Master of My Domain

Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness.

~Allen Ginsberg

In a lot of ways, my Daily Painting habit has been one of the best things I've started, ever.  I am practicing practicing practicing my craft every day. 

Malcolm Gladwell, the brilliant sociologist who has written several books on fascinating aspects of human behavior such as "Blink", "The Tipping Point", "David and Goliath", and others, says that no one becomes an expert at anything until they have spent at least 10,000 hours doing it. I don't ever expect to become an expert at painting (I am seeing my judges as fellow painters I admire. According to some of my 8 year old and 95 year old students-- as well as my children-- I'm already there!) -- but I am getting better and learning a lot and experimenting with color and technique and subject matter. 

It also feels good to throw away so much of the paper and imagery I've collected over the years for inspiration, as I go through and see where it takes me.  It's the little bit of cleaning out of the studio that I constantly battle. Every day I try to clean or organize or give away stuff in my "paper pond" so that I can better concentrate, and be able tomove around without tripping on something, or knocking something over, or hear my young students come up there to work and say, "This place is always such a mess!!". 

A few weeks ago I realized that it's not just me that's got this problem. I was at a Collage Society meeting [a little aside here: my foodie husband had the gall to make fun of this membership as he told me he was on his way to the Pickle Club, I kid you not.] and we were talking about paper and glue and canvas and board, and someone said, "I really need to clean my studio," and there were 20 or so heads nodding and "uh huhs", and someone said, "My husband is always complaining about all the piles of paper and stuff, and I finally said to him,

'For God's sake -- I do collage!!!'."

So I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that that's the way it is. There are so many things, papers, pieces of ephemera, lying in wait, to be used on some project. So many possibilities!

So the negative side of the Daily Paintings is that I'm only adding to the clutter of my studio.

Luckily, I have several places around town to hang my work, and I'm selling it as well.  Nevertheless, the additional paintings take up space quickly. I'm trying to keep them organized in boxes, and but there isn't a lot of space for (more) boxes. Also, there are some paintings that are unfinished, so are sitting around.  Others are waiting to dry.  Still more are waiting for me to paint the sides...

Feeling slightly overwhelmed by it all, I am taking a short break from painting until I can shuffle some things around. Here are a few views of precious items in my workspace, waiting patiently for their "upcycling".

I never ever tire of color chips. I have boxes and boxes of them. Sooner or later Lowe's is going to tell me to GET LOST.

I love these letters. Translucent. Remind me of ice.

Have no idea where I got them. And

naturally I don't have enough to spell anything.

I bought a huge jar of these knobs and I have

actually used a lot for Christmas ornaments.

My beloved paper file. Weighs as much as an

elephant. Papers organized by color.

sort of organized...

Paint, also arranged by color. Acrylic and oil separate.

Often called an "Inspiration Board"

Never enough paper.

I love my neat desk.

The Color Purple

Jack Sprat could eat no fat
His wife could eat no lean
And so betwixt the two of them
They licked the platter clean

Jack ate all the lean,
Joan ate all the fat.
The bone they picked it clean,
Then gave it to the cat

Jack Sprat was wheeling,
His wife by the ditch.
The barrow turned over,
And in she did pitch.

Says Jack, "She'll be drowned!"
But Joan did reply,
"I don't think I shall,
For the ditch is quite dry."

Whenever I see a wisteria tree I think of my husband.

There is a little spot, a block from my house, that is one of my favorite places in Richmond. My neighborhood is old, my house over 100 years, and nearby there are several very old wisteria trees -- trees, not vines. Their trunks have become large and over the last 100 years they have grown and twisted themselves around other trees, and even a telephone pole, and their branches have spread so that when they are blooming they form a blanket of flowers. For several weeks in the spring when they open the sky is filled with fat purple and lavender blooms and the air is filled with their scent. The flowers meander across other trees, hang from branches, and twist around the pole. I walk my dog through here every day, and when they are in bloom I pause underneath, look up, and feel completely enveloped in purple. I can't just leave it at purple -- it is a lilac, or hydrangea blue (which isn't really a blue), a periwinkle, a bluish-violet -- a blanket of incredible, unbelievable color.

