boxes, boxes, boxes

(Last blog post: Oct 22, 2013...)

My friend and amazing artist Terry Grant gets the credit for this blog waking up again. She tagged me as a link in a blogging chain focusing on the creative process. I have been following her blog for a couple of years, and find it delightful. It is an added plus that she knew my mother in their fabric artist world.

A bit of summer whimsy from mom at the side here.

 What inspires me the most is deadlines. Real ones, not the ones I create for myself. I am the queen of procrastination; this blog, for instance, was "due" yesterday, so I am already a day late. I googled the causes for procrastination, and discovered I have a fear of failure and am worried about being perfect.

I will have to think about that; it doesn't feel like a nail being hit on the head.

But deadlines are inspirational. I would be a bit embarrassed to let Terry down. I try to not commit myself willy nilly because of this chance of embarrassment. Mostly I choose a deadline that challenges me a bit beyond my comfort zone, but not so much that all the fun is lost in the commitment. I work full time, and volunteer here and there, so time is of essence.

The focus of my work these days is simply to create a studio space. In the past, it was a dining room table. Although I have the table still, I do not have the dining room. Even better, I have a new little house that has a family room that will become my studio. I naively thought this move in process would take weeks instead of the months it has become.

Here we are a few weeks into moving in...still boxes boxes boxes.

Studio Cat checks out the new area...

Verrry frustrating. I unpack and still find more STUFF.
I think it they multiply over night.

And last weekend I baptized the workspace by actually working in it....

I took a weekend workshop from Yukimi Annand, which was about making calligraphic marks in a textural way. I wanted to stretch myself beyond legible text, to text with feeling in the line and composition.

We used unusual tools to make marks; my favorite was a wisteria pod.

Can you read my text? Of course not, so I will read it for you:

Oh, for the wings of a dove, for then I would fly away and be at rest.

It is purely personal; I do not even know why that phrase keeps cropping up when I write, but it has been doing so for years. I suspect it is a desire for my life to be different than it is, to be peaceful and restful. When I am working on my art, I am close.