Yellow Tales

An artist is nothing without light.  Perhaps no life would exist if there were no light.  And if it did, what kind of life would it be, not one I’d want.

Light is beauty.

Light is nuance.

Light is to be seen and taken in with ample attention.  Not to be taken for granted.  Oh how much we take for granted. 

This morning the light in the apartment was a morning-routine stopper.  Although I attended work yesterday, I feel as if this morning was the first working morning of the week.  I had a good sleep.  I often sleep more soundly after a bit of boozin. 

I had a special guest, and had to get creative with opening a bottle of wine as I couldn't find my much needed fancy schmancy Rabbit.  What I came up with was a screw, a screwdriver, then a large hook, a hammer, and then a drill, but the drill was just used as a prop for the photography.  I like the way the chord looks wrapped around it.  I mean, it’s what I do. I recreate my absurdity visually for you to experience it as close to what I might have lived! 

 

                            

After all, isn't it the function of photography. 

I must buy proper wine glasses.  I once owned a "set" of Baccarat red wine glasses.  Gorgeous.  But they all shattered.  I have a scar remaining from one of the incidents.  Speaking of sets, the other day, said mad friend, Martina, casually asked me what my preferences were for china.  What my style was?

I might have fallen off my chair had I been sat on one.  China? CHINA!?!

Dear Martina, have you mistaken me for one of your married gal pals with boxes still in the closet from the wedding?!!!  WHAT STYLE?  I prefer the kind that bounces off the floor shatter-free.  But no Corelle house warming gifts please. I am the sort of gal pal that stores 2x4s, drills, hand saws and pints and tubes of every colour paint all mixed personally by yours truly!  China?!Answer me this, what is your favourite type of paint brush?  Siberian Sable? Mongoose?  or are you more of a simple quality Bristle?

Tschüss 

Canary yellow splashed on my wall

After much deliberation, I painted the kitchen a lime green, the inside of the lime not the skin. I awoke the next morning and hated it! so I covered it with canary yellow. 

This yellow gives a much needed weight to the wall, and beautifully anchors the photograph of a nude that I hung behind the stove (who does that? hangs art behind a stove, you ask, well someone who doesnt cook much is my answer), bringing out the black and white flesh of the image from under the layers of colours. 

I am quite pleased.  I have two lounge chairs that face that picture.  I've decided every seat in the place will face an artwork directly!  How fun.

The panels of grass that I screwed into the wall, above the sink, do you see it? they make me giggle everytime I am in the kitchen.  I feel as if I were outdoors washing my veggies or dishes.  or that my being was overtaken by some wild vine! I love it.  I found those panels laying around in the studio & grabbed them not really knowing what I’d do with them.  And there they are!!!!

I’ve decided on a blue for the bedroom.  It's the blue that resembles the state of Texas (see below).  Okay, it looks like Texas if you were in a speeding space vehicle.  I've painted the wall adjacent to the window and I AM IN LOVE!  I love this blue in every kind of light. It changes.  It's different at different times of the day! Delish!

A friend of mine accidentally told me I should visit a paint shop, specifically Home Depot! to decide on a colour. Is she mad?  I don't dabble in paint squares! I commit to the wall and feel it.  Tsk Tsk Martina! 

A cooling, calming light blue.  A blue that the sky would look like if you were to be riding a fluffy cloud and momentarily having fallen into its centre, you peer out and see a softer version of the sky before climbing out of said heavenly fuzziness. 

That colour blue.   

I want to work a purple into the apartment but I don't know where.  It will be an entirely new colour for me.....I've played it safe until now.  It's time for a change! 

Maybe in the LOO!

All the best my fellow tiny apartment inhabitants! (you too Martina and Zoe, more on those two later....: )  )

Coming out of the closet........

I've managed to put in the second rod in the bedroom closet this week.  I think instead of shelves I will also be putting rods in the bathroom closets.  I have enough closets, I just don't know what to do with them.  The armoire is filled to capacity...and that means.....allowing enough space between clothing so they don't crinkle and wrinkle. 

The armoire now holds the button downs, all oh i dunno, 60 of them and the pants.  I fall asleep during attempts to count my pants!  Some were bought years ago and never worn.  Might even have the tags still.  And they would need to be tailored as my current bod is that of a voluptuous child.  My abs are starting to form a nice definition again.  I think if i were to move again soon, I would have a tremendous build. 

 Sometimes I see people my age with double chins, big guts, saggy everything...how do they let that happen?!!  I can see thinning hair and balding not under their control...but the rest....It's all rather sad.  I like all this new "regulation"...re: sodas, fatty foods, training our children to eat well....to make better choices about what they consume.  Why is everyone in America so FAT! 

