Life In COVID World: Part 1

 

That's the centerpiece on our dining table. Gotta look at something when dining! The turkey head is gone, the log upended and the few remaining squashes hold court. I provide the picture as relief from the whiteness that surrounds us; more snow on the way today.

I have been considering, as we are almost a year in on this quarantine/pandemic thing just how odd our lives have become. I guess there are people out there who are dining and going to gyms and churches or something. But many of us have chosen to abide by restrictions and stay put. And something aout this last week or so has finally gotten to some of us.

To whit, friends I've talked with on the phone have remarked on inabilities to focus or be creative; even I (hardworking Calvinist artist that I am) have felt less-than-productive. (*1) I think the drain of worrying about mutant varieties of COVID, not seeing family and friends, not attending openings and in-person art events... it's hard! I find myself a bit out of sorts and stuck. Combine that with the weather, which has suddenly decided to play Winter and dump repeated snow falls and colder temperatures. 

And I guess I have to mention here the grim fact of over 460,000 dead due to the pandemic. The cosmic/spiritual/psychic weight of so many people dying is hard to fathom. I know that I have felt precarious when thousands of people perish in tsunamis or earthquakes; a strange sensation of that many beings suddenly gone. 460,000 is a lot of people; that's a good sized city vaporized. No wonder I- and so many others!- are having a tough time sleeping and concentrating!

I will end on a sunnier note. The days are getting longer, people are getting vaccinated and maybe by the summer some semblance of a new "normal" will assert itself. I sure hope so because we're all feeling a tad antsy. 

(*1) Fear not! I have a million ideas and am currently finishing up three pieces and starting three more, but these are occurring at a slower pace than usual.

Free Ideas

I couldn't help by remark that I received tons of page views when I chronicled the subject of "Crabby Muses", in which I addressed artist's blocks. This leads me to meander back to an idea that I originally had for a blog, before I started this one, and that was to offer up an idea a day for any aspiring artists to use.
I think (sometimes foolishly) that ideas are cheap. There's lots of them- and (obviously) not all of them lead to the Garden of Good Art. Some ideas are simply good for that momentary "Hey! That's a good one" flash that evaporates a few minutes later, and probably for the better.
On the other hand, it dawned on me years ago that I have so many ideas and inevitably will be unable (and disinclined!) to execute them all. There are only so many days and years in an artist's life! This is where the idea of a blog  which I generously make available fresh ideas for anyone to use.
I know that sometimes you can spend hours in your studio (or garret or where ever you go to make art) and nothing seems to "click" or come easily. Sometimes, you just have to slog through a few uncomfortable, prickly hours (or days or weeks!) before things flow again. But my first rule is: stick it out. Just be available for your muses to visit, should they decide to deliver inspiration. Bob and I were just remarking that sometimes you need to rearrange shelves or clean out cluttered corners or tear up old work in order to be ready for the new stuff. It can feel like some cruel celestial constipation when you try and try and nothing happens but I subscribe to persistence ultimately will triumph.
I also offer the useful (or not!) suggestion that having several pieces going at once is a good way to avoid stuck-ness.  If the impetus to work on one piece dries up, this means there's always another to turn to. I have three, four or five pieces being simultaneously being worked on (or ignored) at any given time. This allows me to quit an artwork temporarily and come back to it later- or never.
The above example illustrates that. I started to work on "NIMBY" thinking it was a great phrase for me to translate. Then it occurred to me that it would be a good challenge to make fabric read as graffiti, as I like to play around with inventing/corrupting fonts and typefaces. (Rarely are they "real" ones; mostly I mash up several ideas.) But I got to a point and was stuck- the word looked good and I liked the back ground- which is actually to distinct different shades of red in rays- but I couldn't get the transition between the yellow behind the blue/grey of NIMBY and the red just right. It looked too harsh and I kept trying out various shades of grey and blue to echo the lettering. Still no luck. I almost tried painting on the fabric in between (glad I didn't! What a mess!!) Then I hit on using this striped material I had left over. I chopped it up every which way and ta-DAAA! It sang!
But importantly, while all this hemming and hawing was erupting in my head and my studio, I was at work on another couple of pieces that required really mundane chores. (F'rinstance: I am painstakingly sewing a million dimes all around the edge of the piece that says "Monetize Me". Pretty repetitive but needs doing and it allows all the subconscious parts of me to do other things.) So, I guess the point of this blog is keep up the slog.
And the free idea for the day? Start on a project that I swear by: Face-A-Day. Everyday for an entire year, make a face collage. Seriously. Whatever you're doing- going to work, being sick... whatever!- make a collage of a face. Do not edit or over work it, just commit to doing it. You'll be surprised. At the end of a year (which passes remarkably fast!) you will have 365 new collages. Some will be good, some will be bad and some will be ugly (hear that music in the back ground?) but it will get even the crankiest of muses going.

