Everything you can imagine is real.

― Pablo Picasso

Today I'm going to the funeral of my childhood best friend's mother, who I always thought of as my second mother. She was only 71 and had suffered from Alzheimer's disease for about 10 years, although it started coming on slowly well before that. She had wasted away to about 90 pounds as her body had sort of forgotten how to swallow, so eating was minimal. I understand that there is legislation in the works to allow those who have just gotten diagnosed with this disease to exit early and gracefully. Alzheimer's is getting a lot of attention lately because it seems to be more prevalent -- but maybe more doctors now know how to label it, and people are living for so much longer dementia comes on more often. Regardless, it is cruel and causes so much suffering -- primarily for the caretakers and family. It is also difficult to be an heir to the affected (ie my childhood best friend) as it so often has genetic ramifications.

I'm more aware than most because I've watched someone I was close to, and her family, suffer for years, but also because I teach art to dementia patients. They do not all have Alzheimer's, but also have other forms of dementia.  I love my job although it is often filled with sadness.  Fall of 2014 was especially difficult as 5 of the women I had taught for a few years passed away. Each day I go to work I ride up an elevator where signs are posted announcing Memorial Services for those who have just died.  But when I get overwhelmed by death I think of a favorite quote by C.S. Lewis: "There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind."

Strangely -- this has happened several times in the 3 years I've been there -- an entire group I teach will suddenly drop in their ability levels, and the lessons I teach have to change dramatically.  Others that work there also notice the changes. One day things will be sort of off and stirred up and we will attribute it to a full moon (seriously) or an event the night before that kept the residents up late. But when the strangeness continues and the whole group is affected it is eerie-weird. I attribute it to the same thing that happens when women live together, for instance in dorms, and their cycles get synced together.

Recent days have felt very strange.  Although Alzheimer's is nothing to poke fun at, I think of that Jimmy Buffet song where he says "if I didn't laugh I'd just go insane", because we have had a few giggles lately.  This was a recent conversation:

An admin assistant walked by our group wearing a black jumper.
Ms. J turned to me and said, (pointing to the girl in the jumper):  "We have to get ready for our skit. There goes the one who's going to play George Mason."

Me: (I always go along with whatever they're talking about),  "What parts do we still need to fill?"

Ms J: "We have to find someone to play Jefferson."

Me: (looking at another resident, on the plump side, dozing in a chair nearby). "I see the perfect Martha Washington!"

Ms J: "We've got to hurry and finish the skit, finish assigning the parts."


And a day last week while making Valentines:
Me: "I think you should give that Valentine to Leo. Write on it, 'To Leo'. "
Ms. D: "There are 2 Leos?"
Then she said, "Don't get glue on my testicles."

I was told the same woman was taken out to lunch the previous day and ordered a hotdog.
Her caregiver: "Do you want ketchup?"
Ms. D: "On my bra?"

Yep, growing old ain't for sissies.

Creative mess equals creative thought.

 Timothy Atwood

Whenever I need a special treat, I go to Barnes and Noble, order a big frappucino, and sit with a bunch of magazines. This is my happy place.

I have a rather large magazine addiction, and I don't really need to go to Barnes and Noble to feed it. I have ALWAYS loved magazines. I guess they can be filed under my love of paper.

 (I need to mention here that I have subscriptions to 22 -- yes, 22-- magazines delivered right to my door each month. Here I digress... my magazine addiction is an inherited one. I've had magazine subscriptions since I was a child and as a teen my Mom finally ordered me to get rid of the stacks as she was afraid they might start a fire. My grandmother, at age 94, would steal magazines from the lobby of her nursing home, to cut up and paste pictures in her journal; moreover, my mother has a lot of subscriptions as well, and whenever a visitor comes she has to explain her magazine "system", which I share:  in order that a fresh issue doesn't get in the wrong hands without our having read it, we put the ones we've gone through already -- often with only a few forlorn pages left in them -- in a special designated place. Pity the person who bucks the system!!)

So I'm pretty up-to-date and in the know about current
magazines. There are so many devoted to art projects and handmade items, using paper, wood, metal, textiles,
paint....Since 9-11 when people started staying home and nesting, the handmade movement has really taken off. And for the last few years there have been a LOT (5 or 6 different brands) of magazines devoted completely to artists' studios. Whole magazines that are filled only with pictures of where artists work. And the studios!!! They are incredible!! Fancy desks and cabinets, neat storage jars and bins (that in themselves cost a fortune), perfectly ordered spaces. Oh that we could all have such beautiful places to work!  (No offense to the publishers of these magazines. I buy them often.)

But actually, these rooms are too pretty -- does anyone actually WORK in them??? Where are the paint spills? What did they do with the week old cups of coffee? I don't see any candy wrappers, sketches, used brushes, piles of papers with ideas. What about the half finished pieces? And the completed projects--where are they?? There aren't even any stains on the floors. WHERE IS THE CLUTTER??!!  Is there any time left to actually make anything after spending so much time perfecting the look of the workplace?  These spaces are really beautiful but not at all practical. Here are a few samples of what I mean.






























































And me, I like to tell it like it is. I would like to have a neat studio but my priorities are elsewhere. As a friend's mother said to me years and years ago, "I prefer flower arranging to cleaning,".  Why spend time making it pretty when I could be painting? I have to say, as chaotic as my place looks, it is actually very organized. Ask me where something is and I can probably tell you if I have it AND where to find it.  The photos below are a slightly exaggerated version because this was during the holiday rush.

