The Musings of Molly

Christmas card

2011-12-06T09:08:00.000-08:00

Love the pre-design images...

update 101

2011-12-06T09:04:00.000-08:00

As it's that time of year, and I ignore this blog horribly in lieu of my other one (mylabstabs.blogspot.com) it's time to update:
I have surprisingly been working like a steam engine, cranking out art left and right. Walk the dog, make art, go to work, make art. So, as a brief summary, I made this awesome poster (and made two of them because I'm indecisive) only to find of the 58 competitors, I did not win the what-could-have-been-so-helpful, $2000. I was happy with the turnout none the less. Then I made a bunch of Christmas presents, started on my card, and took a day off to take pictures of my friend Jenny's little kids--which was loads of fun and I was quite happy with the turn out of those as well. Here's the visual summary:

Web work

2011-08-31T18:57:00.001-07:00

A new project for a web client but I feel very illustrative doing the sketches for the prelim work so think I'll include it in my illustration work.

Drifting

2011-06-12T18:00:00.001-07:00

Postcards are 20% off this month. Also I'm feeling as if my belief of being an illustrator was just a long shot. Faded memory. Belief ect. ect. So I'm trying to not let that drift so far away.

Therein here is a new sketch.

zebra

2011-04-30T18:51:00.000-07:00

So it has been awhile but Orion is four months old and doesn't require 110% of my attention. So today I headed back to the studio to warm up. My friend Sean let Orion out for me the other day so I asked him, "what can I get you for doing such a nice favor?" "A zebra," he says. And so, as I doubt a zebra would be allowed on the third floor I took the time to exercise my skills with a zebra that would be allowed.

Since I'm typing this on my phone I apparently can't attach pictures so I'll attached the zebra later. How anticlimactic.

Pup Update

2011-02-18T01:14:00.000-08:00

Ironically, it's four AM. I walked outside in my boxer shorts, a Boston Red socks tee, my bare pasty Irish legs pouring down into my brown Danska's, wrapped in Orion's fleece dog blanket. I was, as my friend would say, "A hot mess," waiting for Orion to do his business (something that he finished up inside the door to exit the apartment and blew his cover by having little paw prints track away from the puddle).

Regardless of the time, my attire (now eyes half drooped, computer screen brightness set to the lowest, flopped on my futon), I write to say, henceforth, all updates on Orion have been moved to a more appropriate venue called, mylabtabs.blogspot.com. This decision was made last night in celebration of our one week anniversary and I realize this blog is really meant for straight up art updates (which have taken a hold with the arrival of my little baby). SOOO... because I love talking about Orion, I made him his own blog. Right now he's dragging a nylabone across my wood floor--very peaceful, yet he'd raise holy hell if I put him back in his crate. Funniest, craziest thing.

So that's it. I'm going to try and catch a few more z's.

Finally posting on the pup

2011-02-12T17:28:00.000-08:00

We (me, myself, and I (and Orion)) are on day three here of having a new puppy. Whew! I am absolutely in love with the little fellow too. We had a big day today going out to see the bald eagles in Indiana--Orion spent the majority of the time tucked into my coat. Orion had his first day on a leash too and wasn't entirely convinced it was for him--chewing on it in front of him, dancing along, or yanking backwards when there was a slight tug for forward movement. But it was wonderful to have him along for the day. Made me smile to think of how nice his companionship will be when he's older and he of course has such a darling little face all snuggled into my jacket, that I wasn't complaining on his companionship just the way he was today either. As I type now he's stretched out snoozing on the side of my futon--also throwing the occasional hot dog farts my way. Due to the fact I have an air mattress bed, I thought it'd be smarted to relocate to the futon until his chewing subsides. I tried the floor the first night and am bruised in every bone that has edges in my body--the futon was a much better choice last night. I'm waiting for one more bathroom run to process his hot dog training treats before I too call it a night.
Crate training is pretty solid at night--he sleeps and whines only when he has to go to the bathroom. In the day... well... that's another story, but again, we're making progress. I called a friend for consult when he sounded like he was going to take down the house in howls. Luckily I met the people upstairs outside and they said they can't hear anything from the lower apartment (ironic considering I can hear every single one of their fights and wailing baby sounds) but that made me feel like I could let him hollar for a while and potentially still reside at the apartment.
It is very dear to watch how quickly he adapts to me. He'll come with happy little hops when I call him (most of the time), and he will crawl into my lap when he's tired to conk out. Where this will go when he's an older huge pup I don't know, but I enjoyed the other yellow lab I knew doing the same as an adult so I'm happy to indulge this cuteness.

Orion Play Date

2011-02-03T13:03:00.000-08:00

So today I had a lovely play date with my soon to be very best friend Orion. He gets to come home next Thursday but I wanted to go play with him, get him familiar with my smell when his eyes were open, and have a blankie that would smell like his present environment. (I learned this from a guy in the WalMart baby aisle as we picked out doorway fence for our various pups. All I can say is that any reservations that I picked the right pup for me are set aside. I went into the office and he's hanging out with his siblings. Ron, the owner, said, "Can you pick out which one is yours?" And I pointed, and sure enough I was correct. Orion just snuggled up in my lap and poked around. His sister made for holy hell that I wasn't paying attention to her, and his brother just ignored me, content to sleep in the corner. Finally, I scooped up his sister, only to have her like a little ball of energy digging around my sweatshirt, not staying still. I'm not saying Orion was still by any means but temperment wise, he did not alarm me and feel the sequel to Marley and Me on the horizon. He was playful, not crazy. And he whined a little when I was playing with his sister and not him, but all and all, happy, adorable pup. His brother slept the whole time. Could care less I was there. (Good thing I switched before my first visit)

So here he is:

sketches of birds

2011-02-02T19:27:00.000-08:00

Birds, Birds, and more Birdies!

2011-02-02T16:28:00.000-08:00

My friend just adopted a baby girl and has set up his nursery with a bird theme. He asked if maybe I could do some art for the room... and as we all know, I love having focus with art, so I had a wonderful morning coming up with sketches and playing on the computer with Corel's woodcut effects.

Then I took a power nap that lasted an hour and a half, and am just now revamping for art day number two, rocking out to grooveshark (a cool way to listen to music without having to wait to hear the songs you want).

I find myself also missing my grandparents for some reason tonight. And my Aunt Kathy who took off for New Zealand after everyone passed on. I guess that's just how it goes though. People die and you just kind of miss them here and there. I can see where people enjoy re-meeting again.

So I'm rocking out as usual, looking ridiculous, working on a portrait for a friend of mine. Oh, side note, today I found a new pet store and met this little girl playing in the bin of dog toys. "Do you have a dog?" I asked her. She said yes, and held up her stuffed little black pup, "Do you?" "I will." "Is it a boy or a girl?" "Boy--what's yours?" "A boy." "What's his name?" "Zack. Mom said we can't get any more toys though because we have too much stuff in our house." I look up to the mother and she nods her head. "Well, you can help me pick one out for my dog if you'd like because I hear they like to chew on things and I think he needs a few more toys."

Morning at Starbucks

2011-02-02T09:48:00.001-08:00

Since I got up nice an early only to discover the appointment I was headed to was provided in pacific coast time, I took a detour to Starbucks, which was SWAMPED with customers. Opportune moment to practice sketching body types... on to birds!

Side note...

2011-01-27T18:49:00.000-08:00

I know this blog is primarily suppose to be about my art but with fourteen days remaining till my existences changes, I have to share that I have finally made it to the bookstore to pick up some important books. Luckily for me, I have a friend who has had labradors before who has become my "Lab Lady" or "Lab Resource" because it's always comforting to have a go-to person that might know what you're going through introducing a little labrador into your life. Granted, I have had the gift of bringing one labrador up to some extent--at least was privy to the early days of potty training and whatnot, but I feel secure in having a wiser person to have my back. Upon a nice long email, with tips and trips, discoveries, and wish-I-discovered... I picked up two of the recommended books. Then a friend of mine who has a dog loaned me her Dog Training for Dummies to so all and all I'm pretty well stocked up with my reading materials.

I also put the invite out there to see if I could go visit my little fellow next week on my day off. I figure it might be nice for him to have another opportunity to meet me before we hang out for the rest of our lives together (okay I'll probably out live him, but he can hang around in spirit). So I'll see what my breeder says and if so, get my driving feet on and loop my fine self out to the Kentucky country.

Truthfully, half of my reason for wanting to go is also just to play with him a little bit more grown upish. Also so I can bring him his blanket and have it smell like his mum and siblings a bit too so he can have that scent around when he comes back with me. Luckily for him, his sister will only live twenty minutes away and maybe the family that picks her up will keep in touch with us.

There's a lot of responsibility in getting a dog, lots to read, lots of opinions to absorb. I figure it must be kind of like raising kids. Half of it you over prepare for and the majority you fly by the seat of your pants and hope for the best.

Swim Lessons

2011-01-22T20:59:00.000-08:00

And tonight's study... a continuation of the story. Again, not sure where I'm going with this but it's a good practice of discipline for me so I am going to try my very best to keep this up. Granted I spent the first hour looking up furniture on craigslist, and mattress factories (I need to replace my air mattress before Orion arrives) and I aquired a truck loan for Monday but all my furniture pick-ups have fallen through so I have the muscles (thanks to my neighbor) and a set of wheels. I suppose it focused me for art, or let me have my minor pout time where I didn't want to sit down to work after a day of work.

Here it is:

Wednesday

2011-01-19T20:04:00.000-08:00

I'm going to try to do a sketch in a story sequence every two or three days. With that said, here's the first. I'm just playing around with an idea of a dino that has to learn how to swim for some reason. I'm not sure where it's going or what I want to do with this story but I was sketching and had a fun light dino pop out so I'm just running with it to practice thinking like an illustrator again.

Part one:

Worst Painting Ever

2011-01-17T17:29:00.000-08:00

Women are suppose to have good intution. We get feelings, senses, and those who are in-tuned, often can use these senses to guide oneself. I typically have a good color sense. I feel if something works or doesn't work--however, today, my color sense was overcast. Grey and foggy. Consequently I did the worst work ever and ended up just scrapping it to finger paint over it.

Orion

2011-01-16T07:52:00.000-08:00

Name choosing. Native Americans wait for an appropriate moment to determine a child's name. Parents flip through books. Writers dig through their memory. "If you choose a name, the dog that fits that name will come to you," a friend once said. I thought about it for awhile and landed on Orion. Orion, the hunter of the night sky, the three stars in a line that I could spot no matter where I was geographically, or spiritually. I have fond memories of feeling grounded as my breath curled in smoke up into the night sky as I walked in from my car, or standing on the front porch on my way to the bus stop. In San Francisco, in New Hampshire, Indiana, Connecticut, Ireland, Scotland, Ohio.. three stripes across the night sky. "Hello Orion," I would say up to the night sky. My older sister has a sequence of three diagonal freckles across her face and I use to call them her Orion's belt--whether or not she appreciated this is unknown, but since we didn't appreciate ourselves at all during much of our lives, I would assume not.

So Orion it has been for my unknown puppy. I looked through newspaper ads, rescue sights, breeders you name it. As noted from the previous post I have found my Orion pup. "Choose the name..." and Orion, son of a lovely white lab named Skye, is aptly chosen. I smiled thinking of his mother's name. Then I began researching the story of Orion--the Greek myths, and was amused to discover his connection to Greek mythology when his father's name is Achilles--another Greek figure.

