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Thursday, May 29, 2008

 

ArtPact #55

(Also published on "Unchain My Art")

Among other activities, our watercolor organization arranges weekly paint outs (or, to be fancy, plein-air painting outings). I usually do not participate in them, as they collide with our critique group meetings, and I am not quite a landscape painter.

But today was an afternoon session. Plus it was held in a Japanese garden. Plus the organizer, PleinieJ, is a wonderful fiber artist (in addition to being a great plein air painter), so my sister - also a fiber artist - wanted to look at PleinieJ's work and show off with her own (after impressing the critique group with them this morning. Hey, one of the works had gallstones - which she incorporated into the piece after undergoing a gall bladder surgery).

So we went.

It's a lovely place, as Japanese gardens tend to be: the token wooden bridge, a pond filled with koi fish, ducks, sculpted little trees, background rocks - and I am sure somewhere in the garden was hiding the inevitable bamboo thingy with water dripping through. Y'know, the thingy that makes this noise without which a Japanese garden is just not it. Painters with their easels were spread all around the garden, rendering the beauty with their brushes; my sister was taking photos as if she's never seen a Japanese garden before (well, she hasn't, actually); and I - I looked for something to sketch.

I tried drawing the ducks... the plants... almost attempted the koi - all with no success.

And suddenly - an adorable chubby little kid, accompanied by his mom and aunt approached the pond. He stood there fascinated, admiring the ducks and fish and water and little tadpoles and whatnot. The other painters frowned, as he blocked their view - but I was beaming, as I have found my subject!!

I skecthed his gesture quickly, as - being a little kid, he moved quite a bit, but I recalled what our incredible sketching teacher,
Jim Smyth, used to tell us: "Little kids and athletes have a very limited repertoire of poses - if you sketch them, and they move, just wait till they get back to that pose again". As always, he was right.

So, I sketched the little guy, trying to capture his nonchalant yet curious pose. One minute - that's all I had, before he abandoned the ducks and came to see what I was doing. I showed him the sketch. He was utterly unimpressed, informed me his name was Freddie, and went back to the pond. They left, and I sat there, adding some colors and the surroundings. Then they came back. Freddie was very keen on feeding the ducks (by that time, my camera was ready!). While he was becoming popular with the ducks, his aunt approached me, and after a lot of hesitation asked if she could take a photo of my sketch.

"Sure", I replied graciously.

But then, I gave it another thought, and said "actually... let ME take a photo, and I'll give you the original".

She was quite surprised by the offer, and after I made sure she indeed likes it (and won't just toss it in the nearest garbage can), I insisted.

I took a photo, signed the sketch, and carefully tore the page out of my sketchbook. Again, Freddie came to see what the commotion is about. Again, he couldn't care less, showed me the bag of marshmallows he took out of his mom's basket, and exclaimed "Mine!".

His mom offered me one - and he tried to hide his anxiety. I politely said "No" (you don't want to upset the model!) but she insisted, so I carefully took one piece. By the time my sister was offered a marshmallow, Freddie's wide open eyes were showing increasing signs of distress. As tempting as it was, we rejected a second piece. After all, that would have been like taking candy from a baby...

We parted as friends, and after a while, I admit had some pangs of regret that I gave the sketch away, as I liked it quite a bit. But hey - a random act of kindness. Plus, I took so many photos of Freddie, that he might become a series one day.

Obviously, Freddie's own opinion was that a piece of marshmallow was way too high a price to pay for a sketch...



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Sunday, May 25, 2008

 

The Devil's in The Details

(Also published on "Unchain My Art")

Last week, the temperatures were peaking at 100. Then it got nice and cozy, very spring-like. And today, winter is back. Gray skies, chilly - and even rain. Feels like California got into some crazy time machine that got broken.

But yesterday, before this sudden winter, my sister and I managed to go and visit the fair
Filoli Center, with its flowers and greenery and sculpted gardens and all.

The roses were in blossom, generously spreading their perfume, the lavender pitched in the aromatic festival with its usual stunning purpleness, joined by other flowers in varying shades of purple and orange (whoever designs the gardens there has an exquisite sense of color!), and many more blossoms whose names I shall never know.

