Miscellaneous Bits from Cleaning Day Part 1: The Phone Booth!

I clipped this out of a stack of old National Geographics some time in the early oughts and have been carrying it around in my studio files all this time waiting for it to become useful in some multimedia collage sort of masterpiece. In the event that it will never come to the top of my to-do list, I will post it here so we can all snicker at these Mad Men selling the phone booth as the height of convenience. 

Dumb 50s people.  

The Bell Telephone System wants you to stop by the side of the road to tell someone hi.

Put a Bear On It.

Remember this forlorn looking mountain with no particular purpose? I gave it a bear today in the hopes that it would find a reason not to dive into my garbage can. What do you think? Can this mountain be saved?

This bear just wants a fish. And to be loved.

Coming Soon...

New canvas totes coming soon. This face will be among them:

Hi! Whatcha doon with that shovel?

Kicking-Off the Experiment in Full-Time Goofing-Off Begins.....NOW

It's the first day of the rest of my life! In the 70s, this was a corker of a joke!* In the 20s, "corker" was a word that meant "on fleek"**!

I have retired from my real, paycheck-type job and have dedicated the rest of my life to goofing off and painting stuff.

To celebrate, I am clearing out my studio of all the B Sides* to make room for more attempts at A Sides. The following paintings are going for $0*** to the lowest (and/or first) bidder. For more information, or to put your bid in, visit my facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/janicetracyart or leave a comment below. 

Here's an early (but not earliest - those have been destroyed) seascape attempt.  I may be able to create seascapes of which I am proud by the time I die, but I'm not holding my breath (because that would just hasten my death). Take my seascape. Please. Needs a frame.

Rocky beach at Yaquina Head. Oil on canvas (pallet knife application). 2006? 30 x 24.

Here's another seascape that escaped me by THAT much. It's not a failure of foreshortening - there really is that much beach - but it is a failure of design. Again. Design can be a bugger, because what I am compelled to paint does not always match with what looks good on canvas. I am learning to "photoshop" reality to fit good design, but I'm a work in progress.

Agate Beach Sunset. Oil on canvas (pallet knife application). 30 x 40. 2012.

Here is one I have had hanging in my home for a few years. It is a view of a particular slow spot in the Deschutes River from one of our favorite hiking trails. I like it, but it has been replaced on my walls with some newer stuff. You are welcome to hang it on your wall if you like.

River Slows. Oil on canvas. 40 x 30. 2012.

Here is a study of ponderosa pines. I put a skull in it once I realized there was no reason not to. You take it.

Ponderosa pine bark study. Oil on canvas (brush and pallet knife application). 18 x 24. 2014.

What if Van Gogh had suffered minor head trauma and then visited Hawaii? He might have created something like this. It can be yours for $0 down and $0 a month for, lets say, 600 years.

Outrigger Sunset. Oil on canvas (pallet knife application). 2013. 24 x 18.

Come talk to me in the comments below or on facebook. In the unlikely instance of some sort of artwork tug-of-war, my choice of homes for the art will be capricious and unfair.

*Ask your mom.

** I'm not sure about this. Ask your daughter.

***Does not include shipping fees. May include gas to your house if there is food at said house.

A Sunny February Progress Report

The "studio" (my jumbled mass of shelves, baskets, easels and desk) is in the "sun room," thus called because it faces the sun so pitilessly as to be uninhabitable on sunny summer days, but on sunny February days, it is the best place to be. 

It has been a while since I have had a good day stretch out in front of me so that if I avoid looking at my task list I can pretend I have nothing to do but paint. Today I spent some time trying to salvage a few swings-and-misses, and spent a little time starting my every-three-paintings-or-so bear painting. Later today I may drag some winter paintings out to the patio for a quick varnish coat.

Here is one of the swings-and-misses:

Not exactly a photo-realistic portrayal, but a (pardon my French) impression.

I didn't begin this as a "keeper," but just wanted to practice my ponderosa pine bark, which is something I obsess about whenever I am in Central Oregon, or whenever I think about Central Oregon. 

ponderosa pine (Pinus ponderosa)

Here is a ponderosa pine in person. The bark is like puzzle pieces stacked on puzzle pieces, none of which seem to belong where they are, or to make a whole. They have been shoved and smooshed onto the bark by an unseen and odd hand, and occasionally the whole thing gives way and makes a deep, black fissure into the bark. You can even peel the puzzle pieces off, and a weird enough kid (ahem) can spend hours doing just that.

