Cosmetics

Last day before the packing and move to our new home. I spent ten hours yesterday painting the walls, and two days of painting the ceiling before that, of the living room. Next are three smaller, thankfully, rooms to be painted and wallpaper to be taken down, also sanding and varnishing the living room floor. After this I'll look forward to collapsing and hopefully my right hand will survive to go back to do more painting and drawing! I have so much respect for those who do this kind of work for a living. It can be very Zen though, rolling the paint roller back and forth for hours. Wax on, wax off...and I wax on when I should be getting ready. Just to let you, my imaginary audience, know I will be internetless for three weeks. Sounds like a good excuse to find a nice internet cafe, have a warm drink and get away from all the physical labor...but it's Off to the races! for now. Toodles, Kim

That Lovin' Feeling

Not being one for New Year's Resolutions, I didn't make a list. I do all that stuff on my birthday, yearly review, assessment of goals met and new ones to achieve etc., so I'm gonna put that off till February. That didn't stop me from waking up this morning and feeling I needed, nonetheless, to start the New Year on the right note. Hold your breath and don't laugh, but that note is LOVE. No, I didn't join a commune or find a new (or old) god or anything like that. Though, I will confess to being a child of the late 60's born and partially raised (having been dragged kicking and screaming to the Midwest at the tender age of 10) in California.

I've always believed in love, the whole concept of acting in love. I was thrilled when one day, around six years old, my sister let me borrow her LOVE pin. It was a huge circle with those letters emblazoned in psychedelic purple and hot pink. I sat in my favorite big red leather reading chair while all the kids laughed at me and I was undaunted. I believed! That didn't stop me from being a hell raiser, but the concept was planted. Later, in college, I was a leader of a Circle K group, a student service group, and went to a conference on leadership. All the leaders were asked to step out of the room and come up with their concept for leadership summed up in one word. You guessed it, I picked LOVE. Each one of us had to re-enter the room and the audience reacted to our proposal in a predetermined way, unbeknownst to us. The audience was told to react in a certain way, no matter what the word, to show (I guess) how audience participation affects a situation or something...mine booed and hissed, oh and threw paper balls. Nonetheless, and again undaunted, I plowed on with my speech and in the end they were forced to admit their ploy.

So anyway, back to the resolution. The idea anyway, is that I will act more loving...to family, friend (furry and otherwise) and also to myself. This doesn't mean I'm going to get up every morning, make breakfast and eggs and wear a pinafore. I'm not talking Stepford Wives. Just, instead of waking up and complaining how I feel, I'll look for something more positive. I'll try and make the morning stress free so my husband can get off to work without my list of worries on his mind. I'll try and keep up with old friends and pay attention to how I react to new ones, friends and strangers. I'll not beat myself up for putting on a half kilo or not becoming Rembrandt overnight. I'll take time for what matters and try not to sweat the small stuff or invent big stuff.

It won't be easy. I'll need a reminder of some sort regularly. I read somewhere that some have a bell rung every so often to remind them to be mindful. Hmmm...maybe a talisman of some sort...I'll think on that. Anyway, that's the gist. Love is all ya' need.

Cheers! 2008

Well, it’s New Year’s Eve here and WWIII...at least that’s what it sounds like, or will soon outside. There’s a time honored tradition in The Netherlands to light many many huge, and I mean HUGE firecrackers on your home soil. Stuff that in America would be way, way illegal. It is SPECTACULAR, OVER THE TOP lights, color and screech, bang, pop and sizzle. Kids start with the small stuff during the day and it mounts to the crescendo at midnight till probably around one or so, trickling pops and bangs throughout the night and into the next day.

Leon, my English Springer, brave soul that he is in any other situation, is TERRIFIED. Since he heard the first one a couple of days ago (just practice, mind you) he has been waking me up in the middle of the night several times for comfort. Tonight I walked him at the last light while firecrackers were set off at unknown mysterious locations, seemingly under his feet. Must have been, because he was bouncing up and down all around the block. Kisses, pleading and body blocking were also tried to get me to turn around towards home. Our original purpose for walking was forgotten for the one all powerful, getting to safety! We made it home and he is now lying asleep in his bed, safe. How can he sleep, you ask? Well, he had a little chemical help, plus today we went on a nice walk in the park (where no fireworks were being exploded).

