Blog for a Birthday

I stole the title from the poet Sylvia Plath's "Poem for a Birthday."  I don't think she'd mind too much, as we share a history of depression and mental illness after all (more information on her here).  

That said, today is my birthday.  And there are times when I wonder how it is I'm still here, after several near-deaths, self-inflicted and otherwise.  There are times when I wonder why I'm still here, and what's the point of being here.  I think my therapist worries about the times when I do this, because she knows where it may lead.  Don't worry, Stacie.  I'm not in that mood today.

Me on my first birthday

The few people in my real life that I genuinely love, and whom I suspect genuinely love me, will mark today in different ways, with dinners or lunches.  Hopefully cash or gift cards too (lol).  But I know I will have their good wishes and their hopes that my new year will be a good one.  I hope so too.  Today, on the day itself, I am working at the gallery.  

I was born in 1960, at the end of the baby boom.  I was the last child in my family, and the only girl. My mother endured 10 pregnancies-only 3 of her children lived.  I'm told that if she'd carried all pregnancies to term, I'd still be the only girl.  Then again, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be here because I can't imagine my parents would have wanted 10 children.  Rhythm method or not.

In preparation for a self portrait project that I wrote about a while back, one which continues as I try to figure out how I really want to do this, I have had to look at old family pictures.  This is mostly painful, sometimes happy.  Good things did happen during those years, but they're overshadowed by my memories of sad times.  I am slowly making copies of photos to use because it seems to me that a true self-portrait can't just encompass myself, but also the things that have influenced me over the years.  So it's an ongoing project as I work this out.

In the meantime, I still wonder what difference a birthday really makes.  At least for me.  For years it simply meant very little.  Oh sure, I played along with birthday cakes (because I do love them) and good wishes, but the new year (because I do think of birthdays as a kind of New Year's Day) always seemed fraught with uncertainty because of my home situation.  I never knew if my birthday would bring joy or pain, if I would suffer because I was taking attention away from His Majesty, my father.  I know my oldest brother refuses to celebrate his actual birthday because of this.  

I suppose, though, that for the sake of those around me I should at least go through the motions and act like I'm enjoying the festivities.  And try to think about all that I've accomplished in the past few years even as many things have gone wrong (but that's life, isn't it?).  

In the back of my mind, though, I'm afraid I'll still be thinking about the past as much as I try to escape it.  On an episode of "Criminal Minds," one of the major characters recited this quote from Wendell Berry

The past is our definition.  We may strive, with all good reason, to escape it or what is bad in it but we will only escape by adding something better to it

I haven't yet escaped, but I'm doing my best to add something better.

So Happy Birthday to Me.  

later,
lin

Thirteen Years Ago Today

Four planes were hijacked and commandeered by terrorists and made to crash into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and a field in Pennsylvania.  It was an event that shocked the world.  Certainly, it was horrific for me.

And to this day, I just cannot look at the videos of the planes crashing into the World Trade Center.  I can't even imagine what the families of those who died go through every time there's coverage of the catastrophe that killed thousands of people-and their loved ones.

On that day, I was sitting in my office when I received the first call about what had happened.  When the first plane crashed.  Then the second plane.  And it got worse.  My co-workers and I frantically searched for coverage of the disaster on websites.  And stared, shell-shocked, at what we saw.

I worked at a university here in Rhode Island, and school had just started.  Many students were from New York and New Jersey and had relatives who worked in Manhattan at the WTC and nearby buildings.  I can't imagine what they endured.  Classes were canceled.  The school held a memorial service outside Manning Chapel at noon.  The grounds were crowded with so many people, it seemed as if everyone on campus had made it their priority to be there.  

My brother worked a few miles from the Pentagon.  He felt the impact of the crash, saw the smoke rising.  His wife was in Los Angeles for a conference.  She wasn't able to come home for days because either flights were cancelled or so overbooked that there were no seats available.  

Someone I know had a daughter who worked in the second tower.  When the first plane hit, something told her that she needed to get out of the building.  Her bosses told her, "If you leave you're fired."  She left, not caring about the job she'd worked so hard for.  She somehow got out of the building before the second plane hit it.  None of her co-workers survived.

That was a day when everything changed.

Two months later, friends and I went to New York City for Christmas shopping.  While we wandered around Fifth Avenue and elsewhere we came upon a fire house that had a big placard attached to the building with the names of the first responders they had lost.  I don't know how many people were normally assigned to the fire house - but there were 21 names on that sign.  As we'd ridden the bus into the city, I avoided looking in the direction of where the Towers normally had stood, while others craned their necks.  I couldn't.

