Art vs. Writing : Guilt in 24 Hours

Reflecting on my foray into the art world 24 hours ago, a few things have hit me.

I will always be a writer first. How telling is it that after a few hours of practicing, I want to go home and blog about it?

I retract my statement that words are finite and images are abstract. I had it backwards.

Images are concrete, words give us much more freedom. They are both vital forms of art, and powerful in different ways.

Maybe what draws me to try art is that there’s a safety in being a beginner. It feels as if I can just enjoy it, since it’s impossible to attach the same performance standards I do with my writing. However, it’s also frustrating because being a beginner means that I don’t have good control over the tools I’m using yet, so they will need to be replaced faster. I don’t have the basic skills to convey the images in my mind. And I don’t think in images– I think in words and phrases. Also, to learn what I need will require quite an investment. I would need books to study, since I can’t afford any classes. The materials are costly and don’t last long.

Whereas I have most of the knowledge I need to write– and the materials are relatively cheap and last substantially longer.

It can take a lifetime to learn these art skills– and most never do. Let’s face it, any revered artist usually struggles with a lot of harsh self-criticism even when they are making a living off their craft.

Artists are never satisfied. That’s why they keep creating– to outdo themselves, or redeem.

I feel as if I cheated on Writing.

Did I leave it only for a moment to learn where my heart lies? Is art just a fling, or can it compliment my relationship with Writing?

I can’t ever imagine leaving Writing for art.

I will tell you the answer when I know.

Drawing, Not Writing: Branching Out with Creativity

Today I decided to try out something different– and pick up some art supplies.

With my writing, I’m very precious about it. But art is something entirely new. I know nothing, so that’s liberating.

I had asked an artist friend where she recommended I go and took her advice. She recommended I invest in two notebooks– a sketchpad, and some better paper where I can transfer the images into when I’m serious.

After asking the sales people, I decided on newsprint for the sketch pad and charcoal paper for the better notebook. I invested in some good quality oil pastels– only seven of them in colors I really enjoy. Four small ones, and three big ones of colors I plan to use a lot. The kits were so expensive, and I couldn’t afford the quality of high pigment I wanted.

I then drove back to meet my friend at her studio, where she had invited me to come experiment and to show me some basic techniques if I wanted to learn. I was stoked about her generosity! I arrived and it was perfect–  a small room she rents, and she had music and a bunch of different mediums. She offered me free reign over her supplies, which floored me.

I started off just trying out an image on the paper, and it was glorious just to see the colors and smear them on the paper. She asked me how I felt about it, but told me not to try so hard. I felt I was ready to move on, and then she told me to just forget about images and just go with instinct. I couldn’t help making shapes and let go. It was better, but still I was holding something back. I tried one more time, and it started to look more primal.

It was difficult for me to relax because I kept thinking about conserving my materials, since the oil pastels I chose were not cheap. I might have been better off with a cheaper kit with more colors, but I wanted higher pigmentation. I’d rather have a few intense colors I love.

Then she did something truly astonishing– offering me a space on her wall. At first the white space left me feeling timid, as blank paper usually does. But then I just got started, and everything changed.

I can see now why people get addicted to making art.

All those scenes in movies of artists angrily attacking a canvas– I get it. It’s better than a punching bag. You emit what’s inside of you and it manifests onto the medium. Wow. It’s more challenging and somehow more primal than writing.

The bigger space freed me. I used some of her chalk pastels and a few different images ended up emerging– I was truly surprised. She then offered to let me paint over them with water– which was fun as well. The colors dripped down the wall. I had started out with a word, and built the colors around it to camouflage it.

My hands were filthy with chalk and oil pastels. I LOVED it.

I started off using the brush, but then abandoned that and smeared it with my hands.

Some people garden. Some people make furniture or fix cars.

I like smearing color. I chose oil pastels because of the raw intensity, and because I have no skills. I don’t know the first thing about drawing technique or form. It’s less intimidating.

If Writing is a relationship, and we are in an open relationship. I still love Writing, but want to experience other mediums.

I think that’s why I’ve gotten stuck with this blog. I’m just BORED.

I know all about words. I want to learn something new.

Words are finite and specific. Art is expansive, ambiguous.

I asked my friend to take a picture of me in front of my first “canvas” picture– she caught me with a smirk. I was trying to be serious, but she made me smile and snapped it between. In the picture, my hands are almost black. I’m wearing weird clothes and pigtails.

Today was a perfect day.

She asked me if I thought I was done, and I decided I was ready to let that go.

