Now that the third quarter of the school year is behind me, I’m finding a bit of relief from the non-stop essay grading that was consuming all of my evening and weekend time. The 3rd quarter is when I relentlessly try to prepare my seventh graders for the Califonia STAR Writing Assessment, which is, in many ways a mockery of everything I try to teach my students about writing. They had one hour to read a two and a half page story and write a response to literature essay about it. One hour to read and analyze the text. One hour to plan, write, and proofread. No feedback. No peer editing. No revisions. How many people do you know (remember we’re talking about twelve year olds here) who could write a solid essay which traces the development of a character and analyzes theme in an hour? But no matter. It’s part of the state testing madness, where the ability to answer multiple choice questions or write a single draft of an essay are valued over trivial things such as creativity, problem solving, teamwork, and critical thinking, and the sheer joy of reading and discussing a piece of literature.

The rain is pouring down right now; a few minutes ago it was hailing. And when I opened the door and reached out my hand to touch the tiny white pepples of rain, the smell of battered anise floated over me.

I’m trying to make time now to work on my altered books again and have decided to do some more pages in the continuing saga of my Altered Book Journal :: The Art of Happiness . The two pages I just completed are not my favorites, but they’re something. The two colored squares I chose stretch my color complacency to the brink of disaster. But I feel the need to keep creating, no matter how I struggle with my art right now.

A big thanks to everyone who has written to me regarding my mom. Many have taken the time to let me know that I am not alone. Thank you for the encouragement, support, and reassurance. Even though you are all strangers, your words of comfort make me feel as though we are friends.

Fear

How does one continue to create art when a big part of your life is unraveling? I know some people find that art helps them work through their grief, but I can’t seem to make it work that way for me.

As many of you who read my blog know, my mother has Alzheimer’s. Two weeks ago, she took a dramatic turn for the worse, refusing to eat or drink for four days, until my father was finally forced to admit her into the hospital. I spent five days in the hospital with her, holding her hand, talking to her, talking to doctors, nurses, dieticians, physical therapists, coaxing her to eat and drink. It was exhausting. In the middle of three art projects, I have been unable to pick up where I left off since I returned home. My mind constantly goes back to her, weak and wasting away with no desire to eat or drink. Sleeping most of the day. Falling asleep as I try to get her to eat another bite of vanilla pudding. Everytime she reluctantly takes a bite, she makes a terrible face, as though I had just fed her the most horrible tasting medicine in the world. And then she closes her mouth and shakes her head no; I try again later and the process repeats.

The doctor says that this is a normal progression of her disease. Her brain apparently is not receiving hunger signals from her body and her tastebuds no longer recognize even the foods she once loved. I sit next to her while she’s sleeping, holding her fragile hand. She wakes up and looks at me; I wonder whom she sees. She smiles and says hello and tells me that she loves me. When the nurses come in to take her blood pressure, she accepts their good-natured prodding, then looks at me and winks. She’s humoring them, afterall. That spark of life and wit — I cling to it until it disappears.

Then they discharge her, saying there is nothing more they can do for her in the hospital. As they remove the IV and the foley bag, I feel like I am watching them remove her life blood, and I suddenly long for the soothing beeping and light from the LCD screen.

At home, she spends most of her time sitting in her lounge chair by the window, sleeping, while we flutter around her trying to do useful things. I stay at my father’s house for as long as I can, but soon I have to return to my job and my family and my life at home. I kiss her on the forehead and tell her I love her and wonder if I will see her again. I’m glad to be leaving, thinking it will bring some relief from the sadness, and then immediately regret the feeling. When I’m away, I feel as though I’m abandoning her; when I’m there, I feel helpless.

It’s hard to get into a routine at home. My brain is fragmented. I have to be “on” in front of 145 seventh graders each day. I have to grade essays. I have to plant bulbs. I have to wash dishes and pay bills and make sure my son does his homework. There is no time and no inclination to pick up a paintbrush or open a book. Those projects have to wait.

I try, about every other month, to post public domain images on my web site on my Public Domain Images page to provide scans of pictures that people can use in their art. I love to purchase vintage magazines, postcards, and old books that contain beautiful engravings and photographs that I can use in my artwork. But I can’t use everything, so I occasionally try to share my stash. It takes some time and energy to scan, fix-up, resize, and upload the images, but I don’t mind. I don’t like the idea that these lovely illustrations and photographs will disappear and be forgotten. Hopefully they will be used by others to make something beautiful. This month I have added three pages of Valentine Pictures, just in time for February. Have fun with them!

The Children’s War

Today I spent about four hours working with my new artist friend, Phil, at Arts Benicia hanging this year’s Arts of the Community Show. I learned so much today. I was partnered up with Phil since he is the pro and I’m a newbie, and he did most of the work while I held the paintings and tried to keep up with all the mathematical calculations.

