Tuesday. . . .WTF

It's Tuesday, September 29, 2010 and I am sitting in my (at home) studio with Tai-tai (my little black boy-cat) purring next to me in the chair. I wish I could feel as contented and secure as he does tonight.

Things are not always easy for a middle-aged woman in art school. First of all, I feel like I'm trudging through oatmeal a lot of the time. But, art work usually takes my mind off my quickly failing body and slowly unraveling mind.

What? Am I actually having a personal crises? WTF?

I got nothing accomplished today except for attending my art history class and dipping my wax positives in ceramic shell. I still need two more coats of the lovely icky, phosphorescent green coating, then two more coats of stucco. At that point they should be ready for the burn out furnace (where the wax gets burned out leaving a shell for the pouring of the molten metal.)

On Friday we do a metal pour. So bronze should be put into them then. At least that will get done this week.

And, after my last art history class of the week (tomorrow), I should get my little butt off to the painting studio.

I'll be starting the 'torn' series this week, or maybe the second installment of the 'interstices' series. Either way, those seem to be life defining terms.

Monday-not done but I'm posting anyway

I promised myself that I would no longer gulp down my lunch (yes, I know, it's 2:45 p.m.) salad like a milkshake than suffer the digestive repercussions later. I don't know if I'm going to live up to the promise since I seem to be doing everything in hyper-mode this last week.

Today, so far:

Art History class, which consisted of a slide presentation by the Professor on the masking traditions of Oceania. Some of this stuff I've seen already (Freshman and Sophomore years) but some of it was new, kind of humorous, and from my tweaked perspective very and interesting.

Of particular note, was the presentation on the Abalam people (I've probably got the name wrong) but, anyway, the men of this culture pride themselves on the growing of yams. In fact, they grow them so long (some much longer than the actual length of the men that grow them) that they dress them up in temples and worship them as anscestors or spirits.

Needless to say, this brings my whole belief that men (even in our so-called civilized culture) worship and revere things that are longer than they are wide.

Take for instance the Corvette or the Testarosa (my pet name for this car was the Testosterone) or most any sports car of world renown.

Untold numbers of men in our culture spend a large amount of time on the care and maintenance of their automobiles. When I was married, I once accused my ex-husband of spending more time rubbing the body of the car than he did mine.

But then, I wouldn't brake on command.

O.K., so I'm back now in the present time, or as Eckhart Tolle would call it, the eternal now.

The rest of the eternal now was spent in the painting studio where I have determined that at this point in my career I really suck at trying to attain a likeness of the same face I have looked at in the mirror for lo these fifty some-odd years. That should get better with time and practice (and, some patience on my part.)

After a bit of a frustrating time in the painting studio, I headed circuitously back home via the foundry where I stopped to add yet another coat to my toxic ceramic shell so it can be ready for a bronze pour sometime this week.

I'm home now, with a salad on one side of me as I type and a cat on the other side purring. There is nothing in this world as centering for me as the sound of a cat contentedly purring while I type away on this almost noiseless pad.

As soon as I clean up my garlic layden, sprout encrusted plate,I'll be off to the UPS store to return an impulse buy that I really don't need.

Perhaps I shall (and perhaps I shan't) type more later.

Peeved, Pooped and post-menapausal

Today: Seven hours at the foundry next to the wax pot (my absolute favorite place to be.)

I don't know why I do this to myself. These are the choices on this life quiz:

A. I need to produce work to get a grade
B. I'm a responsible grown adult
C. It is my choice to attend college
D. Despite numerous 'personal crises' I am still producing work
E. I am totally insane
F. None of the above

And, the winner is, (honestly) C, even though at times I have heard other students (of a much younger age) proclaim choice D and I frequently feel like I'm (insert choice E.)

Which is, of course, the subject of tonight's pet Peeve (with a capitol P.)

I've heard several times, in the last few weeks, about students who've been unable to make it to the studio to produce work because they were having a, (insert choice D from the life quiz, above) 'personal crises.'

So what, I want to know, exactly is a personal crises?

Is it different than say, an impersonal crises (which would mean, of course, that it is happening to someone else and doesn't effect me personally.)

The one time when I've actually inquired as to the nature of the other student's 'personal crises' (feigning actual compassion) the answer I've received was usually in the nature of boy/man problems.

If you'd like to know my advice about the vicissitudes of relationships you'll have to meander back to my September 6th post. There, I reveal previously unculled pearls of wisdom from the dawn of time.