The blooms won't last if you cut them and put them in a vase so they have to be enjoyed right there, on the spot, for the week or so that they are blossoming.

My husband is, ironically, color blind. Bless his heart.  He can't fully enjoy the color show that this tree provides.  He prefers the wisteria later in the year, in autumn, when it isn't blooming flowers anymore. He discovered something else wonderful about the trees. Again, while walking the dog, he noticed something growing on one of the limbs:  oyster mushrooms.

My husband is a huge foodie, not as in huge, but a person extremely interested in food. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the mushrooms, and he even consulted a local mushroom grower to make sure they were the real thing. He thought foraging would involve a deep walk in a forest, at the very least, and not be as simple as leaning in.

So he has collected, and cooked with, about 10 pounds of these morels (so far) and could not be more thrilled that they are his for the taking, and not even a step off the sidewalk.  More irony: while my "daylong obsession, joy, and torment" (Monet) is color, and he remains color blind, his main interest is food, and I have Crohn's Disease. Thus, food is more often my enemy. Thus the Jack Sprat rhyme at the top.

Anyway, I saw an image of some beautiful wisteria the other day, and the image made me happy, and will suffice until the real ones begin to bloom in a few months. And thus was born another daily painting.

Doctors With Borders

I am interested in art as a means of living a life; not as a means of making a living.

~Robert Henri

I learn so much from the elderly women I work with. Most of them I know well enough to understand when they have gone into their imaginary worlds. There are several types of Dementia, and some of the people I see can remember very clearly the earlier parts of their lives, but just can't recall what they said to me 5 minutes ago.  I love hearing their life stories and how they grew up. One woman I've worked with for several years now has had a fairly slow decline. She was a pediatrician in her professional life, extremely intelligent.   When I first met Doc, she was always commenting and reporting on current events and when she started my art class she nearly drove herself crazy with her perfectionism.  She was always the last to leave the project, refusing to give up until she got her piece the way she wanted it.  Over time, she has eased up, gotten slower, and become much quieter.  She still occasionally gets frustrated, and usually wants to leave the class if that's the case. But she is no longer afraid of asking for help and still shows up regularly.

I found out that she didn't want to be a pediatrician. She wanted to be a veterinarian. She always loved cats, even though she tells a story from her childhood where she got caught swinging a cat by its tail and slinging it across the room. I've heard this story several times and each time she tells it she looks like she's gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar -- naughty but amused at what she did.

I asked her why she didn't become a vet. "I couldn't," she said.  "Women weren't allowed." This was the 1940s. 

Wait -- women could take care of people but not animals??

Then she told how she was accepted into 2 medical schools but she would have been the only woman, and didn't want to deal with that. Her graduating class had 9 women. She also told me that in med school, women were not allowed to go into surgery, specialized areas, or gynecology.

Hold the phone. Women weren't allowed to treat women????

Anyway, she seemed to enjoy pediatrics and has told various stories about her experiences. I like the one about the girl whom Doc had treated for rheumatic fever, who came in for a follow up visit. And was 8 months pregnant. Her mother insisted that the penicillin that Doc had given her had made her daughter really bloated. That was when the daughter went into labor.

Doc never seemed angry or resentful about her limited career choices.  But maybe you don't get resentful about something that you've never had. I told her that it never crossed my mind that I couldn't choose to do whatever I wanted (unfortunately, equal pay is still an issue). And I thanked her for her part in leading the way for women today to have choices.

When you read about women's' rights in history books it's so easy to think to yourself, "oh that's too bad for them", and not always being able to relate. When I hear these stories, direct from the people who've lived them, it becomes so much more real.  There are so many rich lives and adventures to hear about -- so many who spent their entire lives in Richmond -- and helps me see a bigger picture of my world, and my city, so full of history. 

That's one reason I love the old photos that I've inherited from my grandmother, and that I collect in thrift stores.  I love to imagine the lives of the people in the photos.  What are they thinking about? What did they do right after the picture was taken? What were the seminal moments in their lives? 

Everybody has a story.

Daily Painting

Work inspires inspiration. Keep working. If you succeed, keep working. If you fail, keep working. If you’re interested, keep working. If you’re bored, keep working.

