A Rising Tide

A rising tide lifts all boats. I saw it every summer growing up. My family spent a lot of time on Edisto Island (before the hotels and golf courses) off the coast of South Carolina.
I saw it last week here in the desert when spring-like weather lifted everyone's spirits. People took to the outdoors, baring knees and smiles.
Of course, it's colder now, but the effects lasted. It can happen indoors too. Kindness spreads like a virus. It can affect our work spaces or families just like a change of season. This requires a bit of effort at first, of course, and a brave soul to get things started. Not so easy sometimes to change a human climate. Humans tend to resist change. But certainly worth the effort. Eventually, even the most bitter little dingy can be lifted.

Your artist is deep at work. I hope your day is good.

Words are Powerful

March is National Reading Month. Every month is reading month for me and probably for you. I'll always love books - the ones made of paper. I don't know what it would take to wrest from me my copy of Lewis Padgett's A Gnome There Was. Likely, only death.

I just finished James Owen's Drawing out the Dragons. Currently I'm reading Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell.

My children are all readers. It's the one thing about parenting I can be sure I did right.

Words are powerful. A book can be a talisman against the darkness.

What are you reading now, and why?

Thoughts on Gene Wolfe

In March, Gene Wolfe will be honored here.

What I wrote about Gene Wolfe today, and the bit of cover from "Strange Birds" that shows Neil Gaiman and Gene as the strange birds they are:

During the time Gene and I worked together on Strange Birds, we got into a habit of exchanging emails, once a day. Every morning I'd wake to find a note from Gene. These were unique bits that could've been strung together like beads for a strange necklace. I applied that layer of Gene to his work and began to understand why it and this marvelous and brilliant human resonated so strongly with me. He told me the stories he wrote for Birds were the darkest he'd ever written. Gene's work taught me a lot about symbols, layers and subtlety. It took me into new territories. In an interview later, Gene said he was a little scared of me and suspected that secretly I was a cannibal. Maybe he thought that or maybe he didn't, as Gene is a bit of a jester and I a bit of a fool. The funny thing is, I am a cannibal, in engineering terms. I re-purpose objects into symbols, and it might well be Gene's work that pushed me in that direction. My dear Gene, you may be surprised to learn that it was you who turned me into this sort of cannibal. Your work is in mine. Deepest admiration and congratulations, my friend. I will love you always and, in my dreams, you are delicious.

In addition, there's a flash fiction writing contest connected to the event here.

I'm working today with Gene in mind, for sure.

Herding Inspiration

I drove Orion to school this morning and the views of snow frosted mountains and clouds was spectacular. I felt inspiration stirring. I have a list of things to do today, as every day. This morning puts me in mind of a topic I've spoken often about at conventions: Write High, Edit Sober. It's a catchy title and yes, I do talk a little about drugs, including caffeine. But the heart of the matter is that most of us struggle to find a balance between inspired work and time to act on it.
It's good advice to write, paint or dance when the muse shows up. The work we do when inspired is, well, inspired. Sometimes, failing to act on inspiration can be a loss. Sometimes the correspondence and organizing can wait, even if we think it can't.
But sometimes the have-to's can't wait. Life is messy and most of us have many jobs.

On the other hand, it's possible to bring inspiration to the time we do have. To a degree, we can invite the muse. It might be a matter of paying attention to what works. If it's the feel of wind on your face, go outside. It could be a particular music or a scent or a passage in a book.
Or sometimes it's just a matter of getting started. If you don't feel inspired, prepare the canvas, lay in the background colors. Or start writing about the moment you're in. Sometimes my best work happens this way. It focuses us, calms us, opens the door for creativity.

Jump into inspiration when it comes. If you can't, allow yourself to feel it, pay attention to what brought it to you and invite it back when you're ready. It's not perfect, but I can tell you from experience, it works often enough to be well worth the effort.

Choosing Form for Function

I've come to realize, as I've worked on this book project, that it's been writing itself for years. I know the subject matter well. It flows. The difficult work has been in choosing the form. I've always been a storyteller. You've likely been with me long enough to know a story can be just two inches tall. My 'go to' form is sculpture. I can draw with pencils, or paint with brushes. I can even sing a little. Still, if you can believe it, I can sculpt a poppet faster than I can draw one. It's simply a matter of experience and practice. Could I sculpt a poppet with my eyes closed? I don't know. Hmmm.....