So, looping back to the main theme of this diatribe: Peeved.

Yesterday, I heard, yet again that another one of my fellow students was having difficulty finishing a painting because of this common twenty-something malady.

And, momentarily (only momentarily), I sort of blew my usually (ha!) detached, in my-own-studio-corner-stance and told the other student that the, "world will not wait for your heart break." Not only will it not wait for your heartbreak, it was also not wait for your back ache (the second part I didn't actually say, but I felt it-in my back.)

Ah yes, I remember the days of pain, suffering and torment, (and this was only in my thirties) rising out of my dark bed, driving through the blinding snow for over an hour only to be greeted by grumbling, half-conscious corporate droans . . . wait, where am I going with this?

What I am hinting at is that daunting, dirty word; responsibility. Or, rather the lack thereof. There, I've said it in soon to be arcane language (since the English language as we now know it is swiftly going into the toilet.)

Now, I can put on my depends and be out of here with the rest of the old farts in the room.

Tomorrow I'll be painting so that should help adjust my attitude.

Goodnight nurse.

I am NOT Ironman 9 (or woman)

So, it's Fried-day night. And, I'm pooped.

Today I spent four hours (I'm not complaining) in the studio painting.

Here are the results of my labors:



Remember, these are 'works in progress' and, now that I look at them they really need a bit more work. It's very helpful to take pictures as I go along then I can see what needs to be worked on from a more objective eye.

Sorry there's not much written here tonight. It's all I've got.

G'night.

Thursday P.M., and I insane?

That's when my day 'officially' started today, at 2 p.m. when I got my ass out of bed.

O.K., so that's not too good if I want to get anything substantial done in the studio, but that's really great if you're one of my cats and you just want to snuggle in bed.

But, I digress (something I do quite well, actually.)

I DID get three solid hours of painting done tonight. I'm still working on my three self-portraits and I'm going to continue exploring the mapping of my body tomorrow. Why not? I'm paying them for the privilege of painting so I'm going to paint what ever I want. Besides, I've got a lot of life material to work from.

I get a big kick out of the other students in my class who are waxing nostalgic on the 1950s (an era they never actually lived through.) They must believe 'things' (that is, life) was really better back then, in a 'simpler' time (you know, before iPods and Facebook and the internet, when people actually waited to communicate with one another or used ancient technology like the telephone.)

I could go on for a long time about nostalgia; the longing for things that are irreplaceable.

But were things really that good?

Back in the 1950s people died from cancer at an appallingly higher rate then they do now, the majority of women had a much more narrow career choice path, children lived under the constant threat of nuclear annialation, (remember the drills in grammar school when they lined us up against the walls of the basement preparing for an attack?) we played on metal jungle gyms over cement pads, didn't own bicycle helmets, and, doctors touted the benefits of smoking and drinking in the popular magazines and newspapers of the era.

How did humanity ever survive, let alone the child born in the good old 1950s?

So, things are insane in the world right now (and apparently in my head) because I am, despite all the common-sense notions of what a middle-aged woman 'should' be doing with her life right now, going to art school to get a BFA.

Do I trust that everything will turn out alright? I don't know tonight, but I do know that if I hadn't done this thing (attend college in my 50s) it would turn out to be one of my greatest regrets when I draw (I love that I get to use that word) my last breath on the planet.

So, as Walter Cronkite once said, "And that's the way it is."

Wax On - Wax Off

I ended my day at my most favorite of places; the wax working room at the foundry.

I was a bit frustrated because I couldn't get my wax bell-bowl sprued up to be put in shell and cast. I got my bracelet, the double-sided bell, and, a pendant that I popped out tonight attached up. I'll be back at the good old wax pot tomorrow morning getting everything (hopefully) ready for a bronze pour on Friday morning.

I had three (count 'em) three painting crits today. I survived completely through the first two individual crits but ran out of gas about 2 p.m. during the group crit (those can last so long that they can be absolutely painful) and I just had to run home and make myself a nice, big salad and some corn muffins. Man, that was good!

Both of my painting crits were very meaningful for me today. I felt a lot of validation for what I'm pursuing in paint. I thought I'd be painting a lot of vegetal things this year but I've ended up, instead, painting some self portraits.

It's interesting to note physical, as well as emotional and spiritual changes over time.

There have been a couple of times when I'm walking along and suddenly I'll see a piece of gray hair hanging down in my periferal vision, and then I'll realize, it's me! I'm the gray-haired person in my life, and it's a shock. Has this ever happened to you?