Things happen for a reason. I think this is going to be a great adventure.

My soon to be Best Pal

2011-01-10T20:05:00.000-08:00

This is going to be my new buddy. I visited him for the first time today at his farm out in Kentucky. As his eyes are not yet open, I'm just hoping he'll remember my smell. When I set him back down his mom sniffed at him the most so I figure I must've left some kind of scent on him. He was all snuggly though--I like to think it was us bonding, but as he was sleeping under a heat lamp, it's more likely he was just trying to stay warm. I can appreciate that too. So I talked to his mom and told her to take good care of him and said I would do the same. I talked with his dad, who was much more interested in just the fact a human was hanging out with him and his six other pals than in my promises of good care. Then I spoke with a bulldog, named Bella, who was going through a rough emotional time as she had a c-section and lost her only pup. I told her I was sorry and petted her velvet head.

All and all, a good day.

I'm now debating about the spelling of Orion's name. Orion or Orien. The trouble with Orion is my brain says, "Onion". I don't want to think my dog is an onion. (He looks like a potato presently but that'll change). Orien however says, "O'Brien" in my head and I'm reminded of my fifth grade boyfriend. Tough things to contemplate.

:) He comes home early February. I just realized February is spelled with two "r's". I pronounce it Feb-u-ary. Not, Feb Brew Airy. Weird. Anyways, Feb it is, and then it's he and I--in it for the long haul.

Results

2011-01-03T18:01:00.000-08:00

I began this piece for a friend of mine--her birthday was ages ago but that always seems to be the case with paintings I owe people (unless I'm on commission) but I wanted to play with exotic colors, or a totally unrealistic color palette and as I've been having fun with clouds as of late, I gave that a whirl too. So in whole you'll see my mini sketch and my base layer of paint. I'm slightly irritated with myself though because I did not instantly clean out my brushes (thinking I was going to go to Dunkin's then come back and resume working; only to have become sick from pizza and needing to go to bed because I felt bad) so I didn't get to the brushes until late last night and I'm afraid in my negligence I have lost the fan brush to the great beyond. Frustrating. I love that fan brush.

Birthday Mornings

2011-01-01T04:47:00.000-08:00

I am awake before the rest of the world, having cheated last night and conked out around 10:30. Normally I would say one shouldn't spend her birthday alone, but I have the biggest smile on my face. I woke up, dug around for my phone, that was going off all night with the ball dropping, friends texting or calling (I vaguely recall talking to my friend Samantha who was also born on New Years) and found it full of happy wishes, and voicemails that just made me feel warm inside. Even my older sister who despises that I insist on a British voicemail called, "Hi, just to show you how much I love you, I'm leaving you a message on this ridiculous voicemail. Happy New Year and Happy Birthday. Oh, and your House Boy says the same." I hear hollering from her father-in-law in the back ground. A friend from work, who has a great sense of humor, but I am only just getting to know, "Happy birthday; try to not get too caffeinated tomorrow on your Dunkins." And so on.

So as I roll out of bed, down the hall to the kitchen, I smile as I pull a cup out of Maggie's gift to me, to make a small cup of coffee for the morning present openings. And while a friend of mine is no longer around, it still makes me smile of old times with that pal, where she would have her small cup of coffee in the morning just as I was doing. Plodding down the hall with my gifts and cards--that I was so good not to open ahead of time... I plunk down on my bed and started opening cards, and gifts and it just made me feel like I had all those friends with me. What a nice way to wake up in the morning with your friends thoughtfulness and caring. Each gift and each card made me smile and I certainly do not feel alone on this new year day.

Birthday Plans

2010-12-31T16:04:00.000-08:00

As tomorrow marks the beginning of a new year, it also marks my 27th birthday--it's true. So the picture on the left is the very last of my young self. While I use to find my birthday often shared with everyone and so close to Christmas a bit of a drag, I've really come to love this day because I can look forward to a true new beginning. Not only does the entire world (save China) mark it as a day to turn a new leaf, but I get to move up one notch on years that I have spent on this earth and lately, I am ever hopeful for what up and coming year holds for me as I continue to grow as a person. While twenty-six was an odd year for me, feeling unsettled with where to live, where to be, unfinished tugs on the heart strings, I also had some wonderful experiences and met some charming and delightful friends. And, as a whole, I feel like I have begun to truly gage my own patterns, steps, rhythms--a skill often challenging, but rewarding and prideful as well.

Traditionally, I spend my birthday with my family or my favorite people, but I find this year, I am looking forward to the solitude of myself and my paint brushes. It has been a very busy holiday season, full of travel, craziness at work, moving to my own apartment, and general nuttiness so much so I just want to be still, reconnect with what I enjoy, remember what it is that I truly wish to be doing in life while all of the rest of life catches up with me, pulling all directions but the stool beside my desk. So the tidying of the apartment will be this evening. A trip to Dunkin Donuts with my neighbor in the morning (to do something special) and then off I will roll in to Molly space, humming along to Chris Pureka and pushing paint around on the canvas. I'll be sure to post some befores and afters.

And with that, I'm off to put away my Christmas pans (thanks fedex!) and wish you all a very lovely New Year. I genuinely hope everyone's year might be their very best one yet.

The Evening's Events

2010-12-13T21:25:00.000-08:00

So this evening I had to pump myself up for what I knew was going to be a longish night of painting, in attempts to finish up a commission for next weekend. Shower, Irish Soda Bread in the oven, ipod on ears, I was ready to rock and roll. While I was groanie prior to the actual painting extravaganza, once I sat down, as usual, I was having a wonderful time. So here are some of the images from my painting streak this evening...

That aside, I've been making Christmas presents every day during my free time. I am a Christmas present Craft center here on Harris Avenue. With this being said, I absolutely love my new apartment and studio room. One can't beat a space dedicated solely to art. While unpacking, I specifically didn't allow my printer to go in my studio because it didn't fit in the creative space without poor work vibes, so it's perched on my file cabinet in my bedroom. If someone came to visit, they would know where the priorities lie in my world as my living room is pretty much vacated, empty and echoey (yeah need furniture) but with paintings propped up all along the walls. The kitchen is coming along, but needs a table (I was using a shelf of my bookshelf for a bit). But if you go to my studio, it is up and running. Bookshelf against the wall, Trina perched atop it; paintings laid out on the floor while I debate the final wall, books lining the cool old window frames, magic things integrated in the corners, studio desk up and paints all alongside. Even my bedroom can't beat that.

So, while I'm busy as anything, prioritizing Christmas before the rest of the furniture aquisition/apartment embelishments, it is a great space and full of such potential. I can't wait to continue investing in it. Plus, they let me have dogs so as I consulted with my sister this evening on the activity planning for the upcoming birthday she suggested going to look at dogs. I always want to have wonderful birthdays--who wouldn't? And I think this would be a grand idea.

Declarations

2010-12-13T16:46:00.001-08:00

I freaking love painting.

Passing

2010-12-03T21:43:00.000-08:00

"What's he doing?"
"Dad's doing what he loves best," my dad says into the phone. "He's taking a nap."
"Oh."

"I heard if you hold the phone up next to him that maybe I could say something?"
"Oh sure Mol, hang on."

"Ah, you got a head nod out of him."
"That's good. Would you give him a kiss on his forehead for me Dad?"

And so marks the passing of my grandpa. Age 99, and the kindest, gentlest old man, who enjoyed a good smile, and a good snooze, always placing these cut out eye masks over his eyes. I remember as a kid, crawling up on his tummy, his striped pj's poking out from the covers, and my little hands peeling back the navy blue eye shades to sneak a peek at the sleeping blue eyes beneath. "Wake up Grandpa!" Then, as he passed 90, me going into his room, his hair all askew, gently rocking his shoulder, "Grandpa, it's time to get up." "Hurumph... give me ten more minutes." When I think of him, I have a smile on my face. He was a good soul that John Aloysius--the only boy in a handful of many sisters, enjoying family, music in his study, watching us climb maple trees in Connecticut and orange trees in Arizona, pressing fresh oranges when we climbed down. I think of him every time I sit in a poorly lit room with a book tucked in my lap, telling me as a seven-year-old, not to ruin my eyes, "Turn on a light Molly," he'd say, flicking on the light above my head. But mostly, I think my grandpa was just happy living life. He seemed peaceful, jovial, full of memories, be it knitting socks for WWI or asking my grandma to round up some good dates for him and his sailor buddies during WWII (only to decide to be sweet on her afterall). I'm glad he hung around long enough to meet his great grandson, and a little while longer past Gram just to be present as the family lost a wing of their own. It is strange to now have both my grandparents gone on my dad's side of the family. I only have one set left.

But I have felt Gram around and I am sure it will be nice for the two of them, having spent so long in this space together, to meet again, a year in-between. And I applaud my grandpa for making it to 99, as I did my gram for 97, and can only appreciate the gentle way he passed from this world to the next. But he will still be missed, as is my grandma and I imagine I will find myself saying, "I miss my grandpa." Just as I say, "I miss my grandma," from time to time. And that, is just the way life is.

Christmas Card 2010

2010-11-27T06:21:00.001-08:00

Here it is... the finalized version of Christmas card 2010 (complete with my color consultant Melanie Micklas)

Missed Deadlines

2010-11-16T22:07:00.001-08:00

So the Laurel Library called me up the other day while I was in Portland, and asked me to participate in their art show. Needless to say I was game, got home from Oregon and began assessing my art that could be submitted. The last two months I spent theraputicing myself with art so there are a lot of half complete, got-what-i-wanted-out-of-it, paintings, so I decided today, on Tuesday, I would bust out some new work. Chugging a mini Pepsi, Chris Pureka in ear, I set to work...

All was good fun, my room looks like it blew up, (searching for ink wells, oil paints etc.) and then, as I am ready to call it a night at 1 am, I discover the art show deadline was LAST Friday, not THIS Friday. Go figure. Ha ha. Made myself laugh though with my three day rally, and rapid, "Oh, well I guess forget that!"

The end conclusion...

Portland

2010-11-16T17:27:00.000-08:00

I just spent a wonderful week out with my best friend in Portland, Oregon. Portland, for those who have not been there, is pretty much equivalent to Ireland and Scotland (in terms of weather) but very liberal, filled with lots of quirky shops, unique looking people, loads of beards, dreads, you name it. It did rain the entire time I was there however, it was the perfect weather for long cups of tea, and snuggles on the couch. I felt so relaxed, slept a bunch, saw a WONDERFUL Chris Pureka show (www.chrispureka.com) was introduced to a new band Horse Feathers, and enjoyed a show by Folk & Spoon while there. We also took a calming walk through the Japanese Gardens (see the mini watercolor) and had a dance party (see the dancing sketches) and just read, talked, and had an overall chill experience. We also took a hike to the hot springs of Bagby where we soaked in a carved out tree trunk that filled with natural hot spring water. It was magical. The drive there also was one for the memory as the tall pines loomed on either side, water splashing in and out between them, fog magically dancing among the limbs. Oh, just so cool.

I am back with a clear head on my shoulders and a painting night ahead as I have to get some pieces done for a show this weekend that I was called to participate in! Yikes!!

