Studio life

Late afternoon, dark clouds and sun streaming through red and gold leaves. I have quite a view up here on the second floor. 

 

Today I had the boys to keep me company. Monty bumped me with his head every couple hours... "out, out". It is good for me to move around.

I'm finishing up the last 3 of 12 small paintings for the "Small Treasures" show at the Jacobs gallery. I keep making coasters. I'm possessed by making these little compositions. 

But, I think I need more naps, more reading, more research, more Chai tea, and more messing around.

We miss you already...

On Sunday we lost our dear friend Barbara to a long illness. We are very, very sad. Over the last few years we visited almost every day, shared meals and parties and a huge garage sale. People say how nice it was of us to help Barbara, but they don't understand. It wasn't that way at all. Putting out Barbara's trash can in exchange for  telling her about my life and having her listen and ask questions? I was on the winning end of that deal. 

Barbara was such a strong woman. She was tiny in stature, but resilient and determined. What did I love about her? The way she truly listened to me and to everyone she knew. The way she always remembered details about my life and asked me about them. Her sense of humor... huge. The way she cherished her family. That she loved Monty, my dog. I could go on and on.

When we moved here I was so happy to begin to know this woman who didn't have an ounce of homophobia, but just wanted to know us and understand our lives.

Ginger and Barbara were the best of friends and I was lucky enough to ride on the coat tails of their relationship. I already miss you so much Barbara.

Love, Janice

Happy Birthday Ginger!

Tomorrow we celebrate Ginger's 66th birthday. Happy Birthday my sweetest heart!

Simon, (the little white bichon) made this painting to let her know what he is thinking about!

In love

I wish you could see her in person...

Friends will be with us for the next week so no studio time. I made up for it this week. Painted and painted. 4 out of 12 small paintings done, I think.

Jentel (artist residency in Wyoming) asked me to come next week for a month! I'm on their alternate list. Couldn't go though... G is going to Florida and no one to watch the puppies. I really wanted a spot at that residency. I'm trying to look on the bright side that they thought I was good enough for the alternate list.

And how is your studio practice going?

When I was at Vermont Studio Center, visiting artist Timothy Hyman came to call on me in my studio space. In the last few weeks I have thought many times of something he said to me... "when you have a full time studio practice you will have to come face to face with what it is you are doing/want as an artist". At that time when studio time was something that happened in short pressured hours with much urgency I believed that I would always know my direction. By the time I got into my studio I was usually ready to explode with pent up energy and worked without a lot of thought. 

Is that good or bad? I think it was just the way it was. And now it's different. I've been working 25-30 hours a week in my little art haven. Here are some of the thoughts that have come into my head over and over.  I try not to dwell on negativity, but since ignoring my thoughts did no good I am now writing them down and looking for answers.

1. Why do this? What good is something you don't get paid for? 

2. Who do you think you are? (my personal fave)

3. You can't do anything as good as the works you have done in the past. (even if the past was yesterday!)

The list goes on, but you get the idea. 

I've been reading Squeak Carnwath's book, Painting is No Ordinary Object.  I have loved her paintings for a long time, but the essay in the book is really good. Many quotes to ponder that address all of the above questions and my incessant doubting mind.

"A painting reveals, covers and uncovers. It is the archeology of the mind. It is about the cosmology of the soul." -Squeak Carnwath

I have a large white piece of paper on the wall where I write down things and draw pictures. Yesterday I wrote: "I hope someone sees my painting and stops and imagines a story".