I've posted various of the three painting in progress, and I'll continue to do that, and not let my head get ahead (pardon the pun) of me. Things work much better for me when I manage to stay where I am.

A wise woman once said that a woman should paint her toenails red and then look down at her feet to remind herself of where she is. And sometimes I need to take that advice and use it on myself.

The weather was beautiful up here again today, except for a little rain storm in the afternoon. I don't know why, (and I'm not complaining) but I just love when it rains and there's a patch of sun streaming through the clouds.

So, there it is, the banal and the sublime in one short little posting.

Life is good.

Zombies and Flaming Pubic Hair-Art School

The young student that shares my painting studio space at school has a zombie obsession. Apparently, it's pretty popular with college-age people. At least that's what another student (who actually has 'normal' conversations with me) tells me.

So, along side my self-portraits there is a collection of zombie paintings and paintings of young girls (my studio mate's girlfriends) obviously taken with a camera, at extremely close proximity and curiously angled.

So, all these beautiful, young, Gothed-out faces stare back across the table set between us at my two self portraits and one torso (with 'flaming' pubic hair.)

Hey, so who am I to criticize zombie paintings?

It's art school and the body is beautiful, and, I'm also an extremely cheap model. So, in the privacy of my own studio at home, I took some nudes of myself holding a broken old empty bird's next in front of my crotch. I guess subtlety in symbolism isn't one of my things.

Tomorrow I have three (count 'em) three crits, (art school lingo for critiques) one right after the other. So, by about 1 p.m. tomorrow my eyeballs should be filled with the latest art school images (whatever they end up being.)

I'm keeping it short tonight and including some shots of the foundry wax working area (including the infamous Primordial Ooze-Wax pot) and works in progress in my studio.



To the left of the wax pot in the above picture are three items that will be put onto the sprue and cup set up sitting on the table. The three items are a mold for a bracelet, a bell-bowl, and a double bell.

The next picture is of the wax pot itself. I thought it deserved it's own personal shot since it was the sight of my fishing expedition to find one half of a silicone mold that fell into the wax (and possibly the remains of Jimmy Hoffa.) Isn't it just lovely?



Next up, is the work in progress oil painting I'm calling 'empty nest.' As you can see my pubic hairs do appear to be on fire (which I actually find hilarious) a situation that has since been remedied by the application of some additional paint. Sorry, I haven't taken a picture yet because it's still a work in progress, and, I wanted to get home.



Finally, I'm posting a picture of one view out the window of my studio. As you can see the trees are beginning to burn (not unlike my crotch) with fall colors. The roof seen in the pictures is located over the outdoor kilns. Alfred U is the #1 ceramics school in the country.

And yes, I am studying painting here. Go figure.

Well then, now that I've updated you on the artistic highlights of my day I'm going to get my self all comfy and ready for bed.

As Scarlet O'Hara once said, "After all, tomorrow is another day." [Fade in theme from GWTW here.]

Sunday, soon to be Manic Monday

So, I have to get to bed and rest my lovely middle-aged arss (no, I didn't misspell that.)

Today started off painfully. I slept late because I can (my apologies to those of you that have young children.)

I decided that the first thing I should do (after the customary moaning and groaning upon getting out of bed) was to get into my 'day time' clothing so that I would not end up hanging around in my PJs all day.

After getting dressed, I looked out the kitchen window of the house and saw my neighbor (the farmer's wife-literally) picking raspberries in the back yard. I hadn't seen her in a while so I went out to chat and help her out (also, I love fresh raspberries.)

I ended up picking a pint of raspberries for myself. I also ended up eating half of the pint myself . . .snorf, snorf.

And no, once again, I didn't make it to the studio, but I did work on my presentation for Tuesday in Art History.

What does this all mean for my week? Well, let's see . . . .

Art History class tomorrow morning, followed by a brief trip to the painting studio, then (you know it) lunch, followed by my bi-monthly meeting at the foundry with my professor at 3 p.m. We'll be going over in work progress. I know I haven't done enough . .

I'm two thirds of the way through the presentation I have to do on Tuesday morning. I probably could have finished it tonight but I just couldn't get myself motivated to do it.

With my energy level so low and me in constant pain I'm having just a bit of a problem being motivated.

Happy Manic Monday. Since it's now after midnight I can truly say that.

So, off to bed with me and I'll report more tomorrow.

I'll post some pictures tomorrow night-I promise.