So the study went okay, but not enough time was taken in the design of the piece, so that it's not much of a keeper. Knowing that it would go on the "give-away" pile, I added a surprise in the weeds to give it a little more interest.

Thanks for stopping by. More later. There will be bears.

Here's a mountain.

I'm not sure what I was going for, but all I ended up with was this mountain and this creek.

Yup. That's a mountain all right.

Stepping Out into Thin Air

I have a needed day off today. My workload at the office has been heavy and I have been working extra hours to pull up out of it. I am looking forward to June because that’s when I have given my notice. I gave my boss a full year’s notice of my impending “retirement” last July because she had a feeling that I was not tethered tightly to the company, and asked for it as a courtesy. It’s certainly not legally required, but it is required of anyone who feels that her boss has been kind to her, and who knows her plans that far in advance.

Am I ready to “retire”? Yes. Am I completely unconvinced that it’s the right thing to do? Oh, yes. If I were younger, I would characterize this change of career paths as a personal sabbatical or an experiment. But at 52, I am aware that it would be very difficult to get rehired at my current status as a seniorish paralegal if I, in a year or so, decided that this quitting thing had been a mistake. This is a clear bridge burning, and I have a right to be a little terrified.

Look at all those brushes and palette knives waiting for a workout.

Do I believe I can make a go of Used Art as a business? Not really, but I dream of it. So that will have to be enough, because it’s the best I can muster. And if it isn’t enough, other doors will open. But bear with me through June, at which time I plan to bombard you with paint, canvas, news, and desperate pleas for attention.

Portrait of a Monkey. Face.

I have photos of Monkey Face from every time we've clambered over the Misery Ridge Trail in Smith Rock State Park outside of Terrebonne in Central Oregon (north of our old hometown of Bend). It feels like a reward for making it to the top of the park.

A couple of monkey faces

This iconic pillar of ancient volcanic rock in Smith Rock State Park has stretched his little simian face to the sun for eons, more or less untouched by humans, until rock climbing became popular as a weekend pastime. Now the poor monkey is infested by dangling and crawling humans every day from Spring until late Fall. He must be so bummed that there isn't another monkey nearby to snuggle up next to him and groom the human nits out of his skin, and so happy to feel the first snow of winter. Finally, peace for a few short months. (Rock climbers don't climb in winter, do they?)

(c) Janice Tracy 2014

I used a palette knife to apply paint to this one. It seemed fitting to have a little less control, and leave a little more angular and jagged lines to imitate the stoniness of the stone. And yes, the stone does have that peculiar pink shade. And no, I didn't paint in any rock climbers. Let Mr. Monkey have this day at least. And yes, you should come visit. It is a beautiful park, becoming more popular every year.

My Pretty Good 70s Mixtape

Hey, the Guardians of the Galaxy was great, right? How about that music? Where did they GET that stuff? Um, out of my iTunes and the box full of vinyl in my closet. (Duh.)

I heard the mixtape, enjoyed the mixtape, and knew that I could gild that lily like nobody’s business. I ended up with a 69-song playlist, which, understandably, would take like seven cassette tapes to hold, so I narrowed it down for this discussion to the two dozen songs IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER that I have something to say about (however unnecessary and inane).

Here's a taste of my album collection. The 70s in a box, including the mandatory copy of Frampton Comes Alive. 

1.    Queen, “Under Pressure.”   If you’re younger and kind of dumb, you may listen to the opening beats of this song and think, “Ice Ice Baby.” That makes you young and dumb. Vanilla Ice lifted that beat from this song. Then he placed it in a pile of Cheetos covered in hot dog water. Not only is this a Queen song (meaning a good song), but it is one featuring David Bowie, which may have made Freddy Mercury reach for higher highs and more perfect vocal riffs than he normally goes for. Oh, you should hear it.

2.    Al Green, “Let’s Stay Together.”        This is a beautiful song. Whether it would have made this list before Barry Obama let loose with a few notes of this song at a fundraiser, I’m not sure.

3.    Queen, “Bohemian Rhapsody.”  I heard an interview with Mike Myers in which he explained that he began gaining his reputation as a difficult auteur by insisting, against all of the wishes and threats by production suits to use something like Guns N Roses, to use this perfectly wonderfully silly song in his first “Wayne’s World” movie. Can you now imagine that Pacer-driving head-banging scene with any lesser song now? Pffff.