An it comes around again

2010-11-04T18:05:00.000-07:00

Okay it's that time of year for voting on the Christmas/neutral holiday cards... let me know your thoughts on the following:

Finley Market

2010-10-31T20:16:00.000-07:00

Today Lauren and I ventured out to the historic Finley Market in Cincinnati, Ohio. Having never been to Finley Market before, I imagined it to be something like a grandiose farmer's market, but found it entirely different with shops inside selling real meat, and baked goods and people bustling around like busy bees. The outside with the tables and small shops reminded me of downtown Boston's Quincy Market, or San Francisco near the loading docks for Socilito. Lauren and I plunked down at some of the tables set up for people, and had some time to do some quick sketches, thus seen below. We also tried seriously the best waffles I've ever had at the Belgium Waffle section. Yum, yum! Fruit and whipped cream! Having taken a two week break from sketching though I must say I was slightly more frustrated to start because I couldn't figure things out. "Be patient. You know how to do this," was my mantra as I stumbled through the first sketch. I caught on soon enough but it just goes to show how art is a practice and a discipline that if you skip, you can get out of shape quickly.

Updates

2010-10-29T19:54:00.000-07:00

I think I have made a break through. This is good news. On the opposite side, I will be sketching on Sunday and taking my lazy, I read all day self, out with my trusty pal Lauren and hit up some new places so I should be posting some art soon. Also, Dunkin Donuts in Ohio is improving. On attempt number three, I got BOTH cream and sugar, yes, this time they HAD cream, but they did go a touch overboard on the sugar. Not quite in equal proportions the way the New England folks get trained, however, so not to be critical, they are making progress.

My favorite

2010-10-16T20:59:00.001-07:00

This tree, this picture, causes me pause. Life has such beautiful moments. The color, the sun, the fall. Capturing the photograph then taking chase to catch up with the walking party on a fall day.

Plein Air

2010-10-12T19:09:00.000-07:00

Dressed as a bag lady, with paint splattered overalls, checkered painting shirt, and loaded down with my box easel, wooden stool, backpack and four canvases, I landed in a corner of Sharon Woods for my plein air painting day. Arriving at 9 AM, the light was ideal, though I had snapped pictures the day before just in case. Setting up shop, I had a handful of people comment, "Lovely day for painting." "Great view." as I starting pushing paint around on the canvas. Interestingly enough it took me a bit to get grounded in painting this morning as I did not prep my canvases the way I usually do--meaning, I left my acrylics at home and had blank white with which to work. It was humorous to me how much I was struggling to find my groove with this simple skippage of routine. For a time, I set the canvas down and pulled out a prescription bottle that still had some gesso/acrylic mix in it from an old painting (prescription bottles make for good portable storage), and I covered the extra three canvases left for the day. By the time I was finished with that, and one pep talk, I regrounded myself and began making progress. You can see the little set up I established. It is quite impressive the number of people that enjoy stopping and talking to you. A very different painting experience for me. I had one gentleman, a portrait artist from India, join me in consultation towards the end to try and help me discover why the right side seemed so successful while the left was just struggling. We came to a decent enough conclusion though I still think something's off. One woman, a Mississippian, told me of her pursuit of becoming an artist that led to her painting a large mural on her wall in Arkansas of the Louisiana Bayou. The majority of the people however were just very complimentary, one guy even told me, "I'm on lap four, and you're making great progress!" And I had another gentleman come back to tell me I should go up a ways because it was so lovely, he almost cried. He had a Yankees hat on, but otherwise I believed him ;) Time flew right by and I enjoyed some applesauce and wheat thins while sitting in the grass, absorbing the fine fall day.

Post script to the Addition

2010-10-11T20:27:00.000-07:00

Also, today was a day of news; my sister, Kate had a rocking good grade in one of her classes and just sounded very happy with her little boy. Maggie (who's had a rough week, having been hit by a car TWICE on her bike, and then got really sick) happens to have discovered her heart is okay (even though it made it up to 300 beats a minute) and will be able to have a fairly non-complicated surgery to fix it's trigger happiness (unrelated to the accidents), and Kelley saw a praying mantis AND found out there's a real life human stem cell test subject down at Shepards, which potentially can mean great things for her AND she also held a pen in therapy this week.

So how about that?

What a great way to start a week.

Off to bed for my morning in the park tomorrow.

Latest addition to the Family

2010-10-11T20:21:00.001-07:00

I had a wonderful day today. The weather was gorgeous, the leaves following suit, my spirits were high as I tromped around Sharon Woods Pond for my morning hike with Lynn. After not too much arm twisting I went prowling to the art store where in I splurged for....

TADAH!!!!

My newest coolest, artistic addition: (check out the paint bucket and tell me you don't just think that's the cutest thing you've ever seen)

I'm very excited for my all day art extravaganza tomorrow. I will post more later this week to show what was accomplished in my time there.

Eden Park and Daydreams...

2010-10-10T16:54:00.000-07:00

This morning I woke up and met my friend over in Eden Park for a little figure drawing, well, I was figure drawing and Lauren decided she was not in the mood so was cross-word puzzling, but stayed still enough that I could sketch her. It was nice. I have found Lauren has become my art pal out here and is fairly willing to make time to go out drawing when prompted. In ways, I am striving to create a group of people who also like making art, similar to what I found with The Starving Artist, or who would like to just get out and go sketching. I find this is a great way to spend time together and develop my art skill set, or just cater to my persistent need to draw. So far this, and last month I have successfully met my goal of three sketches a week despite the fact some of these sketches may be as basic as beds from Pottery Barn's magazines. It is still drawing and observing so I count the effort.

Tuesday is my day off this week, and while I find it challenging to find people who also share week days off, I am comtemplating taking the time to do an outdoor oil day. I am not nearly prepared for this (ie. no outdoor easle or turp) but I like the idea all the same and may resort to my watercolor kit anyways. The leaves are changing and some are ripe with color. I can imagine what they might be like in New Hampshire about now too, though it seems there should be one more week before they reach their prime. As I have been drooling over this concept, I thought about travel easles... and below one can see the one I presently am in love with (found on dickblick.com). Someone I was speaking with pointed out if I get one for outdoors, I can still use it in my room, despite it's smaller size. Brilliant idea!

Demeter & Persephone Return

2010-10-07T17:39:00.000-07:00

I am currently reading this book entitled, Care of the Soul, by Thomas Moore. I have picked this book up at various periods of my life but found it very egotistical and dry. This time, I am plugging through it with the same opinions of the writer, however am finding elements that cause me pause. As is noted for the past year (going on two this December), I've spent a large portion of my time being introspective, learning about self and trying to learn how to care and or patch up my self, so naturally a book about tending to the soul fits in with my paradigm for the present period in my life.

For those constant blog followers, one may remember a posting about the book, Traveling with Pomegranates--a story about Sue Monk Kidd coming of age in her early forties/fifties, and Anne Kidd Taylor, her daughter, struggling with early twenties. A large portion of Sue and Anne's journey centered around the myth of Persephone and Demeter (the daughter who gets unwillingly pulled down to the underworld as a mate to Hades, separated from her mother against her will, and then her mother ignoring duties as a god, searching for her missing daughter). Care of the Soul reflected on this theme as well and I took particular pause over the idea of this story per the interpretation of Mr. Moore. There were three sentences for which I spent reflection time while peddling on my exercise bike at the gym, "We might understand the story of Persephone as the myth of every child, realizing that the child's susceptibility to dark people and places may be a dangerous but sometimes unavoidable way of soul-making." "The Persophone myth informs us that sometimes one discovers soul and the underworld against one's will." "It is in the nature of things to be drawn to the very experiences that will spoil our innocence, transform our lives, and give us necessary complexity and depth." I, of course, first drew the parallel to that of depression, and how that is a dip to the dark places, yet forces a level of soul-making--but went on to reflect on other areas that could exemplify the underworld as well.

I have been thinking about death a lot lately, pausing on my way to Borders, to observe three lanes of highway closed, bright lights of every emergency vehicle and two cars smashed to a point that lives must have been lost. These two cars had people who were doing an everyday thing, driving their car on the highway. Who knew this day, would be their last day?

My grandmother's anniversary of passing is coming up next week. It causes me pause. Her life, while long, had a more predictable end, but still, it was an ending to one I knew and loved. I sit on my lunch breaks clicking my knitting needles together, knitting needles she gave me, and thinking about her in my history. How I do miss my grandmother.

A customer came in who in conversation I learned had just lost her boyfriend to death. Circumstances unknown to me but the girl was not much older than myself. Did she know she was losing him? Did she know her time was limited?

The interesting reflection here is though these three snippets reflect tangible death, those left behind, also experience a trip to the underworld as well in the journey that is grieving. Demeter and Persephone. Persephone's journey, while challenging for self, also hugely affected her mother, who was having her own journey; much like Sue and Anne in the story.

2 Down...

2010-10-03T16:15:00.000-07:00

Twenty-four to go.

This is my second alphabet block. I still need to buy turp to properly clean my block and brayer, but I am really happy with how they are turning out. For the most part I have not been looking too closely at the animals which I think lends itself to more a more children's bookish feel.

I also finished up my friend Casey's painting today. Considering she got married in March, I'm a touch behind schedule, but I'm glad it is complete and when I locate a PO Box I can send it her way.

Today my housemate and I talked about puppy proofing the house. Two labrador puppies in a house with a writer, and a writer/illustrator = lots of books for the little guys to chew on.

The day for art

2010-09-28T18:44:00.000-07:00

Since I accomplished all of my errands, household chores etc. yesterday, I had the majority of the day all my own for some intensive art time. I started off the day with a wonderful conversation with Will Hillenbrand over breakfast, and as my followers know Will is my illustration mentor. The past two visits with Will, while talking shop, I've gone home with much on my mind in the way of improvement, new things to try etc. My focus since July was first to get a job out here, thus the 50 job applications for teaching, then Apple; then I have been very focused on self development, continued work on things to be the best person I can be for myself. Needless to say, doing these things has created a lack of focus from the more traditional, Trina, illustration, McL Design. I go on and off about whether this is a problem for me. On one hand, taking care of myself trumps all, and sometimes that sucks all my energy so I do what I can for fine art painting or outings. However, I am also aware of many of the gifts this area provides when it comes to fostering my love for children's literature and I would like to take advantage of that, silence the hitch hikers, exorcise the ghosts from art school, and make a focused stab at the area that has always peaked my interest like no other. So here I am with my mentor kindly offering to mentor me, gives me things to think about, and challenges me to work, however, not in a pushy way. I don't feel any need to do or disappoint. Will does a great job at just saying, hey, I'm here and happy to help if you'd like. It's refreshing. And I never leave talking with Will feeling like I am failing at this interest because I am not 100% devoted to it; I leave feeling more tickled by the prospect of engaging in that world again.

So, with that stated, instead of escaping to the fine art world of my oil paintings, I spent the day working on my alphabet. I had intentions to do more, however, this did take most of my time. By the time I had the sketch complete, value studies figured out, found some tracing paper and did the reverse with pencil on the block, it took probably three to four hours to carve. I am thrilled with the outcome though, as you will see attached. I intend to hand paint it, and use this for new born's bedrooms, an alphabet poster, and an alphabet book (hopefully). If nothing else, just a consistent body of work for my portfolio that demonstrates animals. It's going to take a while though with this one taking the better part of a day and only being one letter. But I am excited and happy with the outcome which is always a nice feeling after a long day at work. People would have laughed if they saw me though because the nature of this project is to carve on a flat surface, so for awhile I was hunched as my stool has me upright for painting on an easel. So I turned my stool on its side and put a pillow down so the block was only an inch or so from my chin. Worked great. Saved my spine.