Post-Toast

So, I survived. I'm still feeling a bit crunchy around the edges but I haven't crumbled yet.

Were you worried?

It's now past 11 o'clock (p.m.) and I promised myself I'd post to this blog today.

Today I spent five or six hours in the foundry sitting around the wax pot doing God-knows-what.

Actually, I finished up my bell bowl, my double bell (two sides) and made a wax positive of a simple cuff bracelet I'm going to cast in bronze (as if I really needed another bracelet.) I just thought it would be a nice keepsake. So far, it's just unadorned and I think I'll leave it that way (at least for now.)

I'm also going to start putting together some kind of mobile. I don't know if it will work, but I'm giving it a shot.

I meant to take some picture of the groovy surroundings at the foundry. For a foundry it's actually a nice place. I mean, it's filthy dirty and it probably would absolutely 'scheeve' my mother but the wax room is a palace compared to the way it was last year.

Why am I telling you this?

I guess I've lowered my standards on a lot of things to get the artwork done baby!

At one time I paid to have my nails and toes done. Now I scrape the grubby brown modeling wax out from under the remnants of my nails with a left over cuticle scissor. And, I don't care!

Late this afternoon, when I got home from the pristine foundry, I was getting ready to sit down for dinner (George was just finishing it up-nice, eh?) and as the shafts of fleeting sunlight poured through the diningroom window I suddenly saw the most huge, dusty spider web connecting the old sewing machine in the corner with the wall. Euww!

So, what did I do?

Well, at first I inwardly shuttered at the decline of my domestic diva skills. Then, I gently wiped away the cobweb and sat down to space out and have dinner with my partner. This makes me think of a friend of mine named Ruth (who passed on a couple of years ago) who once (and, probably more than once) said, "I refuse to chase dirt around my entire life only to have it heaped on top of me when I die."

Thank you Ruth, for your wisdom and your friendship. I will never forget you, your spirit, or your pet pig, P.J. (another story for another time, I guess.)

Tonight I've finally gotten around to working on my Powerpoint presentation, work sheet and short paper for art history. The presentation is due on Tuesday (along with the paper and worksheet) and I don't usually wait this long to get things done, but oh well. . .

I guess I'm becoming a true senior-senior in that I can't wait until this last academic class is over and I can concentrate on my studios.

I thought I had my camera in here. I remember, (somewhere in the fog of two days ago) that I actually took a couple of pictures in the painting studio. But, I guess I left the bag with all the art stuff (mostly stuff to use in the foundry) in the car and I'm just too pooped right now to go out and get it.

On tomorrow's agenda:

1. Finish the %$* presentation and paper
2. Get to my painting studio

I Am Toast

Yes folks, I almost spontaneously combusted today.

I totally forgot that in order to maintain my sanity I must stay in the NOW (interestingly, also the title of the Eckhart Tolle book I currently attempting to read.)

So, nothing happens by accident, trite as that may sound to you (or me.)

My day started at my physician's office, where spontaneous tears burst forth from my 100% waterproof mascaraed eyes. No runs. No drips. No errors.

Apparently I am not the spiritually ascended being that I thought I was, well at least not today. But then, even Jesus had bad days. Remember Gethesmane where he supposedly perspired in blood?

From the standpoint of sheer drama, it was a good thing that antiperspirants hadn't been invented yet.

I had not intended to weild my greatest emotional weapon (tears) at the doctor, it just turned out that way.

The poor man, even with all his medical training, he was not up to the task of 'dealing' with a slowly melting, middle-aged college student crumbling under the pressure of her senior-senior year in school. He would do ANYTHING, (medically neccessary of course) to close down the water works.

I left the office with a six-weeks supply of a new 'multi-tasking' antidepressant with a fancy sounding designer-drug name. And off I went back to the Foundry armed with the latest in high-tech pharmaceutical weapons.

I was supposed to be working on a short paper for art history (here we go again, bad-bad student.) That didn't happen. Instead I opted for some nice, calming bubble-bath therapy (yes, I can be my own physician at times.)

Tomorrow I promised myself that I'd make it to the painting studio (my first art-priority.)

My day has almost ended, but not without a few phone calls to family and dear friends back in my home state of CT (jeez, I only live five hours away, you would think I lived in Siberia.)

O.K., so now it's time for some 'nice' bedtime tea.

G'night Ladies and Germs.

Hump Day

The classic Wednesday euphemism. . . . I need to get over this day, for sure.

I don't know what to say about this day. I guess I'm not having a 'good attitude' day.