4.    James Brown, “Get up Offa That Thing.”   Quit feeling sheepish that you first fell in love with this song, first released in the 70s, when you heard it in a children’s animated movie, and embrace it. It was the best thing about that 2005 Robots movie, and it was the best thing about a forgettable 1983 Dan Aykroyd vehicle called Dr. Detroit, which I adored, as I was young and impressionable.

5.    Daryl Hall & John Oates, “She’s Gone.” Abandoned Luncheonette, an early Hall & Oates album, was a favorite in our split-level basement when I was DJing. It has the opening phrase “Everybody’s high on consolation,” and only gets better from there. This is not the best Hall & Oates song ever (that would be “Sara Smile”), but it is on the album that we played the most, even though it has a super creepy song about either cradle robbing or straight-up statutory rape on it.

6.    Ohio Players, “Fire.”    I grew up in Vernonia*, Oregon, a small logging town in the northwest corner of the state. There was no funk there. So I imported some. I would like to say it was a game-changer, but I think Vernonia’s funk moved away with me. Be careful of both the words and the vinyl artwork around impressionable young ears and eyes. Wait – it didn’t hurt me any so go ahead. *No spellcheck ever believes this is a real city name.

7.    Steely Dan, “Hey Nineteen.”       This song memorably includes the lyrics, “Hey, Nineteen - that’s ‘Retha Franklin. She don’t remember the queen of soul.” This knock on some young bimbo not knowing who* Aretha Franklin was made me determined to have an encyclopedic knowledge of all soul nobility. (Prince, Duke Ellington, others) So, useful.  *MS Word insists this should be “whom,” but, ugh. Right?

8.    10cc, “I’m Not in Love.”      Of course, The Guardians of the Galaxy mixtape includes this song because it is one of the best things that has ever happened in a recording studio. Just a lovely effect, painstakingly over and overdubbed, tape upon tape, before a thing like that was easy. If you are more interested, go to YouTube and look up “10cc – I’m Not In Love – Making Of Documentary.”

9.    Earth, Wind & Fire, “September.”         As part of my funk evangelism mission, I danced to this song at a high school talent show. (I'm pretty sure I danced in two talent shows. I don't really remember the other song I danced to. I'm afraid it might have been YMCA. If it was, I apologize.)

10. Redbone, “Come and Get Your Love.”       This also was featured in The Guardians of the Galaxy. I mention it here because (a) I heard someone of similar vintage on a pop culture show say that he had somehow missed hearing this in the 70s (WHAT?) and (b) because I loved it so much I bought the whole album (you can see it on the left side of the photo). The album has some interesting native-themed numbers, but nothing else quite as catchy as this. Then again, what could be or would be again ever?

11. Fleetwood Mac, “Chains.”  Yes, we had a copy of Rumours in the 70s. It was not mandatory like Frampton Comes Alive, but it was strongly encouraged. No, we didn’t know about the drug-soaked, partner-swapping soap opera in which the album was born, but it was nice to hum along to. I didn’t really think Fleetwod Mac was all that cool until I heard Tusk. Now THAT I liked.

12. Marvin Gaye, “Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology).” This is also the best song. That is all.

13. Jackson 5, “ABC.”       I dare you to sit still and not even wiggle your knee while this song plays. You can’t do it. (If you can, then GET OUT, WITCH.)

14. Stealers Wheel, “Stuck in the Middle With You.” Did you forget about this song? I recommend you pick it back up. I hope it’s on Awesome Mixtape #2. It belongs there. Just try not to sing along when the song comes to a complete stop to say, “Slap you on the back and say, pleeeeeeease, pleeeeease.”

15. Heart, “Crazy on You.”         Here is where Ann Wilson earns her rock star wings. 

16. Atlanta Rhythm Section, “Spooky.” The little guitar riff along with that simple organ doo doot-doo, doot-doo doo. (I believe that is the correct musical notation.) Indispensable.

17. Bad Company, “Feel Like Makin’ Love.” It’s not all about funk. I was about to add, “let’s add some southern flavor,” but it turns out Bad Company is an English band. I guess I didn’t pay that much attention to the non-funky portions of the 70s radio playlist.

