The Artist

Some of you may know that the painter Thomas Kinkaide passed away recently.

I was never a huge fan of his work, but as someone who has painted, I can definitely appreciate his skill, even if his subject matter wasn't to my taste.

However I found a few of these online, and I have to say, I have renewed my interest in Mr. Kinkaide's work.

I really, really like this new technique.

I might just start my own collection.

The last one is going in my office.

Arts & Crafts

One of my new year's resolutions?  Read more books. 

Specifically, try to average about a book a week.  I just started Jonathan Franzen's Freedom, and I think this resolution will be an exercise in abject failure.  It's a good book; very Franzen.  And if you don't know what that means then you probably think I'm some sort of literati snobby twit.

Franzen is a literary writer.  A literary writer who writes a sentence so beautiful it is now burned into my brain.  Because of its perfect, beautiful, beautifulness.

Here's the sentence:

She walked into the sty of a kitchen, which smelled like a mental illness.

Really, that doesn't even make sense.  How can something smell like a mental illness?  I don't know, but I know it's true.  I knew immediately what that kitchen was like, what it looked it, and it looked like a kitchen my old college boyfriend and his best friend had in their rental house in Winona, Minnesota.  The sticky old vinyl tiles.  Cracked laminate countertops.  It did smell like a mental illness, which I think smells like Jim Beam, Oscar Mayer hot dogs, and day-old ramen noodles stuck to the sides of a greasy tupperware bowl.

God, my imagery kicks ass!

Also, Franzen likes to use the word "fuck".  Not too much.  Just enough.

So yeah, it's a pretty good book.

One of my other new year's resolutions:  Actually do things that I say I'm going to do.

This doesn't sound like much, but you can accomplish a lot if you stick to it.  One of the things I said I was going to do was make a mobile.  For Sena's room.  I looked around at all the mobiles in the stores and didn't like many of them and the ones I did like were really expensive.  I saw a pretty paper butterfly mobile in Pottery Barn and it was sixty bucks and I was all like, "Christ!  I can make a damn butterfly mobile."

So I decided to.  Except, I didn't.  I made an owl mobile.  Cuz, I like owls, that's why.  And I promised that I wouldn't spend any money making it.  I would make it with crap I found lying around my house.  You, too, can make your own crappy mobile.  It doesn't have to be owls.  It could be dinosaurs.  Or ninjas.  Or ninjas fighting dinosaurs, which would be an awesome mobile!

So here's what I used.

Old ribbon
Cardboard wrapping paper tube
Cardboard
Construction paper
Glue
Staples
Thread
Stickers
Markers

You should have most of these things in your house.  If you don't and you work in an office type setting, chances are you could steal most of these things.  Shit, you could probably make a really cool mobile using Post-it notes, dry erase markers, correction tape and Whiteout.

You also don't have to be able to draw, but it helps.  If you can't draw a straight line with a ruler you can probably find a template on the Internet somewhere and use that.  Martha Stewart has some pretty bitchin' cool templates in her magazines.  Just saying.

Or you can be an arteest and do it freehand.  If someone gives you shit because not all your ninjas or dinosaurs look the same you can say things like, "It's handmade.  One of a kind.  Rustic."

I see this all the time in catalogs.  Hand-made and Rustic.  Code words for:  the artist was really high when they did this one!

Here are some pictures.  I still have to figure out a way to hang it from the ceiling.  I'll probably resort to duct tape.

Sena loves her owl mobile...almost as much as I do.  I think I will start on the ninja-dinosaur one next week.

Happy Mobile Making!

Poopasaurus

So last Sunday I was at my sister-in-laws for dinner. But before dinner there was entertainment. As in, provide the entertainment for my four-year old nephew, Jack.

This I can do.

Mainly because I can draw stuff. And I don't need to draw very well to impress a preschooler. But at first I didn't do so well....

Outside with sidewalk chalk

Jack: Draw a Pterodactyl.

Me: Okay.

I think for a minute, trying to remember what they look like.

Me: Um, do you have a picture of one?

Jack: No. Draw it here. (Points to a small patch of concrete)

Me: Uh, what color?

Jack: Green.

I start drawing. But something is wrong. It looks like a pelican. An ugly pelican.

Me: That doesn't look right.

Jack: It looks like a bird.

Me: Does it have a horn somewhere?

I add a horn on it's head. A horny pelican. Hah!

Jack: No.

I go back in, defeated. But Jack isn't done. He has a dinosaur book, thankfully, so I can look at the pictures, and he brings me a notebook and crayons.