My hands hurt (tendonitis, trigger fingers, pains in the wrist) oh, and I forgot about the constant grinding neck and stomach pain.

I have an appointment with my local Doc tomorrow morning, so I can ask him what he considers good patient care. I guess I should get it to bed soon.

I did get to the studio today and painted for a few hours, then stopped off at the foundry (thankfully, there was someone there to help me lift a plaster mold out of the big barrel of water) to fill wax in my sprew and runner mold for metal casting.

For those who are wondering (if anyone is actually reading this blog) there is a whole process for making the wax mold, with cup and runners which allows the molten metal to be poured into the (eventually when I get it made) ceramic mold.

OMG, I having one of those nights when I feel completely overwhelmed by my slowly disintegrating body!

I apologize for sounding so frustrated and ragged out. It's probably only because that's how I'm feeling.

Hopefully, tomorrow will be a better day.

Long Day's Journey Into the Library

My day started as most usually do, with getting out of bed. The first time I did this was 9 a.m. when my cell phone alarm went off. Then, I promptly turned it off (as soon as I could get to the bathroom, (since my newest strategy is to not have it charging next to the bed because I tend to turn it off and go back to sleep) and reset it for an hour later.

Mornings are usually a blur for me unless I get outside into the yard and work. Otherwise, I just feel like I'm rushing around to get out the door.

The studio day actually started at the foundry where I finally got to use a plaster mold to make a wax bowl to later be cast in bronze. But, I had forgotten to bring the cool tool I had made for me at school. It's a nice flat aluminum plate with handles that I can flatten out my waxes nicely on.

I stayed at the foundry for about two hours and then decided to drive up to the main campus. My plan was to go to the painting studio (the place where I usually want to be) and get a little work done and then head over to the library.

But, something was bugging me about this research project/presentation that I have to deliver next week.

That something was probably that I realize that I am in no way ready for it! On top of this stunning realization they are having us use the Chicago Style Manual for the papers and it's a lot more complicated that the MLA version. In fact, this style reminds me of papers I had to write back in High School (you know the early 70s?) with the end notes, foot notes, and ibid, my old friend. yuk!

So, I never got out of the library between looking up two good references and figuring out the stinkin' Chicago Style.

Here's some progress pictures from my painting studio. I'm working on three self-portraits.



There are two self-portraits in progress on the wall and the piece between them is actually a mirror reflection of the painting I'm doing across from those two.

So, I'd better organize my time tomorrow or I'm going to be cramming all sort of shit together for next weeks crits. OY!

Saturday Slump-Brownie Hangover?

I took the day off today because my body told me to. And, since I've become more acquainted with aging and illness (I hate to admit this because my spirit feels so young) I've learned to be a better listener.

I'm not admitting that I enjoy the set backs of aging but, to quote a well worn phrase, IT IS WHAT IT IS.

I spent most of the day in the horizontal position (on the couch and on the cell phone.)

I'm so grateful that my cell phone plan features unlimited week end minutes!

I'm also grateful that I have a list of pretty wonderful women (of all ages) who I can call.

I look at this day as a blessing in every way because my aging body made me put the brakes on my life for a day, and, my long-time partner, George puts little demands on my life so I'm able to do what I need to do for the day.

My heart feels large tonight. No matter what is going on with my body, life is truly good.

Senior Brownie Benefits

It is truly good to be a Senior (senior) at Alfred University.

Today, three thoughtful fellow students, Shannon, Avery and Steve, (whose identities are being somewhat protected by the omission of their last names) decided it will be a really great gift to the senior class for them to bake and deliver brownies to all the seniors! So, they personally baked and delivered brownies to over one hundred students. The brownies were complete with the students initials on top.

Here's my own personal brownie being presented to me by the lovely and talented Ms. Shannon (last name omitted for semi-privacy)



Isn't it just lovely? When I had my name legally changed, in 1999, after my divorce, I didn't really thoroughly consider the ramifications of my initials being LSD. To me it was LASD (LuAnn Sciglimpaglia Di Paglia).

The ITS department at the college I attend assigns a three letter e mail address, followed by a number, to each student. I wonder if anybody in ITS had a chuckle when they created my e mail address. And, the winner is: LSD1@ . . .looks great on the brownie too, doesn't it?

I didn't take any pictures today of my studio space (yes, I know, BAD artist) with the two self portraits (one based on my 1973 high school graduation photo) and one based on what I look like now. I'll post more of that tomorrow.

