Recovering

It’s been a crazy, difficult, wonderful and unbelievable year. On so many levels, change has happened whether I want it to or not. I’ve done my best to find my way in, around and through it all while still finding ways to create anyway. 

But sometimes, I’m forced to stop. My body had been showing me I needed rest, but I ignored it. There was just so much to do: hundreds of boxes to unpack, new rooms to redecorate and reorganize, cleaning, weeding, trimming and planting. Oh my. 

Too much stress leads to mess. 

Yup, my body was a mess. I have a chronic condition that is stress related and most of the time now, I can keep it under control. I had a harder time when my children were little understanding it and working with it but I’ve learned a lot over the years. 

I know when it’s usually going to crop up. I’m prepared with tools to help. But the biggest help is seeing it, accepting it and letting it run its course. Then it goes away in a week or two and all is well. This time around, I ignored all the signs. I pushed myself harder which created more stress and by the time I decided to listen, my usual tools weren’t enough. Finally, I went to the doctor. After suffering for months, I got a prescription and better tools which helped in a matter of days. 

Creative recovery. 

I don’t like to sit around but the window seat in the front room has a beautiful view. I can see the sky and clouds move, trees far and near, little hints of distant hills. So for a week or so, I sat. Watched the clouds move. Enjoyed the colors of the sky and distant trees. And listened to the crows talking. 

I planted flowers on my patio. Hung colored baskets of petunias. And even planted my garden which I’d thought would not get done in time, this year. I hung some art on the walls of my recovered home. In between it all, I did manage to get a few days in the studio. 

And finally, I had a weekend that felt normal, comfortable and, maybe, safe again. 

I can see faces in the clouds and trees and leaves again. 

And I look around and breathe and see, I’m home again.  

The Power of Paint

 

Early Tuesday morning, the call came announcing the painters had arrived! I jumped up, grabbed my paint chips and headed for the house. It’s not the first time the house has been painted, of course. But it’s the first time, since we built the house, that my husband and I weren’t doing it ourselves. Exciting and nerve racking. 

So making sure that the right colors got onto the right walls was very important. I had picked out three shades of gray (not 50, lol) to go on different walls in the three rooms of our open concept living space.

I also had the wood mantle redone in a satin black to tie into the black gas insert. And had the vaults painted in Polar Bear(the lightest gray/white) in the great room and up the stairs. I’m so glad my husband was not the one balancing a ladder on the stairs!

Uplifting change. 

Being greeted by the smell of fresh paint was wonderful. Looking up at the vaulted ceiling felt like looking at a white cloud filled sky. But the very best was seeing the change on the fireplace wall. Removing my once beloved red and repainting a gray was a big change that lightened the room. It also made the natural brick fireplace an interesting new focal point. 

The change in the dining nook area is very subtle. At first, I questioned by choice, but it grew on me. I realize that once the table, chairs and rug are back in place it will be a cozy nook. Where I can now use a variety of colors as accents.  

Inspiration to paint. 

While the house painters were hard at work, I picked up my own paint brushes. Since I can’t throw clay to ease my stress, I pulled out my old watercolors and paper. I had no idea or concept or landscape to render. My only goal: play. 

When I pulled out my brushes, I was greeted by old friends. My wash brush! I got this brush in my very first painting class with Charles Mulvey. I was only 16 years old(and the youngest in his class) but I loved it from the first. 

Painting a white watercolor paper with water, adding color and watching it flow still seems like magic. Splatting red and yellow from my brush is so fun. Adding salt and seeing it create all of those wonderful new spaces from pools of color is delight. 

Later, I added the black tree and bird. 

Pictured there on the paper were all my feelings: chaos, love, excitement, change. 

The tree with no roots: Me right now, floating in a sea of change trying to remain steady. 

But there is bright paint on my ceilings, like the bright colors on the watercolor sky.   

Cooking. Baking. Glazing. It’s All Art.

Way back when I started this blog, I was in the ‘in-between’. Oh, I didn’t know it then. All I saw then was yet another in a long line of changes in and around me. I was relieved, happy, exhausted and lost all at the same time. And I dealt with it in the only ways I knew how: walk, learn and create. 

