A Drop In

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This is lame. I am the first to admit it. But, I have missed all of you for so long and just wanted to say I am alive and plugging along. I think blog posts and messages to you frequently and, yes, I know: fat lot of good that does anyone.

 

Showing in a gallery is a wonderful education. I had no inkling that I would enjoy it so much. I am exhausted and frazzled by deadlines much of the time. Of course, I bring it all on myself. You knew that, didn't you? But, I am glad I took this on. It has been challenging, exhilarating, and a wonderful opportunity to grow. A big bonus is that I have met new friends—a good thing when you have fairly recently moved to a community. At last, the Tehachapi Valleys genuinely feel like home.

 

The Husband and Galen are well. Our pup had been giving us a health scare for quite some time and there was some tension with that, but the doctor has told us to relax. Surgery would be stressful, so he will never get neutered, after all. Galen has been unfazed by the drama. He is enjoying life as much as ever.

 

All members of the equine trio are currently well. Imagine that! No vet bills for the horses in weeks now.

 

Learning like mad—upgraded to a new computer (Wow! What a great move!) with Windows 7 (big change for me) and still making good friends with CS6 (big jump from CS3 and the new Camera Raw is amazing!). I am in love with the new brushes in this upgrade and so very glad I had gotten my Intuos tablet. My poor, tiny brain aches most days from absorbing new lessons and I am enjoying my work on images more than ever.

 

Life is good in Bear Valley Springs. I simply had finally gotten too many plates in the air and something was bound to drop. I regret that it was my participation in the valuable conversation with my friends on the web, but hope to fix that. I am clearing up some health issues, may be getting close to getting a handle on the gallery thing, and look forward to finally having time to return to blogging. I have never understood how I was so fortunate to be welcomed into a community of  such outstanding bloggers, but I was (and still am) grateful to have been accepted. I appreciate the welcome and will come back asking to return and catch up on the news.  

 

Take care, everyone. I miss you.



New Beginnings

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I feel as though I need to introduce myself as a newbie blogger. Come to think of it, that is fitting. After all, I began this blog in July 2007. Now, here I am coming back after a long absence and doing it a few days after my fifth anniversary as a blogger.

My absence was not about being lazy, traveling, or being tired of blogging. When I was first struck with the notion that it would be interesting to explore marketing some of my prints, I thought that was I fairly well prepared. I am curious, by nature, and had long made time to read articles on the pitfalls and strategies for art sales. Certainly, in the beginning, I read the material strictly out of curiosity. But then, I couldn't resist dipping a toe into the water. Talk about slippery slopes! The next thing I knew I was neck deep in art shows and flailing to stay afloat. Yikes! I have to get out of this deep water metaphor. There is history here.

I do have a habit of getting into things that are over my head. When I was young and even more foolish, I took up water-skiing in spite of the fact that I was never able to learn to swim. That is, unless you count dog paddling for a couple of yards, at best. Still, my desire to get up on those skis overpowered my fear of drowning and ski I did. I even had a grand time doing it. Those life vests make you feel indestructible—provided you haven't yet hit your twenties and your brain hasn't begun to grasp the concept of mortality.

My foray into selling my work reminds me of that person I was long ago. Here I am older—oh, so keenly aware of my mortality—yet diving into things without considering all the possibilities. Yes, I thought long and hard about the preparations for this venture, and I felt pretty darned ready. Hey, I had my bright orange life vest at the ready, didn't I? What I didn't anticipate was handling the sales and keeping up with all that entailed.

Reminds me of the night we took the skis out on a lake waiting for the moon to come up. Of course we hadn't checked to see when the moon was rising! Are you kidding? I was a kid a very long time ago. One didn't pull up that info on a smartphone, because we didn't even have cell phones for Pete's sake. There we were on a vast body of water—one well-stocked with Water Moccasins—under pitch black skies (no city light lights for many, many miles), racing along atop the inky water and laughing like the numbskulls we were. It hadn't occurred to us how the driver of the boat would find us when one us went down. Since the other silly female on skis was even more a novice than I, she went down first. That is when it finally hit me that I had to drop the rope out there in that thick darkness and wait, trusting.