Goals

2010-09-26T17:15:00.001-07:00

So I put up a new set of goals on the back of my door that I see each day. One of them is for 3 sketches a week so as I said before, new stuff to come. Tomorrow I have to grocery shop (b-o-r-i-n-g), do laundry, then it's all art. I'm pumped. I should probably get a chair that matches my desk though as my present one is super tall. I'll post last weeks sketches here tomorrow too although one of the bigger ones I painted on my lunch break and gave to Lauren because it was her birthday and I needed something for the Pottery Barn frame... I digress. I decided I like that word digress. I also like preclude. When I was younger I had journals that I kept and there was always an area for words I liked. This was more when I was focused on being a writer. I'm very tired from work today and don't know why I'm still on a computer as that's all I do all day and my eyes are exhausted. I have many more ways to be productive too but here I am... so updates tomorrow of some work I'm doing. Plus I'm doing more grunt work on the alphabet. Meet with Will on Tuesday too which is always fun, exciting, and motivating.

The Sunday

2010-09-20T19:10:00.001-07:00

I'm going to try to be more attentive to this blog. I have been a writing fein as of late. Loads going around in my mind, using words as my depository. That partnered with my art. The plein air day was not super long just because we got down to the river a little later than expected, partly because we were scanning options. It was overcast, which was fine just limited fabulous conditions for painting. It was great though, Lauren and I tromping through the shrubs to get to a beach of rocks, the bald eagle saying hello, a gift, and then a dog to keep us company. The dog made me smile at how one day I too will have a dog to do just that, cart along after me, though this one was borrowed from a farm up the way, just checking out the new visitors. The little flies were obnoxious, so I feel a bit later in the fall will be better as it will assist in their demise. So the little sketch is from there, then the larger image is what I came home and did. I slept for a good two hours after the trip, and then I was up painting to process some emotions. Set a new series of goals, nine total, three for each level, so I expect more sketches, should I keep up.

Anywhere works for me.

2010-09-18T20:11:00.000-07:00

My present setup: Plastic File Cabinet. Coffee mug. Small Sketchbook.
I love that I have decided my space doesn't have to be perfect, but I have to have a space to paint.

Could it be the end of... Library Card Collecting?

2010-09-17T22:10:00.000-07:00

"I was thinking about you because I think you'd like this new series." A friend wrote in an email.
I thought, hum. New place. New library card.
And then I realized, wait, you are in an old place.
You have a card for this place.
One of your twelve.

Sign Posts, God Moments, Signals

2010-09-17T21:09:00.000-07:00

For a long time when a decision had to be made in my life I called my six closest friends or family members and went over my options. Polled the audience. After general consensus, I decided. Consequently, I never knew the temperature of Molly. There came a time when this awareness was dawning on me that I took to signs, reading from Julia Cameron's The Artist Way, I sought syncronicity. Coincidences that were more than obvious directions as to which way to go. Sign posts. God moments. Signals.

I am stubborn. This I continue to recognize, as if perhaps the trait wore off and I am introduced for the first time, and feel a sense of de ja vue. Yet when you spend a year and a half in The Dark Ages, stubborn is the least of your faults for which you're concerned. However, stubbornness, my old friend, chooses now to sneak up on me. If I fail to be attentive to myself, I may find myself suddenly crying for an unknown reason, and I have to stop and think about what the heck I missed. Why am I reacting? Because you were too stubborn to attend to your feelings. Ah. Thank you my friend. I find signals, God moments, sign posts share this same approach with me. You haven't received the message Molly? SLAM, sign in my face. You need to pay attention.

I left Ohio last in a chaotic space. Having moved past polling the audience, I now practice listening to my temperature, a temperature that is often hard to read as I am unfamiliar with the measurements, new to the science as I am. To help me, I see every car that I pull in back of sporting an Ohio license plate. Sign posts. God moments. Signals.

Tonight, I'm feeling the need to paint. I have no table. I have no chair. Hell, I have no bed. But I want to paint, I feel that, I read that. Moving things here and there I stumble upon a prayer bundle with handwriting of a friend who is not well. I speak a soft, "Get well," to the quiet of my room. I pick a song on the stereo to paint to, hit the mix and settle in, folding my legs beneath me to crouch at the edge of two tupperware containers stacked atop each other. The songs drift one to the next, each directly connecting to the friend and I have to stop painting and pause. I feel sign posts. God moments. Signals. But this time, I don't know what they mean, but I strain all the same to hear what I am suppose to hear as I gather the syncronicity of the evening.

Periodically I struggle to understand purpose in life. "Do you have to have purpose?" my mother asked me once. "I do," I say. There must be a logic somewhere. For an artistic mind, my need to make sense of things surprises me. However, one of my friend's breaking her neck hasn't fit a logic for me. This friend's illness doesn't fit a logic for me. Depression at the time did not have a logic, though now I can appreciate the learning curve. So I guess where I am at present is looking at if life really hasn't any logic to it at all. And if it doesn't then my paradigm is once again tossed to the wind and I wonder if following sign posts, God moments and signs will settle it down into proper order again or if it's all just a wash. Blue paint over charcoal.

Feline Found

2010-09-16T18:41:00.000-07:00

I found a cat today in my room.

I keep my door shut ALL the time, because of that minor problem with allergies. So you can imagine my surprise when I open my closed door to find a chubby cat sitting in my patch of carpet.

"Buttons! What are you doing in here?" I exclaim as I sniff the air to see if I'll now proceed to die a slow death of itchy eyes, sneezes and runny noses.

Buttons, the chubby cat who is afraid of me saunters out the now open door.

I distinctly understand why people say cats have personality.

Art Update

2010-09-14T20:31:00.001-07:00

I decided I'm going plein air painting on Sunday or Monday (my next days off). Since I haven't purchased a table yet, I'm not painting at the house for the moment. This has become less art directed lately, so I'm updating to tell all my readers, check back soon and I will have some pictures. I have been spending my lunch breaks sketching my alphabet though... they are just sketches at present and I have to do value studies and dig in for awhile with those...

So... the pressures on! Perhaps I will even find a friend to join me, and feel a kick back to The Starving Artist.

Burn out.

2010-09-12T20:21:00.000-07:00

So today, I sat at another store meeting for the company I have worked with over the past year (anniversary date being Sept. 14th) and I felt an overwhelming sense of, "here we go again." I have switched three stores, moved three times, and met countless of people in this time. As noted from my previous entries, this has not been the first of my moves, so today as I went in to another "Meet your new friends" sessions, I just had a sense of "I'm tired of this," piggy-backed on the thought of, "Who is that kid, I recognize his face, but where?" As my brain paged through the countless names and faces over the past six years, narrowing it down to high school, but unable to go further. (Yes, I did re-meet someone from high school).

So I'm sick of moving. This is no shocker. I probably complain about this every time I move. However, I'm feeling it in a deep seated way. I want to set roots down. I want to know that I will be in an area for more than six months. I want to know there is a point to making friends with these 300 new faces I am meeting. I'm burnt out on moving.

Which brings me to a new insight. Perhaps moving has taken the same look and feel as some of my other mild addictive habits. For instance, freshmen year of college, I ate Pop Tarts daily. Promptly following this year, I couldn't stand Pop Tarts, and switched to Cinnamon Toast Crunch instant Cereal Bars my sophomore year. Done. Burnt out. Kroger granola bars (lasted two years) at which I consumed approximately 84 a month. I can no longer eat Kroger granola bars without feeling slightly grossed out. Freshmen year of grad school, Subway Turkey Subs. You will no longer hear me order turkey subs at Subway. Burnt out. These were all foods. I am, and have always been, thankfully, blessed with a high metabolism, so no, these addictions did not create any harrowing damage like that guy in Super Size Me. Regardless, I haven't been addicted to a food in a while. I have nothing that I consume religiously. No favorite breakfast item (by the way, I now really don't like breakfast at all any more), no favorite portable snack, nothing.

Airplane rides had a similar death. I use to get excited for plane rides, then for a whole year and a bit more, I flew every month half way across the country. I now despise having to fly in a plane. I drag my feet, I postpone booking flights. I would rather drive 16 hours than fly. Needless to say, my friend in Oregon, and the two in California, don't see much of me.

Maybe moving is the same way. I'm getting sick of it. The pure thought is disgusting. I'm beginning to think I never want to do it again. My sense of adventure, my need to declare my freedom of roots, my pride at packing and being on the road has dwindled. I want to settle down. I want roots. Trouble is, I've been at it so long, to set roots seems like squeezing in a sweater that's too small. Or like asking me to do fractions again. I can't remember how. I don't remember where to begin.

All that being noted, I'm also wondering what it feels like to know you're home. What is home? Where do I belong? Ah, the key word, belonging. I unpacked my room and in doing so came across two paintings, one done in the summer of 2007 with me clutching a pile of my things, words of my friend's behind me, a line running haphazardly around the background, indicative of a line on a treasure map. Postage stamps and markings collaged on top. I felt displaced then. That was that feeling. Where do I belong? Just myself and my things, moving, moving, moving. Then, a painting from the end of 2008, a road map, and me with my head down, pulling a suitcase behind me. Now, I think of this as my depressed painting, but the symbolism is the same. Displaced, carting my things, images of maps. Perhaps, had I listened to my hand, as it painted, I might have noticed this burn out earlier, but in all reality, I knew that but didn't know what to do with it. One thing I've learned is patience is a great skill to practice, and first and foremost is patience with one's self. So, as I am here again, and sense familiar questions, with less of the craziness of before, I also think, be patient with yourself, Molly and see what you find.

Arrival

2010-09-07T07:49:00.000-07:00

So I have arrived and after a night of sleeping on the floor surrounded by my things, I decided it was time to start unpacking. I am now able to see some carpet. I do however, live with two cats at present and find myself tucked quietly into my room with the door closed (feeling rather unwelcoming), sneezing here and there, but it makes for this space feeling very mine. The cats by the way, are very friendly. Well, one is scared of me, and the other, if given the opportunity would roll on it's back and glorify in my petting it's stomach, so I do feel as though in part I am hurting it's feelings by never petting it. I tell it nice things though like, "Good morning Cat." It's name is cat, so I am not being cold in calling it such.

So returning to a familiar landscape has been a weird experience for the mind, however, many old friends have been excited at the prospect of me returning to the fine state of Ohio. I have been gone for just about a year and a half doing my own healing in the area of my childhood. When I was contemplating returning a friend gave me a Spook feather to ward off the spooks that linger here, and while it first blew out the window two days before I moved, I found it again tucked in the back seat of my car while packing. I felt it was a positive omen and one I watched and tucked back in to my visor for the ride out. I wanted to do a ceremony of sorts with it, however, the one who would know how to do that, is out of commission for awhile so it was returned to her and maybe will serve her well till she gets better. In the meantime, I find the experience of being here strangely odd. I often find my brain scrambled as to where I am, who I ought to recognize and compartmentalize to New Hampshire, Massachusetts and Ohio. Traces of young Molly flit through my memory and I have that distinct feeling of returning as a grown up rather than my adolescent/pre/post college student. This feels positive for me because after a year and a half of growing in the harder ways, I feel renewed and the landscape has not altered this feeling.

For now I am setting up shop in a great old house with deep stained wood floors in an older area of Cincinnati. I have a good pal living in the basement and two other girls on the same floor as myself. I am here till I make the great move to my own place, but felt very warm as the whole family piled down the stairs for hugs and hellos on move-in day. This family, the "landlady" and crew, is one from old days, that reminds me much of my own family and often I would drop in last minute on them, and they welcomed the surprise.

