He has been home 4 days. It seems longer. The last week was like waiting for a baby to be born. There's a due date, but it's an estimate. We got word from him and others where he was and what route he might come and when he might show up, but nothing was 100% for sure.
When he called in the morning and said he was in his house, I made a lot of noise when I got off the phone. Woo hoo and yippee and thank You, Lord type noise.
His wife had to work, so we hung out. The dogs played together. He looks good, lean and strong and healthy. He says it feels weird, probably like you felt when we moved back from West Africa, Mom. From poverty all around you into the lap of luxury in the USA.
Yes, yes, the relief is settling in and it feels really, really good.
We talked about the war. My observation is that no matter how it looks now and how hopeless it seems, we do not know what tomorrow holds. We cannot see the future and things quite outside our imagination can happen that would change things. I do not expect this necessarily, but I have learned this from my own little life. It adds a higher perspective to all the political arguments I listen to all the time. Not to be fatalistic. Make good decisions that will strengthen my family and my country and the world, but do what I can, and leave what's out of my control right where it is: out of my control.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Monday, December 11, 2006
The Extrovert that was Always There
Being in Seattle I cannot scan paintings. But I am studying the painting called, let's see... Don't know. The next step is to darken the porch shadow, but I cannot find the photo, so I don't want to do that until I get home. Other things I want to adjust:
remove purple shadow of wire on left
remove part of siding detail, as much as possible
bring more pigment into the left yellow to match the center yellow?
put blue, or something else, back into the sky by the roof, where I lightened it
leave a few bits of orange or red in the porch shadow when you darken it
My dear son-in-law said you should have a theme, like hang some buoys on the porch.
I said, I see what you mean, but this is more about design than describing this house in Maine.
Buoys would give information: this is a coastal house, could be Maine, here's a hint of what goes on around here.
But what I like about this work is the brilliant sun on the face of the building and how the colors work with each other.
What made me think of extroversion was the sky, I really laid in the pigment on the first wash, no shyness there. I remember my woodcut teacher and how he noted that I wasn't afraid to just put my knife into the wood. No perfectionism there. No drawing minute details and having them all in before you start. I think I have a hint of what David Dewey means when he talks about drawing and painting. You draw in your basic shapes, lay in your foundational washes, and as you proceed with your painting, you stop and draw certain parts. Not everything has to be accurate, but he says: every so often you have to draw really well.
I still love this picture.
We went to a small gallery here. I looked at some of the not very good paintings and saw the prices and wondered if they could sell. Who would want them? I thought, if they can get $400 for that painting, I'm in good shape to get paid for mine.
But different people have different tastes. Some will like those paintings and won't like mine.
So I think about how working for the public for 2 years uncovered yet more of the extrovert, plus being older, plus mellowing out with antidepressants and possibly more than any of it, working with my coach, building my confidence, seeing what the Lord has put in me. What does that have to do with art? It's just that I think I see a pattern. I have always liked to just get in there and put the thing down on the page, use the 6B pencil and make the shadows deep and dramatic. I hate H pencils; they are like trying to draw with a fork.
And at class this summer, when Christie told the guy near me to look at my painting, it was because I was not shy about making my darks really dark and showing the contrast with the bright kyaks, which were in the sun. The same thing when I took pottery... I loved wrestling with the clay, leaning into it, forcing that lumpy blob into a smooth sphere.
I was pretty shy in those days, until I got to know people.
Even then the part of me that was willing to put myself out there existd. I wasn't aware of it.
Just a thought. It's interesting to me how we grow.
remove purple shadow of wire on left
remove part of siding detail, as much as possible
bring more pigment into the left yellow to match the center yellow?
put blue, or something else, back into the sky by the roof, where I lightened it
leave a few bits of orange or red in the porch shadow when you darken it
My dear son-in-law said you should have a theme, like hang some buoys on the porch.
I said, I see what you mean, but this is more about design than describing this house in Maine.
Buoys would give information: this is a coastal house, could be Maine, here's a hint of what goes on around here.
But what I like about this work is the brilliant sun on the face of the building and how the colors work with each other.