I have had flashbacks on that experience during the last few weeks. Still, just as my young and foolish self had faith, so have I. Back then, I didn't really dwell on the fact that we could be run over by some other nut jobs tearing around that lake and unable to spot a body bobbing up and down thanks only to an inflated orange vest. Now I am taking this adventure one day at a time. I try to stay calm while dealing with a perpetual state of lagging behind my ambitions and barely meeting deadlines.

It has been a great ride, so far. After all, there are no deadly poisonous snakes on this body of water. Yippee! Crank up that engine! Faster, faster!

Additions

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Where the heck have I been? You know what I have been up to and you are not at all surprised that I am working at preparing for this show as though Heaven and Earth depended upon it. I figure if I am going to do it, I may as well go all out.

Meanwhile, the rest of life has not stood still. The Husband's quest for answers regarding the gray gelding's back has yielded little results. The man can't be faulted for not trying. Near the end of his imagination, resources, and patience, he got a phone call a couple of days ago that added a bit more chaos to our lives.

A fellow farrier called, while we were on the road, and said he had a lead for Jim on a great prospect of a horse. To make a long story short, the fellow above arrived at our place Saturday afternoon. Lancer and Night were terribly excited about the stranger on their property. The animal was touching their things and eating their carrots! What an insult. But, they were deeply curious. Naturally, the gelding's arrival had to be documented.

There will be more information about our new addition in the weeks to come and I will probably steal a few minutes here and there for some more photos. His registered name is Ground Zero. It seems he was born on September 11, five years ago. The name is appropriate, but neither of us can handle the sound of it—too many unpleasant memories. So far, the young gelding is simply "The Black". We didn't think Walter Farley would mind.  

June Art Show

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How many times do we think, "Hey, I want to do that/be there/accomplish that/go there—or whatever" and nothing ever comes of it?  Conversely, there are those times when you are struck by something you would like to have happen and maybe you even spend some time creating pictures in your mind in which you realize that dream or ambition. Then, lo and behold, it happens.

While I kept crazy busy with very small art shows last fall, I held a picture in the back of my mind for a show at a particular gallery in town. This time the pictures in my mind's eye materialized. For First Friday, June 1, 2012, I will be the featured guest artist at Tehachapi's Gallery 'N Gifts and twenty, or more, of my pieces will be exhibited. The work will remain on display throughout the month of June. More information coming about this soon.

The art director, SG, at the gallery is wonderful to work with and I am honored to have been chosen. Lucky me. June should be a very good month to have my show which means I must present only my very best work. SG is a fan of my equine pieces and that is what has generated the most interest at shows thus far. Consequently the June show, will focus exclusively on that part of my work.

My readers know me well enough to know that I am busy tweaking completed pieces. Between a vision slowly, but constantly, evolving and developing new finishing techniques, I can never convince myself to stick with an old print once I have new insight into a piece. Naturally, I look at those and think that I should be able to do the tweaking in no time at all. And then I dig in. Oops, where has the time gone?

I am doing fairly well at a regimen of working smart, meaning that I get away from the computer by 5:30 PM to assure that I am not dangerously tired by the end of the evening. The last thing I want is a relapse of that hideous bug. The downside of my discipline is that I have no time for anything other than keeping my nose firmly connected to my little grindstone. The To-Do List for the show is formidable and I am on the edge of being overwhelmed.

In case you didn't catch it, the last paragraph was a veiled excuse for why I have yet to describe my crazy experiment for the last show. I tried getting a snapshot of the piece once it was hung at the venue; but, no luck. I wish preparations for this show had been smoother; but, things were a little hectic around here. First, I must say that thanks to The Husband, aka The Knight in Shining White Armor, the piece was completed in time for the show. One afternoon when my body had said, "Stop, or else", he put on the finishing touches.