It really was lovely; a nice break from the shopping sprees we got into (in my defense: I'm still sick and thus cannot really drive around; the paradox is that standing for hours in stores does not make me feel any better... on the contrary).

We strolled through the beauty, enjoying the sights, smells and the fact that we do not need to water all these plants.


Eventually we went into the house (which is quite impressive if you are one of those fancy-house lovers, with chandeliers and carpets and heavy furniture and window treatments and a drawing room and a refectory and the China from which they used ot drink tea and a living room and another living room and - well, y'know).

My sister went to visit the rest room, and while waiting for her, I examined the artwork on the nearby wall. Two big paintings of sailing ships hung very high above the extra-high doors, and in between them a third piece that looked impressively three-dimensional. A close look revealed that it really was 3D, with plastic sails glued onto the canvas... I gazed at the paintings and the 3D critter with sheer boredom, filled with thoughts of how much I dislike this kind of art, when the docent approached me.

She smiled at me - and immediately frowned at my sister's big black purse which was in the carpet.

"Oh, I thought it was a cat!", she realized her mistake.

"Nope, it isn't",
I assured her.

"So", she turned to me, wearing back her smile,
"I see you are admiring the details in these pictures?".

For a moment there, I contemplated giving her a lecture about details having nothing to do with quality of art, about going beyond the obvious and reaching higher for expressiveness, about the elements of design being sacrified so often in favor of mediocre art - - -


But instead, I just smiled and said with my sweetest voice: "Oh yes".

Because sometimes, it's just easier.

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Monday, May 19, 2008

 

Boilin'


As I mentioned in the previous post, a visitor from Israel is on her way to us as I write: my one and only sister, whom I haven't seen in a year.

First time in the US, she stopped in NYC to see the wonders of the Big Apple and get acquainted to Dr. Pepper (a discovery that made her very excited, and I believe by now she's hopelessly addicted to this red stuff).

She is our very first visitor who is not The JohnnyB related, but my own blood. It's about time, and yes, I am excited. She is coming for four weeks, and JimmyB (the JohnnyB's brother) totally freaked when he heard that number. He reacted by almost choking, then got into a chant, "Did you say four weeks? FOUR?? wow, four weeks... y'know, four weeks is a very long time. VERY long. Four weeks - I mean, three weeks is a long time, but four - whew, that's a long visit. Four weeks is really a very long time". Eventually, I somehow sensed that he is, kinda, trying to subtly hint that a four week visit might be long, but I'm not quite sure yet. I may have been wrong. He was so genuinely horrified, that I assured him that when we visit them, we'll only come for, say, three and a half weeks. I dunno why he started crying...

Anyway - it all depends who the guest is. Sometimes, a two-day visit can seem like an eternity in hell, while a month's visit can pass too quickly. And, since my sister is my best friend, I am not worried.

Would have been much better if I hadn't been knocked down most of last week with this miserable virus, because - as a result, The JohnnyB and I spent the better part of the weekend frantically preparing the house for her arrival. Whenever we have a visitor, we try to make the guest room as inviting and cozy as can be. Now, converting a den into a guest room is enough work as it is; but this time, we also had to slave in the kitchen.

Because my sister keeps kosher.

And because we, hmm... don't.

And the world of Jewish kosherness is oh so endlessly intricate.

For us, it started with a whole lot of shopping for pans.

And plates.

And flatware (just learned this word yesterday!!).

Oh, and spatulas.

And wooden spoons.

Oooops - and cutting boards.

And knives.

And an additional set of flatware.

And containers for leftovers.

And . . .

The domino effect is extreme, as you keep realizing you need more and more stuff... you go through the motions of cooking one meal in your head in order to figure out what will be needed for the big production, and you just go nuts!

Now, add to it all the fact that you need two of everything - one for dairy, one for meat (*).