What made me think of extroversion was the sky, I really laid in the pigment on the first wash, no shyness there. I remember my woodcut teacher and how he noted that I wasn't afraid to just put my knife into the wood. No perfectionism there. No drawing minute details and having them all in before you start. I think I have a hint of what David Dewey means when he talks about drawing and painting. You draw in your basic shapes, lay in your foundational washes, and as you proceed with your painting, you stop and draw certain parts. Not everything has to be accurate, but he says: every so often you have to draw really well.
I still love this picture.
We went to a small gallery here. I looked at some of the not very good paintings and saw the prices and wondered if they could sell. Who would want them? I thought, if they can get $400 for that painting, I'm in good shape to get paid for mine.
But different people have different tastes. Some will like those paintings and won't like mine.
So I think about how working for the public for 2 years uncovered yet more of the extrovert, plus being older, plus mellowing out with antidepressants and possibly more than any of it, working with my coach, building my confidence, seeing what the Lord has put in me. What does that have to do with art? It's just that I think I see a pattern. I have always liked to just get in there and put the thing down on the page, use the 6B pencil and make the shadows deep and dramatic. I hate H pencils; they are like trying to draw with a fork.
And at class this summer, when Christie told the guy near me to look at my painting, it was because I was not shy about making my darks really dark and showing the contrast with the bright kyaks, which were in the sun. The same thing when I took pottery... I loved wrestling with the clay, leaning into it, forcing that lumpy blob into a smooth sphere.
I was pretty shy in those days, until I got to know people.
Even then the part of me that was willing to put myself out there existd. I wasn't aware of it.
Just a thought. It's interesting to me how we grow.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Back In the Great Northwest
I am visiting my daughter and son-in-law. While they are at work I paint.
Strangest thing: the paintings named Kathy's house 2 and 3 are not her house at all. My son-in-law said that's my mom's house, but moments later he said but my mom's house doesn't have a peaked roof. I said yes it does; it's in the photo I took. We looked at the other photo of her whole house and there is no peak. It was such a close-up and so abstracted that I didn't notice it's a different house! First he was freaked out....like he would know his own house he grew up in....then I was freaked out.....whose house is this then? All this time I thought I was painting Kathy's house. They have a similar look. Is this an artist thing: so caught up in the designs and colors and shapes that I did not know which house it was?
He looked at my paintings and said you should sell these things. My daughter said, she is. (Mental note, he said I should sell these things...that is good!)
So on the plane I did a drawing for Kathy's house 4. I guess I can call it Kathy's house 2 and rename the other 2 Mystery house 1 and 2, oh dear.
Last night at the dinner table SIL was telling funny stories about cats. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. You have to have a Far Side sense of humor to laugh at his stories; they were not nice stories for a cat to listen to. We all traded stories. So fun to be with them. So fun to be with my family and sit at the table after we eat and talk. No jump up and turn on the TV. Great stories. He has had a life full of adventure and since they have been married (7 years) they have had many new escapades together.
They analyzed what this dear young father, Mr. Kim, might have done right or wrong to avoid dying lost in the snow. They found him today. Even the news people seem close to tears. I appreciate this. I like them to not be so ultra professional that they just report story, change to a cheery voice and go on to the next story. If I were reporting death, I think I would lower my tone, slow way down, and leave lots of space for contemplation.....then get fired.
I feel it when the traffic reports are about a terrible crash and there is a medivac landing. It's all about how far it is backed up and what alternate route to take for your commute. But my mind always goes to the people in the wrecked cars. Someone is hurting really badly, maybe several people, maybe someone is dying....and the announcer's voice is high and fast and has no sadness in it at all. Would I ask the listeners to pray with me for those involved? Now there's a concept. Many listeners would indeed pray and prayer united in appeal for those injured would make a difference. I don't expect to ever see it happen. I lost my husband suddenly. There were sirens involved. Even today when an ambulance screams by, it can take me right back to that moment. So my heart goes out to people in trauma.
Now my SIL also told me of how he fell into a tree well. I had to ask what a tree well was. Snow piles up around the tree but the snow from the branches sloughs off to the sides, but there is a deep hole under the tree. He fell backwards into one and was stuck, sprawled out and up-side-down. He described how he inched his poles out of the snow so that he could manipulate them, and put them under himself so that he could right himself and then stomped around in a circle, packing a path to spiral up out of the well. Fascinating.