Actually, he’s more relaxed than the cat, Mokimo. I think animals become sensitized to these things, because this is the first year, after five of living here, that she decided there must be a Cat-Eating Dragon outside. She’s keeping low to the ground and alert. I have explained to her that no Dragons will get past me so she’s staying nearby.

In spite of it all, at midnight I will go outside to brave the Dragon and bombs to say Happy New Year to my friends and neighbors, then run back inside to my safe furry family and husband, now to be known as the Oyster Opening Champion. As I write he is opening two dozen oysters to the sounds of Willie Bobo in happy contentment. So CHEERS! and here’s to a peaceful, productive and fufilling New Year, one and all!

Home Improvement

Today was spent choosing flooring for our new apartment, well, just two small rooms of it. What does this have to do with art, you might ask? Well, nothing except that is what I'll be doing the next few weeks, getting things ready for the big move. Next is buying paint and then, painting the walls. Not all of them, thank heavens. Just the orange bedroom and the two small rooms.

Hey, some people like orange. When I was about, um, ten I wanted my room to be painted orange, bright orange. I settled for some sort of plaid with orange in it, and lime green. Cheerful. Somehow though, later in life I got a little too much of orange and now I just can't deal. Maybe it was teaching art and having a room with orange shelving on Halloween when everything becomes orange, or maybe it's that orange is the National color in the Netherlands so I see a bit too much of it. This is a nice orange though, a kind of burnt orange. I could see it with some deep turquoise somehow, but perhaps not in the bedroom. One of the small rooms has giant daisy wallpaper. I could live with that maybe, but the office is going in there, so perhaps too much going on. Lovely for a kids room though, which is what it was.

So, what color does an artist paint her walls? Well...I think I'm going for an off-white, eggshell. Not so exciting, but you have to realize that paintings and other art is going up there, so it mustn't clash. Sigh...there goes all the books I've bought on faux painting and wall textures. Maybe I could do something creative to the water closet. Like you could walk in there and feel you had been transported to a different place...hmmm...I'll have to think about that.

My favorite bathroom was designed by my old roommate, Bill Stufflebeem. He made it kind of South American Catholic kitsch, including rosary. It was off of the kitchen, which was like the interior of a Chinese restaurant. Definitely one of my favorite places to live in. I moved in because, when I went for the interview, the place smelled like patchouli. I kinda have a thing for that smell. Like a moth to a flame. Then I saw the decor and knew it was for me. Not to mention that the garden was a wonderful Eden thanks to Bill's green thumb. The balcony was like being in a green cocoon. On more than one occasion, I awoke to find a new Ikibana arrangement he had made in the nite. And once, on a bad day I came back to my room to find a perfumed arrangement of Magnolia blossoms. Now that is one guy with a sense of beauty. He once told me that when he stayed in hotels he would rearrange the furniture and make a flower arrangement. If they were smart, the hotel people left it.

So, if you hear from me, and you just might, be indulgent as I go through the trials and tribulations of feathering my nest, or rather, building it so that when the feathers fly all will settle in a cozy configuration.

Watch the Bouncing Ball

Bounce, bounce, bounce...yes, I dropped the ball for a while, but hopefully I can get it back in play. Everything became very intense when I got back to the Netherlands. A huge cold set me back on my painting for three weeks so when that was over I was bent to the grindstone for some time. Just finished it...keep posted for the picture to come. I'm having some trouble with my optimizer on my resizing now. I learned tons! My friend Hakim has asked me if I am satisfied. My answer, "I feel I can do better." Still, I'm not completely dissatisfied with the the results. When I get it up here, I'll give you a list of the things I think I learned and what I might do better next time. I know, it's a bummer waiting...