The brownies were delivered about mid-afternoon.

What else is happening in my little student universe?

The eagle shit today (I got the rest of my student refund which won't be around for long once I start paying off my bills) and I had way too much baked macaroni and chicken for dinner, thanks to George's culinary skills.

Once again, hats off to the crew that provided the special brownie delivery.

Here are Avery, Shannon and Steve, with the brownie cart, it's bright sign and their bright, shining faces.

Just looking at the picture makes me all warm and happy inside.

Of All the Possibilities in the Universe . . . .

Today, I found myself occupying in the most beautiful studio space at an art college, with my brushes in hand, a mirror and canvases on the wall.

What are the possibilities that this would be my day today, on September 10, 2010, at the age of fifty-four? Sometimes I just find myself dwelling on the impossibility, the sheer wonderfulness of it all.

I had a crit with one of my advisers today. I really like this lady. She has chutzpah! Besides being an art professor, she's got a husband, three children and recently got her pilot's license.

I love women that live a full life, that stretch their abilities, challenging themselves, stretching beyond their limits.

And, for me, flying is a metaphor for freedom and power. Flying, we are weightless, soaring bird-like, touching the stratosphere and literally (sometimes) turning our worlds up-side-down.

I'm so glad I have another focus in my life beyond my aging body. In my spirit, I am young, boundless and eternal. In my body I am aching, tired, and challenged.

Here is the dichotomy of my life.

But I am not complaining. I am not taking my life too seriously because (at least in this body) it is only a one act play. I laugh a lot at myself and my frailties and the general human condition.

Of course I do not like that my body is sagging, wrinkling and aching. But somehow, and I do not even understand how this is, I am loving myself more than I ever have. I am trusting my intuition. I feel as if I am finally opening up to the world.

Anyway, I put a few hours into my paintings. Here is where I am so far:



The one on the right looks very, very scary!

I left the studio and came home for a couple hour nap.

When I arrived in the driveway, George was on the tractor cutting the lawn. I headed up to bed, ostensibly for a short nap, and then I was planning on going back to the studio. But, that didn't happen. . .

When I awoke, there was a warm dinner waiting for me in the oven (shake-n-bake pork chops with mashed potatoes and green beans.) How wonderful!

George is off to bed already, my cat Beezer is snoring next to me on the chair in my studio.

Life is good. Life is sweet. Life is what it is.

Help! I'm trapped in a 54 year-old body!

So, today was a typical college day.

1. I slept too late and barely made it to class on time.
2. The class was boring and featured several African masquerade videos (same dance different, dust) I've seen before.
3. I had my first group crit today (about ten students in one shot had their art work up on the wall of shame) and it was too long and painful.
4. I ended up the day discussing sex, men and the futile pursuit of same with my fellow students (who are at least thirty years younger than me.) The more things change, the more they remain the same.
5. I realized, painfully, once again, that I am trapped in a fifty-four year-old body.
6. I still feel terribly sexy, even if I am starting to have a little belly and a wrinkle (or two.)
7. Yes, the beginning of my self-portrait (based on a 1973 high school picture) looks eerily like Michael Jackson (post surgeries.)
8. I think I like making bulleted lists. It looks like I've actually accomplished something with my day.
9. I haven't yet begun putting together my presentation for Art History on Senufo masquerades (due the week after next.)
10. I don't care that I haven't yet begun to put my presentation together.

10, count 'em, 10, the big TEN list from today, September 9, 2009, also the day that the Beatles remasters and (gag) digital game are being issued.

Ah, I remember when the white album was released. The album, later known as the white album originally wasn't just white.

My dad had the music store (1968?) in Stamford, CT and the album cover had John and Yoko on it. . . naked!

Perish the thought of their naked bodies adorning the cover of an album.

The album cover had a paper bag colored sleeve over it to hide their shame!

Did this actually happen, or am I reinventing history?

I don't know.

I kinda like my version though.

That's it!

I'm painting my nude body all over my senior show. GAWD4BIDIT!

Dredging in the Primordial Ooz

I finished my drawing only to find out that it was really only a warm up exercise and it's not really needed at our joint crit on Wednesday. So, I spent about a week working on a warm up exercise!

I started a self-portrait today. The first one is based on my high school (1973) graduation portrait, (which I chose, at the time, not to purchase because I thought it was too ugly) and the second one will be based on a current portrait of me. I'm going to try and replicate the same expression on my face now that was in the high school portrait. I don't know, I think I look sad, or shall we say winsome(?) in the high school picture.