 OMG, that segue was preposterous.  buttons downs to fat bottoms?! I digress! 

The "master" closet.....  Ooooh, I have a master closet?  Lol.  The master closet holds the jackets.  Only I really didnt think it through, the second rod...gets in the way of dresses, all 7 that I have, and the coats.  The long woolen winter coats.  UGH! What to do! What to do? Shall I move again.

I certainly am learning what my needs are very clearly.  And maybe that's the best part of living in a smaller space.... You assess correctly....instead of just collecting mad items because you have the room and THEY FIT!

 So here is are some of my button downs; just the yellow to pink colours.   They look pretty hanging like that. 





A F T E R







B E F O R E



 But now I've the second rod.  And now the pleasant colours are hidden away. 

   The apartment feels rather dull, too beige for me.  I need to add some colour to the walls. I am thinking that a blue, something either cool....like in the grey family might be okay, but i might have to then change the duvet cover....or something in the blue green family...but very very light.  A light to medium blue with just a hint of yellow. That was the colour of my bedroom before.  Perhaps I should select a different colour.  Maybe a skin colour! According to Feng Shui skin colours are perfect for the bedroom. I wonder if there is a colour called Flesh.  That is the colour I want for my walls. 

This blog was written to the tunes of "Sounds from the Ground" by UK duo Elliot Morgan and Nick Woolfson and Carbon Based Lifeforms (CBL) artistsJohannes Hedberg and Daniel Segerstad .  Tunes that get me through the horrible mediocrity the day showers over me.

Speaking of showers, I think I need a THIRD shower curtain!  I won't show my tub yet, it's too special.  I need to hire a model with gorgeous legs and fire engine red toe nails (would be more interesting if it was a male ay?) against that footed tub-o-mine.  I wish I could move it into the living room tho.  Wouldn't that be different.  Here's a little peek at my messy bath.  I mean closets in the Bath!  Really?!!!! The one on the left is about 4-5 feet wide!  It's got boxes I need to go thru that I've not unpacked!  UGH!  After this month I never want to see another box again! 

Cheers!

Au natural in NYC

Naked. 

In the city. 

Naked, in the city.

In the morning light.

Natural light. 

No artifice.

One night after work I walked over to the beckoning lights of Times Square.  It was a mild night and there was a buzz in the streets. I had some time to kill before my date. 

The crowd was mostly tourists, visiting NYC during the holidays, I suppose.  And that it was a fairly warm day is reason enough to celebrate with outdoor buzzing, isn’t it?

I hadn’t walked about in the area for some time….it was brighter than I remembered. 

Louder. 

And, it felt happier than the last time I was here. 

I took several pictures. I took pictures of people taking pictures.  And then there he was, The Naked Cowboy.  He’s getting older….(aren’t we all?)   But he looks pretty good.  I never caught the tattoo on his left shoulder until now; he wears Jesus on his “sleeve”.  That’s an interesting choice of tattoo.  Not an image I would imagine him to be committed to wearing on his hot bod.  

Tilt your head to the left to check out goods.

Pulling out the camera has been a good thing.  Haven’t pulled anything studio/gallery worthy but shooting strokes that part of the brain that releases all that desirable chemistry.  It’s like a drug, once it’s released I am unstoppable moving smoothly from project to project.  Makes all the trivial noise in my life, like silly people at the job, evaporate into the air.  This thanksgiving I am thankful that I have a talent to share with the world and not living a mundane life.  I am desperately waiting to find out if my “In a different light” project will receive the funding I request.  More on that project later.  It was something completely new for me, a departure from the figure. 

I had some quiet time in the apartment.  The morning light into the bedroom  is magnificent.  Yesterday I took a couple of shots and decided I need to hire a model asap!  More leaves will fall off the trees in my yard and more light will filter in….I can’t wait.  I don't know which model I would call on first.  Maybe someone new.  New place, new vibe, new body to work with.  I'd like to work with a couple. 

This is one of my first natural light portraits in the new place.  I look forward to exploring all the photographic possibilities in this apartment.  It's a bisarre sensation to see myself in the photo, the light that hits my bed, and how tiny I am.  The positioning of the camera distorts reality.  I like that.

And when it snows! Gasp.  I can't wait to work with the brave soul who dares to pose in the cold....maybe I will let them just wear a pair of snow boots!  : )

All is well.............me thinks

SO…..all is well I suppose…in the large scheme of things. 

My credit card has been stolen.

I’ve lost more weight.