"Eclipse—a Velvet Darkness", printed on metal at 11x14, floated above a frame/mat that consisted of a 16x20 base covered with a rich chocolate brown suede leather. The outside edges of the frame were finished with antique brass upholstery nails. The piece created a nice stir on arrival, Saturday morning at the venue, and was purchased the moment the doors opened. Since there had been more than a little angst on my part about this experiment, I was delighted that it turned out so well.
I will do my best to stay somewhat present at my blogs and, yes, I will eventually visit blogs. You cannot know how much your encouragement has meant to me.

I hope you will check out the post on these two pieces of news at my fine art prints blog.

Old Dogs and New Tricks

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"You can't teach an old dogs new tricks." So goes the old saw. By now, I am a prime example of how unreliable that old saying is. This old dogs just keeps learning tricks. While preparing for two art shows, spending time getting to know and appreciate my Wacom pen, and keeping up with the lively Sheltie who runs our place, I faced a longtime challenge. For years, Microsoft Excel sat there in my hard drive and I never went near it. The term spreadsheet made my blood run cold. I had all but taken a vow to never tackle the job of learning. Let others make their spreadsheets, I reasoned. I would continue to stumble along with my little calculator and my scribbled notes on odds and end of paper and sometimes actually getting information into my computer.

A few days before the flu bug took me down, it became clear to me that I could no longer deal with my so-called record keeping and I was sick of calculating the same numbers over and over, ad nauseum. I knew I would have to learn a new piece of software and wasn't eager to deal with the inevitable headaches that would entail, but plunged into the fray anyway.

With the help of the Internet, I sailed through—well, for me it was relatively sailing through—in a couple of days and absorbed the basics of creating an Excel spreadsheet along with formulas and formatting. Whoduthunkit? Now, of course, I am kicking myself for not having learned this years ago. Formulas are the cat's pajamas. No more calculating and recalculating with each slight alteration in figures. Enter a new amount in column C and whammo!, the formula takes care of all that number crunching across all those columns. Excuse me for gushing, but as one seriously intimidated by numbers, this equals a little bit of magic for me. I may even become a spreadsheet fanatic.

I am not yet the full strength version of Anita—I am productive for very few hours any give day, but I am getting closer to recovery. I have another art show to prepare for—more coming about that soon. Besides, Galen has been going through an allergy reaction that has cut back on everyone's sleep. As soon as possible, I will post more about the next show. I am already a tad anxious about all the work to be done. I need a robot to take care of oh, so many details.

The image above is from a very old photograph and one that I barely liked enough to keep in the files. I never found any reason to share it and kept it only because each time I stumbled across it it reminded me of a beautiful display that I had the good fortune to witness. I haven't yet found how to make this work to my satisfaction, but at least I have reached a point, recently, where I am willing to share a version with you. Perhaps there is enough here that, with some imagination, you will have an inkling as to what captivated me and convinced me to hold on to a deeply flawed photograph. Sometimes, it is enough to have files that serve only to jog our memories, to remind us (perhaps when we most need it) that there is much in our lives that is sublimely beautiful and needs neither explanation nor excuse for being.

Apologies

I have tried my best, this morning, to come up with a clever and amusing post to cover for my absence and rudeness to a couple of kind folks who left comments. Ultimately, I got nothing. I will blame it on the high fever.

I have been yucky sick. Let's just sum it up with the one smarty statement. Soon, they will have a spot reserved for me at the emergency room of one of the hospitals in Bakersfield and, trust me, it isn't because we donated a wing to the campus.

Back soon. Rip-roaring with energy and all sorts of enthusiasm for new work and good things on the horizon. And, that's not fever talking.

Blue Horse and Other Dreams

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These days, I am not only dreaming about blue horses, but all the art show deadlines on my calendar.  A framed print of the blue horse above sold in October and will be part of the next show on the horizon.

At the end of this month, I will be part of the Bear Valley Springs Cultural Arts Spring Show. Of course, any sane person would simply have filled in the entry form with names of pieces currently hanging on the walls in our house and that would have completed my preparation. However, that sane part would describe someone else. Certainly not me. Instead of taking the easy path, I am working on something new for this show that has raised a whole bucket-load of questions and new challenges. I won't get into details until I know that it either has worked or turned into a flop. I am sane enough to have provided myself with a backup in case this experiment fails. You can bet that I will eventually let you know how the experiment goes.

