Arctic Poles

I have been meaning to pull apart this painting I did in 2008 for some time, and repaint/resew parts of it. It has proven to be a lot more work than I anticipated.

arcticmemorydetail

It was a lot of work to begin with! It is called Arctic Memory. It’s 40 x 60 inches big and it’s an oil painting over sewn patterns and embroidered linen. I made miniature garment patterns in the shapes of Hebrew letters to more or less spell out the words “Arctic Memory,” only it does not say that. I originally had it translated by someone over the internet by someone I did not know. When it was hanging at my solo show at Hillel at UCLA, one of the Rabbis informed me that it actually translates to “Antarctica Memory” and this has bothered me to no end ever since.

It didn’t even occur to me to change it until pretty recently. Back when the Rabbi pointed it out, my knee-jerk reaction was, “Well, it has been completed. Nothing I can do about it now.” It was being exhibited after all. But the truth is, it doesn’t work. The reindeer, the  aurora borealis, my Sami heritage. All that work – the painting was just wrong. I couldn’t even justify it with being bipolar either. Hardy-har.

So now what? I have been firstly pulling out the threads on the Kuf and the Hei (ה  &  ק ) and with a razor blade, trying to pull the manila pattern paper off the canvas, without pulling off the oil paint that is underneath because I painted the landscape under it. Well, it’s not coming off. Only the top layers of the paper is, so I’m left with manila shapes of the letters.

I will also have to pull off the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th letter and somehow replace them with a Reish and a Kuf – spacing them so it looks like they belonged there to begin with, then not care that there is so much space between the two words. Here’s the idea:

arcticmemorydetailAnyway, that’s what I’m dealing with. As far as the panels go. They are all sealed and beautiful and ready to be painted on, so keeping them beautiful is a whole ‘nother scenario.

 

Match Closed

My “Little Sister” has gone to live in Corona with a new foster family that may or may not permanently adopt her. She’s been through this scenario before. A few times actually. In fact this time, papers were being processed by this family to adopt her straight away from the foster family she was currently with while I was mentoring her, but she ran into a few problems. These problems were not exactly new however. Mainly they were stealing and throwing tantrums. Alicia was not new to throwing tantrums. They came after she would find out when an adoption fell through, and in this last case, one of her younger foster sisters was being adopted by her current foster mother – in the house she had lived the longest since being in foster care at six years old. Yet, it didn’t seem clear to her foster mother that this could’ve been the reason Alicia’s antics suddenly escalated. She stole from school (pens, clothes from Lost & Found, art supplies), from Macy’s while Xmas shopping (jewelry, hair accessories), from her foster mom (quarters out of a glass jar she kept in her bedroom). The quarters quickly added up to $60 and she purchased and sold candy at school for a profit. Candy she was not allowed to eat – at all. She has some enamel deficiency on her teeth so she is not allowed to ever eat candy. (Can you imagine a 10 year old forbidden to eat candy?)

Well, her foster mom had quite enough of all these broken rules, so she called the agency to give her 7-day notice to get Alicia out of her house.

I tried to get along with Mrs. M. I was very respectful. She is an elderly, old-school, traditional Mexican grandmother that has successfully raised several children of her own and through Social Services. Her home is spotless. All the kids have impeccable manners (including Alicia), and she is very strict – which most of these kids probably need: structure. But psychology was probably not her strong suite. She knew about Alicia’s past, but had some unrealistic expectations of her regardless. Alicia had come a long way since coming into Mrs. M’s house.

I was told that when she first arrived there, she had only one outfit. The one she had on. It had holes and was deeply stained with grime and still had a stench after washing. Her socks did not match, her shoes were worn through on the bottoms. She had no idea what hair conditioner was. She had never used eating utensils. She had no toys. This was her fifth foster home. She just turned nine.

Her father died when she was six. Her mother was an addict and her older brother was molesting her. Social Services took her away and placed her into a foster home where the adult male was found to be molesting her in addition to what she had already gone through. She then hopped from foster home to foster home until she arrived with Mrs. M, which was the first Latino home she landed in. Alicia is Latina.

Now she is in Corona. Mrs. M told the social worker nothing about the Big Sister program, and the social worker would not return CBBBS‘ calls. Match Closed.