I tried to post a picture of me now (which was really quite awful anyway) so I'm not even going to try that. I've got to get my middle aged butt to bed.

Here's the final drawing and a quick shot of my studio space with the beginnings of a self-portrait (from the 1973 high school portrait.)







Maybe I look so angry in that last self-portrait photo because I ended up the day at the foundry trying to fish half of a silicone mold out of the bottom of the wax pot. It fell out of my hand into the black ooz of unmentionable sludge that's used to make our wax molds.


I tried, in vain, to fish it out and in the process unearthed what looked like the remnants of a latex glove, a wooden handled metal scraper used to clean up wax, some unidentifiable globs of stuff, a metal strainer and possibly the bones of Jimmy Hoffa.

Oh, I forgot, Jimmy's holding up one of the pillars on the Pulaski Sky way.

Mind-numbing reading and WIP-still

O.K., so I didn't get the drawing, painting, whatever it is, done today.

I got up early, regurgitated (wrote) back to the professor some stuff I read for my art history class, ran off to class, went to the studio for a bit and worked on my art work, went up to the campus cafe (at 2 p.m.) and, had a 'sensible lunch' of soup and salad, (which was actually quite good) then, drove over to the foundry for my bi-weekly meeting with the sculpture (metal casting) professor, where I had to wait for an additional fifteen minutes out of my precious day, (because she was helping some juniors with their sand molds) then, drove back to the library where I had the pleasure of reading some mind-numbing book on African masking (which at first was MIA, so it took a while for the staff to find), and of course, while I was there waiting for the mind-numbing book on African masking, I took out three other books on art work so I could find some more ideas-examples for my painting studio. Did I just write that whole paragraph in one sentence? I think I did. . . .

I forgot my glasses today so it feels like my eyeballs are going to fall out after all that mind-numbing reading.

Now, I am home in my own little currently unused studio sitting between my two little 'fuzzy boys', Beezer and Tai-tai. I guess they've missed me being here all day. I know I certainly have.

Tomorrow, I'll probably have a similar routine without the trip to the foundry, where about fifteen wax bells sit waiting for my hands to transform them into some kind of metal work.

I, am a crazy woman! And, very tired.

BTW, I ran into the fellow student last night to whom I had dispensed my 'wisdom.' She actually thanked me for the advice.

Who woulda thunk!

Work In Progress, Nostalgia and Man Advice

Today's tasks at school included a trip to the Scholes Library to read some material for my "Arts of Transformation" class tomorrow morning at 11:30 a.m. The book is in the campus library on reserve because the library doesn't have enough storage space on its (WTF?) site to store the three chapters of the book we need for discussion in class.

Being a spoiled 21st century college student, I feel inconvenienced by not having on- line access to the book to be read at my leisure, at home in my fuzzy slippers and pajamas.

It wasn't too long ago when everyone had to trek to the library to get all of their reading and research materials. But then, that was in the good old days when we wrote our term papers in blood, on manual typewriters.

I got my reading done and now have good old fashioned notes that I am going to use to regurgitate some information onto paper so I can sound like a reasonably intelligent student in class tomorrow. A lot of college is just literary regurgitation which gives students practice for later employment in corporate life.

After library, I simply HAD to get something to eat before I went to the studio to 'toil' over my latest drawing.

I decided to drop off my notebook in my car.

Parked next to my car was the coolest old 1961 VW Bug I have seen in a long time. It was completely original and unrestored. Here's a picture (I took about ten different pictures of it.)



Suddenly, I started to wax all nostalgic about the bug and my own high school days and trips in that bug with my friend, John Ripple. I even called over a couple of students to look at it, rambling on about how 'cool' it was and un-restored and blah, blah, blah. I guess they both must think I'm a bit insane (as if they didn't already) and politely stood by while I ebulliently explained my enthusiasm (O.K., O.K., I plead alliteration guilt.)

Next, it was off to the local greasy spoon for a quick dinner before heading off to the studio.

In the 'Jet' (short for Collegiate Restaurant) the waitress, a former student, felt that she needed to tell me that she hadn't been 'around' (as in, actually in the studio painting) because she had a 'personal crises.'

So, I had to ask her what was wrong (knowing that usually, at her age, it was a boyfriend problem.) Why is it always the MAN thing?

She told me her boyfriend had broken up with her because he and her girlfriend (who denied there was anything going on between them) had started going out.

My response?