Each artist is limited to five pieces and for this show I have decided to go with all equine prints. With the publishing of this post, you will have seen all the images to be used for the show. When I get closer to the show, I will publish a link to the five pieces and let you see my portion of the big annual show and social event here in Bear Valley Springs.

You can get more background on the horse above, how this piece evolved, and how it is displayed at Anita Jesse.

The Power of the Pen

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My recent distraction can be blamed partly on my early Valentine gift and what it set in motion. Nothing against roses, but this present beat flowers all to heck.

For a long time, I have flirted with the idea of getting a Wacom tablet. The masks I paint for my serious work are maddening and I was reasonably certain the pen would save me a great deal of time. Still, I dragged my feet over the cost and a couple of other doubts. One, I have been using a mouse for about thirty years now and wasn't sure how quickly I would adapt. Second, the problems with my right hand caused me some concern. The recent surgery took care of both instances of trigger finger, but I still get cramps in that hand—in a different part of my hand, curiously enough. I didn't know how long I would be able to hold the pen without a problem.

Finally, I stopped stalling and told The Husband I had decided what I wanted for Valentine this year. When I put in my request, he said it sounded like something I should get right away. Well, I'm no fool and took him up on the offer. It was pretty much love at first sight. I wouldn't say that I am already one hundred percent efficient with the pen; but, I can definitely say that it is a winner in my book.

Sure enough, I have to limit my time with the pen. Early on, I got one of those cramps because I got a little carried away. But, no problem. I am quite content doing all my set-up work with the mouse and just using the pen for finishing work. "Finally", you are probably saying. You are right. It is a little embarrassing to admit it took me so long.

The piece above (also posted at my business site) was the first piece I worked on with the pen and I am now a confirmed Wacom fan. Jump on over to Anita Jesse for the non-techie story on this piece.

Gremlins, Surprise Sales, and Such

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The guest who arrived the day family departed was one of my ex-students. She is an absolute delight and we were so pleased that she took time out of her busy trip to California to spend some of it with us. As noon last Wednesday approached—her scheduled time to hit the road, she announced that she needed a few minutes to browse through my prints once again. I was thrilled that she wanted to spend a few more minutes with my work and I encouraged her take her time with her final tour. After all, her energy was a tonic for us and I hated to see her leave.

She moved slowly from one viewing section to another, hall to room to another hallway, then said, "I brought one blank check with me just on a whim." I didn't grasp the meaning of the sentence and how it connected with her tour of the prints. It turned out she wanted to buy a framed print. I was taken aback, but obviously pleased at the turn of events.

After considerable deliberation, she returned again to the image above (repeated posting here), and said that she couldn't resist the one with the gremlin on his back. I chuckled because when I completed that piece, I hadn't a single thought about gremlins. Then Steve Weeks (Steve doesn't have a blog to link to. Wish he did) posted a comment and asked about the creature on the horse's back. Well, of course, since that time, I can't not see the beast. How I ever missed it is now beyond me.

After Steve's comment,  my first impulse, frankly, was to fix it. I seriously considered reworking the piece immediately, reprinting, and ridding the  horse of his gremlin burden. But, the more I thought about it the more I knew it wasn't the right thing to do. That gelding has had a demon on his back for years. He was, apparently, mistreated as a youngster and never fully regained his trust in humans. He was a one-woman horse. You could easily sense the wildness in him. Since I have often talked about allowing my subconscious mind to play its role in my creative life, it seemed quite hypocritical to deny all that by throwing out something that made it all the way to print and show without my conscious mind ever catching on. To deny my work philosophy along with the horse's story and erase these influences after the fact didn't ring true. Ultimately, I let the work stand.

It seemed fitting that there was surprise to complete the strange story of this image. The last thing on my mind while our charming guest was with us was art sales. Her purchase was a delicious surprise and I shouldn't have been shocked that she chose a piece that had already offered some surprises.

