How Thouse Thou Blog?

I keep telling myself that I will start writing a new blog post at least twice a week. How do people do that, I wonder? Especially working artists. Especially working artists that are also writing a book, with friends and a life, that go to art shows, that have partners, that like to garden and watch a bit of TV, go to a couple of movies a month and have a dog?

If you have the answer to these questions, please reply, or email me. I’d like to know.

Since I have blogged, or rather, wrote the little review about the Avenue 50 show, Seven Beauties, on the Huffington Post, I have finished a couple of new paintings. Perhaps one of them I finished before that, called In Training. I mentioned it in a previous blog post. I was nearly finished with it then, but I had to allow that yellow to dry before I went back and cleaned up those black outlines. So here it is finished:

intraining

This is like the rest of the series: 24 x 24 inches, Oil on birch panel.

Yellow takes forever to dry, as I am learning – so does orange! I am still working on Rabbi Says. So in the meantime, I finished up another piece that I now know is my most favorite in the whole series! It only took two days, but I thought about it for a month. I even want it to be the cover for my book, if that’s possible. It’s called, Survivor: 24 x 24 inches, oil on birch panel:

survivor

Still wet, I took these and about 4 others with me to Shulamit Gallery yesterday down at Venice Beach. We  had been trying to set up a meeting for a few weeks, actually for a studio visit, but that’s not going to happen until July. So, they asked me if I could come there with a few originals and paper works along with a few of my artists’ books. I would up staying there for nearly three hours. It went very well and we all know each other a little better. What will become of it, I do not know because I’m not absolutely sure I want to be in a gallery again just yet.

But maybe by the time they offer me something, IF they offer me something, I will be.

In the meantime, I just feel so good about painting right now, I’m just going to keep on going on my merry way. I am loving this path.

Speaking of the book, I finally got back to working on it just a bit. I even interviewed a couple people from my past and I think that is going to help me a little in writing this because we don’t always remember things exactly the way they happened. I probably will only use a fraction of these interviews, but I think it’s good to reconnect, let people know they might appear in the manuscript, and in what context – especially if I am going to be making fun of them.

No one gets made fun of more than me, and that I can guarantee all of them!

One of them was an ex-boyfriend. He is significant for a few of reasons. First of all, he pretty much turned me on to oil painting. The relationship was a whirlwind: very unlike me to move in with someone so fast, and then it ended as fast as it flew together, yet I learned a lot about art: the application of it, a little bit about the sales of it, the dichotomy of it, and some of the hard lessons. I think he was the first person I dated outside of my own circles and I learned a lot about sharing, compromise, tolerance, acceptance, all in such a short amount of time. At the time, I am not sure I even knew I was learning this. Ha!

I also am importing in a shit load of data from, get this, on-line forum dialog!  I have typed more about my viewpoints on art than I have even talked about to any one person. So now I have to weed through all of that stuff and use it where it’s usable.

I was also lucky enough to make a couple of sales in the past couple weeks so I could get more panels – small ones – so in the next couple months I will have more affordable works on hand, which I think is smart.

That’s all for now.

Rainbow Country

I have not been working on my book for a long, long time. It’s so hard to juggle all that I have, but I’m not taking on any new shows for a while, so I hope that I can dedicate some time to my writing when I’m done with these eight paintings

Shrapnel in the San Fernando Valley, as it it is called for now – and I don’t foresee changing it – has been the toughest project I have probably ever had to do. I am reliving all the parts of my life – all the hardest parts of my life. Sure, I will be editing out the boring, the non-pertinent, the lengthy rants that are similar to my blog (because in using anything like those, they won’t necessarily be  to promote, protect or to entertain), but the rough draft inevitably needs to be written. I’m living through all of it just the same.

It is much harder to remember it and write it out than it was to experience it at the time. Doesn’t seem possible, right? But when you are going through a traumatic event, you go into survival mode. We all do. We dissociate to some degree, or we find a way endure it. We have to. Then we move on. Because we have to. And in moving on, we most likely do not think about it. That just works wonders.

Diving in and out of this book is bitter sweet. I like writing about the first time the light bulb went off for me in terms of art, music, love, friendship, independence, and stuff like that thar. I’ve been writing pretty much in chronological order, so knowing that something horrible is coming up, just makes me avoid getting back to a writing session.

I wish it was done, really. I’m 75-80% finished with the rough draft. That is far from done. That is bare bones stuff. I have never written a book before. I know nothing about how it’s done. I only know how I am going to do it before I hand it off to the editor. She might change everything, but I know exactly how I am going to structure the thing – section by section, chapter by chapter, because sometimes the helicopter flies high over miles of mountain ranges. Sometimes, it flies lower and circles around a camp. And many times it will land so the pilot can get out to get a really good look at the dirt.

dansavesdan

Some future problems with this thing that I needlessly worry about are:

SUBJECT: What the hell is this? A memoir? Autobiography? Creative non-fiction, Artist memoir? Family memoir? Music biography? Women’s biography? Religious biography? Dark humor – non-fiction, …and HOLY SHIT! I’m sorry. I was just reading something that I did not realize on Barnes and Noble. Is this true? Someone please tell me if I am misunderstanding this:

Is PUSH fiction???? It is filed under fiction. I’m having a heart attack! I did NOT know that!

I am totally baffled now. I will be back when I get my head on straight. I am just….baffled. I can’t finish this blog entry right now. Sorry.

7:16 PM Okay, I am back now. I’m over it. I painted. I got some stuff done. I made decisions. I feel better. Fuck it.

When I read The Color Purple, I was well aware of Alice Walker. I guess I was stupid enough to think that Push was actually written by a young, illiterate girl who experienced these things and still on her way to becoming educated despite being such a young, single mother.

Now, both books do not lie. I am not mad that it is fiction, because it is not a fictitious story. My mind was just blown, that’s all.

All this time, I have been somewhat modeling, or rather just thinking about where my book belongs in terms of Push. That book was giving me courage to tell my story! I figured it would be, if published, close together on the shelf in the bookstore. I felt like, if people accepted her story

and believed it

and still loved her

maybe I had a chance of receiving the same reaction.