As I have left the land of four aunts, sixteen cousins, an uncle and grandparents, (and my own parents) I find it is a bit of an adjustment not to have the bloodline family around. However, my friend in California once said, "Molly, when you move away from your family, you just have to find the people who will become your family wherever you land." And as I will be here for awhile and my only bloodline is about 8 hours away, this is a good lesson to put into practice. Although, if all goes according to plan, I will add to my family with a labrador next month and that will make two of us.

Logic

2010-08-30T18:22:00.000-07:00

So today I considered the furniture one would need when furnishing a house. Quite frankly, I started out just thinking of a room. I decided I needed a table, one chair for that table, a bookshelf, and a futon to start and a few lamps. These are just the priorities. The way I have it planned, the futon can get me through a month or two till I get my own place and then it can promptly be converted to a living room piece. Now the fascination I have with all of this is the level of permanence furniture indicates. Of course being me, at least in the past four years, impermanence has been the name of the game. The last time I recall being concerned over furniture was when I was a Jr. in college. That was three or four years ago. Stunning. So here I am contemplating these things and it even occurred to me I just might be interested in curtains. I'm poking around craigslist, I'm poking around IKEA and Sears online, and then my brain goes to vacume, lawn mower and before I know it I have decided once again, being a grown-up is expensive. However, if one starts, and I mean STARTS, to decide to be in one place for a period of time I suppose these everyday things become common place and the whole mess of $ $ $ can be reduced to just one early expense (like filling your fridge for the first time with ketchup and salad dressing) and then it is relatively inexpensive.

Surprisingly, I felt kind of excited at the prospect of building my place.

Murry moves on

2010-08-20T17:05:00.001-07:00

Murry didn't make it.

His cocoon has been black for days and I moved him, along with all of my belongings today and his cocoon fell off to ooze liquid on the wood floor of his house but no sign of a butterfly.

So all that stuff about peaceful transitions?

I'm skeptical.

How could a caterpillar fail to turn into a butterfly with no known predators or weather to advert this change? Bummer. There have been a lot of references to butterflies this past year and how one needs to sometimes take the time to magically change and take that quiet time of healing (aka cocoon time)... hum.

O Maine

2010-08-17T18:55:00.000-07:00

After a glorious two days respite in Ogunquit, Maine, I am just now getting to the artist board to draw my "thank you" note for my friends. While blurry... you'll get the idea.

Moving.

2010-08-10T19:59:00.000-07:00

I have pretty much decided I absolutely hate moving. It is probably the worst thing you could tell me to do. Any of you who know me probably are thinking, "What? From the girl who has 12 library cards?" But it's true. I think the only think I hate more than moving is getting a shot, and even that, there's less emotional whorah there because you get to get all nice and anxious then poke and you're done. This whole pack all your stuff AGAIN, this whole, where are you going to be, where can you live, where will you land, is it temporary or do you have a say in it? YUCK YUCK YUCK.

That's what I have to say about it.

Murry didn't seem to have a probably with me moving him from one room to the next.

I just want to get it over with because it's like ripping a bandaid off real slow, or dumping some hydrogen peroxide in the cut. You know it's going to suck... and you still have to do it. I want to be done moving.

It's amazing I know, that I should feel this violently towards the process considering how many times I have done this. If I count since I entered undergraduate.. since I was 20, I have packed all my stuff up and lived somewhere else it's been ten times. In six years, I've moved ten times. Well hell. There you have it. Talk about a lack of permanence.

I guess I shouldn't be complaining because Murry's going to have to move every year.

Maybe I should save him that trouble and let him go at the Butterfly Museum so he can live out his peaceful life in one location, year round.

Murry

2010-08-06T19:22:00.000-07:00

I bought a monarch caterpillar when I went to the Butterfly Museum a few days ago and I have been fascinated in observing it's growth. I watched it eat like crazy, sleep as if it were dead, wake up and eat and sleep and poop ect. Many times I thought I killed it because it was so very still but then up again it would be eating the extra milk weed plants I put in it's little plastic cup. Soon I got to thinking it needed a bigger home, so I scrounged around my dad's bee-keeping supplies and came up with a nettled box about the size of a shoebox. Typically, these are used when the bees get shipped to the house and they have a nice screen to wrap around the wood and a bar in the center, and circle opening at the top. I slipped my plastic cup container in, taped off the top and thought the caterpillar would likely cocoon along the center bar. Interestingly enough, the caterpillar had little interest in the new home I created for him (I think of him as caterpillar first, Murry second). Anyways, before I knew it he crawled up the side of the "hutch" and rather than plot out a good journey for where to cocoon, tucked himself in the far corner and made his J, and soon, his cocoon.

The fascinating part about all of this is that it was as if Murry had it all figured out. He ate, he slept. He pooped, he ate, he slept. I sat thinking, "Dead? Not dead?" "Did I kill him? Is his home big enough?" all this time making sure this period of his life was the very best that I could make it. But to Murry, it's all peaceful. He's transitioning. Probably in the very biggest way he will ever know and yet seems so cool and collected.

"Yeah, sure, I'll hang upside down in a J for a few hours, I'm cool."

And even now, each day I come home from work, I peek in the corner to see how he's doing. When I wake up, I crawl over, shut my alarm off and look up to see how he's doing. He's very quietly hanging out in his cocoon, doing what he needs to be doing. Resting. Letting nature take it's course. It's all just so peaceful.

I don't think I have ever experienced a peaceful, quiet transition. My life is just the opposite. When I see transition coming, it's like I invite a tornado into my small hutch and before I know it, I can't find my milkweed, can't tell which way is up, where I should hang, anything. If I were in a cocoon, I'd probably be moving all over the place and stressing out about what color spots I wanted and how I'd need to be to make just those spots happen.

It occurred to me tonight as I peeked in at Murry, that there's a lot I could learn from this little bug.

Will

2010-07-31T06:04:00.001-07:00

This morning I met with my long-time mentor Will Hillenbrand while he was out here picking his son up from camp. The alarm went off at six forty-five, I rocked myself out of bed with a, "Let's do it!" being that I stayed up easily till one am yesterday painting and watching The Holiday (love that movie with Cameron Diaz, Kate Winslet). Hair done up in braids, a ziplock baggie of Irish Soda Bread to go, and I was out the door in fifteen minutes flat.

I have not seen Will in a good number of years, largely due to my frequent movement be it from Ohio to San Francisco to Indiana to New Hampshire, and never quite matching our schedules to be more than a delightfully inspiring phone call from time to time. Will has a very playful appearance, youthful or whimsical could also be adjectives used to describe him, but characteristically he looks like a children's illustrator on appearance alone so it was not hard, despite many years of not seeing him, to waltz into the lobby and pick him out among the half-asleep hotel attendees, donning the dinning area.

Will was kind enough to look over my sketch books and my webpage as I sipped my coffee and we talked about the processes involved in the creation of art. We talked about moving sketches from the page to the computer, about expression, about sequencing. Pulling out an oddly shaped file folder (sized to fit printouts book-sized), he flipped through some of his work so that I could see his process at present.

When I was a freshmen in college, I first met Will giving a presentation in Cincinnati (recommended by a at the time unknown professor I would eventually tag along with my whole college career). He talked about his process, he talked about being an illustrator, he just talked and I was 100% enamored. This was the first time I ever met someone who talked about something that I wanted to do. It was like someone went in my head and pulled out what I'd been pondering over for the 18+ years I'd been around and laid it out for me perfectly. I wanted to be an illustrator of children's books and guess what? Other people did too, and did it.

So it was and is always fun to revisit where Will is and think about day 1 meeting Will and present meeting Will. I love looking over his stuff. I love listening to his process and studying the minute details of house shingles that his subtle lines nail. I love looking at his art and seeing the playfulness in it, but also just to see he doesn't just magically make the final happen (although I love his final work). He brought sketches to see show me, then the images laid out in the computer. It was all just cool, cool, cool. And it made me start thinking of things, elements, that I could start to incorporate in my own work. And I left, quarter cup of full-tilt coffee in my system, feeling inspired, as I always do when talking with Will, that I have growing to do but there are still people out there who do what I would like to do someday. There are still people out there who design books for children and love it like I love it.

Meadow Poetry

2010-07-31T05:52:00.000-07:00

So yesterday, because I knew I was getting too stressed out, I purposefully blocked the day out to do a bunch of work in the morning, then paint in the evening. This painting is one I am doing for a friend of mine who got married well over six months ago but I am a bit behind on the actual present delivery. No surprise... I get behind of lots of lofty things I set my mind to, plus I'm quite particular when it comes to making a painting deliberately for someone... it has to feel right for that person. Anyways, this painting is called "Meadow Poetry II" because any of you who follow my work may see some familiarities from a previous painting I did, also known as Meadow Poetry. The original was done in watercolor and had my portrait drawn in charcoal with the hair spilling down over it. I'll see if I can find it to post alongside this new one. Primarily, I am using the same color scheme and dimensions but trying to resolve some flatness that was occurring in the first as well as changing the meaning of the painting more or less. The reason I am posting this painting is because last night I was working on the hands and every now and then I do something that I just nail and am so tickled pink I just can't help looking at it. In this case, it's the fingers on the bottom hand. I felt like, "Hot damn Moll, you nailed those." They just seem to have substance. They read as hands. And then I think about how I was teaching a friend of mine how to paint and we had been talking a lot about planes and how every form can be seen geometrically, fingers being no exception. So, here, in the fingers, you see a sense of depth created as I used different shades to demonstrate the different planes of a finger. A finger has four planes, and to describe it I literally just thought about that as I dropped in my value and color. Now, the hands overall need some serious contrast attention but the oil is to wet to attend to that at present, and truthfully, that's no surprise to me as I know that is my weakness, but I just felt it was important to share with my blog readers my prideful moment of getting something on the dot.

patterns.

2010-07-23T10:53:00.000-07:00

I am distinctively finding a pattern that goes like this:

Molly GOOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGO AHHHHHHHH.

But the solution has been pretty simple to make this a normal, happy pattern: Molly GO GO GO GO GO Paint, mix paint, play with paint GO Go GO GO gogogo (repeat).

I'm feeling it's paint mixing and painting time...

Business Review

2010-07-21T19:13:00.001-07:00

My business got a review from my favorite printing company!!

Check it out:

http://reviews.uprinting.com/

I was and am pretty pumped about this.

Trina Evenings

2010-07-19T18:10:00.000-07:00

So I hired a friend of mine to transcribe a bunch of the interviews I've conducted from 2006-present regarding my research on Trina Schart Hyman. Some would say I am lazy not doing this myself, however, I have decided I'm smart. Why not delegate your time? My friend can use the money, and I can use that time to draw or write (potentially furthering my career) something no one else can do for me. Win win situation right? Plus it saves me from scrolling through the tapes when I'm looking for a quote.