To prevent us from qualifying for the stimulus package, we stopped the shopping frenzy at pots. The JohnnyB spent 3 hours this morning baptizing all our precious Calphalon pots and a bunch of plates and utensils in boiling waters in order to make them fit for the non-shellfish eater - he even has the burns to prove it! (hmm... maybe baptizing is the wrong word under such circumstances?).

While he was boiling the hell out of everything, we also created separate areas to assure that dairy and meat never ever meet again in public (for the next month, that is), and invested quality time in more riveting activities (such as trying to find kosher chicken and figuring out what fish are OK and which are unmentionable. No sturgeon, and alas - no clam chowder in San Francisco. Can you imagine visiting Pier 39 without trying this mandatory dish? or a crab salad?).

For two atheists (actually, only one; The JohnnyB claims to be an Agnostic), doing all this seems, well, y'know... but we are still doing it, as my sister is one of the very few people who actually deserves this kind of pain-in-the-butt preparations (Yes, she is this amazing!).

But hey - I reserve the right to whine about it... and my friends here are having a field day on my account. The always-supportive MembieK assured me that my entertainment value has increased significantly in the past week or so.


And so, after this laborious weekend, The JohnnyB and I had the last supper (well, sort of) of his signature pasta and shrimp. So long, sweet pink critters - till June 16th...

(*) For those of you who are befuddled by the dairy-meat thingy, here's a little story (which I am sure is true) of what was the original humane intent, and how it got overanalyzed and complicated. And, while you're enjoying this little bit of invaluable information, I'll continue to do the last minute cleaning and stuff. She lands in less than 3 hours!!!

A dialogue while Moses is at the top of Mount Sinai:

God: "And remember, Moses, in the laws of keeping Kosher, never cook a calf in its mother's milk. It is cruel."

Moses: "Ohhhhhh! So you are saying we should never eat milk and meat Together."

God: "No, what I'm saying is, never cook a calf in its mother's milk. It IS cruel."

Moses: "Oh, Lord, forgive my ignorance. What you are really saying is we should wait six hours after eating meat to eat milk so the two are not in our stomachs."

God: "No, Moses, what I'm saying is, don't cook a calf in it's mother's milk. IT'S CRUEL!!!"

Moses: "Oh, Lord! Please don't strike me down for my stupidity! What you mean is we should have a separate set of dishes for milk and separate set for meat and if we make a mistake we have to bury that dish outside...."

God: "Moses, do whatever the hell you want......."

And so, that is how it all started...



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Sunday, May 18, 2008

 

A Little Lunch For Thought (TM) #13


I moved here over six years, and never had a visitor.


Sounds like an inmate in a high-security prison, I know.

Now, don't get me wrong - we've had quite a few guests in our house, but always from the groom's side. When I wanted to see my family - it was me who got on a plane and made the endless journey to the holy land, being rewarded with a jetlag and a growing sense of all-over-again detachment every time I boarded the plane back to the US.

Complaining?

Moi??

Well, yes.

There is a painful catch in visiting your homeland once a year, as everything seems to depend on that short visit. Family, friends, places - the smallest thing that goes wrong casts a dark shadow; incidents that could be laughed away over a cup of coffee the day after (if you had the luxury of meeting the people you love on a regular basis), get overblown, and - unless mended immediately - cause damage; if someone is having a bad day when you visit - you cannot always set another day to meet, so you either give it up or have a bad experience that gets burnt in the memoirs from that trip.

Also, when you visit, you are the one on vacation (allegedly). You are all excited and full of good will to see and meet and spend time and - - - and soon enough you realize that others do not necessarily share this goodwill, as they are not on vacation. They work, they have a headache, they need to take the car to the garage, they have their daily things to attend to, they may be in the midst of a crappy time at work or in life, or they just don't have the time and mental bandwidth for you. And although they kept chanting "when-are-you-coming-when-are-you-coming-when-are-you-coming-when-are-you-coming-when-are-you-coming" - they actually can't be bothered right now.

That is when frustration strikes.

Like, you broke your own routine, put aside your own activities in order to go visit at a time that's convenient for everyone, spent all that money, went through those endless lines in security and all, did all that traveling (24 hours door to door, if you really wanna know) - and whatever for?

Yup, it sucks.