The Just the Wrong Amount of Right...

I started a drawing again a few days ago. My fingers were itching and I had that unsettled feeling that I get when something just wants to come out. And drawing is such a physical art act for me; way more so than collage and much chunkier than sewing. (Fabric work is tactile in a much more silky kind of way.)
Anyway, I began to mess around with pencils and a bit of added collage and then I glued on- and ripped off- other papers, leaving scabby, redrawn-on ghosts. I stenciled letters and then erased them. In short, I had a ball. Then it occurred to me that there was a odd skull shape looking up at me, which, if you think of it, is not all that strange as I must have made thirty plus skulls in the past few years. (They were made from all kinds of crumpled magazines and packing tape).
Above is the third drawing in this series, because inevitably, all my work is from a series, whether new or old. Oh, and the phrase... that's from this weird series of ads for a hotel chain. I think they're trying to appeal to a younger, hipper sensibility. But boy, is a chunk of jargon like that up my alley. Just what are they- and I by extension- trying to say?
And of course, this exercise got me mulling over the twisted way that things like skulls permeate our culture. Not really a source of revulsion and fear or a blunt reminder of our certain mortality, skulls have gone the way of owls, mushrooms, dinosaurs, zombies and many other kitsch-ified societal shorthands. Think about it: dinosaurs were known for tromping around the planet, chewing up smaller dinosaurs and consuming entire palm trees and generally wrecking havoc on a magnificent scale. Not cute, by any means! Even owls are predators, devouring voles and shrews in a single swallow and regurgitating bones and beaks after the fact. And mushrooms are frequently poisonous but they have long been used as decorative devices with fairies sleeping beneath their deathly gills. They have all been rendered safe, cozy and cute. So I can't figure out which side (or hopefully both! I love ambiguity!) my skulls come down on.
On the other hand- embracing that ambiguity- I can honestly say my sorta skull drawing isn't an ultra representational skull . It's more of an implied skull or a suggestion of skull. That leaves room for you to see something entirely different. Or, to see just the right amount of wrong.

Whoops! Almost Forgot to Blog!

I've been so busy that I almost forgot to blog! And I think my one year blog anniversary is rapidly approaching... I'll have to do something really special like put up more pictures of our deranged dog. (See above photo. Sometimes, Bob wonders why we allow these truly weird animals with sharp fangs to live in our houses with us... And Jules wasn't even growling; he was sleeping upside down.)

So it's been busy around here because both Bob and I applied for grants for art making and boy howdy would it be nice if at least one of us got a grant this year. Make it both of us and I be REALLY overjoyed). Filling out grant applications is an odd process as the people who "create" the forms are so obviously not artists or even vaguely right brained. (I think right brain is the right one right?) Anyway, the on-line forms suck and have all these crazy pitfalls, like concealed slide bars and areas that you can't cut and paste words. You have to type them all out. It's archaic and arcane. And not at all interesting. But there is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

And Mommy isn't doing really well. My mother is 91 years old and I keep saying her batteries are wearing out. She's had a good long run but I suspect that old quality of life issue is beginning to raise it's ugly head. Mommy is at present in a convalescent facilty and not too happy about it. I'm really not sure what to do...