Here's the interesting part, my friend is now hooked on Trina. She has actually been enjoying the transcribing and she starts to ask me questions about Trina. Friend: "So, was Trina wealthy when she died? Because if she had cancer twice, that's not cheap." Me: "I don't think so. I think she was comfortable enough that she was able to pay for her illness but not able to retire entirely." Friend: "So when you said she was a good correspondent, did you mean by email, letters what?" Me: "Trina was very routine-like, she'd sit down every night and spend like an hour or two writing letters. And they were personal letters too. People treasure them. As for email, she didn't believe in a microwave... I think she may have had a color copier that her partner used, but definitely not a computer." Friend: "Why? Was she opposed to technology?" Me: "No I think she just felt it sucked an element of creativity out of your life. Like she never felt people shouldn't have enough time to boil a cup of tea that they'd need to use the microwave for that. She never wanted to be that type of person. Same kind of thing in her illustration career. She didn't like the way publishing was becoming so commercialized...." and on and on... as we walked down the sidewalk towards Keene State College.

It was lovely. General conversation with my eyes closed on a Princess towel while waiting for her to be done running a summer camp... chronicling as much of Trina's life as I could in summary while explaining the connections of the people for which she was transcribing interviews... and then drifting into the gallery at Keene State.

"So what are these?" Me: " These are color separations; remember how I was talking about what a big deal it was when Trina got her first full-color picture book... can you imagine doing this??"

We talked about Trina for three hours.

We talked about children's books, the history, Holiday House, Trina, Trina, Trina. I love doing just that.

Sketches of Dogs

2010-07-17T17:08:00.000-07:00

As I work on my sketching week escapades I'm going to do my best to post them here as an "accountability" thing.... here are the dogs from my midwest trip.

Website changes

2010-07-15T07:18:00.000-07:00

Oops, almost forgot! I've been making changes to my website lately too. From the critiques that I have received (ages ago mind you) I needed my images to get bigger. I also felt it was time to update the images in general. Some of them were older, not really where I was going anymore and I had some new art too. this is the work in progress however, I would like to get more of my sketches up as I've been trying to do a fair amount of work in my sketchbooks lately (as you can see from my previous posts).

http://web.me.com/molly.mcl/Mollys_Addition/Home.html

I hope to get this up by next week because I have a new round of postcards to mail out and am going to start trying to get an agent to pick me up as an artist. Yep. I decided it's time to focus on getting an agent and less about the publishers. When I'm done with my changes, I'll post them up on mollymcloughlin.com. Also, for anyone who knows people who need websites, feel free to pass along my information (McL Design: mcldesign.org) as that is one of my many business avenues.

July's Child

2010-07-14T20:29:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I find this blog is silly to write in because I feel as if I am writing to myself. Now, in part, if I don't write new entries save a month apart (to the date today mind you), I can understand why as a follower, it would be a nusense to try to keep up with this... my interest would wane.... this reminds me of my feelings towards Madeline L'Engle and Mildred Taylor. Both authors I felt left their readers in the midst of good stories... cliff hangers if you will, season finale's except neither picked up the boat and brought us another novel. I waited and waited, checking their names on the bookshelves, but the shelf did not expand, the new books did not appear and so over time, I quit looking. My expectations and hopes for revisiting old friends in new ways, faded. And then I found out Madeline died, so I forgave her for never getting around to another book (despite the fact there was a LARGE gap in between her dying and my checking of the shelves....) anyhow, so, this blog. There is also the issue of comments. I rarely get comments. Oh sure, once in a blue moon someone writes one, but I sit there after a blog entry and watch that little parenthesees with a number tucked inside, watching, waiting, hoping it will change, wishing.... staring with anticipation, like watching the New Year's ball quivering at the top of the pole... but nothing. After about five or so checkins on this I give up. No comments. So if I'm not in the mood for writing to myself, then I let it sit, my blog, collect dust for a month. There has been a TON going on this past month. Much I could write of. What pertains to writing? Well, I finished my postcards, have them ordered and in my possession. I also spent a glorious evening at the Eric Carle, for a "Member Exclusive" gallery opening of Lisbeth Zwerger's work.... an event that was nice and fancy (if you wanted it to, which for me I did since my job requires us to where chill/hip clothes like jeans and a little skirt and heels every now and again is a treat.) And I chuckled over recognizing Jerry Pinkney hanging out and mingling... met a wonderfully friendly woman known to me as "Susanna the Egg Woman" in the gift shop who knew much about Trina (helps out with the Egg Auction for Jean (Trina's partner)'s school) and is from Storrs, and has so many books her floors are beginning to warp... (I actually loved talking with this woman because she was so natural at conversing. We were just instantly talking about life, causal things like not fitting her rolly suitcase through the halls because she has too many books, and then before you know it we're chatting about Trina, who she knew for ten years, and then on to who Trina painted with... and then she's bouncing back to the counter just as quickly as she bounced over to my area to begin with).
But all of that is just to say, I find it most humorous, that one of my persistent "readers" shoots me emails here and there to comment rather than the little memos... and whenever she does I feel inclined to stick my head back in the blog window and continue my work here. And so, I begin again, here in July, a month later, with the same full time job, the same trying to do too many things at once, and the same self... let the july blog adventures begin.

The littlest cousins

2010-06-14T16:46:00.000-07:00

While the quality of this is poor w/o the scanner, here is the sequence for today that I finished... these are my second cousins. My cousin Nora took the pictures of the girls and "Nana" berry picking and I snagged a couple to practice sketching as well as to get consistency in work and character for my website.... Maeve, Morgan and Cameron....

New work

2010-06-14T13:02:00.000-07:00

Trying to get some fresh work completed to rework my website... below is one that has been hanging around waiting for me to put in the final work. Started out I just wanted to draw Myles (the dog in the background) but then I decided compositionally it still needed a kid. I am not really comfortable drawing kids without reference so I took my nephew and the sequence of images i have of him and did my best. I also spent two hours with HP trying to get my "new" printer to work so I could scan this in but I guess that was asking too much for their product (which sounded like it was having a seizure) and so I have to wait 5-6 business days for it.... which puts my aspirations for ordering new postcards a touch behind but gives me the excuse to continue painting... once I feed myself. (I opted to hold the image up to my computer... thus the darker corner...)

Apple Magic

2010-06-11T03:04:00.000-07:00

I started a new section to my The Art Pal (www.theartpal.com) where I am going to be teaching people how to paint. A pal of mine wanted to learn how to paint trees so we took to undergoing an online watercolor school aptly named "Molly Louisa's Art Institute". I am working out some kinks as I go, adapting to the video format while making art, as well as to what specifically my student needs or wants to know. It is surprisingly so much fun. The other day we did an online video chat where I had her share my screen and we went over her homework for the week, with me drawing on it in photoshop and just talking about art as I drew. It was such a nice feeling, which I suppose surprised me because my last experience teaching high schoolers was not at all something I'd like to go through again (although I have many times consented that the particular high school and where I was at that point in life may have been all it was and all high school students are not terrible :))
So last night I was having a blast dancing and jiving to music and opted to record while I did one element that I needed for my website. Below is the video. It is not very descriptive as most of mine tend to be (I talk about exactly what I'm doing as I do it), this is more just fun to watch an apple take shape. I prefer to just pull the "play" bar quickly across to watch it form.... I'll post teaser's to the lessons as I get further into the course.
Oh and the best part is I was learning from my student as well. While I was doing this apple painting I thought about some aspects of painting an apple she had picked up on that I naturally would not have. Loved it.

Summer Camp

2010-06-04T19:38:00.000-07:00

A tiny cluster of bags, plastic tubs and paint supplies stick out from the bottom of my bed, creating a small pathway to my door. I look at this collection, propped in a bed with only a sheet to cover myself for the evening. I am moving again, and there, at the foot of my bed is the selection of me. My life as exemplified by a plastic tub, shoe box or two. I peeled the images from my closet wall, the many faces of myself as I study the intricacies of aging through the twenties. It seems strange to see the table that has been splattered with paint, paint that caught on the picnic table draped haphazardly over the softly stained wood, to stand bare now, vacant of a propped up canvas, oil paints spattered about.

Any other time this would cause a swell of nostalgia, partial resentment at having to move yet again, and after the last few, a general nervousness at the change, but today, I feel content to pack my bags for what I am calling "Summer Camp". A summer spent in Amherst, Massachusetts in a subleted apartment. This afternoon as I stood in the door frame of my new room I glanced at the table, the bed, the bookshelf and thought, yes, I think I would enjoy this room with it's yellow painted walls, freshly vacuumed floor. I smoothed my hand over the surface of the desk imagining my paints and table cloth protecting this surface from a colorful onslaught. The yellow felt good. I did, after all, have a choice between that or orange, but the yellow was good. Yellow has been two of my best friend's favorite colors.

Perhaps thinking of this as Summer Camp is all it took. Perhaps just the rhythm of packing my things, selecting between what I deem a necessity and what can wait. I find this often, a partitioning of things, things that I relate to myself. A partitioning down from what use to be large, then cut down, then boxed, then moved, then cut down, then boxed, and then here I am doing it again. And I know now if I go to my attic, I would just toss almost all away. I don't need it. In some ways it no longer belongs to me, my childhood things, my teenager things, my college things. Shedding it like layers. Shedding it, as I leave my parents house again after a nice refuge when I needed a refuge, but a place I have been pushing from like a caterpillar in her cocoon as of late. It is time to stretch the wings.

So I take my tiny pile, my layer, and a feather or two for guidance, pull the Trina painting from the wall, slip them into the car and move on.

Sketches

2010-05-28T18:58:00.001-07:00

Sketching party... goals for week two are to keep up with three sketches a week... here's three and one for last week and this week. I have two to go tomorrow.

Discoveries

2010-05-21T14:40:00.000-07:00

Shoes.

Walking shoes.

Running shoes.

Big fat floppy boot shoes.

Kids shoes.

Singular shoes.

I have been seeing all kinds of shoes lately. A discarded shoe in the middle of the road. A forgotten shoe that perhaps slipped off in the wind while propped out the window. A boot, that fell out in the street while the passenger adjusted the door to seal tight. I have been seeing them everywhere. Never with a friend. Always alone. Smack in the center of the road, pointing north. Off on the edge, capturing my attention to see if it is a forgotten animal, but no, just a shoe.

I am beginning to think this occurrence is suppose to mean something.

Travel?

Motion?

I am unsure but find the number of shoes has me calling out the window, "I see, but what do you mean shoe?"

Lyme, NH

2010-05-21T14:26:00.000-07:00

I find as I'm driving back home along the highway, this slight itch to just keep going. Drive right on. Wave my exit goodbye and travel north, staying in Vermont till the very tip and perhaps even then continuing on to Canada. Who would know? I could just keep going and follow the river, follow the fluffed out leaves, the pull, the tug.

And so, today, on my day off I did it. I drove north.

Often the highway 91 north drive reminds me of Trina, of interviews with Katrin, of gallery openings, of poking around at Dartmouth as a potential student, of laughing with a pile of friends as we drove aimlessly around Trina's small town looking for both the library and her house, so we could say, "We've been to the home of Trina Schart Hyman." (Similar to those, "Louisa May Alcott and Mark Twain" homes) Us doing loops in back country roads, only to have a post office worker take pity on us and point us on the way.

So today I went alone, art kit in hand, looking for some classic Vermont images to capture. Mind you, Trina did not live in Vermont, she lived in a small town in New Hampshire, right on the edge of Vermont. And off I went, pulling over with my SLR Camera to snap pictures of fences, of barns, of views that made me think of Ireland or just of something older than myself. Double fisting my digital, SLR, and sketchbooks, I abandoned my car somewhere up the road, and just walked along sketching the farmhouses, walked until I ran into the Connecticut River, the natural divide between New Hampshire and Vermont. And I thought about Trina, about this "character" I am biographing, and what it must have been like for her in this very quiet landscape. What drew her there in the first place, of all the places on earth? Is she buried here? Does she peek in on her donkey, lazily lying in the yard? What would it smell like in the mornings as she went on her walks? Ironically, this trip I was not drawn to her house, having met my quota of "seeing the famous Trina Schart Hyman's house", but enjoyed the sunny day, my pocket watercolors, the landscape that just spoke to me.