Then she offered to show me a little bit about drawing– we worked on drawing circles, then the basics of drawing a face. We worked together on copying the eyes, nose and mouth of a model in a magazine.

She corrected me on how I was holding my pencil.

“We’re drawing, not writing,” she kept saying.

That really was difficult for me– to loosen my grip, hold the pencil higher at the end. But I kept working on it.

Three hours had passed, to my shock. She sent me home with one of her books about drawing and painting techniques to borrow, a small jar of turpentine and a homework assignment.

What an incredible friend, I’m still aghast.

I thanked her warmly, washed off my hands, and drove to Denny’s– where I worked a little bit independently. I didn’t look at anyone around me, I wasn’t distracted by my phone.

When I got the check, I noticed color smeared on my sleeve– and I loved that too.

Which is hilarious, because normally I hate stains on my clothes. I’ve gotten rid of several otherwise good items of clothing because of a stain I couldn’t remove. But it’s different if it’s artistic– that’s cool.

I can’t wait to go back and show her what I’ve learned! And get more art supplies– some pencils for drawing, an eraser and brushes so I can try painting with my pastels.

An Unexpected Gift: Shells and Solace

I took off my golden cross necklace today– for a wonderful reason.

My step-mother, Diane, just returned from a 10 day bus vacation with her sister. I was having dinner with her and my father, and she told me she had a couple of little things for me.

I was delighted, since I hadn’t expected anything. It was really a thoughtful gesture.

My favorite color is orange– as everyone knows.

First I saw the bracelet, which is a simple plastic bracelet with blue and peach colored beads in a Navaho type pattern. The centerpiece is a circle, set with a deep orange stone in a bulls-eye position.

I have small wrists, and most watches and bracelets are too big. But this was the perfect size, and right away I loved it. It’s still a little loose, so the centerpiece rotates around with movement and isn’t always visible– but I still really like it.

I told Diane how much I loved it, and she said something simple that fit right into my heart.

She pointed out that the orange center is the same color as the orange ring I wear every day on my right hand. She bought it as a gift for my 26th birthday and I adore it. I get complimented on it all the time, even though it’s not technically a precious stone. It’s a man-made padparadscha sapphire, blazing orange. I’m not normally into jewelry, but she works in a jewelry store and one day when I visited her my eyes glazed over when I spied it.

But to me the ring is a precious stone, because it’s a gift from my step-mother.

I was astonished yet further that she noted this detail of synchronicity. What is a little spooky is that she told me this after I had already put the bracelet on my right right wrist– which lined it up perfectly with the ring.

Wow.

And then she had another gift as well– a deep orange shell necklace. It’s just the right length for me.

I loved this one even more, and rushed to look at it in the bathroom.

When I saw how perfectly it fits me, I decided to take off my golden cross, which was underneath it. I carried the gold necklace to the box the necklace had come in, and rested it inside.

I hope it made her feel important to see that.

I used to wear a cross for a feeling of safety, in a superstitious way. A very Catholic way.

But I know God doesn’t mind if I wear other jewelry.

And somehow, wearing this necklace right now makes me feel even more protected and special– because it’s a gift from my step-mother.

It’s light, it feels comfortable– and it seems to represent who I am in a subtle way.

Diane pays attention to details, and she knows who I am. She is a very reserved woman, but she shows her love through listening, and keeping in touch with people, and thoughtful gifts.

I feel incredibly blessed today.

With Spring, Follows Humor and Social Amee!

I’ve gotten too intellectual and serious with this blog lately. All about feelings.

I thought about trying some fiction, but changed my mind. I want to write about what’s happening–out there, not inside my brain.

I’m going to try and infuse more humor.

What I’m really best at is storytelling– about events in my life. In a narrative fashion.

I’ve been a lot less social.

I’ve been re-reading some of my early posts here, and they are so different– so much shorter. They keep my attention better.

So with spring, I’m gonna try something new!

Instead of getting all introspective– I’m going to go out in the world and return with stories. Put those old journalism skills to work!

Hell, maybe I’ll even do quick interviews with people.

This blog is whatever I want it to be. I don’t have to write about myself.

I can write about what I see. People I meet. It’s a perfect excuse to meet people!

First Uphill Run

Oh, I am loving spring!

I went to a different place today to run. 

And I challenged myself. Instead of walking the steep hill, I jogged it. And later when the trail diverged into different paths and I was afraid I would get lost– I didn’t turn back. I kept going. I didn’t ask anyone for help– and I rested when I needed. 