Jules just woke up so I need to take him outside. I promise to post a more insightful blog tommorrow. That's if I don't barf listening to rabid republicans yattering away about how much money they make. Screw them!

Another Kind of Eye Candy

As I mentioned, I have been making eyes and eye-obsessive work in my studio. (Thank god I making anything in my studio!!) Sewing and beading are (inexplicably) possible under my visually challenged circumstances; in fact I seem to be plowing ahead just fine. I have seven or eight pieces underway. They will be collated together into some sort of a book, as photocopies of fabric pieces work quite nicely. (I started researching photocopying directly onto fabric but it seems expensive. But the effect is nice).
I have to mention that being the subject of an upcoming fundraiser (to help defray some medically indicated financial obligations... like a hefty deductible) have made me feel awkward. Let's face it: I need the help (thanks to all who have donated thus far!) and as an artist, I love being the center of attention. But there is the peculiar sense of having been turned into one of "Jerry's kids". (Remember he of telethon fame? The one weird fact I know about Jerry Lewis is that he wears a new pair of socks everyday and donates his used ones. Whether washed or not, I can't say. And the French love him...) I really don't want to feel at a disadvantage or that the work I'm producing is entirely therapeutic.
On some level, the making of all these beaded eyes (beady eyes) is a way of working out my preoccupation with sight and that makes sense. I guess I hope that this whole experience makes me a "better" artist in that I'm more in tune with my vision (all kinds) and more fully able to express it in whatever means I have available. I am putting some of my work up, on display at the fundraiser as a way of gently reminding supporters that I have done a huge body of work over the years (some good, some odd and some down right weird!)
I sure hope that people will attend my benefit and have fun, first and foremost. I am really touched by all the work and effort that are being done on my behalf. Family and friends are very generous!

Artistic Blockage of the Worst Sort

I knew that moving was going to disrupt the artistic process of both Bob and myself but I had no idea just how monstrously! We spent so much time disassembling and boxing not only our house, but the contents of two studios (and those extensive gardens...) Then we camped out- sans studio space- in the dead of winter. Not to belabor the obvious, as laid out in excruciating detail in my previous blog postings, but moving is and has been hell. It also unseated a deep seated stability or sense of place so important to artists like us.
Some artists are paripatetic and seem to be able to create work on the fly. I hear about these artists, but perhaps they're like yetis or Big Foot- makes for a good story but they don't actually exist. I think a sense of place and a studio home base are essential ingredients for many artists.
So I'm kind of blocked. This has only occurred a few tragic times in my adult life. I realize with the deepest part of my being that this is a temporary blip in the bigger picture, but it sucks. The other day, I was feeling so strung out and melodramatic...
But I had a revelation or an epiphany, and I know that it probably seems obvious to anyone else, but we have to re-invent that sense of place here. So I got busy, not with emptying the thousandth box but with planting our garden. Quite literally for me, it's all about digging in the dirt and creating our environment.
I'm feeling so much better now; tired in that truly filthy, dirt under the fingernails, muscles aching from shovels impacting rocks way. But better.
By the way, that picture is of our main mixed border back at the old address. I guess we have a long way to go as that photo is of a garden that's been under cultivation for eighteen years! But I'm psyched,

Studio Time

I am finally getting some time in my studio. What with moving and re-moving and not being able to locate anything (including both art materials and my art-making brain) there has been no time for Bob or me to actually make art. I suppose the irony here is that I've always maintained that if I never made another piece of art, I'd have plenty to show for the next hundred years. Ha! I had the opportunity to show four times this winter thereby proved my point... but it didn't make not producing any new work any easier. And exactly why is it that the very things we love to do and NEED to do (for mental and spiritual hygiene) are always the things that get shunted to the side in favor of questionable activities like paying bills and going to work?
So it is with trembling hands and twitching facial features (and what the hell! throw in the occasional bead of spittle flying from my lips) that I try and martial my spiritual forces, line all my muses up in a row and get to work. Looks awful, feels great.
How's that for an unappealing portrait of the artist as as middle-aged crank?