18. Neil Diamond, “Cherry, Cherry.” Neil Diamond seemed like a super-dork trying too hard to be “cool” even when I was in high school, but this song is so happy, I can’t resist it. And it just sounds like orange shag carpet and avocado-colored refrigerators.

19. Electric Light Orchestra, “Don’t Bring Me Down.” This is your obligatory ELO entry.

20. Eagles, “Take it Easy.” This is your obligatory Eagles entry, because (a) Drew requires at least one Eagles song, especially if I refuse to include any Rush songs, and (b) it sounds as 70s as puka shells and bell bottoms.

21. Bill Withers, “Ain’t No Sunshine.” I include this song because I always thought this should be Drew’s constant companion and heartfelt feeling when he was away from me. (No, he did not feel likewise.) 

22. The Who, “My Generation.” We listened to a lot of The Who in the basement when I was in high school. This will be the placeholder for the entire collection.

23. Elton John, “The Bitch is Back.” My first big crush was on a bespectacled, closeted, gay man with a weight problem. My first big album purchase was Elton John’s Yellow Brick Road. There are a lot of songs I could choose for my designated Elton John song, but I chose “The Bitch is Back” because it hasn’t become stale through overplaying, it rocks, and it holds up quite well.

24. The Bee Gees, “Staying Alive.” I am the only living human who admits (and embraces) that the disco era was the formative music of her youth. This is the song that I chose to represent my love of all things disco. Oh, that walk. Oh, those paint cans.

I welcome nice notes about how spectacularly right I got this, and which songs I foolishly left off. If you’re interested in hearing more, follow me on Spotify and I’ll hook you up with the Big List. Happy listening.

A Sofa Story

Life is full of tragedies. We have had plenty around here this week. So here is a story with a better ending.

Do you know that getting a Prius “smart key” fob replacement costs between $250 (local locksmith) and $500 (Prius dealer)? A “smart key” is the kind of key that you just need to have in your pocket or purse to work the car. There is no ignition switch to turn, you just boop the “on” button and the car starts to go.

Did you know that Drew lost his Prius “smart key” this spring? We looked everywhere, including under all the seat cushions, and finally came to the conclusion that it must have dropped out of his pocket when climbing out of the truck or something. We had a trip to the local locksmith on the calendar, and we were hoping that he knew what he was doing, because the car’s software must be tweaked to make it “recognize” a new key (and hopefully not also to command it to heat the batteries to one thousand kelvin or something). We knew the dealer was a safe bet, but Curly’s Lock & Key? A bit of a wager. 

But that was later this week. First, we had to continue our battle with Shleifer Furniture, who had sold us a bum couch.

About a year and a half ago, we ordered a custom sofa and love seat from Shleifer Furniture in Portland. After two months, we received a love seat with the right cushions, right pillows, and right color wood trim, and a sofa with the wrong cushions, the wrong pillows, and wrong color wood trim. Drew called and gave them a piece of my mind. Two more months later, they replaced the sofa. The cushions, pillows, and wood trim was right, but it felt wrong. Looser, like it had already been sat on by some water buffaloes or something. But I was tired of making Drew call for me, and I didn’t even know what I was going to say. (“My wife says it feels....icky.”)

So we have been living with it. But lately we have just been avoiding it. 

So I did what any self-respecting shut-in would do. I looked for an answer on YouTube, and found several DIY videos explaining how to fix loose couch springs. Some involved backyards and rope, but some methods seemed more reputable. 

So I did what any self-respecting DIY-er would do - I plunged into something with very little knowledge and fewer tools. I took the backing off the bottom of the sofa, ready to put my new YouTube upholstery diploma to work. 

No amount of YouTube education was equal to the total failure of sofa-building technology I found. The panel (technical term “board”) that was supposed to anchor the springs had completely caved in, not surprisingly, as it was so poorly nailed into place. Without that anchor, everything had pulled away from its moorings. One spring had boinged completely free and all the others were so loosened that the sofa was merely a hole covered by two expensive cushions.

No problem. We were pretty sure we remembered somebody saying something about a lifetime warranty. We would just call the furniture company. Drew got back on the phone, because I had more pieces of mind to relay to them. 

It turns out that a lifetime warranty is only good for one year, which had passed in January. After that, it’s a lifetime warranty on the materials only, which, if you think about what goes into a sofa, is some wood, foam and springs. A couple-a bucks. A year and a half in and we have a wood box with cushions on top. 