Distance in mileage and time changes perspective, for better or worse. I now know which relationships will last even if we keep meeting only once in a while, and I am learning to accept that others were just not strong enough, maybe conditioned on time and availability. It's painful, and the sense of loss keeps accumulating with every relationship that switches to the past tense - especially since you do not really get a replacement. Y'see, it's not easy to be the new kid when you're over 40. Everyone is already set in their own lives and families and friends, and you are the one seeking new connections. Add to that not fully understanding the culture and the cryptic dance of "soooooooo nice to meet you let's do lunch sometime" (I admit - I still don't get it!) - and you are set for many, many disappointments. Even if you were a social butterfly with a ring of truly incredible friends back home, you are not guaranteed to replicate it when you immigrate. Far from it.

Did I mention it sucks?

And it takes several years to realize that you're trapped in this limbo: living here too many years to still belong in your homeland, and not yet feeling that you belong here. Actually, you start wondering if you ever will. The past year or two have generously provided me with some very cold showers to increase this sense of wonder.

It's a rude and painful awakening (allow me to cheerfully overuse the word sucks, yet again), but I guess it's part of growing up. Yet another lesson. I can only hope that I will find my niche here, even if right now it seems unlikely. Oh yes, some days, pessimism rocks!

Every visit back home used to throw me off track, emphasizing all the above again and again, and it gets harder to readjust every time I come back.


Until my mom passed away, exactly two years ago, I visited at least once a year, as she was not able to make the trip. But last year I decided that need to think of myself, for a change. I thus announced to my family that from now on, the sky is open both ways; amazingly enough, there are flights from Israel to the USA as well, and it's time for some reciprocation.

And so -


- - - - - - -- - - - - the first swallow is arriving tomorrow!!!


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Saturday, May 17, 2008

 

Steamin'


The JohnnyB brought a bonus from work: a virus that took over his sinuses, throat and stomach. He spent the weekend and Monday miserably sitting in his chair, consuming soup and sniffing with teary red eyes (yup, it's also allergy season). Then, in his eternal generosity, he passed it on to his lovely wife.

For the last 3 days, I am home-bound with this stupid bloody thing.

For the last 3 days the weather here has been in the upper 90s (for you, fellow Celsius-speakers, that's above 35).

Combine the two, burning on the inside, steaming on the outside, and - you'll understand that my mood is leaning towards pure joy and utter bliss...

$(^!(#@^$#!

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Wednesday, May 14, 2008

 

ArtPact #54

(Also published on "Unchain My Art")

I am not painting these days. Haven't painted for several weeks before we went on the trip to Utah and Arizona, haven't really painted since we came back.

I'm busy and distracted. My one and only sister is coming to visit us for a month (she's landed in New York today for 5 days on the East Coast, and will arrive to our house on Monday), and it got us in a frenzy of house improvement, or at least converting the house from a pigsty (lot of neglect in the past year) to a welcoming cozy home - not just for her, but mainly for us.

And yet - I do have the urge to dip a brush into some paint and go for it. And am in the eternal catch 22: I have so many images I want to work on that I cannot choose any of them. Plus, after not painting for a while, you kinda get into regression, and need to start two steps behind (at least two, that is). Armed with all these lame excuses - no wonder I haven't visited my studio for quite a while.

In the last couple of days I've been browsing through Rhonda Carpenter's
Watercolor and Words art blog, and was inspired by her recent work, of going nuts with masking fluid, letting it dry, and then pouring watercolor all over. I decided this might be a good way to loosen up and get over the well known fear of a white paper staring you in the eyes. Plus - I am on a quest for new ways to get away from tight realism, and this process has really appealed to me. Nothing frees you up like making a mess and then creating a painting from it. (Thanks, Rhonda, for the inspiration!!)

I took 3 different color triads, and played with five pieces of paper this way. Without thinking of the subject, I simply tried to create interesting shapes with the masking fluid, smearing it with a scrap piece of foamcore and using spray bottle to move it around a bit (hmm... still need to work on that). Waited for it to completely dry (which wasn't hard, as we're having a heat wave as I write. 94 degrees tomorrow!), and then poured the paint. It was pure fun to see the colors intermingle and become acquaintances without the interruption of the brush. When this dried out too, I removed the mask (which is a very annoying stage - I hate doing that!), and was rewarded with five pieces of paper with interesting colors and patterns.