We talked about how my injured and arthritic knee means no more skiing for me. I am not a skiier but it has been fun to be out there with family, laughing and learning. Last time I actually succeeded in controlling myself. We can try snow-shoing though, and go tubing or sledding.
There are many distractions here, including Terrell S. Lester's beautiful book on the coffee table, Maine, with 4 award winning authors' Maine stories added in. I read the whole thing. I wish we could buy a place together there. I think of spending a year there to experience the long, hard winter and survive. To paint and write. Some of his photos look just like a watercolor. There is one I want to paint and hang in my house. I could never sell it, because it's his photo. He started at age 32 and taught himself. Anyway, that is a good distraction, quite related to what I'm doing.
Strangest thing: the paintings named Kathy's house 2 and 3 are not her house at all. My son-in-law said that's my mom's house, but moments later he said but my mom's house doesn't have a peaked roof. I said yes it does; it's in the photo I took. We looked at the other photo of her whole house and there is no peak. It was such a close-up and so abstracted that I didn't notice it's a different house! First he was freaked out....like he would know his own house he grew up in....then I was freaked out.....whose house is this then? All this time I thought I was painting Kathy's house. They have a similar look. Is this an artist thing: so caught up in the designs and colors and shapes that I did not know which house it was?
He looked at my paintings and said you should sell these things. My daughter said, she is. (Mental note, he said I should sell these things...that is good!)
So on the plane I did a drawing for Kathy's house 4. I guess I can call it Kathy's house 2 and rename the other 2 Mystery house 1 and 2, oh dear.
Last night at the dinner table SIL was telling funny stories about cats. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. You have to have a Far Side sense of humor to laugh at his stories; they were not nice stories for a cat to listen to. We all traded stories. So fun to be with them. So fun to be with my family and sit at the table after we eat and talk. No jump up and turn on the TV. Great stories. He has had a life full of adventure and since they have been married (7 years) they have had many new escapades together.
They analyzed what this dear young father, Mr. Kim, might have done right or wrong to avoid dying lost in the snow. They found him today. Even the news people seem close to tears. I appreciate this. I like them to not be so ultra professional that they just report story, change to a cheery voice and go on to the next story. If I were reporting death, I think I would lower my tone, slow way down, and leave lots of space for contemplation.....then get fired.
I feel it when the traffic reports are about a terrible crash and there is a medivac landing. It's all about how far it is backed up and what alternate route to take for your commute. But my mind always goes to the people in the wrecked cars. Someone is hurting really badly, maybe several people, maybe someone is dying....and the announcer's voice is high and fast and has no sadness in it at all. Would I ask the listeners to pray with me for those involved? Now there's a concept. Many listeners would indeed pray and prayer united in appeal for those injured would make a difference. I don't expect to ever see it happen. I lost my husband suddenly. There were sirens involved. Even today when an ambulance screams by, it can take me right back to that moment. So my heart goes out to people in trauma.
Now my SIL also told me of how he fell into a tree well. I had to ask what a tree well was. Snow piles up around the tree but the snow from the branches sloughs off to the sides, but there is a deep hole under the tree. He fell backwards into one and was stuck, sprawled out and up-side-down. He described how he inched his poles out of the snow so that he could manipulate them, and put them under himself so that he could right himself and then stomped around in a circle, packing a path to spiral up out of the well. Fascinating.
We talked about how my injured and arthritic knee means no more skiing for me. I am not a skiier but it has been fun to be out there with family, laughing and learning. Last time I actually succeeded in controlling myself. We can try snow-shoing though, and go tubing or sledding.
There are many distractions here, including Terrell S. Lester's beautiful book on the coffee table, Maine, with 4 award winning authors' Maine stories added in. I read the whole thing. I wish we could buy a place together there. I think of spending a year there to experience the long, hard winter and survive. To paint and write. Some of his photos look just like a watercolor. There is one I want to paint and hang in my house. I could never sell it, because it's his photo. He started at age 32 and taught himself. Anyway, that is a good distraction, quite related to what I'm doing.
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