Drew got back on the phone and gave them more pieces of my mind. Drew has spent the last six months at work battling the city budget police for every dollar he can find to build two new fire stations to replace stations so full of cancer-causing radon gas and dry rot that they would have been condemned to the public ten years ago, so I might have felt sorry for the warranty associate at Shleifer except that we had a small landfill in the shape of a sofa in our living room. 

After the warranty associate recovered, she offered a truce: she would send out a repair person, and between Shleifer and the sales rep for the furniture maker, they would pay the first $150 of repair costs. We would have to cover whatever remained of the repair bill. The way the sofa looked, that could have been as much as the thing cost. But we had a sofa-shaped butt trap, so we figured we had to at least pursue this option. We scheduled the repair guy for this morning.

Drew took the morning off in case he had to lay down some more whoop-ass. Turns out, the repair guy was nice, worked all morning, did some major sofa rebuilding, and charged $250, so we were out $100 for a usable sofa. 

When the repair guy was done, he ambled into the kitchen with something in his hand. Oh, by the way, he said, something fell out when I turned the couch over. 

Drew’s missing Prius “smart key.” 

I’m assuming I don’t have to do the math for you now. It’s one of those times where, if you didn’t know friends who were grieving lost loved ones, you would say that old chestnut, everything happens for a reason. But at its most elemental, it’s a wacky and happy coincidence. And this week I’ll take it. 

On Display!

Thanks to Rinnovo Spa Salon, some of my paintings have found new walls to hang on. It's about time they got out of the house for a change of scenery. It will be a great partnership: Rinnovo had some empty walls and I needed gallery space. They will remain at Rinnovo until sold, either through Rinnovo or this website. Look at how nice they look!

Luckily I brought my personal picture hanger and spokesmodel with me.

You can see more about Rinnovo here. Tell them I sent you!

I Walked Along the Beach and Collected These.

We took our annual spring trip to Ventura and Santa Cruz and came back with renewed diet plans and these photos.

These chairs have obviously been here for a while. They are anchored in about a foot of sand. So wistfully abandoned.

At the risk of making this particular Ventura County campground even more popular than it already is, this is often the view from our campsite.

This pelican was not in the mood to be moved by my insistence to continue down the narrow strip of beach we were sharing, but he grumpily waddled aside and let me pass.

Our campsite view in Aptos (south of Santa Cruz). We booked this spot seven months ahead of time on the day and hour California State Parks opened April 2014 for reservations. Even at that, we only successfully booked two nights. Worth it.

One of the best photos I have ever taken with an iPhone. Wilder Ranch State Park north of Santa Cruz. The most beautiful mountain bike ride in the country. 

Photo with my Canon with a medium-large scope on it. In the evening, the water at Aptos becomes a fishy battle ground, with birds diving into the water like missiles and scooping up victims, leaving little splashy explosions in their wake. Like Birdemic with watery explosions instead of explody explosions.

This is the best. I love being here.

Okay, yes, there is a dead crab in the foreground, but it is a colorful dead crab. Capitola in the background.

THIS IS A REAL FISH and my favorite fish in the Monterey Bay Aquarium: a Mola-Mola. It has a more scientific name but it doesn't need one. In the ocean around Hawaii, it just swims around at a toddler's pace, hoovering up jelly fish (the only thing slower than itself). Here in the aquarium, the keepers have to teach it to come when called and hand feed it because it cannot get to food just thrown into the tank before getting out-swum by all the other fish. Unfortunately, mola-molas are not known for their intelligence and some cannot remember to come when called for their hand feeding and starve. MY NEW FAVORITE FISH.

I went back to Wilder Ranch with my Canon. Here are some geese from that trip.

More from Wilder Ranch. These were taken in morning light between 7 and 8 a.m.

There are quite a few of these secluded micro-beaches at Wilder Ranch. You may not be completely alone, but nobody's going to hassle you. I have seen sea turtle tracks here.

A little backlighting with your craggy cliffs. (I am a fan of lens flares.)

On the path back out of Wilder Ranch. There is a working farm on Wilder Ranch land. Mostly artichokes. At this time of year, the air practically chokes you with pollen and other evidences of the land's verdancy.  So much plant sex going on. It's beautiful in your lungs as well as your eyes (but maybe not your nose if you have allergies). 