I drifted into Hanover, a place I once thought I might live for awhile, a place in which I was born (hospital for a month, not childhood) and how I always thought it would be cool and artsy, yet after spending the afternoon in the country, I was surprised to find I felt dissatisfied in the over money-ified community with sheek looking shops, people, etc. I felt drawn more towards the farmer, bending over his garden with a sun hat on, his wife, kneeling in the dirt, as I walked along towards the river. Towards the openness, the rolling spans of hills and sky. And I wonder how that fits in with the other parts of myself that I am beginning to unearth.

Starving Artist is BACK!

2010-05-17T18:25:00.000-07:00

Night at the Starving Artist. Above are my mini sketches. My friend Kelley (www.kelleyscause.com & kelleyscause.blogspot.com) motivated me to set up a goal/reward system to achieve some personal goals I've had. I really like her system so I wrote up a list of goals with corresponding rewards and levels of difficulty. One of these includes my old art teacher's assignment of three to five sketches a week. With my new tiny watercolor kit, I've been having a blast with this "goal"... so while I was driving home, planning to paint in the evening, the lights were on at The Starving Artist, and I just relocated to that environment. My pal Adrienne and I had a nice long time to just paint/draw and chat about life, art and the gammots that follow in good artsy moods. Then a nice new guy Shane dropped in but you can't really talk too much with someone who's there to write... so we didn't quite get the bonding vibe yet. :)

Pureka Painting

2010-05-15T20:10:00.000-07:00

Driving home from work, my vision fades, fuzzes, then refocuses. I shake my head. I toss my shoe off and prop my foot up on the dash to stretch my grumpy body. It's five in the evening; I am an hour from home, returning after a seven am shift that had me splashing fresh coffee in the old McDonald at five in the morning as I slip behind the wheel. Shoe up on the window, I reach for the window and roll it down, letting the wind counteract the heat from the setting sun, the sun that I know is causing my Irish skin the nice window batch of summer freckles to begin popping out. The window helps but I eye ball the "Scenic View" pull off thinking if it'd be safe to snooze there for a moment, while people jump out of their car to oogle the beautiful Berkshires.
I find myself instead pulling off in the town of Northfield, tucking my car behind an art gallery I have often looked at, with the neon "Open" sign always dark as I pass by. "Might as well stop by in some capacity," I say out loud cracking the wheel right. In a position I'm beginning to get use to, I throw the car in park, cut the engine, tossing the keys into my purse and without buckling drop the car seat back, plug in the time I want to wake up into my cell phone and this time skip removing my glasses because I am just too tired to care if the nose piece tries to relocate my natural nose position while asleep.
Minutes later my alarm goes off, I hop up, refreshed, do a loop outside the car to make sure I'm fully awake, stretching and glancing around to see if I had any observers noting my strange behavior. Finding none, I touch my toes, then climb back into the car to finish the drive home.
Letting the dog out, tossing food into her bowl, wrestling her for a bit, I inform her I'm going upstairs to sleep. It's six pm. I stumble into bed and sink in, not bothering to kick off my shoes or pull the blankets over myself. Yet, eyes closed, sleep doesn't come. Restful meditation yes, but sleep no, so up I get, hollar down to Chloe she's welcome to join me at any time, and proceed to have a delightful evening playing with my car and drifting to the painting calling my attention on the desk. Painting with Chris Pureka singing in my big oversized headphones, drumming with my paintbrushes on the plastic table cloth Mum made me promise to put down, I began to refresh my painting hands, my mixing brain and finally began to sort out the background to a painting from early last summer. What a nice evening.

Lost rolls of film

2010-05-11T18:25:00.000-07:00

I just got my pictures back from a roll of film JP & I took in the winter of 2008... look what I found! (I also discovered a roll that slipped in my bag that was from a neighbor in Indiana's whole family vacation.... no clue how it got in my camera bag, but it made for a curious evening of trying to figure out who on earth I was looking at in the pictures...)

Graduation

2010-05-08T11:44:00.000-07:00

As it is graduation season, I thought I'd take it upon myself to create a list for soon-to-be college graduates that would lay out the ground rules past the "Go Soar Into the World" "You're so talented, join the world" "Oh how far you can go" etc.s

1. Life, past high school and DEFINITELY past college is too expensive. Matter of fact, it's so expensive, you just can't afford it so toss out the thoughts of the picket white fence.

2. Food costs money. Food takes preparing. Food takes time to prepare. If you skip these, you'll join the "how we get chubby in America"

3. Healthcare will become the bane of your existence. Don't get sick. Don't have ANYTHING happen to you. (but remember you are not invincible so be careful)

4. If you do not live a linear life, you will find the path becomes even more challenging to walk. (ie. healthcare, shelter etc.)

5. Do not be surprised that you have no friends. They are not easy to make anymore because you don't have a big class to choose from.

6. Expected to get depressed. Keep your eyes open for signs and symbols. ESPECIALLY if you live an artistic life, or think artistically, or don't get a job.

7. You cannot in fact do anything you ever wanted. Student loans, food, shelter, money, low economy ect. all prevent this from happening.

8. If you don't want to get married, pregnant or buy a house, it's okay, there's still a place for you but it goes back to point #5. Actually, it goes back to points # 1-7.

9. Patience. It's all about Patience. I realize this is not a positive list, but I'll leave you with patience. Rumor has it, it gets better.

10. You're not alone in this. Don't loose faith. No one ever tells you this that's all.

Starting my painting

2010-04-20T05:46:00.000-07:00

So I decided to log the process of this painting, in part, to allow my friend the experience of art teaching from home but also just to allow my followers a bit of variety in the blog. I don't know how interesting this will be to all parties, but I am going to post these periodically on my website too: mollymcloughlin.com

This one is the prepping the canvas for a sketch. Note that I am not working on a white background. I have gessoed the background with a half a pill bottle of white gesso and a squirt of lime green and cobalt blue acrylic. I was taught never to paint on a white canvas because it is intimidating. Also, by laying down this green tone I have established the temperature for my painting. Normally if I wanted a warm feeling I would lay down yellow or some variant of warm but this is an oceanish painting so it's cool.

Geography

2010-04-16T08:31:00.000-07:00

I have been having a fantastic morning in my painted overalls, prepping for my next painting.... here's the digital sketch I've come up with post hand sketching....
It was hilarious trying to capture the picture of me.... running up and down the loft stairs in ten seconds. Talk about balance...

Trina

2010-04-11T18:46:00.000-07:00

With this picture staring at me from my desktop I cannot help but feel focused.
I imagine Trina saying, "Molly are you staying focused?"
I remember walking along the sidewalks, home from the train station, after a long day at Holiday House, her publishing company, after hours in the 'library' surrounded by her art, by people who believed in her talent as an artist.
I remember Judith Lerner's comment about Trina never fooling around, but always working hard.
And then I think of Trina telling me, "Molly, remember what you want to do. Remember how hard I had to work. Molly, listen. Work. Do."

the A, B, C's

2010-04-11T17:57:00.000-07:00

So I write this running on what should be three nights of sleep condensed into the equivalent of two. AKA I'm sleep deprived.

It has been awhile since I have posted. A couple new things going on in my life: a.) I got a new job that cuts my commute down to just 1 hour and a half. b.) I received my Society of Children's Book Writer's and Illustrators pack (yes, I've finally joined) c.) my job has benefits so hopefully I can get contacts soon and no longer have to deal with speckled glasses in the rain. d.) I've looked at four apartments and met some very colorful people. e.) I am painting Tuesday come hell or high water. f.) I went to a Chris Pureka concert in Northampton with my mum and it was absolutely awesome. Right up there with the time I made Ma go see The X-Files at 10:30 on a school night in Cincinnati. Needless to say that didn't help in my sleep campaign.

My new job has me leaving the house between 5:30 AM and 6:30 AM. While this may sound absurd, I drive through the most beautiful landscapes and watch the sun crest over the trees, only to reflect on the ponds per my return as it settles back into it's space on the opposing horizon. It makes me feel like drawing, or painting.

I did some nice sketches of Chloe and Ma the other day while waiting for my laundry. I'll try to post them on my day off. I guess The Starving Artist no longer does figure drawing on Mondays which is a bummer since I loved that little time, but I suppose I always have the passerby's in the parks.

Also, I started up kidbookstop.com.
Check it out. I'll do my best to update it once a month.

Lessons from a Ghost

2010-03-18T19:50:00.001-07:00

Timing with a Postage Stamp

2010-03-18T16:26:00.001-07:00

When I was a teenager, or perhaps just before I reached those "teen" years, my parents left out of town for the weekend on a trip that left me home by myself. Where my two siblings were is beyond me, however, my mom had it arranged that I would spend the evening over one of her good friend's houses.
While this friend was considered my mom's friend, appropriately being closer in age, and sharing the familiarity of what it is like to have children, let alone more than one child, and juggling schedules back and forth from swim practice, school and trying to hold off the often noisy pagan sacrifices each child tried to commit on the other, there was a certain camaraderie with this friend and myself as well. While she had two perfectly fine children that were closer in age that would attract any kid to playing, I'd much prefer sitting at the table chatting with her rather than swimming in the lake, or getting involved in whatever game the gang was into on that particular occasion. So it was with great delight that I got to spend my very own evening over at her house, with her kids gone to swim practice, and watch grown-up movies, like "An Officer and a Gentleman" and talk about grown-up things like what we thought about life, and what we envisioned the future might hold, how we'd like to see things in our spaces and what not. In the course of this conversation, while the credits rolled up from the movies, my friend was telling me about how her father (if I recall the relation correctly) used to dream about having a bookshelf of all his favorite books and so slowly one by one, he purchased his favorite books in hardcover, placing each one gently on the shelf, watching it grow as he grew.
"I love that idea," I said, the little book-lover myself back then.
"Um hum, me too," my friend said.
"I could have a library just like Belle's, with my favorite books all up and down the rows with a ladder to slide around and find just the one I am looking for."
"Yes you could."
And so it became a tradition that each birthday, each Christmas, I would find a book in the mail. A hardcover book. Sometimes with a note of explanation in choice, sometimes without, but I always new who it was from. Even when this friend moved away, and we moved further away. Even when my mom and her fell further out of touch. Even when I began my own traveling, collecting library cards like postage stamps, where friends would call and ask, "Do you think you'll be ___ by summer because I'd like to visit?" knowing I often moved with the wind, a hardcover book always found me.
And so today, while I accepted a new formal job, and was walking up to the mailbox, moving the touch of nerves at doing something new, at moving once again, I smiled at the perfect timing my friend always has as I discovered a book waiting for me in the mailbox, and a note, reminding me of a truth she always believes and reminds me to believe as well waiting for me inside the pages. Just like the belief that someday I will have a bookshelf full of my favorite books, stretching from wall to wall.

Beginnings

2010-03-14T18:59:00.000-07:00

I am presently reorganizing my old computer--backing up files, deleting files (it's 10 at night and I want to try my old X-Files game out).

All the same I came upon these two images... ones I had meant to use in a blog and must've forgotten.