In the meantime, the New Year is around the corner and so is our big move! Two more weeks...aaagh! Got that painting finished just in time. That's three, now four, times I've typed "time" in this short post. I guess that's on my mind. "Time keeps on slippin'...into the future." So true, even if it is cliche. I'm trying to remember to be "in the moment" or "mindful". When my head stops spinning I can do it. I find that a cat on your stomach helps. Something about that is so "present". Of course that requires reclining and she's warm and comfortable so that is conducive to napping...snorrrrre.

Whoops, so much for the present. I'm off to dreamland. Which is weirder and weirder, if that is possible. I'm one of the lucky few that actually remembers all the details of her dreams, including taste, touch, and smell, yes smell. Lots of flying of late. Hey, it's the quickest mode of transportation in dreams. Guess I'm in a hurry these days. Ok, question, for those of you who dream of flying, what is your modus operandi for take-off? I used to flap my arms, then there was jumping till I got so high I reached the sky (d'ya think that was inspired by Miss Mary Mac?), and now I just seem to glide off. I can do some amazing soaring and daring-do in the air. I used to get a kinda nervous excitement about taking those big swoops from great heights, but I seem just to be enjoying it more now. Of course there are dangers, like nets and interwoven tree branches. Still, overall it's a great way to travel.

Well, back to the "moment". Here I sit in front of the computer while nature is beckoning me outside, so I'm off for my morning walk. I'll post pictures soon, really, really. I have so much to show you! Now, where did that ball bounce to....?

Revelations

I'm back from America and my grandfather's funeral. This is not my first touch with death by far, though each time it is a journey, at times arduous but in it's own way life-giving, for how much more can one appreciate life than when faced with it's final chapter? We have this vessel, into which we pour all our experiences and then one day the vessel is empty. Where does all that experience and knowledge, wisdom and folly go? The very nature of existence has caused man to invent answers and defend those answers sometimes by the sword.

When I was six years old I lost someone whose presence I never doubted to be in. In that moment I awoke, I began to see and hear and know the miracle that we are alive. To be given the gift of awareness of one's own existence at that age is a revelation.

That we live in this form that breathes, thinks, creates language and so many, many other things, is truly a privilege. Forget how or even why we are here or what happens when we are not, and see this: that we exist, now, in this moment in time. Open your hand in front of your face and look at it, look at the space around it, feel and hear the air come into and go out of your lungs and know that at this moment, right now, you are here. Amazing.

So I choose, at this time of grieving, not to dwell on what has been lost, but what was given, giving what I can in return, and accepting gratefully this gift of life, filling this vessel. My goal is that my glass will be more than half full, it will be brimming over, and in the end when it is spilled, know that I have savored every drop, bitter and sweet.

Life and Death

My grandfather, the patriarch of our famil, died yesterday. As always with these brushes with death I think, or rethink, what I am doing with my time, my life. This moment. Well, this moment I am writing to you, an invisible audience, in my effort to make sense of it all, life, the Big Picture.

Recently a friend of mine was having to make a major career/life decision. I gave her the best advice I ever got: Ask your self "What if I knew I was going to be run over by a truck tomorrow(ie. die), what would I do today?" Those words, said to me by a mentor years ago when I was also struggling to figure out what to do with my life, are the reason I'm doing art today. So, in light of these present circumstances, do I still feel that way? Yup. More so. I want to put my whole heart into it, I shall, I do.

You might think this a little self-absorbed (as writing a blog is too somewhat) and it is. And it isn't. On the self side, it keeps me sane, brings me a sense of peace, meditation, equilibrium. It can also challenge me and frustrate me, but, call me crazy, I think that's fun. On what I hope to be the more altruistic side, I hope that it makes me a better person to others and also that I am contributing to beauty in the world, though that is of course debatable. My ego isn't so fragile that I can't take a few punches there.