Trips like this make me wonder why I'm living 800 miles away. Until I come home. Then I remember that only home is home. #deep

A Little Fall in the Spring

I think the photo I based this new piece on was taken during a trip up the Eagle Creek Trail in the fall some time ago. I think it was the same hike that the painting below was based on. Although this may have been on the way to Angel's Rest. Either way, go hiking in the Columbia Gorge, you guys. You could fly to New Zealand or Moldavia or wherever, but this is in your back yard and it's just as breathtaking. With 100% fewer passports required.

Eagle Creek 1

Just one of those perfect hikes where every time we turned the corner I was instinctively reaching for my camera (Shut up, literalists. I know there is no innate reaching-for-camera instinct.) 

Drew has been hoping that I would get out my palette knife again. He loves my last painting of the buffalo because it reminds him of his new favorite place on earth (Yellowstone National Park), but he really likes the paintings with lots of color slathered in ways that resemble our lives. And green. He wanted something green.

So I started with lots of green.

Dark beginnings

Once I pretty much laid a gesso cover of black and green, I could start the fun. LEAVES!

Here come the leaves

MORE LEAVES!

Almost there

Once I had a good layer of background leaves and popping-out foreground leaves, I needed a little middle ground to, um ground the view.

Now we're talking.

The canvas is 36 x 48. It will be dry and ready to varnish and put on display in a few months. It takes a good long time for these heavily globbed-on ones to dry. It's so big, I will have to hang it somewhere on the wall in the house during the drying time. It's a bad habit of mine to hang things on the wall and then forget at which point in the drying/varnishing I last left it. So maybe this blog post will be a good reminder for myself to take it down and "finish" it in July or so.

Also, back to my crowing about our backyard Gorge: please note that the waterfall in the background of this picture is a minor thing, where a smaller creek falls into a larger creek on the side of the minor dale we were hiking through. Not even sure it has a name, that's how many more awesome waterfalls there are in the Gorge. So.

A) Hike the Gorge. 

B) Enjoy my painting.

C) Leaves!

The Man and His Dog

Scotty and I walk between three and five miles around the neighborhood about four days out of seven. We see and greet mostly the same familiar faces at our first stop, the neighborhood park. After the park circuit is complete, we range further around the little bluff above the north bank of the Columbia that we call the Felida neighborhood. It's a former exurb that is quickly turning into a suburb. It was once farmland - fruit, fruit trees and pasture - but now is down to one disused dairy farm now used for pasturing a few beef cows. The rest is made up of a cluster of 80s-era ranch houses (built in what they figured at the time was rugged-individualist country) and several new McMansion plantations.

Scotty in the park in autumn

I like to steer us westward toward the bluff where we can see the Columbia, the surrounding lowlands, and the hills of Oregon in the distance. I like to perch up high on things like a cat (or a goat), so it's useful in that respect, and it's a pretty great view to boot.

A remnant of Felida's former country life. The distant hills are across the Columbia in Oregon.

The McMansion boom is returning now that the recession is over, and our viewing spots are growing smaller as new fences go up around new McMansions, each bloated house claiming the view as their own, not to be shared with the walking riffraff. 

Ooh, we wouldn't dare step on your fancy property, McMansion owner.

Where was I?

As we range away from the social obligations of the park, we are normally on our own, with very few fellow walkers or runners. But nearly every time, we cross paths with a man and his dog who are doing the same thing Scotty and I are. The man is probably in his 70s. The type who wears proper hiking boots that he has maintained for twenty years and walks in work pants and weather-appropriate outdoor gear. No workout gear. No running shoes. The dog is maybe an Australian Shepherd or Border Collie cross. A well behaved dog, on a long leash, leading the way but never pulling. I can tell from our meetings, which sometimes criss-cross more than once, that we generally cover the same territory at about the same pace, but on different routes. We always say hello, and our dogs always keep a polite distance from each other (Scotty loves people, but dogs are problematic and unpredictable. Unless he gets a very strong signal of submissive joy, he would rather keep his distance.)

