Pursuit of a Better Gift Tag

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?

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?

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

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

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?

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'....

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

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!

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?

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?

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

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!

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

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...

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.