I never did any art about what had happened.  Maybe I will.  Or not.  It doesn't matter really.

What matters is that people everywhere remember what happened, and do their best to work for peace and reject violence.  On all sides.  Because violence solves nothing.  It just creates more violence.  I know it sounds simplistic.  But it's worth a try.

Anything's better than what we've got right now.

Wall of Hope, with tiles by Rhode Island children,
Waterplace Park, Providence

later,
lin

As You Probably Can Tell

I can be really wordy and long winded when I want to be.

This is not one of those posts.

Instead I just want to share some work by just a small number of artists I love, in no particular order.  I also love Japanese paintings, especially those of geishas.  The one I've chosen is by an unknown artist, and is of a young woman from Nagaki.  

There are so many other artists I love, respect, and admire, but they will have to wait for another post.

I hope you enjoy them as much as I do, and I encourage you to visit your local art museums to find works by artists that you love.

later, 
lin

Unknown Artist

Robert Mapplethorpe

Mark Rothko

Romare Bearden

Diane Arbus

Emil Nolde

Hildegarde of Bingen

John Singer Sargent

Robert Rauschenberg

Paula Modersohn-Becker

Berthe Morisot

Angelica Kaufmann

Carrie Mae Weems

Sophie Taeuber-Arp

I Suppose I Should Write a Real Post About Art

Well, I do write about my work in progress, but life issues have a large role to play too.

What I wanted to share today, though, are some journal pages I've done as part of the project my friend Lisa Busch and I have been doing - exchanging art journals and working in each.  I'm just about at the end of Lisa's journal, and I myself started a new one.  I just wanted to share some of our pages.  

First, I'd like to show Lisa's because I have learned a lot from her work and she has given me so much wise advice over the years.  She may be gritting her teeth as she writes some of it in her emails because so much of it is encouraging me to play more in my work while I whine about not being able to play.  There are no titles, so I'm just showing them as a group.

Lisa works with paint and marker quite a lot, then layers paper and 3D items on top of the painted surface.  She works often with a Gelli Plate and is really good at it.  I have one, but haven't used it much.

 I really like her work.  It has so many dimensions to it, and she uses a lot of inspirational sayings, which is something that I don't do much. 

My work is mostly paper based on the foundation, while I add my layers on top of the paper.  Lisa tends to do the opposite.  I've been told, in a not so complimentary way, that what I do is essentially scrapbooking, which is not what I do at all.  Once, when I dropped off some canvases to be framed at a place that shall remain nameless but it's a national chain that begins with "J" and I don't mean Joann's (where I've gotten stuff framed beautifully), the clerk wrote "scrapbooking" as a description and I've never had my stuff framed by them since.  Too bad, since they do good work at a good price. 

But I digress.  Here are some of my pages, some which may have been posted here before.  I wanted to share the ones with the wire binding because I won't see them again after I post Lisa's journal (waaah) back to her.

With this one I started with pages painted a sort of deep pink, to which I added orange (not sure why, even though the color combo works for Dunkin Donuts - which reminds me that I need a strawberry Coolatta), and then blue squiggles.  I wasn't at all happy.
In the meantime I was experimenting with paper weaving for my continuing self-portrait project, and decided to use two of my practice pieces.  Made with vintage book pages, I then stamped all over them.  The bird images are from Lisa, and I colored them with marker, gluing them on top of the woven paper.  I'm not sure where the quote - if it is a quote - comes from.  It was something I remembered and wanted to add since it seemed appropriate.

The final set of pages I'm sharing from Lisa's book is a little more visceral.  I'd done them at a time when I was feeling particularly unhappy with life.  The knight in armor represents me hiding behind barriers and not letting people see the real me, while the other page's emotion really dates back to a realization I'd had 5 years ago after almost dying from an asthma attack, that I'd wasted so much of my life just existing - at least that's what I thought.  In a way I do feel I've wasted a lot of time, but am trying to think of this as a journey.

 And art is a journey of self-discovery, after all.  At least the best art is.

later,
lin

P.S.  Whenever I mention Lisa, I like to also mention that she owns a particularly great online shop for mixed media and collage artists with lots of cool vintage ephemera and also new items from Tim Holtz, Dina Wakely, and others.  It's at http://www.collagestuff.com, and I urge you to visit.  I've gotten myself broke shopping there.  In a very happy way.

It's After Labor Day So Let's Go Shopping

Regular readers of this blog will remember how much I enjoy visiting other people's Etsy shops, even if I can't afford to buy anything.  Today we'll continue our foraging into vintage goodies, and start with the sublime Sophie Lady De Paris, based in France.