I have been walking for fitness (or what passes for fitness) since college, when I would walk the Amazon Trail in Eugene and listen to Rick James on my Walkman. I remember places we lived by the music I listened to while walking. Eugene: Rick James and Chilliwack (look it up, Hosers). Austin: The Go-Gos. Fairfield/Vacaville, CA: The Eurythmics. Bend: The Cranberries and Chris Isaak. Tualatin: Fatboy Slim and The Dandy Warhols. Vancouver: The Decemberists and too many others to name here in the iTunes era. What I'm getting at is that walking is the thing that stuck. I tried running, and I still jog occasionally, but it has never felt natural, and even when I was putting in long miles, I would have to stop to walk every five minutes because my heart would race. I would love to love bike riding because my husband and son and extended biking family are dedicated to it, but I feel wobbly and weak on a bike, and can't find a comfortable center of gravity. I like to think I have good balance until I get on a bike and learn that I don't.

Collies are perfect walking partners. Enthusiastic regardless of weather, and easily trained to do my relaxed version of heeling.

A while ago, I recognized the man and his dog at the park, a place where I have never met him before. This time, he had driven there and was helping out of the car a woman whom I assume was his wife, but aged by whatever infirmity was requiring so much effort by the man to assist her out of the car. He then took her arm and walked slowly, slowly around the park with her. It was not easy for either of them, but they painfully and cheerfully struggled around the walkway together. It appeared, as we greeted each other, that she not only walked with difficulty but also talked with difficulty.

I suppose there are all kinds of reasons to walk for miles. One may be fitness. One may be a small respite from a day spent in service to a spouse. 

A last bit of view beyond the last bit of cows.

At this point I am straining to contain my urge to write something about walking in someone else's shoes because there is nothing more horribly used-up and cliched, BUT IT FITS. I never considered his life outside our walkies until I met him at the park that day. And now I feel differently and more fond and protective of him than I did before I got that peek into his life.

Introverts are all the rage right now, but being one, and a shy one at that, I have to point out that the reason the shy are shy is that they are so frightened of the way they might be perceived by others that they are paralyzed in simple social interactions. They are so overly concerned with themselves that they forget to be concerned or even curious about the other person in front of them. It's a disorder of narcissism. So every chance I get to shut down my own self worth issues and look at someone else's situation is a gift. And I'm thankful for the chance to see the man and his dog in a new light. And hope to use it to think the best of the next person I meet.

Sorry about the self indulgent Deep Thoughts. The next post will be about farts.

Saturday and the Living is Easy

The great thing about Saturday when you've got the house to yourself is that no one can make you do anything, not even your own conscience. Drew was working. Friends and relations were working out. My own conscience was trying to get me to finish this painting, but I watched an old Bond movie and napped instead. 

It's at that point where there are parts I love, and parts I hate, and I'm not sure how to save the good parts while redoing or camouflaging the bad parts. So I chose to do nothing. I will get over this hump eventually and attack it with vigor.

But not today.

A Yellowstone Geyser Buff

Get it? He's a buff! And he's a big fan of geysers! Art humor, you guys!

Yellowstone National Park is starting to show up in the studio now. We came home last September with a lot of photos of shooting geysers and lumbering buffaloes, but no pictures of buffaloes lumbering by geysers. So continuing my occasional series of Paint: The First Photoshop, here is a buffalo lumbering by a geyser.

One way to make art of impossibly beautiful places is to have some fun with them.

This series began with one of my favorite paintings - of Drew "saving" a little bear cub, which, in the painting, occurs in a nonexistent ponderosa pine in front of our house. The actual bear was from a newspaper clipping from Colorado Springs, showing him getting pulled from a tree by some volunteer firefighter, trying to do a favor for a dumb homeowner. I love the little bear cub, who was just tryna get up a damn tree, and I love my Personal Firefighter Drew, and I love ponderosa pines. So I squished 'em all together and made a Paint Photoshop.

The next in the series was a self-appointed challenge to paint one of my favorite pieces of Photoshop art ever, the Raccoon Carrying a Cat.

The "original" photoshopped raccoon and cat.

I made the raccoon into a real savior, and gave it to a friend who took a shine to it [enter pun apology here]. It doesn't appear in the "Art to look at" gallery, because it wasn't much of a win, but it was fun to paint, and I may return to the subject again someday and try to improve upon this first attempt.

Yikes.

As first-year art students learn, you don't have to paint what you see. You can paint what you want.

Taking Requests (You're Welcome to Shout "Free Bird" at the Computer)

I had some fun with this last batch of bags, matching cow admirers with cow bags and pig fanciers with piggy bags. I was even able to create a horsey bag upon the request of a horsey owner.

A Christmas present for a friend's daughter. She sent me a photo, so I could make my horsey look similar.

