Art Karma

I reject your reality and substitute it for my own.

--Adam Savage

I love serendipity (even the sound of the word). It is defined as "luck that takes the form of finding valuable or pleasant things that are not looked for." Is it coincidence? Probably not  -- if Serendipity is a form of your spirituality. Here's what serendipitously happened recently.

I've been reading a novel with a subtext about an elephant sanctuary, and that contains a lot of really cool elephant information, primarily about elephants and grief, as well as elephants' famous memories. For instance, the main character states:

I once saw an Asian elephant in Thailand who had been trained to do a trick. All the schoolchildren brought to meet him at the reserve where he was kept in captivity were told to sit in a line. Then they were asked to take off their shoes, and these shoes were jumbled into a pile. The mahout who worked with the elephant then instructed her to give the shoes back to the children. The elephant did, carefully weeding through the pile with her trunk and dropping the shoes that belonged to each child in his or her lap.

(Jodi Picoult, Leaving Time)

I'm sure this instance is based on fact, and there are a lot of examples in the book like the one above.
So I've been thinking about elephants a little bit, wondering how I can use some of the novel's information in my artwork...

Also, last weekend, a friend and I went to an Ashram for a yoga retreat, with an emphasis not only on yoga as a physical practice, but also the spiritual, social, emotional, and intellectual aspects. We learned a lot about  the man who started this form of yoga as well as the history of this particular retreat.  He, not surprisingly, was from India. A fair amount of elephant imagery was around the community, including 2 elephant "sentries" at the entrance to a religious temple there.

Before I had left home on Friday, I remembered a beautiful necklace that this same friend had given
me as a gift for my birthday last year. I hadn't seen it in a while because my younger son had rearranged my jewelry drawer. Before leaving for the weekend, I kept thinking about the necklace,
so I found it and put it on.

Electronic devices were discouraged at the Ashram, we were all better off to unplug for the weekend. At one point Saturday I went to the car to check my phone in case my husband had called with something about the kids. I noticed on my email that I had sold a painting on etsy.  I went to my etsy shop to see which one.  Can you guess?

We All Scream For Ice Cream

Blessed are those who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing.

--Camille Pisarro

Today would have been my father's 79th birthday. My mother, brother, sister-in-law, and I have all called one another or texted. Dad's former law partner has called, as he does every year when he visits my dad's grave on his birthday.  My father was a larger than life guy. A successful lawyer and community member, churchgoer, taught us about saving money, investing well, studying hard, having a good reputation. He was also a fantastic storyteller and loved playing jokes on people. This is what I hold most precious, images of him telling jokes, laughing so hard he could hardly breathe, whooping it up with his men friends.  I could write a book about all the things I learned from him. One of our family traditions I have viewed in an entirely new way after becoming a mother, and thinking about him from a parent's point of view.

My dad loved loved loved ice cream, and ate it nearly every day (my boys and I inherited this gene apparently).

 Several weekends a year my family would drive five hours to my grandparents' (his parents) house. By the time we were on our way back home on Sunday we were all exhausted after a weekend with my grandparents, cousins, aunt, and uncle running around the farm, staying up late, and in general, carousing the entire time we were there. We all dreaded the five hour ride home.

 One time when I was about 8 and my brother 11, we were on our way, only 30 minutes into our ride, and my dad stopped the car at a High's Ice Cream.  We were surprised as we had just started our ride




 back.  We went in and he insisted we all get double scoops. Then back to the car. Thirty minutes later, he stopped again. Two more scoops. On it went until we made it home after stopping 5 different times for ice cream!!  

This became on ongoing practice with our family, and beware anyone who wasn't prepared. Once our cousin was coming back with us, and not properly trained. He ended up vomiting in the floorboard of the car (after only the second stop --wimp!!). Worse, as mom cleaned it up, a ruby fell out of a ring she was wearing and she had to find it in that mess.

For a long time after he died I couldn't think of a way to commemorate his birthday, then I smiled at
the awesome memory of our family tradition. Now that he's gone I maintain the tradition, sort of. I

make sure I go out for ice cream at least twice on April 4. I'm sure some of this memory keeps me

inspired. These are for you, Daddy.

It is the common wonder of all men, how among so many millions of faces, there should be none alike.

--Thomas Browne

I finished another pig this week. Pigs are tough to paint. Their essence is hard to capture. Why? Is it the snout? The pale pink, almost transparent skin? They are certainly cute enough to be painted, and the favorite of a lot of people. This is the fourth pig I've painted -- and two of those I threw away. I love the challenge, so I keep trying. Here's the first one:

Numbers 2 and 3 didn't make the cut.  This is my method:  Sometimes I have an animal in mind that I want to paint, but more often I have a group of colors in mind that I want to work with, and from there decide on the animal. Here is the color palette I was attracted to, which I put down and mixed:

I f

Then I render the image, usually paying close attention to the face, giving human expressions.

 wanted to make reference to the pink of the pig and make reference 

Next comes the hardest part: where to add the paper to best enhance the piece. It's hard to decide how much is enough and how much is too much. There is a quote I love that I actually based a painting on, "Happiness is a place between too little and too much," (Finnish saying).



I wanted to add paper with a little bit of sparkle to reflect the way a pig's skin sometimes look transparent and paper thin, so all of the paper had a little bit of glitter on it. Bessie looks pretty happy about the way she looks, huh?



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: