being the slave to the same shit. My kids worked on their warhammer models and my husband slept. Everyone was happy, but I was getting a little antsy and took a drive since it really was a perfect weather day. I had some note cards that I wanted to drop off at this shop that takes 'em on consignment. It's a drag. She owes me a petite amount of $$$, but as fuckin' luck has it, she was "closed" and I was left hangin'. There were several shops I could've stopped in to feed my boredom, but I was too anxious and cranky to follow thru. So I drove around my town that is quickly turning into someone else's town. Screw it, because it doesn't really matter. I knew exactly what would make me feel better. A drive-thru CARWASH!

It was $7, but I gave the rough chick $10. I was ready for my bath. I was ready for my soft cloth liquid therapy. The gentleman in attendence massaged my body with his hardy brush, showered me lightly with water then beckoned me to come forward. "Throw it in neutral!" You betcha. Rolling through this tunnel of blue waves and froth I surrender my filth. As the spinning, swishing and thunderous machinery clean my car, the sounds, shadows and rhythmic motion clear my mind. The cleansing continues thru embracing sheets of 42 showerheads and then the awesome warm breath; leaving only beads of water that glisten in the upcoming light. The sign speaks and tells me to put the car in "drive" when windshield reaches HERE. Like the obedient lamb, I'm a freed spirit and I drive away into the sunshine.

I know, I'm a seeker.

Carry your work like Glass...

2005-08-23T22:41:00.000-04:00

So said my art teacher of a million years ago. God! I have been so disrespectful to my finished art pieces it ain't funny. Soo, in an attempt to gain a little self esteem and awareness, I am polishing my latest works and whispering over my creative line. (my preciousssssss) I have a show coming up (a festival that features artists and crafters) and I'm hoping to make a zillion, so I gotta look presentable!!! Some day when I really kick my ass, I'll be in a "one-woman-show" and stand around a champagne fountain. POP! Crap! I'm not going to get very far if I keep f*#king around down the decor trail of hell.