It’s perfect right now– there aren’t many families out yet in the woods. There aren’t too many bugs– I don’t even have to put on OFF! (Come summer, it will be my perfume!) Not too hot or even humid. Green abounds, the trees are budding, and flowers burst at every turn. The rich soil at my feet invites me to keep going– the colors, the sounds. 

And for a second when I was lost, I did momentarily panic– but then I just stopped and breathed. And remembered that I only had to go back up that same big hill to reach my car. There was a man riding his bike– I had seen him on the trail. He zoomed down the hill, I could hear him whizzing by me. He rode alongside me as he climbed back up the hill, saying hello. A quick chat passed between us, and then we both went on to continue the climb.

I decided to stop walking and start running. 

And that was the best part– the uphill climb at the end. I ran on the balls of my feet. Not sure if my “form” is correct, but I feel like my posture must be good. I carry myself better when I’m running. 

And I’m going to keep going back, especially to that big hill. 

I’ll Skip the Hustle, Thanks

This morning I was my usual absentminded self, and put my phone on top of my car. I was going to work, and had just wrapped up a conversation while I was loading my purse in the passenger seat.

And yeah! I couldn’t find my phone anywhere when I got to work– but I did find it when I came home. In the street. Smashed. And I mean BROKEN. Woo! It still lights up, but the glass is so broken I can’t slide it without cutting myself. (It’s an iPhone.)

So after that, I went straight to the store to get a replacement. And WOW, did I get hustled. The sales girl walked up to me right away, and steered me directly toward a cover that’s water-proof and also apparently indestructible. It was set up right by the door.

I was annoyed. We hadn’t even talked about my phone yet and she’s already pulling this?

I shut that down right away, and said I just want to take care of my phone first. She was disappointed, but dutifully took me to the counter to examine it.

This girl was absolutely shameless. One thing after another– she tried to hurry me through all the details of replacing the phone. I wasn’t sure that’s what I wanted at first– I asked when I was due for an upgrade. Not till August. She wanted me to sign off on my replacement phone before I had even asked her that! Soooo smooth.

Then she wanted me to sign a statement saying all the terms and details had been presented to me– when they hadn’t. And then press the “next” button, to complete the sale. I asked to see the details about the price first, and she was annoyed. At every turn, I blocked her.

I did agree to it.

Then she tried to hustle me into buying the case I was shown upon first walking in- which is $89.  Ha! I’ve had this phone for over two years now, with a regular case– and this is the first time it’s been even cracked.

(A fun tidbit– the phone may be ruined, but the Obama case is intact!) That’s my president!

When we first went to discuss my phone, she was talking up her Android phone, and how cool it is. Then when I said later on that I’m not sure I wanted to stay with an iPhone since I have an upgrade coming this summer, she tried to tell me that the 5 isn’t any better than what I’ve got. That if I spent the $89 on this case, I wouldn’t NEED to replace the phone– it would last longer.

She must have been new. So desperate to close the sale! She flip-flopped more than John Kerry. I told her I wanted to pay my bill and think about it for a minute. I left to do that.

She went to consult her supervisor and then came back, saying that he is willing to let me use HIS discount for 25% off– practically nothing– so it would be $65.

“This NEVER happens,” she said. And of course– the discount would expire tonight. She refused to back up, even. Standing way too close.

“No thanks,” I said.

That girl hates me, I’m sure. But honey, I know your game.

I’m in sales too.

And I never treat my customers the way she does. I listen first to find out what they actually WANT, and I don’t sell them things that they don’t need. I’m not pushy. If they are getting antsy, I give them space–physical space and some time to think. I don’t just keep talking faster and amp up the aggression.

Those behaviors may close a sale, but they’re manipulative as hell.

I don’t close every sale I approach– but I’m proud of that. I’m not out to throw my customers under the bus for my own profit. And I’m still ranked as one of highest in my region.

This girls certainly has no qualms about doing her job– she was born for sales.

But she’s got a lot to learn about how to read people if she wants to be GOOD at it.

However, she did get in a parting shot!

She somehow tricked me into buying a package of three film covers for $15 on my way out– to “protect” my already broken phone for the maybe 48 hours I’ll have it until I get the replacement.

Oh well! I’ll use the same (Obama!) case for the new phone– slip on one of these sticky jobbies to protect the face of it, and be VIGILANT about keeping it on my person and NOT on top of my car!

And in August, I’ll decide what kind of case I want.

One Eye Open

.My days of sleeping in on weekends are over. Trying to be all about a routine now. 

I can hear my upstairs neighbors tramping all about, creaking the floor and talking. They are moving out today. 

I’ve got work today– trying to wake up.