The idea is to keep the center of a pair of vertically hung paintings at 56″ from the floor. So you have to add the length of the two paintings (or three, or one), add two inches to four inches for the space between them, divide by two, find the center, find the measurement for where the wire hangs and . . . well, you get the idea. Even with a calculator, I’m still mathematically challenged, so I was lucky to have Phil there to help me get the hang of things. I learned that the larger of a pair gets hung down at the bottom so the top doesn’t look heavy. And that you have to hang a pair so that they’re centered with the paintings beside them. I know it sounds complicated, but it’s not so bad, really. The best part was getting a preview of all the amazing art work, although I didn’t get too much of a chance to look around. The exhibit runs from January 21 - February 26, so if you’re in the area, I encourage you to stop by and have a look. You can find directions, hours, and other info at the Arts Benicia web site.

This is my third year (I can hardly believe it!) showing art work at the community art show. Every year I’ve shown something different. The first year I had two pieces that were assemblage and collage on book covers. The second year I showed three of my Reliquaries. I got a lot of positive comments about those. There was nothing like them at the show.

This year I made three book sculptures; they are different from anything I currently have on my web site. They are pretty dark and serious. I used a lot of found objects, burning, tearing, painting. They were so much fun to make but very time intensive. My husband doesn’t know what to make of them, and my youngest son says they creep him out. My oldest son says they’re”sick,” which is supposed to be a good thing. So overall, I’d say response from the family has been fairly positive!

Going to the artists’ reception for the show is crazy. The gallery is pretty small and it’s always packed with people. You have to nudge your way around the room. It’s a good time to schmooz and meet new people–not really my strong points, although I’m really going to make an effort this year.

After I look at all the other art work, I like to hang-out non-chalantly by my pieces and eavesdrop on peoples’ conversations. I love hearing reactions to my work. This year should be the best. I’m sure there will be a variety of lovers, haters, and people who are just plain puzzled. I can’t wait!

I recently visited Sheila’s blog DelineationDotOrg and left a message for a post she’d written about her Crisis in Art. I could relate to much of what she was talking about and left a message of my own. The next day she sent me the following email: You and I need to have a long talk… Especially about those lovely reliquaries. I’ve been wanting to make one, but I haven’t a CLUE where to start. ~Sheila

I’ve been thinking long and hard about what advice I could give her about “where to start.” Maybe she wants to know the mechanics, the “how-to” behind making the reliquaries. Or maybe she just wants a kick in the butt. I don’t know Sheila at all except that she makes some very cool collages that she posts on her blog. But it got me thinking about my own process of beginning a piece of art, and that seemed like something worth writing about.

There are a lot of things that inspire me to create the art I do. The idea behind my Reliquaries was inspired by a magazine I picked up in the doctor’s office where I found photographs of a home filled with antiques and gorgeous calendar reliquaries hanging on the walls. They were like small architectural gems. I love the beauty of architecture in art, so it got me wanting to create my own.

Sometimes I’m inspired by the smallest things: my second son’s baby teeth, a lock of my oldest son’s blonde, blonde hair (which he now dyes jet black, shaves, and mowhaks for special occasions), or a fishing lure. My most recent altered book was inspired by a baby doll that I found lying in the gutter a couple of years ago. That doll had been sitting on my cluttered bookshelf, just waiting to be enshrined. It was the idea of children soldiers that finally got me moving.

Other times I’m inspired by a piece of beautiful paper. In one of my favorite stores, I happened to come across some incredible paper that I’d never seen anywhere else. So I bought it in several different styles and colors and once I started working with it, I didn’t stop until I’d used every piece. When I went back to the store six months later, it was gone.

I have been inspired by a shade of paint that I bought– Golden’s Quinacridone Gold– and used it in a series of collages I did called Mixed Media Collage :: Woman’s Ideal of Man.

I’ve found inspiration from old postcards, photographs, holy cards, and pictures in books.

And of course, my number one source of inspiration is the book itself, particulary book titles, chapter headings, and text. I wouldn’t have created the same set of collages with the Quinacridone Gold paint if the book chapter I opened to had been something other that “Woman’s Ideal of Man.” The title, the paint, they both swam in my mind and caused me to move in the direction I did with those collages. So much of it is just kismet– opening a certain page in a book, finding the paper with vintage clown images for Clown Art Reliquary :: Angel’s Bone and then the bone, and then the clown pin, and then the red fringe. What makes something fall together that way? It’s luck, fate, magic, fun work, an obsession for collecting– all these things inspire me.

So . . . decide on the medium- canvas, watercolor paper, board book, regular hardcover book, board, bottle . . . Or . . .find that special thing that lights a spark of an idea inside . . . a feather, a photo, a crushed can, a piece of bone . . . Or . . . find a color of paint that matches your mood or sends a little shiver of optimism through you.

Or . . . Don’t wait. Don’t think. Just plunge in and go! Who cares how it ends up? If it’s crap, toss it or hide it, or give it to your best friend who’ll love it because she/he loves you. Then go on to the next piece, and make it a little better. Just keep going, because in twelve months if you don’t create something, you’ll still be a year older.