 ~Michael Crichton

In July this year, I went to the Art Camp that I've been attending for several years now. On the last night we have a walkabout where we put out all of our work from the week and view what we've each been working on. I usually have about 7 paintings that I start, and typically have completed 3. There were a few women there from Louisiana that had done more than 10 paintings! How in the world did they do so many--especially when I saw them headed to the river every afternoon, enjoying Happy Hour, and definitely not painting after dinner??

"Get the Daily Painting book! It will change your life!!"

So I ordered it right away.  And they were right, it's changed everything.

I get a LOT of art books, my addiction.  And for the most part, once I start reading them, I think, Why did I buy this? There's usually nothing new. It has been so refreshing to find new information, and use it, and find it to be true!

So I started daily painting. I get up at 5:00 a.m. religiously, start a painting and try to finish it in an hour. Then get my family up and going, and go about my day. I teach about 5 classes a week so I don't always find time to paint later in the day, so it's great knowing I've been productive so early in the morning. 

(Admittedly, now that it's colder and I have a warm Golden Retriever spooning me, there are days that I choose the cozy bed.)

I've tried for years to go to the gym early in the morning -- can't do it. I've tried to meditate every morning -- can't do it. But getting up to paint? I'm usually up before the alarm goes off.  It's so great. And meditative as well.  The house is quiet. I tiptoe downstairs to get a cup of coffee, then head up to my nest, and think, What's it going to be today?

I don't usually plan what I'm going to work on, but have plenty of material to look at and be inspired by. In fact I have so much material that I'd never get through all of the ideas in this lifetime. But these small (6"x 6" or 8" x 8") pieces are perfect for experimenting. Check. Done with that idea. And I've only invested an hour or so. If I don't like what I've done, oh well, there's always tomorrow. I'm not married to it.

I'm also trying out different colors, and ways of mixing color.  Realizing I don't need half the paint I've bought.

I get so mad at myself sometimes for getting into some painstaking details that seem to take forever.  Not here. I'm quicker, more concise, simpler. So my painting has changed. Not that there isn't room for detail, but maybe in a larger piece. Some of these quick and small pieces can actually serve as a study for a larger piece.  Or a warm up.

I post them daily, and am getting tons of great feedback. I even had a friend say she was out walking early and saw the light on in my studio, and was eager to see the post.

It's so refreshing to start a healthy new habit and get so much joy from it. And I've got about 100 new paintings.

Here are a few:

Potty Talk

“The holy grail is to spend less time making the picture than it takes people to look at it.”

Banksy

 

 

 

It is a little known fact that I am the world's first Toilet Artist.
No, I don't do paintings of toilets.
 No, I don't paint while I'm on the toilet. (There are so many jokes I could insert here, but it's just too easy, so I'll let it go this time.)


 My paintings (and prints) do, however, hang above a surprising number of toilets, and are hanging in a LOT of bathrooms all over the place. It seems that the 12" x 18" print or little 10" x 10" paintings I often make are PERFECT for the space above many commodes.  This is the truth. I cannot tell you how many people come up to me at shows and say, "I just love that painting I bought from you! It looks perfect over the toilet!!" Or, "The colors on this are perfect for my BATHROOM!"


I was actually in a conversation a few weeks ago about this very thing when someone walking by tapped my shoulder and said, "I just want to tell you how much I love my prints from you! I look at them every day when I go to the bathroom!" The timing was perfect.


I've even witnessed this phenomenon several times firsthand -- visiting a friend's bathroom and seeing my Orange Zinnia hanging proudly over the  toilet.  Even at Nimrod Hall, the "art camp" that I go to each summer to paint, 2 -- count 'em -- bunny prints hang in the bathroom right by the dining hall (seen by the masses).


I have gotten so used to hearing this, that when someone approaches me and says," I just got my painting hung..."  I interrupt them and say, "Wait!! Don't say it! I know!"