I'll think about that tomorrow.

I can write a few words or a lot of words. In writing, the tool I reach for most often is an image with a few words, e.g. just last week.

Or I can write a lot of words about the experience that brought me to there. (I'm working on it.)

The former can be very effective and even lasting. These stories are iconic. The latter sort is more immersive. We can snuggle into it. Either can stick with us. Either can deliver the message.

The question is, what kind of a book do I want to make? We know already that it will be some combination of words and images. Drawings, paintings, photographic images of sculptures? Verse, anecdote, fiction?

I'm looking through the work I've done so far and honestly, the best answer seems to be not to choose one form, but to mix it up. That would create a new challenge - how to take what could look like a garage sale and make it visually cohesive. Already this seems a reasonable challenge, even if only because I haven't beaten my head against it for three months.

It seems to me that I've danced long enough with the old challenge. I've chosen over and over and just can't stick with my choices. It seems the best way to go is to try another approach. It works in sailing and herding cats, why not for creating a book?

I'm having this conversation with you before I have it with the publisher. Which, in my mind, makes a great deal of sense. After all, I'm your artist and this will be your book.

Tell me what you think. It matters to me.

It's Sunday. I'm in my ratty old robe, there's a lukewarm cup of forgotten coffee on my desk and I'm surrounded by cats. I laugh at myself. Stereotypes aren't created out of thin air.

Hope your Sunday is good.

Through the Dark Night

Sometimes you think you're alone.

Sometimes you are alone.

It's not a terrible thing, then, to discover that you can rely on yourself.

Thursday

January went by in a blur, mostly caused by cold meds and the general misery of bronchitis. I wrote this on facebook:

Lisa Snellings What I've had is a tanked economy that squeezed my business into a one-woman juggling act, single parenthood and all that goes with and a psychotic ex boyfriend that's stalked and harassed and even broke into my house. Not too many warm fuzzies, no safety net. But I know this--I laugh with my kid every day and eventually, I'll work it all out in the work. Two Constants for me - love and making stuff. Everything else can just suck it.
January 26 at 10:40am · LikeUnlike · 9

Thought I was coming around and it knocked me back a good one. Silly virus! But now I'm digging out, catching up. Orders are getting mailed out, the studio got swept, trash taken out, bills paid and ducks jostled into rows. Some of them, anyway.

We all have time to be sick, don't we? Tose 'smell the roses' kinds of things we've been meaning to do get put aside because we're too busy. Or even taking a break with a good book or getting some fresh air and exercise. It takes a virus and a good ass-kicking to get me to spend a day on the sofa watching classic science fiction movies and reading. Two days. Likely, if I'd slowed down sooner I would've resisted the bug better. Silly human.

But now I'm coming around, catching up and this weekend, hope to be back to writing.

Last week was a good reminder not to invest so much in the future that I don't enjoy my day. The future is uncertain, but certainly would be better with some good memories from today.

Enjoy your day.

Things doing when under the weather

A week of bronchitis for Orion and me. Finally, though still coughing a bit, we begin to feel like humans again. Finally patiently waiting poppets are on their ways to new places. I caught up on some reading, some television and while sitting with O as he did homework from missed days, I sculpted some new little creatures that need no painting.

Lots of sleep for Orion. Lots of soup for me.

I could sure use a week or so with no new hurdles, but for now will be content to breathe through my nose. I think the hardest part of it was that my brain really wanted to be creative. There my muse was at my door and I didn't have the energy to entertain her. But I made her some tea and gave her a cookie and she promised to come back soon.

I suspect she's never very far away at all.

Hope you're avoiding nasty viruses out there in the real world.