"Typical."

I guess that wasn't very sympathetic, but honestly, when you get to be my age this is one of the very minor tragedies in life. Someday she'll probably find that out for herself.

While I was eating my "Sunday night special" I thought, maybe I should write her a note, you know, give her the benefit of my wisdom.

I gave her an astounding tip ($2 on a $7 bill.) I figured that, being she works in a college town, that she probably gets stiffed a lot.

Here is the a synopsis of the advice I wrapped around her tip. I wish I had written the damn thing down because I thought it was rather good (humble as I am.)

Men are eternally young and clueless.
If you happen to find one that understands you then latch on to him like a flee on a dog. For now though, don't spend your time looking for him. Look instead to invest your time, youth, beauty and intelligence on getting to know yourself.

She'll probably think I'm crazy, or just a bitter middle-aged bag.

So, here's where I am in the current drawing. I've omitted some things that just didn't seem to work. I think tomorrow I should be done.



At least, I hope so.

Work in Progress

No, I'm not talking about me (although it is true that I can use more work, since God isn't through with me yet.)

So, I got to the studio today and worked on the drawing/painting some more. But, it's still not done. Here it is in the present state:



OMG! This was supposed to be a twelve-hour drawing. I think I've spent at least three times that amount on it. I am a fanatical, detail-obsessed individual.

After spending about four hours in the studio, I went to the foundry and made some wax bells to be cast in metal.

BTW, I got invited to a party tonight (another student's boy friend's birthday) but didn't go because I just couldn't bear the thought of being at a party (where I knew there would be pot) and having a bust happen. Wouldn't that just be embarrassing at the age of fifty-four and ten years sober? Fuhgetabowdit!

Now, I'm sitting here with my 'fat boy' Beezer (my favorite cat-I'll intro him some other night) in my studio and I'm looking at the drawing and my date book to see what's up next.

It's never boring . . .

Today is my Mother's 81st B-day! HB Mom!

And, I finally, finally told her (letter by letter) how to view my blog.

O.K., Mom, I love you to pieces BUT OY! LOL

So, here's the latest:

It's a beautiful Saturday morning and I'm off to the studio as soon as I get myself cleaned up and out of my PJs. I'd really rather stay home and work around the yard but I've got the usual list of things to do for school.

1. Complete the totally obsessive drawing/painting I'm currently working on for a next Wednesday crit (critique, to those not in the know) on September 9th.



2. Go to the library and do research for a presentation and reading for Monday's class
3. Go to the foundry and see if my silicon molds are ready to have wax poured in the (since I have another crit on Monday afternoon.)

I'd better get my butt into gear or I'm gonna be cooked.

A Little Bump In The Road

I haven't posted for a night or two because I've been trying to be sensible about my self-maintenance and get to bed at a decent hour so I don't feel so wiped out in the morning.

So, it's 2:35 a.m. (Thursday morning) as I post this. Obviously, sleep hasn't come to me tonight (this morning.)

I wasn't intending to write anything about today (yesterday, actually.)

Once again, my dear old friend insomnia has given me the options of lying in bed trying to fall asleep, lying in bed watching passive, vacuous T.V., or killing some time (before sleep actually comes) by posting on here.

Once again, it's only two weeks into the semester and I'm already feeling fried. Could this be because I am a raging insomniac? Or, could it be the pain in my hands, feet or neck? I'm sorry to complain but, you know, I'm human (nah, really?) and sometimes I get tired of being in pain.

So there, I've let some of the chronic health issues of a fifty-something woman out of the bag. It was bound to happen.

Right now I'm dealing with neck pain, classified by my primary care physician as "a little arthritis" (that I've been complaining about since the Summer before this past one) and I have trigger fingers in my right and left hands, tendinitis in both thumbs and I swear that something is going on with my wrists too because sometimes I get these sharp, stinging pains. . .ouch!

Now, considering that I began this whole academic journey at the tender age of fifty-one years-old, and even then was not the healthiest living human example on the block (or actually, field where I'm living NOW) I've done amazingly well.

The matter at hand (no pun intended) is that my hands have become a literal pain and this is not good for an artist whose hands are their tools.

But, I'll work my way around this some way.

Right now I'm in progress with a drawing that is driving me crazy. I can't seem to find a resolution for it. Perhaps I'll load some more images on to my thumb drive tonight to take to the studio with me tomorrow. And, I think I'm going to start another painting (this one in oils) just so I can get some space from the drawing.

More will be revealed.