I don’t even know if I am eating. I am officially smaller than a size ZERO!

I’ve unpacked more boxes, sliced up my hands to a bloody pulp with the recycling of boxes and drilling and screwing of closet rods and picture hangers and all of that!

Ugh, it’s all such a bore! 

My upstairs neighbor likes to walk for hours at a time in her apartment in what I imagine are platform punk rock boot slippers with iron spikes that occasionally fall off as she walks starting at 6AM.   Well, today it was 6:03am to be accurate.  And the Jack Russell circus training session commences around 7:15am.  Up and down. Fetch. Up and down. Jump up…up….up!  UP and DOWN!

WTF!

She isn’t an interesting person, and that matters because I can hear her cheap laughter and boring utterances thru the window and the ceiling.  She is either overly friendly with her father or dating someone who is almost three times her age!   He seems friendly enough, asking how I am doing every time he sees me and the pooch. But I wish he’d secure alternate housing for his little noisy friend there.

But not to fret….the glimmer of sparkle in all this are THE MEN!

They are everywhere on the block.  And they are splendid, all types, the grunge fest, the well dressed, the metro sexual..(does anyone even say that anymore), all fit and hot bods with full heads of hair! And they all SMILE generously….even SPEAK! 

Last week I met a creative director, an illustrator who was tickled that an artist moved into the building.  He works for one of the top ad agencies.  I have to find out if there is a significant other before I lick the stamp I want to smack on his forehead.   And I mean the one on his bum!  Make no mistake.

This morning I was asked out to coffee by a television producer / dilettante artist! THAT’S exactly what he said.  “Oh, I am a dilettante artist.”  He witnessed the tremendous efforts of my movers and I carrying massive paintings though his property to get it into mine!   We had a nice chat today as the dog sprinkled urine marking the block with his droplets of non virility.   He said that he found the block rather tame, that no one ever talked to him…and yet here he was, engaging with me for the THIRD TIME!  He practically invited himself over during my move while I trespassed thru his building…..and I almost snatched him right up but alas, I had the paintings to tend to.  

Life is still reeling,but a little bit less so. 

Things could be worse…..the stomper above could be incontinent or a really bad opera singer with a pet cougar.  So this week, it’s what I am thankful for.  What are you thankful for?  Best wishes everyone, enjoy precious time with those whom you love or doing what feeds your soul.

Happy thanksgiving all.

An audience of a superb one, is better than a mediocre billion.

I have a follower.  Really?

A welcome distraction to my merry-go-round life:  a teeny place, a large life, a large life in a teeny abode, leave, stay, pack, whine, cry, laugh, play, pack, tape, box, move….a name for each fiberglass pony.

I digress terribly.

Y E S !  My follower.  My one.  The one and only one!  

I adore her words. We’ve never met physically but she has transported me to other worlds. Worlds I never imagined.  I have shared my page with a handful of people, most have been of the ordinary kind, people likely more involved with items and events of a mediocre nature than I’d like to be.  Their words might have been mundane had they responded, their lives seem such.  I have to soon blog about the incredibly lacklustre people I’ve encountered lately.  I have the right to say how I feel, or to be judgmental, if you will. IT’s MY BLOG!   A person’s life speaks who they are.   Their actions, their choices.  Their utterly boring existences.  I haven’t sent the link to my friends yet.  Not sure why.  I think there is a certain amount of freedom to my writing if I can simply write, not necessarily think about an audience.

And here is Cary.  A superb audience. The only person I have shared my blog with that I’ve known for longer than 3 months!

Thank you Cary, for bringing such deliciousness to my teeny tiny world! I love every succulent droplet. And have from the very beginning at you-know-where!

I haven’t had time to properly respond other than to say, that one time, the pleasure her words bring to the day I happen upon them.  Where I can replay my horrific train commute and see it “in a different light” or desire to find more fruit to write about.  YUM. 

How do I follow YOU Cary? I don’t even know how to comment on my own page yet!  Did you open a blog! You must!  I must follow you!  The world needs to be stroked by fancy letters of words composed by you.

This morning I ran errands, one of which was to the hardware store to buy two strong and large rods for my wardrobe. The one in the new place collapsed with only 1/3 of my things on it!  Barbie doll house INDEED!  Maybe even Barbie’s doll’s dollhouse!

I also brought over some of my cameras and lenses, terrified I might lose this in a GIANT truck or in the folds of burly men!  Giggles.

I enjoyed the quiet in the empty apt and the little morning light that filters in. There are buildings that block the light into the main room.  I grew a little sad at that, it’s not as bright as my “old” place ….but then I walked into my bathroom and saw the tub, its claws and the fuzzy lime green rug I bought last week placed under it.  And I was happy again.