Jack: Draw this one.

Me: Okay.

It's a diceiomimious or something, but I can draw it using the picture. I finish and ask for the black crayon.

Jack: There's no black on it.

He's right. It's yellow, blue, and orange.

Me: I know, but I'll use it for an outline.

Jack: Huh?

Me: So you can see it better. See, the yellow doesn't show up well. That's why you outline it with a darker color.

I try to explain how edges are darker and shadows and depth and shading and I realize that to him I probably sound like a schizo explaining the Kennedy assassination. I make no sense!

Jack: There's not an outline in the picture.

Me: Okay. There.

My dinosaur looks okay. And Jack agrees. Then he turns the page.

Jack: You have to draw six more dinosaurs.

Me: Six?

Jack: Yes, and you have sixteen minutes to finish.

Me: What?

Jack: I'm counting...starting now.

Me (wondering if he knows how long 16 minutes is): Well, these are going to be ugly dinosaurs...

I manage to draw three before he's bored and leaves the room. But then I'm getting into it. I could just sit there and draw dinosaurs for a while with my crayons. But then it's dinnertime.

Yesterday Afternoon around 3

This is what happens when pure laziness rams into that good old American ingenuity that they keep telling us about.

What I do know: I can't use the Paint program to save my life. Horrible. I think I'll stick to paper and pencil.

My Life

I used to draw comics all the time as a kid. I think I'll start doing that again.

Lemon Elephant

About a month ago I was contacted by my sister-in-law's (Christy) sister (Tasha)--stay with me now, and she told me that she was starting a home business and would I be interested in doing some artwork for her website.

Does James Brown get down?

Why, yes, I'm interested.

So she described the project and I did my best to deliver.

Here is the artwork. I did it in chalk pastel and india ink.



You can find her website at Lemon Elephant, which specializes in lovely handmade baby clothes and blankets.

Check it out!

Sketch Artist

Well, I found some more drawings.

These are from my college days. I didn't major in art in college, but I did take a painting class a couple of years after I graduated. One of our assignments was to keep a sketch diary. Yeah, I know. I just thought we'd be painting stuff.

And I learned some things. A lot of people assume that people who paint or draw well just have the talent for it. Well, it certainly doesn't hurt. But it's more than that. It's a lot of practice. In that way, it is like everything else. It is like writing or playing the piano. If you are naturally gifted at it, you're probably going to like it. Because it's easier for you. So you spend more time doing it, ergo: you become better at it.

But no matter how good you are at something, you won't be great unless you practice. And practice.

So my teacher told us if we wanted to be a good painter we should draw more. And look at stuff. Really look at it. Don't just think you know what a tree looks like. Really look at it. Hence, the sketch pad.

So because I had no idea what to draw-- didn't think it should be page after page of horses/unicorns I just started drawing random crap.

Here is what I drew. Psychoanalyze this:

My hand



Weird zombie baby head


my kitty bee


girl in hat


girl reading


Sketch of bad fruit


If this looks familiar to the top drawing of my blog it's because it is. I wrote this story called Bad Fruit, which I thought was pretty funny, and then I had all these illustrations. The top drawing is a sample piece done in oil crayon on bristol board. I tried sending it out to agents and whatnot, but I guess nobody likes the idea of putrid peaches skinny dipping in the split pea soup.

I am so misunderstood.

Doodler

I was just looking through some files and found an old sketchbook of mine. I was looking for a date on it, sometimes I used to date my pictures as if I were a famous artist. At least I started doing that when my grandmother told me that's what artists do. They sign and date their work.

So this was before that. I was probably eight or nine and it's easy to see what I had been interested in at that age. Several specific things:

My Little Ponies


Horses/Unicorns


Popples

Yes, Popples! Do you remember those? I didn't. Not until I saw this picture.



It looks like a bastard child of a kangaroo and a Care Bear. Plus a dog/and or sewer rat. They had little pouches that you could stuff their body into. Why? Hell if I know.

I think there may have even been a Popple cartoon show.

Now they have brought back Care Bears and My Little Ponies, so I think they should resurrect the Popple. Remember, if you see them in stores it was my idea. MY IDEA!

Here are some more doodles. This one is actually so good I was impressed with my younger self. I recently heard that a Picasso doodle went for a few million bucks. At $19.95 this one's a bargain.


I drew horses SO much that I can still draw them in my sleep. I think I have every line and curve of that animal burned into my drawing hand. Like riding a bike. Once you learn you don't forget.

Enjoy the scribbles!