Air

It's Saturday. The wind is howling and the air is full of sand and bits of bark and leaves. Other debris is caught up in it too, plastic bags that zip around and change directions in the chaos, crows struggling for forward motion and brightly colored bits of paper. Some of it lands in the pool. Occasionally there's a pretty good thud when a limb bangs against the roof. There's a crash as the recycling bin falls and spills its bottles. Everything is seen through a violent confetti.
I've got an edge that comes with not enough sleep. If you've spent a night with a congested child, you know that they wake up panicked because they can't breathe through their noses. And you feel powerless because it's a virus and all you can do is treat the symptoms and offer comfort. And steam. A hot shower or sitting in the steamy bathroom helps him get the air he needs.
Wow. I haven't seen wind like this in awhile. It just ripped a board off our fence and the bottom of the pool is black with dirt and leaves. There's someone else's rug on the deck and now it's loud, loud, loud. I decided to peek out the front door. There are several really large limbs - one too big to be moved without cutting, and the carport shade is nearly ripped away. Funny, the temperature is spring-like. Welcome to the desert.

Aubrey just sent me a beautiful, serene photo of snow. It's as opposite as opposite can be.

Orion and I sit inside, cozy and quiet so he gets enough air. We watch the maelstrom outside, shadows chasing after the clouds so it's dark and light in turn. Not enough air for him, too much outside.

This is our Saturday, so far.

Not today

Some days, you won't.

Dr. Seuss was good. Dr. Seuss was wise.

This is the day I won't. Again. I'm still reeling a little from new psychoex weirdness that resulted in a restraining order, then even more weirdness on serving the thing. I'm told that reeling is an appropriate response. It's been somewhat traumatic . And all that goes with.

Add to that a couple of wicked colds for Orion and me and a printer that suddenly died this morning and you've got a day when it

just isn't happening.

I wasted a couple of hours trying to force myself to punch through it. Then I messaged the people who were waiting on things and asked them to wait a little longer. Better at least than spinning wheels the whole day. Now simple things and rest.

I've discovered my favorite cold med is Ferrara Pan RED HOTS. The classics stay with us for a reason.

Don't forget to speak up: Important.

At sunset, I did manage to catch the light playing with my toys. So I know I'm still in here, somewhere. Orion is coughing again. I'm off.

Take care.

Nuts and Bolts

Today I have a wicked cold and so does Orion, so we're slogging through it at home. He's playing video games in his room and I'm working on things that need my brain and don't require any sort of bending or moving faster than a snail.

Fortunately, my brain seems to be working fine. Or at least, fine enough.

This is an advantage of working at home. I can fit the task to the day, at least most of the time.

A good enough day to put up these photos I took as I made some clear poppets. Above is what's called an envelope mold. Basically, it's a mold with a cut on one plane that folds shut.

I haven't use the mold in awhile, so I clean it up. I'm out of mold release and right now, it just isn't in the budget, so I use some Chapstick. (I know, it's technically Blistex but that's an exception.)

I could likely write an entire blog on the uses of Chapstick in the studio and out. But I won't, because I'd bet without looking it's already been done.

In this case though, it makes a good mold release, which is pretty much wax in a spray can.

With the stick though, I have to smooth it out so there are no lumps.

Now I mix about an ounce of clear casting resin (nasty stuff---do not attempt without good ventilation, or with a cold) with the appropriate drops of catalyst. Which for me means 4 drops over in compensation for the cold temps and that I want it to cure fast.

I pour the resin to just above the poppet's ruff, which means just under - we're upside down. The fifth space I filled with glass balls as an experiment because I'm a child at heart and can't stand not to play while I work.

While that sets, I hand sculpt some tiny hearts and fire them in the toaster oven. I wouldn't consider larger works in there, but this takes about three minutes at 300 degrees.

Then I paint them.

I'll use a bit of Shoe Goo to affix the hearts inside the mold. Have to make sure the paint on the hearts is absolutely dry and use a tiny amount. Also, have to remember to put them in upside down. :)

I find Shoe Goo to be extremely handy in the studio. While we're on handy studio stuff - rings cut from old stockings make a great substitute for rubber bands. For delicate molds, they can be cut to custom widths to distribute pressure evenly.

They also make good hair ties, bracelets. Or handcuffs.

...

So. Here are the poppets, freshly de-molded. They'll have flash - the thin bits of resin that seeped into the seams.

Their surfaces will be slightly sticky.

All that has to be cleaned away with the Dremmel and some hand sanding.

While I Dremmel, I drill a hole for the balloon string using a micro drill bit.