It’s going to be this way for a little while.  Love. Hate. Like. Love. Hate. Like. Gasping. Sighing. And a tantrum here and there.  Like a good love affaire, ay?   NEVER DULL! 

Tomorrow is the big day! I officially move in.  Just the furniture.  I will sleep in my new place.  Me and my lil chichi.

!!!

So, a good way to find out who you are is to MOVE, I have discovered.  I am a painter.  I am a painter who likes to paint HUGE, and that is THAT.   

I now CANNOT imagine myself in this small apartment. 

I feel as if might be entering a prison!

I did the starter apartment many years ago.  You just don’t go back to that.   I am a grown woman, not a Barbie doll for f sake!  I don’t know what to do.  I will see another apartment tomorrow night.  Who cares? It’s just money right.  Really. 

Go Selvie Go !!!

Join me in sending good wishes to, Selvie, who has been training for the ING Marathon.  I've followed her and her contagious laughter, and determination throughout the summer as she trained with the Achilles crew in Central Park. I am excited with, and for, her as the big day approaches!  We're cheering you on Sel! 

http://www.achillesinternational.org/

Fruit of the Loom

Fruit of the Loom dedicated to TH

Days grow shorter; darkness falls upon the city earlier and earlier…..

Today a colleague shared his abundance of produce; the black seedless grape.  My newly purchased bright yellow banana looks dull in comparison.  It fact, it looks quite bored with its own existence. 

Yellow. Purple. Complimentary colours. Colours of disease.   Colours of transition.

The grapes are unexpectedly crunchy.   Mini explosions in my mouth one after the other.   A wet crunch.  A swoosh.  Another aural delight.  I love unexpected sensations.

One such surprise is, that I look forward to moving into a teeny tiny apartment after having had 5 rooms all to myself for the last 12 years.  Imagine that?  I am really a New Yorker now!

I am currently paying two rents for two separate apartments.   The one I live in, and the one I haven’t moved into yet.   One is in an old house with loads of character, detail and history, the other feels like a fantasy dollhouse.  Not exactly Barbie, certainly not Dressy Bessie, maybe something more like a vintage collector’s item. 

The decision to move was quick, almost overnight.  It was unexpected and because of urgency I picked one of the first apartments I saw.  I know the owner of the building.  In general, I like a personal touch.  I like to know who I am dealing with.  The owner happens to be my real estate broker of many years, someone with whom I have a pleasant history with. 

I’ve seen the apartment four times already.  And each time I notice a detail I hadn’t before.  I even feel paranoid that someone has put it there after each departure just to toy with me.  How does a visual artist miss such details? 

When I first saw it, there were drop cloths everywhere.  It was being painted and in reconstruction mode.  My memory only recorded the original tile in the bathroom and the detached tub with CLAW FEET!  I saw many bubble baths in my future and enjoyed visions of just hanging out in my tub…..with fluffy down pillows reading classic novels again and again and again.  And next to it, maybe I’d place a tiny little pedestal for my Chihuahua to curl atop with its own miniature claw feet; perhaps they should be Great Dane front paws! to nap as I entered in and out of the many dramas, romances and mysteries in future’s pasts.   How delish.

I DID NOT notice the floral glass pane on the bedroom door! It’s only about 2x3 feet, very hard to miss because it’s only at eye level! And the window pane in the door from the hallway entrance to the living room.  Really?  Does stress manifest itself within my being in a form of BLINDNESS!  I am in love with this tiny place, AND IT IS TINY….and I will make it work.  Of this I am determined.  I will purchase the coolest patio furniture ever and pretend that I have an extra room with an endless ceiling!  No one below, above, or on either side!  I can paint, nap, write and entertain at my will!   Who needs five rooms and no garden?   Well, I might, but I will try something different for a year or two.  Perhaps a mansion is down the road.  This is the time to prepare for it!

The loom is a device used to weave.  Weaving is done by intersecting the longitudinal threads, the warp, i.e. "that which is thrown across", with the transverse threads, the weft, i.e. "that which is woven".

It makes me think how much life resembles a tapestry. The back appears to be nothing more than a mishmash of thread. But things are not always what they seem. It’s only when you turn a tapestry over that you see its true beauty: the rich colours, the rich texture, and the simplicity or intricacy of its design.  I plan to weave myself a perfect teeny tiny existence with enormous and vast potency! 