I’ve learned a lot since then. I’m grateful and happy and, sometimes a little lost. But that’s ok because I can see the pattern. I know that this is how life, my life happens. Up. Down. And around. Rinse and repeat. 

One way to cope: cook. 

Ever since my grandmother taught me to make shortbread, I’ve cooked. I made cookies as a kid and went on to college level foods classes where I not only learned the chemistry of cooking but the value of good, healthy food.  

Today, as I wait for the newest kiln load to ‘cook’ to the glaze stage, I’m busy cooking in the kitchen. I’ve got a Moroccan Stew in the slow cooker and a Chocolate Chip Banana Cake ready for the oven. 

Baking clay. 

A big part of creating finished ceramics is firing. Whether you throw it or slap it or roll it out, clay has to be dried and baked and glazed to its finished form. 

Once the colored underglazes are added to clay, it’s baked. After bisque firing, I add more to my clay and bake it again. Then clear or more colored glazes are dipped, brushed or poured on and it’s baked again. 

While baking food requires similar skills, clay needs a lot more time. So when it does make it into the heat, I usually sweat it out.  Worrying and wondering and hoping it will make it out in one piece.

I never worry about my cake because even if it cracks a little or crumbles, it’s still delicious. 

Glazing.  

Mixing, straining and dipping my clay pieces in clay is not my favorite part of my art. The actual process of covering the pieces goes fast but the set up and clean up is tedious.  With cooking, clean up is not my favorite part either.

But whether it’s clay or food, it’s the process of working with my hands to form, cook, bake or glaze that’s important.  

It’s hunger and desire in action. 

And in the end, whether your work produces the perfect bowl of stew, a cake or cup, it’s your art.  And it feeds you body and soul. 

Hidden History

It all started out with small spot on the ceiling in the bathroom. It was a leak. The leak was fixed  but the ceiling needed re-painting. I ignored it. I had work to do, right?

And work I did: throwing bowls, vases, cups, mugs; building jars, vases, dishes; sculpting faces and bodies and masks. It all came together just in time for a spring show and my first featured gallery show in many years. 

I was happy, energized and relieved. And yet, I knew there was more to do. 

Staring at the ceiling. 

I woke up one morning and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I knew it was time to paint the bathroom ceiling. As we all know, one small step leads to big change. That small spot lead to painting the walls and replacing the light fixtures. 

And then, there was the walk-in closet. The black hole that has never been repainted since we built the house back in the 90’s. I’ve dusted in there and re-arranged and organized over the years, but I’ve never taken everything out. Yeah. 

Oh, but it didn’t stop there. 

Nope. In between painting the bathroom and closet, cleaning all the shelves and cupboards inside and out, trashing and donating unwanted items, I tackled the kitchen pantry. But still did I say, enough? No.

I looked over from the pantry into my utility room and was shocked to realize that room has not been repainted since my daughter was in high school. Hint: she’s married, pregnant and has a master’s degree.

I confess, I’m a candle hoarder. Inside those cupboards, I found stacks and stashes of used votives, tapers, pillars and jars. I found stacks of empty jars without candles waiting in case I needed them. A reformed basket hoarder, I was shocked to find in the back yet another stack of unused baskets. 

Time to recycle. And remember.

My utility room got a new coat of paint. I picked almost the same shade of yellow that’s been on the walls for years. Yellow is not my favorite color. I justified it then because I hate laundry and yellow is a happy, bright color for a small, dark room. 

But after I finished painting yesterday and began putting the room back together I saw what this yellow room really means to me. 

The primary color palette was used originally in both my children’s baby rooms. On the wall hangs their tiny primary colored handprints. Across are framed cards with encouraging words I received from my husband when I was trying to find my way from full time mom to artist. Above is a line up of my favorite tins gathered over the years, some gifts from my favorite Gram. And on each side of the sink sit hand-built vases with paw prints of my dear departed dog and cat. 

Rooms, cupboards, and closets hide and hold our history. Our memories of good times and bad. Happiness and fear. Like a time capsule or treasure chest, these covered dark places keep our lives preserved for a time when, if we are brave, we can open up, clear out, let in new light and smile at the memories. 

Re-Nesting.