I am indeed thinking how I can give more though. I do feel a need to contribute and believe I can do so through teaching. When, to whom, and how I need to decide. I'm lucky enough to have a venue now, so that main part is at least not a worry. Anyway, in the meantime, I'll be taking a week off to visit family, so it might be a bit before I get back to this blog. Not that I'm the most regular in posting. I think I'll use the time off to explore this teaching idea and a few other goals. We're only here a short time and as long as my truck hasn't passed yet, I'm going to be doing art and sharing what I can from that trip.

Courage

Ok! I started this entry this morning and, thanks to my usual computer karma, am just now getting back to the keyboard. Yes, I am one of THOSE, technologically challenged. As soon as I get near a computer, poltergeists from far and wide rush to the aid of our normal house poltergeist (the one who misplaces important papers) and cause havoc never before seen on our system. Luckily, I have a patient husband who is not challenged and can unravel the damage done. And it's not just our computer. I once went to buy train tickets and ALL the computers in the ticket office SHUT DOWN. Watches also tend to stop working when worn by my sensitive electrode-producing skin. I once worked as a cashier also on a computer-operated cash register. When first learning the workings of the machine, it broke down. This is apparently normal with newbie cashiers. What was not normal was that it took ALL the managers to fix it, each one commenting that they had NEVER seen such a problem before. Coincidence? I think not. Nonetheless, I brave the odds and continue to post here and elsewhere. I should really be wearing a juju.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, I wanted to touch on the subject of courage. Normally, one might think of that word for feats of strength, endurance, emotional and physical. What I'm looking for is the courage it takes to face EVERY DAY. Ok, that's easy, you say, first get out of bed... Yeah, yeah, when you have a "real" job to go to. (Not that I'm sayin' that's easy either, but you kinda hafta go or lose your job and get a new one.)

I'm talkin' 'bout the entrepreneur, farmer, painter, the one who is her/his own boss. Even when you're a farmer you have someone depending on you to show up, plants or animals. But what if all you have is a canvas, empty or begun, to face? I'm tellin' ya, it's like looking into your face for hours and examining who you are in minute detail. There's all those voices in the background, the ones that say it's not good enough, that you're wasting your time, that you should go out and get that coveted "real" job. (Why not? In America, when I told people I was an artist, the response was always, "and what do you do for a living?") Granted, I am one of the lucky ones. I don't have to live, for the moment, off of what I create. But I do have that as a goal, albeit secondary to making really, really beautiful art. (Those that do have to make money have that extra pressure of making it saleable. )

That's where art is like religion. You just have to BELIEVE. Believe it is worth it to make more beauty or make something that reaches out to others and makes them think and/or feel and believe that you, yes you, are the one that can do it. Some days, it ain't so easy folks. Days when it is grey and rainy (pretty frequent here in the Lower Countries) or you're just a little tired, or your feet hurt from standing on cement all day (the floor in my studio). Some days you just have to go. The pay off is that once I'm there, all that stuff becomes a blur as I paint or draw, create. So, I guess what I'm sayin' is yeah, I'm lucky to be an artist, lucky that I can do that all day, but it takes COURAGE. Worth it though, definitely worth it.

Dressed for Success

This weekend I began the big chore of getting rid of things before the move. Starting with my closet. Most people who see me today would think I only own a few jeans and paint spattered sweatshirt, t-shirts and a few dress clothes. Wrong. In college I began an addiction to buying clothes second hand. Lots of these clothes have come with me and also ones that I have been given. Mostly, in the last, I don't know, twenty years I haven't spent much on clothes.

So where do they all come from? Well, Mom was a great seamstress and decided to make me a bunch of skirts before I went off to college. I still have those, plus a skirt she made me when I was sixteen. I'm pleased to say I still fit in all of them, but would I wear them? Well, first the skirt from sixteen is going. I will never wear orange paisley, let's face it. Then there's a print skirt I took from Mom's closet when she died. Most of her clothing wasn't salvageable because she was a major smoker, but this was. Thought I would wear it. That was, what, five years, six ago? Haven't worn it, it's going. Then there's a myriad of clothes I got second hand with a kind of wistful nostalgia for the faded, which has now also faded. Then there's the belts Ron gave me before he died, which I said I would wear. Didn't, out they go. And the list grows.