I'll put on the first layer of clear glaze and while that dries, I sculpt, fire and paint the heart for the balloon.

Before I fire it, I'll put a small hole in the heart with wire. Saves drilling later.

And here's the finished piece. I don't have any listed right now because, as you can see, they take a lot of time and aren't the sort of thing I can make with a cold. But now you can see how they're made. I like questions, and promise not to think any are silly, unless they are. And if they are, I'll like them anyway.

Sunshine

Sunshine brought us to the park.

It wasn't the palms I wanted, when Orion ran off to play,

but the perfect sycamore,

under which to read

from a book with a made-up map.

I recognize my mother's face in mine,

and the singular light of nine.


















And that was a bit of this day. Hope yours was good.

g'night

Before There Were Trees

Much of the work today was spent getting to here.

It seems a place worth exploring. I hope to return soon.

There's no alarm in the morning and now I intend to fall asleep reading. Maybe I'll dream of home.

g'night

Three Hours

Starting a new assemblage. I took notes as I worked and some photos.



My first choice was a different work, but I'd misplaced the seed pods I wanted for it and, having only limited studio time, I opted to shift gears instead of searching. (I found them later on.)





Every piece begins with an idea.



At this moment, it's more like the pupae of an idea, as yet not named and not fully developed. But I have a good sense of what I want to say. I'll have to trust the details and words to come later. I can, because that's usually the case.
So with that in mind, I gather objects. I have a lot to choose from. I pick things up wherever I go. People send me things too, odd little bits. I'm always thrilled to find a little box or envelope in the mailbox with a bug, bone or odd bit of metal or wood.


Next I'll start to sort the objects into groups. The sorting can be challenging.





My first instinct will be to treat them like specimens, ordered by physical properties/shape/materials.


When I collected seashells as a child, I tended to sort them this way.


The sorting is also governed by visual aesthetics - color and form.





And finally by metaphor, emotion, story.
The sorting isn't so much a means to an end as an exercise. Sorting and handling these things, placing them in relation to other things is part of the process. I find connections between them, become aware of the history behind the objects, some of which are to memories of people and places. Finally I'm able to see them out of context, having no relation to anything I know. That's a tricky part. I can best describe it as being similar to "seeing" an optical illusion. This is the "real" work.
Once stripped of assigned values, the objects become an alphabet, capable of visual stories. It can be overwhelming, but I keep my focus in place. A title would help but I don't have to have one yet. For the moment, I begin to know what fits and what doesn't.

I have to trust my feelings, Luke.


God, I'm such a nerd.

I keep the objects in motion. Eventually groups form- things that want to work together.





It's a process that isn't at all...linear.




I begin to add two dimensional bits to the whole. Bits of hand painted paper.

Prints of paintings, pages from old cookbooks and Galaxy.


All these things are spread over years and geography and exist for various reasons.

The stuff that does it for me, that makes the work feel like play, is finding a way to put these things together so that they make some kind of sense as a whole. Eventually (if I do it right) it will be an odd sort of story. If I do it right, other people will be able to "read" it.

That's it for today. It has to be. It's what I did in the time I had. I reluctantly let it go. There are other things that must be done. I've put this work off for far too long, hoping for a big block of time to devote to it.

That's not my present reality. Those blocks of time don't exist.


So for three hours I completely immersed myself in an embryo of an idea. On the surface, there's nothing to show for the effort, but when I come back, the work will be evident and might even surprise me. We'll see.

January 2

It's Monday but we're sort of half in and out of the holiday still. Tomorrow will start with the 6:30 am alarm and life might seem 'normal' again. I didn't get to read as much over the holidays as I'd hoped, so I'm feeling a little out of that loop too. But I'm always conscious of words. Our English language is ever changing. It should be. It's a living thing, after all. New words are invented with, well, inventions. Old ones become dusty and forgotten. I have my own pet peeves about words. I'm not sure I like how texting abbreviations are infiltrating other forms of communication, including everyday speech. It also seems to me that standards for usage and punctuation are largely ignored. They're there, already.

Possibly 'hear' and 'here' will become interchangeable? But I'm not thinking about that.