It's seems to be a theme in my life, lately.  The process of nesting signals change on the most basic level throughout the world for animals and humans alike.  It's such a diverse and, yet, shared activity happening constantly that it's become almost invisible to me, and maybe to you, too.  Until recently, I knew there were nests all around me, but I just didn't really notice.

Robins everywhere.  

Late this spring into early summer, nests just seemed to keep appearing. First there was one under my patio cover on the right side.  Mama Robin fixed it all up, sat in it and then, left without laying any eggs.  Next another nest was built under the patio cover on the left side.  This time, Mama Robin stayed and laid eggs and fed chicks and when the chicks flew away, she left.  Yet another time, in a space under the roof near my laundry room window, another Mama Robin made a nest and nurtured her brood until they flew away on their own.  

More nesting.

I didn't see the significance of these nesting events at the time.  It just seemed a happy coincidence to have 3 mamas and 3 nests with babies surrounding my home.  I loved watching the process of mothering and feeding and growth of the little families. I saw the babies fly and leave the nest, never seeing the pattern in my own life or art.  My children left the nest years ago. Or did they?

My daughter graduated college and got married and then, moved to get a master's degree.  In June, she and her husband graduated and moved to California where he's getting a doctorate.  I drove with her from here to California, helped her haul boxes and unpack feelings.  My son graduated college and is working on a master's degree as well as holding down a stressful job and parenting his new baby daughter.  Just last week, he moved as well to his first place as a homeowner.  I drove my car filled with boxes, babysat, bought groceries, made sandwiches and listened while he unloaded as well.  I see, I'm like the Mama Robin, flying back and forth helping my children grow into bigger and better lives.

Re-nesting.

As the robins built their nests and my children moved theirs, I was doing my own version of nesting without realizing it.  For these last 5 months, I've been cleaning out closets all around my house.  I've unpacked and re-packed and cleaned out everything from baby clothes, books and movies to old paintings, fiber art, sculptures and advertising portfolios.  

I've also re-arranged or re-nested my studio, hallway, patio, front entry adding new equipment, wall art, flowers and cushions.  I've added 'baby' shelves to the kitchen and bathroom for my little granddaughter's needs plus portable toy boxes filled with much loved books and toys.  

Just last weekend, I bought a new rug for the great room.  I'm planning to add new chairs, ottomans and a couch soon, replacing the family sectional couch that has been our family nest for 20 years.  My 'babies' have their own nests now.  

And, I guess, it's time for me to move on, too, and find things that fit my life now.  Re-nest!

Love. Life. Art.

It's been a wild and wonderful week with a merry mix of everything I love in my life and my art. 

Watching my children grow and being there to help in whatever way I can is always a labor of love.  This week gave me many things to celebrate.

Love all around.  

My daughter, Caitlin and son-in-law, Colin both performed their Master's music recitals.  Caitlin is graduating with a Vocal Performance/Pedagogy degree.  For her vocal recital, she sang with an orchestra and solo pieces from Strauss, Stravinsky and Mozart.  She was amazing!  She and Colin have grown so much over just the last two years.  Colin's degree is in Conducting and Composing and his recital included several classical compositions but the best was his own composition.  I was awed by their talents and stage presence.

My son, Kyle celebrated his birthday with us, Sarah and their sweet little baby, Meyer.  We went out to dinner one night and had a barbecue another.  So I got to see my son and granddaughter twice in one week.  It's a joy to watch my son gently cuddle and feed his daughter.  And it's such a miracle to experience the tremendous growth of a baby's first year. It's so fascinating to watch her learning to crawl and talk and pull herself up.  And I love that I get to be around her enough that she knows me, smiles and reaches up to be hugged.

 

Cleaning up the old, adding new life and new art.

My husband and I set to work weeding and trimming and planting and cleaning.  All our labor paid off with new flowers, hanging baskets and mounds of lettuce.  We can sit on our clean patio and enjoy our outdoor room that now supports a new home, too.  Over the weekend, a robin built a nest under the patio cover. She's spent the last few days proudly sitting in it.  I can't wait to hear those new little chirps.

My art was a mix of work and fun, too.  I unloaded the kiln, sanded and wiped and put the finished pieces on my studio display shelves. I got out fresh clay and formed new vases inspired by the blooming lilies in my backyard. I have a few pieces that are dry enough now for under glazing but I haven't gotten to them yet.  I will, but, well life's been a bit busy lately.  