I will reapply in May.

We had some fun together. We made paintings, puppets, t-shirts, bracelets, We went to the movies a few times, we tried different restaurants, we went swimming, we went bowling, listened to music, she came over and we decorated the Christmas tree, we talked, we went to the arcade, played a lot of Tic-tac-toe, and kept a activity book together. We danced to Beyonce too. For the most part, we did have fun. At times she was shy. At times I was shy. She was very disconnected (understandably) and she had pretty significant OCD, which made it hard for her to have “fun” in some instances. I still wonder if I was any good as a “mentor.” I hope she knew she was important to me and that I love her.

alicia - Copy

Bows and Flows of Angel Hair and Ice Cream Castles in the Air

And feather canyons everywhere, I’ve looked at clouds that way.

But now they only block the sun. They rain and snow on everyone. So many things I would have done,
But clouds got in my way.

Remember when I said I thought I could get away with three coats on those panels? WRONG! But then it rained. And then I got the flu. I still have the flu. And while I had the flu, I got paranoid that it was a fatal side effect of one of the many new medications I have recently been put on.  It doesn’t help that I already have anxiety, or bouts of paranoia, or that “flu-like symptoms” are listed as a warning sign as a “serious” and “sometimes fatal” condition for a drug you have been taking for a few days. And let us add to that the general anxiety of my recent career choices, and the fact that my “Little Sister” has been lost in the Riverside foster care system for the past several weeks. I probably won’t even get to see her to say goodbye to her, and I would really like NOT to be depressed before I have any business taking on a new kid to mentor, I mean, ya know?

If I wasn’t sick right now, I’d be out there finishing those panels, but then again, my gardeners come sometime today, so it would not be a good day any way. I was hoping I could get them finished because I am picking up the rest of my artwork from George Billis Gallery tomorrow, which I already know is not going to be easy. I will bring a small box of tissues, for myself at least. Tressa has to be professional. I’m the artist, so I can be a wreck.

In better news, I designed a piece of art today that I really like. I say designed because it doesn’t exactly exist yet. I drew it in my sketch book, then I scanned it in. I scanned it because I meant to play with it in Photoshop and decide on the color palette, but that never happened. While I was trying to get the drawing centered onto a square, something kind of really cool happened. I was coloring the background color, which was set on a yellowish color (like the coloring for the birch panels) and without thinking, I just started swooshing it with a large white brush. “Oops.” But then, I left it alone. And I love it. I’m pretty sure this wouldn’t have happened had I not recently read an article about provisional painting. It’s an older article in Art in America from 2009 that Ellie Blankfort introduced to me a couple months ago, and it totally inspired me.

Anyway, I would show you this image I made, but I am trying to decide if I should start hoarding my work-in-progress until they are completed, and in fact, I’ve even considered waiting until I’ve had eight matching pieces. Isn’t that mean?

Okay, okay, I’ll tell you what I will do. This is much, much better than my idea/design anyhow.

This past week I fell IN LOVE with a piece of art you should all see. It’s by local, Los Angeles artist, Valerie Wilcox. And it’s the first thing you see when you go to her site, so you immediately fall in love before you make your way all the way into the site, making her some kind of master of strategy.

untitledworange

This is titled, Untitled w/Orange, 2012.
Acrylic, graphite, polystyrene, paper, 26 x 21 inches.

GOD I LOVE THIS!!!!

Looking Out For No. 1: 1977

When I was a kid growing up in the late 70s, I would notice a stack of self-help books left next to the toilet in my mother’s bathroom – a place she (and let’s admit, many of yous) enjoyed reading.

During that time – a time I severely disliked her – I couldn’t help but think about how sickly ironic it all was. I mean, she was probably just trying to improve herself like any of us. And knowing what I know now about her life, she did not think well of herself at all, but during that time when I was a preteen, I could not think of a more self-centered person on the face of the Earth. And unfortunately, this too was partially true despite her mental illness et al. Yet, here were books with titles like, How to Be Your Own Best Friend, I’m OK – You’re OK, A Guide to Rational Living, and the icing on the cake: Looking Out for No. 1. Number one!? Boy did that piss me off. If that wasn’t a person who didn’t think she wasn’t number one, but rather the only one…

Well, I digress. Just a little.