OK... now what?

I can see things in some of these, but nothing really screams at me yet.

Because it's so much fun to make these, I think I'll just start a pool of poured papers, and use them when the right mood and subject strikes. Some will serve as backgrounds, some as under-paintings, and some will sit in the dark closet until their day comes to be torn and reincarnate as pieces for collage.

Still, they look really cool even as they are now. So, I played with them a bit on my "Picture It!" program (the poor cousin of Photoshop), and - lo and behold, just juxtaposing them together came out as a cool abstract piece! (The JohnnyB claims he likes it more than most pieces of nonobejctive work he's seen).

Sometimes, art can be just for fun - I need to remember this more often.

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Tuesday, May 13, 2008

 

Self Portrait With Flower?


If anything, I find this quite sad.

Sent to me by Yev - Thanks!

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Wednesday, May 07, 2008

 

Recipe: Not for the Faint of Heart


Sometimes, the simplest ingredients make for the best results.

Here's a very simple recipe that I'm trying for the third time in the last couple of months.

Ingredients:

Directions:

  • Pour water into pots, or fill an electric kettle. Or two.
  • Wait for the water to boil, while thinking to yourself "Ah, I should have used warm tap water to make it faster!".
  • Bring water to a boil - better to have several pots/kettles, so they can boil in parallel- you'll need it soon!
  • Turn burner to maximum temperature.
  • Carefully carry pot with boiling water to the backyard.
  • Pour water on the highway of swarming ants that are walking along the rim of the cement under cover of the night.
  • Concentrate first on those carrying big white eggs, those with wings (queens to be) and those that are bigger (the fat-ass VIPs of the colony who came out of the nest to give emergency orders).
  • Return to kitchen.
  • Refill pot (this time with warm tap water!), put on burner.
  • Take next pot outside. You know what to do.
  • Repeat forever - or until you are exhausted.
Caution:

For a special treat, if you see a veeeeeeeeeery big and long ant with a lot of ants trying to lead her somewhere safe - go for it! it may very well be the queen. Don't forget to courteously bow before sending her to the queens' heaven. She is, after all, royalty.


It's 2am now, and I am after 4 rounds of the above.

Let's see what tomorrow brings.

Good night.


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Monday, May 05, 2008

 

ArtPact #53

(Also published on "Unchain My Art")

Time really flies in the blogosphere... I haven't published an art-related post for just over 3 weeks - and it seems like forever.

Haven't been painting recently - partly because we went on a 10-day vacation to Utah and Arizona, for some glorious views and time-out.


I still have the sights carved on the inside of my eyelids: the majestic rocks of Zion, the awesome hoodoos of Bryce against the snowy background (yup, there's still snow on the slopes), the sensual spirals of Antelope Slot Canyon and the overall sublime vastness of the desert. And all those textures, shapes, lines, colors - a true feast for the eyes, especially when the eyes belong to an artist. Mother Nature sure has an incredible exhibit out there!

I took hundreds of photos, and yes, I did take my sketching kit, but it turned out into one of these trips that were too hectic to sketch.

And yet - on the very last afternoon in Zion, while The JohnnyB took his nap, I sat in the garden of the incredible B&B (Harvest House - highly recommended!!!),
thoroughly enjoying the tranquility of the sorroundings, and tried to transfer to paper the feeling of having The Watchman cliff facing me eye to eye.

I reached for my sketchbook, but then saw the watercolor postcards pack that I carry with me on every trip, but never used them.


"OK then - postcard it is!", I decided. I'll make one for my sister and send it to her.


Ambitious? Of course!

And... probably not the sharpest idea to try and capture such a sight on a 4"x6" piece of paper!

I made two attempts, of which I am bravely posting the least disastrous one. It was fun - but it makes me think the world would be a better place if I stuck with painting people...

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