My art, like my life, was a mix bag of beginnings and endings this week.  And I love it.

That's what Sculpting A Life is truly all about(though maybe not all in one week, all the time.)  

Summertime = Ripe, Juicy Tomatoes.

As a kid, I never tasted a really ripe, juicy, sun-ripened tomato.  In the midwest, tomatoes came in a can.  In the northwest, tomatoes are available year round but they are usually underripe, hard and tasteless.  

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I've never been a big fan of fresh tomatoes.  Until now.

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Now, I grow my own in my little backyard garden.  I'm not an experieced gardener but I've managed to grow lettuce, zucchini, cucumbers, chard and tomatoes.  I've learned along the way what works and what doesn't.  I've figured out that there are good years and bad years for some veggies.

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This year has been very good tomato year!  I have a mix of juiciness to choose from this year's bumper crop.  From sweet, orange cherry tomatoes to huge, juicy beefsteaks.  

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Recipe ideas abound, of course.  But my favorites are among the basics because they show off the purity and juicy flavor of a truly sun-ripened tomato. 

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1.  BLT

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What a classic.  Toasted whole grain bread, mayo, homegrown lettuce, thick sliced tomato from the garden and crisp, nitrate free bacon.  Yum!

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2.  Fresh garden greens topped with ripe tomato slices and tossed with vinigrette.

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3.  Tomato Mozzarella and Basil Salad

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Slice the tomatoes and mozzarella.  Arrange on a bed of fresh basil leaves.  Drizzle with olive oil and top with salt and pepper.  Eat!

4.  Tomato Fritatta

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Beat 4 eggs.  Add olive oil to a skillet, saute green onions and garlic.  Add eggs.  Arrange sliced tomatoes on top, sprinkle sliced black olives and mediterran spiced feta.  When bottom's done, broil the top under a broiler until the cheese is melted.  Serve with crusty bread!

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5. Slice the ripe tomatoe, sprinkle with salt, pop in your mouth and close your eyes.

Now that's summer!

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Rooms to grow.

​Here's the update on the redecorating of my daughter's room.

This room has grown with her from little girl lavender and bunnies to teenage magenta, teal and music posters to a young adult room.  When she moved out for college, I redid it (for me) in chamois and red as a writing room.  She moved back in and so did a black platform bed.  

Here's what it looked like after she moved out again, emptied of the platform bed with the wicker chaise, chairs and desk.  It felt out of sync and a little empty.

Here's the new room under construction.  

Completion!  Rosy off white walls.   A white sofa bed that opens to a full bed.  Two new tables one black, one white with the legs switched to make Ikea more interesting.  A big, brand new desk (for me) with a shelf/storage unit beside it.  New pillows on the window seat.  New lamps.  

I realized the other day, that this is the first time in over 20 years that this bedroom has had completely new furniture!  It's a little amazing, wonderful and, ok, nostalgic.

Our homes are containers of our lives. 

They hold within their walls all those days and nights that will forever be frozen in our memories.  Good ones like our first romantic, couple bedroom(ok, glad the waterbed was a fad) and anniversary toasts, my children's first yawns in this world, Cinderella birthdays, Thomas the Tank Engine themed bedrooms, prom and wedding dresses, and all those Christmas trees and decorated cookies and non-turkey dinners.

All of these memories aren't just inside our heads, they're inside our rooms and closets and garages.  I don't know about you, but my home is like one big evolving scrapbook of my life and the lives of my husband, daughter and son.  

So redecorating is a bittersweet trip down memory lane along with a joy ride into the future.  

As I sit here on my new, pristine white sofa bed, I smile and sigh and know that this is yet another room that will grow more memories.

Sometimes life needs a little redecorating.

​Once again, my home is being redecorated.  As most of us know, home improvement is an ongoing process, a little like life, actually.

There's the better homes and gardens kind of redecorating of your home, rooms or yard. And there's the spiritual retreat kind of redecorating of thoughts, feelings or past events. Maybe one leads to the other. 

My son moved in and out again.  I'm happy to see him moving out into his own adult life.  I'm glad to be able to help him and give him shelter whenever he needs it but I miss him, too. Last time, I packed up his childhood toys.
 
