the Superhero job. It was delayed 5 times and then Mr. J was over 2 hours late for our first "start up" meeting. There are only 2 of us whereas they were hoping for a team. Our first day I enjoyed going around the store surveying our coworkers, the personal interaction with individuals with a goofy survey. I could not believe some of the coworkers were actually worried about getting the question right: How far can you toss a meatball? But I did not make fun of them.
But the rest has been reading a boring book by Ingvar, planning and strategizing, none of which I am good at. Mr. J is soft spoken even when he is in a quiet room with us and I do not follow him easily. My managers are excited for me, but so far I am not excited for me. I find myself thinking when do I get to go home? This is exactly why I hesitated taking this on. High stress and no recompense.
So far it has not entailed what I was told it would be. And the girl who is young enough to be my youngest daughter and I are not working smoothly together. She's nice, but there's no click, click. I think it will get better in time. We both support children through Compassion International and she went to visit hers in Peru and it changed her life and has given her a passion for the homeless, hungry and poor.
They have asked repeatedly if I can work full time during these 8 weeks and I say not now. I said yes after the art project is done, but wait a minute. For no recompense, will I spend all my time at the store and not get things done at home, and also slow myself down on my REAL job OUTSIDE the store? Hmmm, doesn't sound like a good idea to me. Besides, I'm dying to go to the Northwest and see my DD. And I need to visit family in Florida.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Monday, January 02, 2006
work
Painting again. It is hard to get going sometimes.
What I am learning is that I don't know how the paint will react. I don't know how the paper will stretch, how it will rumple when loaded up with water and how much water to use for which type of effect. I don't know my colors. There is no automatic here, it's all a slow process. I have to think and test on scratch paper to try out colors.
I stand up and walk away for a minute thinking: If I painted it over and over I would make improvements and after about 20 tries, I might like what came out. I don't have time for 20 tries.
I need to call my commissioner and say: You should pay me less because I am a student not a professional.
And so as I go on trying to complete this project for which I am being paid, and which I do NOT want to look like practice in its finished state, I am, as a matter of fact, practicing. I have just painted a matador. I am happy with the legs, but not the coffee cup. Don't ask, the poetry is clever and full of puns. The hand holding the cup is incomprehensible and will need to be fixed. But I need a break.
The light and shadow is not dramatic enough for me,though I like the detail in the embroidery. I had to go searching for faces of typical matadors because the image I used for the body was a photograph of one of those statues that you can stick your head into and have your picture taken, so that you look like you are the matador. The guy in the picture looked very blond and touristy.
There is a blob of gray that came off my finger unintentionally that I cannot get off the paper. I will try painting over it with white but only if I cannot erase it with water. I like the steam coming off the coffee.
I used the colored pencils that turn into paint when you wet them. Mostly I colored onto the page and then added clear water to blend it. I am learning that for detailed finicky work, these pencils are useful. They get the job done faster than brushes.
But I didn't get going on it in earnest until afternoon. I had an appointment in the morning and then ate lunch and felt my coffee wearing off but could not nap, so I got up and went to work. It is raining and has been all day so the dog (and I) don't get our run today.
I had to call work to see if I am on schedule any time soon. Superhero is put off till next week. Only 3 applied. I wondered who, but did not ask. I did not want to have that to think about today. If I had known this would happen, I could have bolted off to Florida to spend a week with my dad.
I want to attach a tag to my paintings that says "Little slubs and splotches are part of the character of this work and are in no way a sign of imperfection or sloppinness, rather they increase the value of your purchase." In other words: "I meant to do that!"
What I am learning is that I don't know how the paint will react. I don't know how the paper will stretch, how it will rumple when loaded up with water and how much water to use for which type of effect. I don't know my colors. There is no automatic here, it's all a slow process. I have to think and test on scratch paper to try out colors.
I stand up and walk away for a minute thinking: If I painted it over and over I would make improvements and after about 20 tries, I might like what came out. I don't have time for 20 tries.
I need to call my commissioner and say: You should pay me less because I am a student not a professional.
And so as I go on trying to complete this project for which I am being paid, and which I do NOT want to look like practice in its finished state, I am, as a matter of fact, practicing. I have just painted a matador. I am happy with the legs, but not the coffee cup. Don't ask, the poetry is clever and full of puns. The hand holding the cup is incomprehensible and will need to be fixed. But I need a break.
The light and shadow is not dramatic enough for me,though I like the detail in the embroidery. I had to go searching for faces of typical matadors because the image I used for the body was a photograph of one of those statues that you can stick your head into and have your picture taken, so that you look like you are the matador. The guy in the picture looked very blond and touristy.
There is a blob of gray that came off my finger unintentionally that I cannot get off the paper. I will try painting over it with white but only if I cannot erase it with water. I like the steam coming off the coffee.
I used the colored pencils that turn into paint when you wet them. Mostly I colored onto the page and then added clear water to blend it. I am learning that for detailed finicky work, these pencils are useful. They get the job done faster than brushes.
But I didn't get going on it in earnest until afternoon. I had an appointment in the morning and then ate lunch and felt my coffee wearing off but could not nap, so I got up and went to work. It is raining and has been all day so the dog (and I) don't get our run today.
I had to call work to see if I am on schedule any time soon. Superhero is put off till next week. Only 3 applied. I wondered who, but did not ask. I did not want to have that to think about today. If I had known this would happen, I could have bolted off to Florida to spend a week with my dad.
I want to attach a tag to my paintings that says "Little slubs and splotches are part of the character of this work and are in no way a sign of imperfection or sloppinness, rather they increase the value of your purchase." In other words: "I meant to do that!"
Sunday, January 01, 2006
held
Held. A song by Natalie Grant.
While I was working on the illustrations for my poet friend, he asked me to go out and buy Natalie Grant's CD called Awaken. He mentioned 2 songs in particular: "make me over", and "held". I ordered it online and when it came, I listened to the songs.
The words to "Held" made me cry instantly. I had heard the song before, in spite of the fact that I hardly ever listen to Christian radio any more. I recognised the tune. But I had never paid attention to the words.
It was about death, a mother losing a son and how wrong it was. I have never lost a son, but I have lost. This is what it is to be held, she sings. I know this. I know what it is to be held by God. I know his presence. I understand what this woman is singing about. When I lost my husband I was flattened. But God was holding me and I knew it. I didn't feel it immediately, but I had seen evidence of his presence at the moment of death. Day by day, little by little, with only a tiny mustard seed of hope and faith, I walked through the following days. It's been over 6 years and now I can almost feel God's arms around me. "This is what it means to be loved", she says, "and to know, that the promise is when everything fell, we'd be held...."
While I was working on the illustrations for my poet friend, he asked me to go out and buy Natalie Grant's CD called Awaken. He mentioned 2 songs in particular: "make me over", and "held". I ordered it online and when it came, I listened to the songs.
The words to "Held" made me cry instantly. I had heard the song before, in spite of the fact that I hardly ever listen to Christian radio any more. I recognised the tune. But I had never paid attention to the words.
It was about death, a mother losing a son and how wrong it was. I have never lost a son, but I have lost. This is what it is to be held, she sings. I know this. I know what it is to be held by God. I know his presence. I understand what this woman is singing about. When I lost my husband I was flattened. But God was holding me and I knew it. I didn't feel it immediately, but I had seen evidence of his presence at the moment of death. Day by day, little by little, with only a tiny mustard seed of hope and faith, I walked through the following days. It's been over 6 years and now I can almost feel God's arms around me. "This is what it means to be loved", she says, "and to know, that the promise is when everything fell, we'd be held...."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)