I still need to be tougher with myself. I read that it's a good idea to cluster groups of clothes that go together. That's the next step. I'll put together a few outfits that I think I really will wear. What is truly at issue here is a question of identity. Just who do I think I am? Well, most of the time I'm a painter so most of these clothes are just silly. Still, when shopping or going out with "normal" people, a few less paint streaks might come in handy. I mention the shopping because I went to get some hair accessories from Claire's boutique one day. There were two prices on the package, one more than the other because it was a transfer from pounds. Anyway, the cashier pointed out to me the higher price was the right one and then waited...as if I couldn't afford it and I would put it back. Fooled her though, I bought them. Afterwards, I saw myself in a mirror and realized I was dressed for the studio. Not that I care about how much money people think I have. I actually found that fun.

Then there's the fifties-style dresses that I got second hand, or handed down. Those are the tough ones. I love that fitted bodice and bigger skirt. Still, I haven't worn one of those since living in DC! Basically, I'm looking for comfortable but not too sloppy in neutrals though sometimes with a little flash of color. That kind of knocks out many of the skirts mom made me. They're more for business. Maybe one or two of the best would be enough to "suit" me.

Finally, once I get it all pared down, there will be nothing else left to do but...go shopping! (This, folks, is very tongue in cheek as I haven't been much in the last years, as I mentioned, and basically go into cardiac arrest when I see the prices, promise myself to become a better seamstress, and run home.) But, for now, I'm off to the studio, so...on go the paint-stained jeans, holey t-shirt, and frayed sweater...aaah, now that's who I really am. Fashion mogul I'm not, but ready to do art, yes!

Distractions

This summer has had a lot going on so I'm hoping Fall will give me the time to reflect and get back to what is primary to my existence, which is making good art. I forget that sometimes, life throws me these curve balls and I follow their direction till, before you know it, I'm way out in left field. June and July were full of personal issues and then in August we went on vacation. I got that painting done which you see posted, but little else art wise. Well, that's not true really...I thought, read, and took photos for painting reference. But not real production. That brings up the question of whether constant production is the only way to improve. Many serious artists say yes. I think so too, though time is needed to feed the creativity machine. Not too much though.

Now it's September and we're in the process of obtaining a new place to live, though in the same city. Whew! This, one week after getting back to the Lower Countries. My head is spinning! Kinda like channel surfing but not having the remote all the time. Time to get back to the center. The place where I can see clearly. Lately I've had this feeling of awareness of being yet one small dot in the whole universe, not a feeling of insignificance, but one of being part of a greater whole. This really helps to put things in perspective. All those little worries and distractions seem so much less significant. I'm going to share here a sort of poem I have kept for many years on my bulletin board. I found it while going through some papers though I'm not sure where it came from. It helps me when I lose track of what is really important.

Eskimo Song

And I think over again
My small adventures
When with the shore wind
I drifted out in my kayak
And I thought I was in danger
My fears
Those small ones
That I thought so big,
For all the vital thinks
I had to get and reach.

And yet, there is only
One great thing,
The only thing:
To live to see in huts and on journeys
The great day that dawns
And the light that fills the world.

There, I feel better already. Don't you? Ciao, Kim

It's All In The Details

Here's some details from my previously posted painting, "Secret Garden":





Spent the day working again on my chili painting. Almost to the stage of adding color. Just a few more touches on the dead layer. Then I'll be finished and I think I'll take a short break by painting some small studies for my upcoming Open Studio day. It's the end of October so that gives me a good deadline to get the chili done. This is all theory though and of course the painting will tell me when it's really done. Already thinking of my next in this series of food/recipe paintings. Not telling yet, but I think it'll be a Fall theme. Missing painting outside in the sun already. As predicted, the rain has come so that has put a damper, so to speak, on plein air for the moment. I did pick up some nice acorns and acorn shells on a walk through the park with Leon though. Plenty of flowers still out but Fall is in the air. My favorite season, not to hot, not to cold, just right. Goldilocks ain't got 'nothin on me.