Sophie Lady De Paris

Sophie sells a variety of beautiful vintage items ranging from Victorian to Art Deco, and includes fashion accessories for men and women, linens, and home decor.  She offers 1 week delivery for U.S. orders, and is well worth a visit.  One of my favorite items (and definitely one I cannot afford) is this beautiful 1850s inkwell.  Just gorgeous.  Click on the shop name below the link to find it.  Unfortunately, the sale noted in the photo will be over.

Dusty Digger Lise

Next we're paying a visit to a particular favorite of mine, Dusty Digger Lise, where you find tons of paper ephemera.  If you're a collage artist like myself, you'll find lots of things that can be used in your artwork.  I have my eye on a few things myself but I'm not telling.  You can check out one of her items by clicking on the name below the photo.  I thought I'd show you this item because of Lauren Bacall's recent death.

Sueellen's Flair

Next we're on to Sueellen's Flair, a fabulous vintage hat and home decor shop run by Katy in Texas.  Her hats are wonderful, as are the vintage decor items she also sells.  This French candelabra is particularly fine, and you can view it by clicking on the name below the photo. Timeless styles abound in this shop and you'll love your visit.

Treasure Picker

Our final shop visit today is to Treasure Picker, run by Dot in Florida.  She bills her shop as "history you can touch," and you'll find jewelry, accessories, cast iron goodies, and paper ephemera.  There's lots of cool finds here - check out one of them by clicking on the shop name below the photo.  These ducks are so cute!

That's it for the day.  Tune in next week for my next shopping trip.
later, 
lin

Time to Get Back to Work

I decided back in late May that I needed to take a sabbatical from the shop and from making work that was intended strictly for sale, as opposed to JUST for my own enjoyment.  This was because I was going through a very hard time psychiatrically.  I entered Partial Hospital at that time (a day program for psychiatric treatment),  spent 8 days there, and realized during that time that I no longer knew why I was making art, heck doing anything at all.

What was the point of having a shop if things didn't sell? (I longed to hear the kh-ching noise from Etsy on my phone)

What was the point of making stuff apparently no one wanted to buy?

What was the point of living, actually?  Which is what landed me in treatment, and I narrowly escaped being admitted to inpatient because I was asking that question quite seriously.

So, with that decision in hand, to do as little as necessary with Etsy (I did renew items and rearrange items in the shop every week) I embarked on my self-exploration through art, sort of intending it to be therapy.  It didn't quite work that way as I didn't work out big questions through what I was doing - I was just playing around with paper and paint, thanks to a journal exchange I was doing with my friend Lisa Busch of collagestuff.com.  

I had, I thought, lost the desire to play.  I had lost my inability to just create for the fun of it, rather than always wanting to sell the work I made.  

And during these past few months, I also realized that making the cards and canvases that I try to sell in the shop is another way of playing.  I genuinely LOVE making these silly things, like this one I have in the shop (yes, a sales pitch) - you can find it by clicking on the title below the picture

Pole Dancing Lady

I actually prefer the silly things to the more serious things like this one (yes, another sales pitch) even though I do think they're beautiful - find it by, yes, clicking on the title below the image - and it's one of my absolute favorite pieces, a redo of one that sold

Seamstress

So, yes, starting this week I'll be listing magnets, and I'll start working on cards and other goodies to list.  I'm looking forward to playing with these things - and yes, having fun and finding joy - and PLAYING.  Stay tuned...

later,
lin

A Lazy Post - But a Pretty One

My Facebook and Etsy friend Myrthe Noordegraaf, owner of the Etsy shops French Fairy Tale and Flea Fever, has a lovely blog that I love called Fiddle Flower that is basically a pictorial catalog of her life.  Usually a photo or two, with a very short description.  I admire her ability to distill things into a few words and make it meaningful.

Last Tuesday I published a blog post about a visit to a botanical garden, which included many photos, and Myrthe challenged me to do another post - a short one - with flower photos.

So, in that spirit, on a peaceful Wednesday morning, I walked on Hope Street in Providence down to my therapist's office on the Providence-Pawtucket line.  Anyone who is familiar with that area knows that there are many pretty houses with gardens, especially flowers planted in front of the house.  Lots of them.  And so as I walked, I took pictures of what I saw.  I don't know what some of them are, but who cares?

So, Myrthe - this is for you.

I do want to say something about the next photo.  I walked past a small restaurant and happened to notice that someone happened to have left an empty wine glass on a ledge amidst flowers the night before.  And I had to take the photo.  I love it.

later,
lin