So here's my chance to get some ideas I might not have considered, and yours to make your suggestions and requests. No promise of a purchase is required to suggest a subject, but I will accept commissions as well. Just be warned that I will (and often do) work off a photo, but I will not reproduce a photo in paint. The image always goes through my brain and comes out my fingers a little different than it went in. 

In addition, I am thinking about adding to my screen print repertoire, as bags screen printed on both sides are sturdier through washing and use. Screen print designs for a rank amateur such as myself need to be simple, black-and-white style one color jobs (until I get more equipment or find a shared screen print studio). If you have any ideas, pass them along. And let me know if you would like to see some phoenix prints in the shop for purchase.

Ten blank canvases, right out of the box.

I'm lucky to be able to have the time and means to develop and enjoy this dumb hobby. I'm also lucky to have friends who humor and flatter me. Please feel free to suggest further dumb ideas.

Cheers.

New Tote Bags for the New Year

There are six new tote bags in the shop today. These ones were fun to paint and, for the most part, turned out not disappointingly. If I had to pick a favorite of this bunch, it would probably be this sea otter. It is the second sea otter I have painted on tote bags, and one of two otters in this batch - the other being a river otter I painted from an otter we met in Bend at the High Desert Museum.

I was able to take a few liberties with the color, and put some lovely highlights in the hair of this particular sea otter. ART!

Another Experiment Gone .... Okay

We have one hundred pictures of Kauai's Na Pali Coastline taken from the deck of a little touring boat. Most of them are a jumble of steep green hills and valleys from directly underneath, unusable for anything but memories. But there was this one.

The light was just right. The colors were all over the place. There seemed to be some semblance of a natural design to it (not much, but maybe enough), and the light made a pretty lens flare on the photo, which you can't really put into a painting without either being incredibly bad or terribly pretentious. But I could make it into a moon. Whether or not the moon could ever be caught in that particular place, I don't know, nor do I care.

I had purchased a new, smooth surfaced painting panel with beautiful wood sides some time ago, and decided to give it a whirl. Compared to canvas, the surface was smooth and hard. I suppose it would be perfect for delicate detail work, which I do not have the attention span or the coordination for. So I just used it for one of my slap-dash train wrecks. The palate knife felt weird scritching over the surface - there was no "give" to it. So I ended up using a regular old brush for most of it. Brushes turned out to be the best way to take advantage of the smooooth. Even though I ended up slap-dashing like usual. I don't think the extra expense of the special painting panels are a good choice for me. There is too high a chance it will end up in the landfill. I still have a pretty even win-loss record.

Kauai's Na Pali coast from a rather extreme angle.

Is this one a win? I like it. But I think you would have had to be on that boat with us to really appreciate it. If you want it, I will totally sell it to you, but my gut says this is like an in-joke in oils.

Half-assed screen prints coming soon!

I wanted a logo and I wanted to screen print it on my bags. So I learned to design logos and screen print. Okay, I learned the minimum basics required to do both, and bought the minimum basic materials to do them. I didn't want to spend a lot of money on something I have never even attempted before. Which means I have equipment from a starter kit, which did not include such screen printing necessities as hinge clamps, stretchers, photo emulsion applicators, or very comprehensive instructions. However, thanks to You Tube and some trial and error, I developed a pretty decent half-assed screen print method with what I allowed myself to buy.

The Used Art logo screen print (featuring Kenneth Noisewater the Cat) went so well, I thought I would branch out and try printing an image I made for Drew. It started out as a tattoo design for a Northwest Indian-influenced phoenix bird. The tattoo never happened, but I did paint it on a canvas tote that he used for several years before it eventually looked like this.

Drew's Phoenix 

Since it had reached the Old Masters stage (cracked and faded), I figured it was time to replace it, and now that I am an old master at screen printing, I gave it a go.

For some reason (if I was really an old master at this I would know), this screen is a little trickier to print from. I have to use a very delicate touch spreading the ink. Too much and the ink bleeds through everywhere, not enough and I don't get a good covering of color. But I'm only two canvas bags in and there is a lot of room for improvement. I expect I will have sellable bags with this design in the near future. 

This is how the first half-assed dual-screen print bags are looking. If I get enough interest, I will make some available for purchase, and maybe invest in some real screen printing equipment. MAYBE.

Drew's Phoenix screen print

Thanks for reading, friend. I APPRECIATE YOU.