Update: The material in this post (with slight revisions) is currently posted at my Fine Art Prints blog.

Hanging Pictures



No, I didn't fall off the planet. But, once or twice, it was the fingernails that saved the day. We learned, on relatively short notice, that we were the lucky hosts of the family reunion. Note that I say "relatively short notice" that is short compared to how much needed doing to prepare for the arrival of the group. Since I got a little carried away with art shows last year and produced quite a bit of new work, that meant piles of frames collected and were stuck on the floors. I began to notice that the room once designated (only by me) as "the gallery" (any normal person would have recognized it as the formal dining room) had considerable less floor space than when we first first moved in. It had even crossed my mind that the room would soon shrink to the point of becoming a hallway to nowhere.

How could this happen, you ask? Well, for one thing, when we moved in, this house was only about four years old and the walls still had a lovely coat of mostly uninterrupted paint. This became a thing with The Husband. While I have mentioned more than once what a catch he is, he is human—yes, there is a flaw here and there. He had adopted this notion that he didn't want "a bunch of nails" in the wall. We had hung a few things that I talked him into, along with a few picture shelves, and I had used a bunch of easels as well as the fireplace mantel. Yet, we had a warehouse of frames leaning against walls and an expanse of lovely empty walls. Beautifully painted. Clean. Boring. Empty. Walls.

While we are on The Husband's eccentricities—you hear about mine all the time—the period leading up to house guests has become quite predictable in our home. I have played my part in this little ditty dozens of times in the 30+ years we have been married. If there is any notice at all, I begin making an effort to clean the place up as soon as I get the word that guests are coming. I immediately sense panic, because of course I am always in the middle of some all-encompassing project. On each occasion, I had managed to virtually overwhelm myself with ambitions and deadlines leaving no time for the routine of housework. And, equally inevitable was The Husband's response to my rising panic. "Don't be silly. No one cares what the house looks like. You make too much over it. Stop fretting and relax."

Many years ago, I would fall for that line. Such naivete. Soon however, I learned that it was a trap. A devious, seductive, but stinking trap. Every time I would be rocking along, focusing on my all important, new and wonderful adventure at whatever, oblivious to the impending storm. Then, suddenly one morning, the man I lived with would be replaced by this obsessed person who could talk about nothing except what needed to be picked up, put away, thrown away, washed, dusted, or just generally fixed. I know, you are probably saying why not let him clean and count my blessings. That is because you have never been through this whirlwind.

Soon, he's interrupting me with "What can I do with this junk of yours? Can I throw this out? Do you need this anymore? I'm taking all this junk to the dump, anything you want?" Needless to say, any possibility of concentrating on my project is impossible and I get sucked into the whirlwind.  Well, I am on to him now. When he says, "Don't worry. No one cares, but you", I smile (mostly) and continue cleaning. I am on to his tricks.

This time, the place had gone completely to pot. The end of last year was about art shows and a new web site. January was about being sick. Housecleaning? No way. To top it all off. We had family leaving on a Tuesday morning and another house guest arriving that afternoon. It was going to be interesting. But, this time there was a surprise.

About two weeks before the guests were due here—right on schedule, he walked into my warehouse meant to someday be my gallery, scanned the piles of frames, and announced, "We need to hang this stuff on the walls." Fortunately, I was near a door jamb and didn't hit the floor. I hustled to my studio, nervously grabbed the ever-ready hangers and hammer (and I was never even a Girl Scout!), and said, "Where shall we start?" I was so startled, I couldn't believe it would last.

For days, we spent part of each day hanging prints. In between, I dusted, washed, put away, and cleaned alongside this transformed creature—always anxious about when the old and familiar man might reappear. Fortunately, there was no relapse and, over several days, more nails were tapped into place until the house was transformed. At the end, he stood back and said, "Wow, the place looks great."

I am still pinching myself and periodically have to browse through all the rooms marveling at all my work hanging. It seems that the gallery spread quite a lot beyond the walls of what was built to be a dining room. When the dust settled and the last guest left, last Wednesday, I was bleary-eyed with exhaustion, but smiling. And, I am still smiling.