Category

Personal Her-story

Inertia, My Stone to Roll

By | Personal Her-story

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We’re all Sisyphus. Some of us just choose to whistle while we work. I choose to whistle while I work (between whining sessions). It’s when I stop working and the inertia surrounding my lack of work sets in that the whistling stops and I find myself back at the bottom of that metaphorical hill facing my stone to roll. Again.

That’s where I’ve been for the past 9 days — the longest I’ve ever gone without posting to my blog since I began it 104 posts ago. I’ve been in that zone. Rolling that dang stone.

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And now I’m done. Did you see that? I just rolled past the line between “inert” and “in motion” and now I’m back to work.

Every time I find myself starting again I have that forehead slapping moment when I remember that the secret to avoiding inertia — “the tendency to resist a change in motion” — is simply to NOT stop working. Seriously.

I don’t mean it’s necessary to maintain the sweatiest, adrenaline drenched, looming deadline angst-laden version of work. I mean maintain the “bean by bean” version. The steady, one foot in front of the other version.

And always try to have an unfinished piece to get back to the next day so you’re not starting from zero. That’s key. Once you’re “finished” then you WILL wake up, sooner or later, and find yourself in the silence, “resisting a change in motion” one more time. The change from NOT working, to working. Again.

So, try this instead. You know how to whistle, don’t you Sisyphus?

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You just put your lips together and blow.

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Lula!

By | Personal Her-story

I’m one of those “things happen for a reason” believers. Apologies to my less woo-woo friends — maybe it will sit easier with you if I say I believe things happen to ME for a reason, I have no idea why they happen to you. I also have no idea what those reasons may be for those things happening to me, but when they do it’s way easier to welcome them with open arms and an open heart.

Meet Lula!

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Lula is our new puppy. I met Lula for the first time last week at the Idaho Humane Society when I went out to discuss the artwork for this year’s See Spot Walk event in October. She was passing through with her foster mom Hannah, and Will Spearman, who will take my artwork and turn it into all the graphics used all year to advertise the event, introduced us. I was smitten instantly.

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Lula is a long haired Chihuahua, she’s not yet a year old and she doesn’t even weigh 5lbs. She had been in foster care with Hannah since the Fall when she had been rescued just as she was ready to step out into traffic on Broadway. At the time she was almost completely bald and weighed 2lbs. I know! Heartbreaking.

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But wait. There’s more! Lula has Cerebellar Hypoplasia which means she had a really rough start in life, probably malnourished, likely caused by an infection in utero. And what does that mean for Lula? Luckily, less than you might think.

She is a total spaz. The girl can dance, but she walks like a Pushmepullyou. Remember it from Dr. Dolittle?

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Her front feet go one way and her back feet go another, and all four feet are moving faaaaassssst! What she needs is a tiny helmet for when she bonks into the coffee table, or the rose bushes, and maybe some elbow pads too. Or maybe Snug can just run interference for her.

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So all of this stuff I’m telling you has happened to Lula, not to me, and as I said, I have no idea the reasons things happen to anyone including Lula. But now Lula has “happened” to me, (and to Mike, Snug and Sirius!) and I have no doubt that just now when I need a distraction like I need a hole in the head — and trust me this joyful jumping bean is a major distraction — there is a very good reason she has come into our lives.

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Jump, Logan, You Can Do It!

By | Personal Her-story

Today’s the day we’ve been working up to. Moving all those piles of things in and out and over and around and up and down. Shifting rooms and room functions, turning one home into two. All in preparation for next steps, and new phases, and oh you know, the first day of the rest of our lives.

It’s an especially big day for Logan, though for now he’s pretty much just taking it in stride. I’m sure in time we’ll all know exactly how he feels about this transition but since he’s always had a different view of the world from the rest of us I suspect there will be some surprises in his perspective — whenever he chooses to share it with us.

So, in the spirit of sharing one’s personal perspective, I offer for your viewing pleasure today a wee retrospective of Logan as I saw him growing up:

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Taking the plunge is pretty exciting, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. This summer Logan went to McCall with Mike and me and we stayed in a wonderful cabin on Payette Lake. And everyday there was a good reason not to jump in the lake. That lake is cold! You’ve got to be fully committed before you make the leap. But on the last day Logan and Mike went down for one last attempt…and I caught the action on my iPhone. (It’s a bit like watching ants while up on a mountain but just listen to my voice and you’ll know what’s going on.)

Jump, Logan, you can do it!

Linked

By | Art Two Hearts, Personal Her-story

One of the things that happens when you decide to start a blog is you suddenly discover you have taken on a new full-time job on top of your current full-time job, which if you are an artist and your studio is your home means you are already working two jobs (making art and making home), so now you have three. That’s kind of a downside.

The upside is that this process is a bit like conducting an archeological dig on your own life. It’s way cool sifting through the layers and rediscovering old work, old memories, and seeing how all those parts are linked and have formed who you are now and why your art is like it is today.

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Maybe not every blog is like that, but I want to present a whole picture of who I am, my art, my home, the whole catastrophe. If you imagine that concept within the boundaries of time, then you’ll need to look back in time with me, AND see where I am right now. And the future? We’ll see.

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Today I want to share part of my past, my present, and God willin’ and the creek don’t rise, my future — the most important and consistent “link” in my life: Mike.

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Mike is a true Renaissance man,
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a serious artist,
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a complete goofball,
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and my one and only.

Spend some time with his blog, Michael Chambers Paintings, and get to know him a little bit. That will help me with that “whole picture” I’m working on presenting to you…and free me up today so I can go get some work done on my two other full time jobs!

“D” is for…

By | Personal Her-story

After yesterday’s post you might be a little curious about that “D” I got for my technical skills in my metals class many years ago. Let’s just say I’m not really at ease with a torch.
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Don’t get me wrong, I’m game. I jump right in there and spark that flame and get down with the flux and get jiggy with the solder. But the whole thing makes me very uncomfortable and I hate the way the pickle smells (weird I know because I really love pickles). And then there’s all the work before you even get to the part where you can seriously burn yourself. There’s the sawing, and the breaking of all those saw blades; and the chasing (that’s hammering the metal with special hammers) and getting the pitch out from under your fingernails. So I guess it’s not just the torch it’s the whole process, and it probably doesn’t help to have a voice from the past screaming “stuuupid girrrls” in my head whenever I smell the acid from the pickle or the rouge from the buffers. But I digress.

You could say that the “D” that Don Douglas gave me was for Determination. I was determined at that point to make it in the field of jewelry design and he was truly in my corner.
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Unfortunately without his mentorship it became a “D” for Defeated, and I moved on. Not so much from jewelry and it’s design, more from metal as its medium. Hence the Baker’s Clay jewelry I sold at Pike Place Market way back then, and the embroidered and beaded fabric bracelets and necklaces, and bead and charm earrings I make today.

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Jewelry is only one thing I make. Usually just a few pieces I wear myself or make for my daughter, my mom, or my best friend. And fabric and thread and beads are a familiar and comfortable medium to use. You could even say that “D” now is for domestic. No fire. No acid. There are needles. And it IS annoying whenever I prick my finger and fall into a deep sleep…What’s that? I wasn’t asleep? That wasn’t a dream? That was a Netflix marathon of Sons of Anarchy?
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Oh well, I have to have something to watch while I stitch. Who says the Domestic Arts are for the faint of heart?