I doubt I will be giving any studio tours anytime soon. So here it is.  Does anyone want to put my (beloved) place on the cover? Feel free to visit. Just, please, don't make a mess.

this is actually my desk

Love many things.

--Vincent van Gogh

I am often reminded of how lucky I am that I get to pursue my passion and get paid for it.  And I know I am lucky to have found this passion early in my life. Malcolm Gladwell said that you can't be considered an expert at something until you've practiced it for 10,000 hours. I started early but I'm no expert (yet).

It's a double edged sword sometimes. There's never enough time. I was asked yesterday to take on another art student, and I'd love to. I'd love to teach  teenagers, like I did as a high school teacher; I'd love to teach more adults, as I have in workshops and classes. And I love working with the elderly. Oh and I love to paint and play with paper on my own too. I recently realized that with teaching, delivering goods to shops, marketing, ordering supplies, filling out my budget, travel, and doing shows, (oh and I am also a mom) that I am actually only creating about 10 hours a week. What??? And all the other stuff is taking up about 40 hours. That seems way out of alignment. So I have vowed to work more. On the good stuff.

Here's what I finished today.

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The Tree

Before you are able to draw, you have to learn to see, and you learn to see by drawing.

                --Mick Maslen

My oldest son turned 10 in May. Double numbers -- very significant! He is the son who asks for nothing, and is happy with whatever he gets, so he wouldn't give us a clue about what he might want for his birthday. Meanwhile, for months he had been bringing home these really fun faces he had been doodling at school. Not the usual copied cartoons that you see so often in this age, through teenagers (isn't this a good drawing? me: you mean the thing you traced?). These faces and bodies are completely original. I read that fourth grade is the year that if a child is interested in something they will either stay with it for good, or leave it for other pastimes. I really want to encourage him, but not be pushy as I could easily send him in the other direction. I knew I had to handle him delicately -- I have been encouraging him in my art classes for years, and even tried to get him interested in classes taught by others. So anyway, I had been saving his little scraps of faces for something, I didn't know quite what. Close to his birthday, I picked out my favorite 5 faces, pasted them on coordinating blue paper, and found funny quotes to go with them. Took them to my printer, had "illustrated by Raine Haddad" printed on the back, and boxed up a set for his birthday. Home run. He loved them, especially the credit to him on the back, AND when I told him he gets all the proceeds. I did several farmers' markets this summer, and after the first market selling his cards, I brought home $20 to him; the next market, $35; and the next $50. He was ecstatic, and people have been very eager to buy the cards when they find out he made them and gets the money for them. And he subtly learned the lesson that artists aren't all the starving kind.

Here are the cards:

I like to employ a form of repetition, in which the same elements recur but in different and unexpected ways.

--Graham Nelson

My kids love to hear stories about my childhood, and I think it's really important for them to hear not only of my adventures, but also of my mistakes and lessons I learned along the way. It gives them something to think about.

They've recently started at a new school, and on Thursdays it's ice cream day. Just like when I was in elementary school, when Friday was ice cream day. Bring your 10 cents and pick out your favorite flavor from a white portable freezer (it's now 75 cents).  Brown Mule, Nutty Buddy, Bomb Pop -- which one to choose? So I'm back to desserts in my paintings, not cakes with occasional bits of paper, but popsicles with lots of paper. I'm calling the series "Nostalgia". Are there any 40 somethings out there? Check it out:



THANK YOU...SORRY...HAPPY BIRTHDAY...and MERRY CHRISTMAS

Coffee falls into the stomach...ideas begin to. Move, things remembered arrive at full gallop...the paper is covered with ink...

--Honore de Balzac 

My boys have started at a new school this year, and they arrive there at 7:30 each day. This gives me an extra hour and a half in the morning, (their usual start time was 9:00) and I go straight to my studio, even on days I teach. Finally, when noon comes and its time for me to move on to errands, the gym, deliveries, etc I feel ready, instead of dragging myself out dejectedly, wishing I could get just one more thing done. So my new goal has been to make a new card each day, and in the last few weeks I have made about 15 new pieces! I am even ahead of the game on holiday cards, for once. Thank you, birthday, new house, sorry, Christmas -- it's all rolling out (which means a bunch of other stuff will be going on sale). I split my time with paper projects and painting, and for once, I feel rather balanced in the two. Here are a few of my latest--

Boys of Summer

Shark Week just finished up in our house. Thankfully our annual trip to the beach occurred before all of the TV shows aired.  It is during this week that both of my boys declare sharks as their favorite animals, and shark books from the library fill the house.

The boys LOVE scary movies. They talked me in to letting them watch The Birds when they were 5 and 6.  They love the shot when the birds have eaten the guy's eyeballs out. They've seen it 4-5 times now and ever flinched, so when they asked to watch Jaws at 7 and 8 years old, I figured they wouldn't freak out. And they didn't.  They LOVED it. For a week afterward, they walked around saying, "We're gonna need a bigger boat" (rest in peace Roy Scheider).

The same week I was making some new notecards and I ran across a cute photo of two little boys holding up a fish that one of them caught. Too cute to resist, I was trying to find a good quote when one of my boys walked by and muttered, without even realizing he said it, "we're gonna need a bigger boat..." I realized I had my quote. Here's how it turned out,