This time, I'm packing away his teenage drum sticks and college graduation robe. Last time, we made it through the re-paint and re-carpet phase only.   This time, we have redecorated and created a new room in our home.  

Here's what it looked after the re-paint and re-carpet.

 















 Here are a few pictures of the before and during process this time around.

 

Here's what it looks like now.  It's still a guy room, but now it's my husband, not my son, who plays his computer games and watches his golf shows in there.

Now, the next room re-do is my daughter's room.  I redecorated it when she moved out the first time and packed away her childhood.  Then, she moved back in.  When she moved out again and got married, I did the re-paint and re-carpet but nothing else really changed much.  

This time, after seeing the re-creation of my son's room for my husband, I think, maybe my daughter's old room needs a little re-creation, too.  Especially, since my married daughter and her husband are now moving out of town into an exciting new phase of their lives but will be needing a room for two here at home to use over holidays.  So, the childhood twin bed made into a daybed last time, is going this time along with the small flip top desk, wicker table and chest of drawers.  

What will the room look like this time?  I'm not sure.  But I do know it's time for a change. 

Sometimes life needs a little redecorating.  Sometimes it needs a lot.  It can be an inside job or an outside one.  Sometimes it's both. 

Not art. Not craft. Just comfort.

I spent my morning making something. Normally, it's art or craft or art and craft. Not today.

Today, I made something practical. It's also something I used to see and cringe at. I make no apologies for my attitude. It was a product of honest ignorance. I just had no experience. I didn't know or understand.

Until Apple, the tiny terrier/chihuahua  joined our household, I didn't have much experience with small dogs. I'd met a few that were friendly and many who were not. I'd petted the nice ones and actively avoided the snarly ones. Even to the extreme of having to removed one from biting my much bigger and sweeter dog. I'd see them walking around the park in their fancy sweaters, polar fleece or raincoats and cringe. I'd shake my head at the doggy attire as silly, fanciful, doll clothes put on a poor unsuspecting dog.

Here's what I didn't know.

Many small dogs have little or no body fat. Their body temperatures are much more reactive to changes in the climate. Some, like Apple, have very short, sparse coats which provide almost no protection against cold or wet weather. Why? Because their country of origin was warm or moderate in climate, so they didn't need thick, water-proof fur.

Here's what I understand now.

Apple now lives in a cold, wet and rainy place. So when we walk through the park on a typical fall morning in the cold rain, she shivers. No matter how fast we walk, and she likes to go fast, she's still cold. She wants to go for her walk but I don't want her to suffer.

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So I spent the morning making her a dog coat.  One side is red polar fleece to keep her warm.  The other side is black waterproof material to keep her dry.   I didn't make art.  I didn't make anything crafty.   I made something practical that, hopefully will make Apple's life a little more comfortable.

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Peaceful Coexistence.

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Dogs and cats live together all the time, some peacefully, some not.

Let's face it, when a new roommate moves in everyone has to adjust. Doesn't matter whether it's a two footer or a four footer, adding a new member to the mix is going to chance things. When Apple, a Chihuahua Boston Terrier mix moved in, everyone coped with change in their own way.

Jilly, my yellow lab, had to make room for another dog in her pack. She is a sweet, easy going dog who was used to her space and routine. She heaved some heavy sighs at first as Apple curled up on her bed, played with her toys, stole her treats and jumped for attention.

Terra, my mixed tabby cat, was not as patient. She didn't appreciate Apple's curiosity and energetic attention. To protect her and give her space, I closed doors and put up gates. After a few months, Terra wanted her freedom back to roam the house and told me so by jumping the gates, injuring herself in the process.

Apple, at 2 years, did not understand the ways of the world. When she came to live with all of us, she had some behavior issues and bad habits. She had some big things to learn and it took all of us working together to teach her how to be a better pup. You can read more about it here .

Jilly set her boundaries as pack leader. Now, she and Apple play chase, take walks and forage for plums together in the backyard. They sleep on their own beds and sometimes curl up together, too. The gates are down and Terra prowls the house whenever she wants, ignoring the still curious pup. Apple is calming down, getting used to the cat, the routine and her place in the mixed pack that is now her home.

It's taken six months but peaceful coexistence is here, hopefully, to stay.