I'm flattered to have my art hanging anywhere, and flattered that so many people tell me how good it looks. I also know that people spend a lot of time in their bathrooms.  Including me. I happen to have Crohn's Disease, which you don't often hear a lot of details about because it involves a lot of bathroom trips. The irony of this situation is not lost on me, not for a minute. So I'm going to smile, be flattered that my pieces get a lot of viewing time, and know that there aren't many of us who can self declare Toilet Artist Queen.



So come on, all you lovers of ZouZou: send me your photos of yours truly hanging in your bathrooms , or post them on my Facebook page! It just might make a good coffee table book.


Here are a few...

 

This bathroom has actually been made into a ZouZou's Basement "shrine". There are other paintings and prints of mine in here -- very flattering! Some very good friends live here, so I visit often.

 

 

Yep, right above the toilet. This bathroom looks pristine!!!

 

 

Send me your photos!!!

 

25 Things

Everything in life comes to you as a teacher. Pay Attention. Learn Quickly
--Cherokee saying
 
 

 

One of my guilty pleasures is to pick up a People or Us magazine while walking on the treadmill at the gym. I really DON'T care about what Kim and Kanye are up to, but reading about the rich and famous is fairly entertaining.  In one of the magazines, as an alternative to the usual interview, they have a famous person tell things about themselves that we commoners might not know. Sometimes they are kind of interesting. At a group I belong to we sometimes play a game called Two Truths and a Lie, which is a similar way of getting to know people. I think it's an interesting exercise, so I thought I'd see what comes to mind.

Here are my 25: Things You Didn't Know About Me:

1. I once played on a womens' rugby team. I was a prop in the scrum and we had to tape our ears down so they wouldn't get yanked off.

2. My teacher number when I taught high school was 666. My husband's birthday is on the 26th, my first son's birthday is on the 16th, and my youngest son's birthday is on the 6th.

3. I  met Elizabeth Taylor when I was about 8 years old and she looked at me and said, "Hello, Pussycat!"

4. I am descended from a well known French Huguenot named Susannah Rochet (same as me). When she was about 8 she stowed away on a ship to escape France and hid in a wine barrel. The ship's crew called her "Little Nightcap".

5.  I had an epiphany when I was in London and saw the painting, Charles I on Horseback by
Anthony van Dyck, up close, and I knew in that minute I had to spend my life being an artist.

6.  I played with Barbie until I was 14 years old.

7.  My grandfather was 1 of 9 children, including 3 sets of twins.

8. I had stillborn twins when I was 5 months along (2 boys). The night before, my dad dreamt of 2 little boys who unclasped their hands from his, and walking toward the lake said, "you have to let us go."

9. I eat candy every day. (I've only ever had 2 cavities.)

10. In high school I was crazy about the Rolling Stones, especially Mick Jagger. After college I had
the opportunity to be backstage with them and got my picture taken. Mick Jagger really has a diamond in his front tooth, and bandmate Keith Richards goosed me with his pool stick.

11. I have kept a diary since I was 8 years old and learned to write.

12. I never took art classes in high school because I was intimidated by the weirdos in the classes.

13.  When I go into a store I have to start shopping on the right side first (maybe because I'm left handed).

14. My brother and I both talked in our sleep growing up. One night my parents stood between our rooms and witnessed a conversation we had with each other, although we were both asleep.

15. I read all of the time and usually have 5-6 books going at once. My favorite themes in novels are: prison, Victorian London, prostitutes, India, and World War II.

16. I had my entire colon removed in 2000.  As a bonus my surgeon took my appendix as well.

17. I dream of traveling to India.

18. When I meditate I try to focus on a certain color.

19.  I have an unnatural fear of being murdered in the bathroom at the movie theater.

20.  I am fascinated by memory and why we hold onto the things we do. (For example, I can still remember all of the song I sang in the 3rd grade play, but have no memory of being on the swim team for several years growing up.

21.  I love vintage photos, especially from the 1920s and try to imagine what was going to happen to the person after the photo
was taken, and what their story was.

22. I can still do a split.

23.  I may be a synesthesist: : when I think of Tuesday I see green.

24. I have a fear of spiders and my first three memories involve spiders.

25. I think that it is each person's responsibility to figure out why they are here on this earth and carry that out fully.


What are your 25 things?

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?