This morning I'm thinking of everyday speaking. What is your favorite affirmative? For instance, my number one is, "excellent." (Thank you, Montgomery Burns.) It came about because after nearly a decade of living in California I decided to train myself not to answer with "cool." It was harder than you might think.

What's your word? What it was before? Before that? Do you know when/why it changed?

It doesn't really matter in the grand scheme. But it's a good exercise to think about these little evolutions in communication. I'd like to know about yours. We might learn something.

That said, I'd like to pose an exercise. Substitute other words for your fallback. Yes indeed, this is the nerdiest thing I've asked you to do so far. Maybe.

So what? Your brain is fat and needs the exercise. Mine too. It got lazy over the holidays and might need a little poke in the Broca's.

So substitute another word for your usual fallback. Each time I'm inclined to say "excellent," I'll choose "splendid" or "transcendent" or "exemplary." Or something else that pops up. Which probably won't happen without a little practice, because I'm not quick in that way.

But even thinking of a synonym after the fact is exercise. More like a secret isometric under your desk sort of thing, but some exercise is better than none, even if you've had a candy bar.

I'll try it. Will you? I know. It's a little thing. But then, most of our days are made of little things. Why not this one?

Have an ex...quisite day.

December 31

It's the last day of the year. This is good for us. Marking time. Humans need this. Every year a clean slate. Sometimes we need it every day. It's okay. So here I am, today, looking out at you and laughing at me. Silly human. Thank you for being here with me. It wouldn't have been the same journey at all without you.

I can't thank you enough, ever. But know at least that I sincerely do. Off we go into 2012. It's like time travel. I will always be your idiot artist, stumbling toward the light. xoxo

December 30

Just so you know. I'm taking a break. A breath. I'm thinking you very likely are too.







We're gonna need it.

See you soon. xoxo

December 26 editing tastes like peas

I push words around on the page like peas I don't want to eat.

Here, there and back again, I continue to move them around,
hoping a solution will eventually reveal itself or that my mother
will give up.

I was, and am, a tenacious little shit. This could go on for awhile.

December 21 Light

Light is near.

December 20 Stop Spinning

If you're stressed about the holidays, cut it out.




Before I type another letter, I should probably tell you that earlier today I failed to follow the suggestions I'm about to offer. I have a gift shop and it's gift season. I'm the head of a household. And there's the occasionally spectacular dynamic of the humans around me - those who are part of the solution and those who are part of the problem. And all that goes with. I have my list, you have yours.






Sometimes the clock is ticking, my brain is racing and a dozen things are competing for my attention. Sometimes I find myself slogging through the glue that is overload.







I did today, for sure. Thankfully, I stepped back before getting stuck. Still, if I were REALLY good at this, I'd have avoided that goo in the first place.



Wouldn't you think?




What I'm trying to say here is, beware. (see blog header) Don't follow me blindly. I might trip.





That said. It's the holidays. Prime season for stress. Very likely this is a good time to remind ourselves that at this time of year, we tend to try to live up to impossible standards. We have to remember that these standards are mostly created by marketers trying to make us feel we are lacking. Because, if we shop at Target, our holiday dinner will be perfect. If we shop at Zales, we can watch the game in peace. And so on.


Our memories do it too. Those fuzzy-edged, rose-colored pictures of perfect family dinners, softened by time. Who are we kidding? Our mothers were spinning. Grandmothers too. Possibly they popped a couple of Valium or sampled the cooking wine. Either way, you likely didn't see them spinning. Why not? Because your mind was elsewhere.






You're not as important to the people sitting at your table as you think you are. Or, at least, not in the way you think. They're not watching your every move. They're not going to judge you if you forgot to use the good salt shakers. They just don't care. They're not going to notice if the candles are vanilla instead of holiday spice or if the tree's a little dry. It's not that they don't appreciate you. It's just that they're living just as much in their heads as you are in yours.


That spotlight bearing down on you is yours. You put it there. Just turn it off. In a week, no one will care about the details or who gave them which present. If they do, it's their problem, not yours.

What they will remember is how they felt. What you will remember is how you felt.






I'm gonna suggest here that we think about cutting down our lists. Some of the details can go. Some of the deadlines are made-up. I'm going to suggest we simplify and spend a little more time being.








I'm just saying.