Some choice quotes on the threads of life.   http://thinkexist.com/search/searchquotation.asp?search=threads+of+life

My fave: 

“The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine! Feels at each thread, and lives along the line”

Alexander Pope

Raw Meet

At  present, I work for a conservative bank. I shouldn’t name it.  Or I could…. but it might mean I have to censor myself, even if only in the slightest fashion.  I can’t bear to edit myself in this way.  In any way! 

I had a previous contract with this company over a year ago and I had the pleasure of meeting up with some interesting people, some more memorable than others.  One of these people, today, sent me a note in response to an update I wrote about how all was going.  I feel somewhat indebted to this person because it is because of her that I landed this gig.  Her glowing recommendation.   Just thinking about what she might have said makes me want to laugh hysterically.   It’s preposterous to me that anyone would give a glowing recommendation about me in regards to anything!

She wrote:  ……

Very touching of you to share your updates with me.  I am happy to hear that all the good is greatly outweighing the stressful stuff.  Keep up with your positive disposition, it will help you to stay focused and happy.

Out with the old and in with the…. you know the saying. Glad to be an ear and to give you positive props as needed.  Positivity is attracted to those who are willing to receive (and ready) to receive.

You are def one of the most complex individuals I have ever met.  I accept you for your candor, the simultaneous vulnerabilities and strengths – which you have no fear in expressing, and your overabundance of energy.  I have not met many persons in my life like yourself and I am happy to in any small way share with you the best parts of me.  I pray your energy and zest of life will rub off on me. That’s what life is about; sharing oneself.  …..

This note was unexpected and such a pleasure to receive.  I obsess on the part stating the “simultaneous vulnerabilities and strengths”. 

Yes, I am unafraid to express myself, whatever that self happens to be at any given time.  Somehow, I never learned to censor that part of myself, and I am not quite sure if it’s because I wasn’t able to or I didn’t see a point to it.  Why would anyone stifle a pure emotion?  It’s confounding to me.   Emotions are meant to be lived and felt. AND SAVOURED!  AS THEY HAPPEN! And as far as sharing….I do believe a certain amount of finesse may be required, but not always.

I choose unadulterated raw distribution. 

On the Metro

This morning the downtown E train was packed like I’ve never experienced before.  I was sandwiched between a suit and a woman who had ants in her pants, and quite possibly an angry scorpion clinging to her under garments.  It took controlled deep breathing for me to be still and not react; to not move a muscle and express the slowly growing agitation within, in one piercing cry.  I did make a genteel request that the woman refrain from so much movement, to no avail. 

I was so involved with my own commuter displeasure that I hadn’t noticed one of the corners of my rafe bag was stabbing the suit in the ribs!  He continued to read his newspaper as if he were the only one on the train, the only one in the world, even.  How did he manage that when my body was pressed up against his medium build and my handbag continually assaulted his torso?  What was his secret? 

His freshly-brushed-teeth breath softly caressed my left cheek.  I was thankful he smelled like one of those manly sport deodorant soaps.  I didn’t mind too much and forgot my angst as I replayed commercials of tall dark and handsome men lathering, rinsing and repeating.  I tried to discretely sniff out the aromatic notes to the scent he was wearing.  He was so calm and cool, clearly used to the pushing and shoving of commuter hell.   Perhaps he was simply at ease because experience taught him that the stiff blend his suits were made of, wouldn’t crinkle in the slightest under any circumstances.  He knew that once he stepped off the train, there would be no evidence of this ghastly morning routine.

Unlike that fella’s choice of clothing, the incident stayed with me many minutes beyond its occurrence.  I took Exhibits A and B back to the office with me; my sweater had been pulled in two separate places.  Two small loops of unsightly yarn made me cringe as I quickly looked around me to ensure no more yarn snags would happen, keeping at least a foot away from any breathing beings in the mad morning dash.  You see, I was wearing a loosely knit cable Banana Republic sweater.   It’s not the sort of thing one should wear in a sardine packed NYC car train.

Perfect attire for a tightly packed underground ride includes the following:  synthetic blends, polyester, 100% cotton and denim.  Any soft girly material like pashmina, cashmere and silk will be ruined!  Gabardine and wool are appropriate armour as well, but not in a loose knit. A hard nylon is perfect, but anything fancy and you risk scratching and tearing the surface.  Logo buttons should be reinforced by your dry cleaner.  More than once I’ve seen Ipod wires loop around a stranger’s buttons when standing at such a close proximity.   I’ve commuted to and from work in all areas of the city for many years and I can never get used to it.   The assault to my senses leaves me feeling slightly battered and I am left to recover in a high rise with cool but stale air.  But, at least I have my own space and it’s quiet and it doesn’t reek of urine.