Here I am at 44. Now I can see how that book might be of some use! Ha! And now I remember what brought me to write this. Today is my first day of a long, artful meditation. I wasn’t expecting realizations. But here’s one. A motto of mine has always been – in terms of others: Understand, Accept, Forgive. NEVER did I even think to do this for myself. And of course I never thought to do it for myself before the other person. Ummm Duh!

Me first!

The Paradox of Work and Work

What do I mean by that? Well, there is the finished work of art itself, and then there is all the work that goes into making it:

The grunt work, like prepping, priming/gessoing, or maybe stretching the canvas. Perhaps ordering the sizes you want from the canvas maker. The sanding and sealing of panels — all in which are a kind of methodical, meditative process, or a giant pain in the ass, depending on how you look at it. There is also the menial work of rounding up the supplies you will need to make what you have been thinking about, which brings us to:

The strategies and ways you go about forming ideas for paintings. This is another kind of meditation. They might come from dreams, clever anecdotes, real or fantasy scenery or persons, abstract or surreal feelings and a way to use color to get all this across. All this shit takes a massive amount of thinking and meditation. It’s similar to a book I once read called Mount Analogue: Climbing a mountain in your mind so to speak, and making it real as you go along. Sometimes it comes really easily. Sometimes it takes a boat load of preliminary drawings, mixtures of ideas on paper, sketchbooks, etc., time ticking away for a while. It’s hard to say exactly, but you can’t force it. You can only do – something else – in the interim.

Then, do I even want to start talking about the actual application of painting? It’s such a sacred, intimate and even private subject, I shouldn’t dare. Besides, I’m not painting anything right now. I’m in meditation mode. I’m drawing. I’m prepping. Over the last few days, I have been sanding and sealing six small birch panels. I am hoping I have just applied that last coat, but we’ll see in the morning.

panels

I just got this great new Dewalt palm sander which is making my whole life easier, not that using the block sander was so much work or anything, but the Dewalt sure makes it so severely even that I just might get away with three coats of sealer rather than four or five.

cuttersander

Also in that picture is my new Ingento paper cutter! mjp found it for a steal on Ebay! We are quite excited about it. Makes for better book making and paper chopping!

Anyway,  back to my 20 x 20 inch panels. I’ve also decided to change my sealant mixture today, which for some might seem like blasphemy! From now on, instead of a 2 to 1 mixture, I’m going half shellac and half DH alcohol. It makes for a smoother, more even application, IMHO. I like it better. If you are going to follow my advice (which you never should) seal the back first with a more shellacy mixture and the first coat of the front and sides, then add more denatured alcohol as you go along with each coat with a light, even sanding between each coat. You should be able to get away with four coats that way.

Here’s the other two:

other2

Like I said, I’ve been drawing a lot. Lately it has been my most honest work. That and my very last oil painting. The pink one. This one:

inmydreamsdickboat

I did a little experiment and went through 100 paintings of mine – that I actually liked – and wrote down WHAT I liked about them. There were many repeating elements and I was left with a list of 21 things. I was then able to turn the 21 into 10 (just by wording it differently) and I am pinning it up in my studio to use as a jumping off point. In fact, I should title it SPRINGBOARD! So I think I am just clearing and cleaning up my spiritual clutter (I can’t believe I just used that wording) so I can begin some intense study and focus on my work. I’ve had a LOT that has been holding me back.

Mentally, I have been a mess. Some of my medications have ceased to offer me emotional benefits and I am in the middle of changing quite a few of them at the same time. It has been rough. This comes at the tail end of a bunch of drama with my best friend. 34 years of trust and a kind of amazing strength just broken, shattered into little shards of glass that slice me open at the slightest, unwitting movements I made. I had to make a decision to stop getting so unbelievably HURT, so I took myself out of that picture. And then, this week, I decided to leave my eight year relationship with the George Billis Gallery – I mean, without drama or burning any bridges. He gave me a lot of opportunity and I will always appreciate that, but I just left. And now I am on my own.

Now, I just want to see what my art begins to look like out here in no-man’s land. Should be interesting to get to know myself again.