Sometimes, when I stare at Trina Schart Hyman's amazing ability to capture the human form, I think, dang. She was just amazing--how can I ever hope to get to that level? Now, having interviewed many a friend of Trina's, I recognize she worked her butt off... that aside, sometimes I like to think back on her earlier books ... Sometimes I even pull them out to flip through the pages... and while I realize technology certainly aided in the coloring process, I smile and think, "Look at how she began. She was a beginner once too." And so, with that, I'm posting both Trina's beginning, and my beginning, to show how even the Caldecott Winning artist that I admire SOOO much, the incredible line masterer herself, once started out struggling a bit to capture a form that she eventually mastered. So here is my beginning to remind myself, Molly you are improving. And I toast to Trina's beginning, as I toast to my own.

Blog Fun

2010-03-12T06:57:00.000-08:00

This is a playful post to demonstrate how blogs work.
This is me blogging. I'm writing fun things.. and I'm telling you about this picture.
This is when we were out checking out TC Steel's house--after he moved from The Hermitage. He moved from Brookville when his wife died.

Traveling with speckles of thought.

2010-03-08T04:51:00.001-08:00

I'm sitting here, half comatos from a night with the Oscars, sipping on decaf coffee so that I may enjoy Dunkin's Full Tilt later on my two and a half hour drive to work, with a wet head, bare toes, one blood-shot eye consequence of my wearing contacts for my evening, and thinking about all those who were up there winning Oscars last night and I thought, "Wow. They must have gone a curcumtuitis route." Yeah, I made up that word, but I was trying for something like it. Meaning, these people all probably were not handed the easy relaxation of knowing, hey, all I have to do is follow this path so that I can stand at the Oscars and celebrate my love for say, costume design (did you know I once fantasized about being a costume designer?) Or watching an interview with Sandra Bullock who mentioned how venamently her mother didn't want her kids to be normal. (I tried to spell that word right but spell check says, "No Guesses Found".

Anyways, all of this has struck me again as food for thought. Here I am post-depression (wouldn't it have been nice if I was speaking economically) teetering between my former belief system of if you tackle and drive forward without distraction and without listening to the "practical side" of your head, you can in fact pursue dreams of say, participating in the field of children's literature, be it as a writer, illustrator, museum curator (at a picture book facility, librarian etc. or that you should really just wish among all wishes to just be normal and pick SOMETHING that is steady, sturdy and pays the bills that you wouldn't mind doing so that you can have fun with all your other "hobbies" on the side.

Normal.

I'm reading this book called, "Traveling with Pomagrantes" by Sue Monk Kidd and Ann Monk Kidd (author of The Secret Life of Bees) and since I have so much good quality time to think and listen to books on my ride to work, I found this book sparks a level of thought and reflection unlike some of my former books. I presently have listened to only four disks and love this book. I have already concluded that I am buying it for my bookshelf, in hardcover, because I can tell it is an important novel in the course of my life playing out. In part, I like this book because I can relate to the character of Ann. Ann seems to be in many ways a reflection of myself last year, her pondering over how a certain sequence of events, or letters from colleges, are causing her to become depressed and yet she is not familiar with this sense at all nor knows in some ways how to assist in preventing it from occurring or getting back to the place where she was her confident self. I smile as I feel I could give her a checklist as to what will happen to her emotionally. "And then this will happen..." I say to my car, piled with lunch sacks, mismatched clothes, and Dunkin donut coffee cups. And sure enough, it does for Ann, and I feel so sympathetic towards her, yet wait for her to hopefully emerge where I am and maybe give me some hints of the discoveries she has made on her journey that I am still working to discover for myself.

So where does this all tie in with the Oscars?

Simple, all of these pieces, the outstanding recognition for artistic talent in a touch-and-go field, the sense of bramblie path making that I feel at present as I know I cannot continue driving as far as I am without going nuts, (thus need a new career), and Ann's story, a girl who while slightly younger than myself seems to be in my same shoes of trying to sort out her twenties, a period that some people forget to explain is not that easy when you are in fact, not normal (or typical might be a better word).

That's it.

So now I need to blow dry my hair, put my coffee cup away, grab my socks and shoes and saunter out to my home-away-from-home, the Nissan, and continue thinking, wondering, pondering, musing, and well, listening to Traveling with Pomegranates to see who can reach the solution to life first.

wood working

2010-02-28T10:03:00.000-08:00

Trying my hand at wood working... who knew doors have pins so you don't have to remove the entire hinge? But look at me using proper "respiratory" protection after years of watching art education videos on proper wear and tear when making art.

My Naturalist Life

2010-02-27T09:49:00.000-08:00

In one of my many fantasy lives, I am a naturalist, tromping through the woods, sketching owls, eagles, hawks, and small creatures in the woods. I'm out collecting owl pellets, tagging birds, following tracks you name it. Today, was one such day, despite my limited "institutional" experience as a naturalist.... I think we did quite well on our pursuit... Yesterday, JP and I discovered what we thought was the Bald Eagle nest along the Whitewater River. For seasons now, we have sprung early in the morning to be out watching the eagles fish the river for breakfast, but we have NEVER found their nest. We tromped through the trees along their fishing nook, looking for nests, feathers, to no avail but yesterday.... of course, being the enthusiastic naturalists that we are, we happened to be on the opposite side of the river from the nest, prohibiting us from getting a great close look at it, check for evidence of little eaglets etc. With our snow boots on and a prayer, we parked the truck off the side of the road, hoping the tires wouldn't stick in the mud while we contemplated our options:
"Well we could dig out the kayaks from the basement."
"Yeah!"
"But I don't know, the current is pretty fast."
"Yeah but I can swim really well. The worst that would happen is I'd get hypothermia pretty bad."
"And your mother would shoot me."
"Isn't there any place that is on the opposite side from here? A bridge? Anywhere?"
"The landfill?"
And so it was decided.
After hiking over the landfill and through the woods, through brambles like Sleeping Beauty's protected castle, we made it to the eagle tree... well worth the hike as we watched the papa eagle soar by us on the river.

Evening painting

2010-02-27T09:44:00.000-08:00

I'm in the midwest for a scootch, and had a lovely evening doing a painting lesson for my pal who is incredibly naturally talented--course, then after such grueling instruction, she had to catch a nap... taking advantage of the circumstance, I was able to and bust out a quick oil sketch of her and her best-friend-dog

The new sites!

2010-02-03T16:10:00.000-08:00

This past week I have been working hard on the development of a handful of new websites, some of which benefit myself and my business, as well as others for other people. Today I worked almost exclusively on my new site entitled The Art Pal (www.theartpal.com) This site is designed to pull from all my pal's best work and get a group art site going where people can come, check out the art, and purchase it from a collection of artists. I'm also looking to promote some additional services under membership which will be exciting when and as it takes off.

Beyond that, I also finalized McL Design (www.mcldesign.org) a site designed to promote my web designing skills/services as well as graphic design talent :). Since I have isolated my mollymcloughlin.com to being exclusively illustration, I needed a new home for some of my other art, thus the inspiration of these two ideas.

But I have not stopped there. My remaining site: kidbookstop.com is going to be a one-stop resource for young professionals looking to get involved in children's literature. This site is the third to be built and while I constructed a light form of it while in grad school I'm looking forward to developing it further and posting it as resource for all. This, shall come. Presently, it does not exist, so don't get bent out of shape when you test out the link.

McL Design is rocking. The Art Pal is 90% done, just pulling in some additional artists and working out the navigational kinks. Go, check them out. Leave some feedback too!

Rainy Day Notations

2010-01-25T10:56:00.000-08:00

With rain falling down in concentric circles of all sizes, I listen to the raspy voice of Bob Dylan and fight with Starbucks free internet on a Monday afternoon. The rain is a welcome sight, despite the overall sense of gloom it seems to cast on the already grey New England landscape. It's welcome because of the way it pools in low areas, the way its warmth causes the piles of dirty snow to melt away, revealing green grass beneath. It has been awhile since we've seen green grass here, and I imagine it will be a while yet until we can trust we'll see it longer than just one wet, grey, rainy afternoon, but its there, and I appreciate it.

After two straight days of computer work, my body resists sitting again in a chair to work, yet I am so proud of the work done on two websites, (mine own website: mollymcloughlin.com, updated as well) my new-to-being published writer friend, and then work with another friend's graphic design projects (yellowhorsedesign.com). I sit here, with my Trina files by my side, stationary to correspond with old friends, and a sketchbook to plot out my next design, my goals, or just to have nearby should something require a pause to jot it down.

I feel quite sleepy these days even though I have slept well and flirt with caffeinated coffee. I have two semi-damp canvas' propped around my room from my last painting excursion, and tonight is another night at The Starving Artist so I am sure my artistic cravings will be well satisfied come my next three days of sprint work down in the south shore area. Presently, that is what I have to report. I should have more images up after tonights class.

Quick posts

2010-01-23T05:27:00.000-08:00

Monday night at The Starving Artist. I'll write more later but I have :30 to blow dry my ridiculously thick hair, eat breakfast, find shoes and head to my other job.

Hawthorne

2010-01-10T05:06:00.001-08:00

Continuing on our literary streak, we visited The House of Seven Gables... Hawthorne's famed house which was closed due to the weather, but we still had our pictures taken, hopping over the snow banks to capture the sign.

Salem Bookshop

2010-01-10T04:53:00.000-08:00

Recently my friend came into town for a fun romp around New England and we stumbled upon this hilarious bookstore. Walking in the door, we heard a voice drift over the stacks of books, calling out a greeting. Looking around, we could not find the source of this voice, seeing only rows upon rows of slightly cock-eyed books stacked so high, a person would have to weave carefully between the stacks to avoid an avalanche of sorts. Yet, sure enough, there it was again,

"Hello Ladies, all the books are fifty-percent off."

Jumping just a little, I noticed a tiny gap in the books just inside the door that reveled a grey haired man peeking out from his self-designed office--a squared off section walled off in books.

Continuing into the store, JP and I looked for Trina books, always hoping for a discovery, and whispered about the unusual style of the "check-out" area where one would likely have to pass their books through the tiny gap in which the man's "office" was established. It was however, a magical little store, smack in the center of Salem, MA, land of the witches, that made us both smile as we departed the rows of books, and creaky wooden floors to venture back out into the snow.

Sunday Morning Posts

2010-01-10T04:45:00.000-08:00

Woo hoo! It's my first day off in a long line of holiday retail hours! What a relief! I can do my laundry, tidy my room and best of all D-R-A-W!!! The other day while pumping my car full of gas I was reflecting on the path my life has lately been existing on... compared to my days in art school where my sole job was to move charcoal around paper. While I have a fantastic time at my job interacting with folks and teaching them things that make them smile, I have missed the general time I use to have drawing or more specifically painting. So I am happy to report with three days off this week, it's going to be a drawing/painting revolution... complete with completion of a much-belated Christmas present and hopefully some illustrating.

That aside, I am sitting here in 0 degree weather with my new birthday mug from the Cape, drinking coffee, snuggled in my fleece coat (it's pathetic but I'm out of long-sleeved shirts), pulling out all the books for my mum to see (books from my extended friend Christmas), and just reveling in the day ahead. With a six a.m. wake up that involved my dad and my oldest OH friend (who I discovered is in New England for the quarter) piling on their snow ski/boarding clothes and stumbling out for a day on the slopes, and my mum fixing breakfast (thrilled to pass up her ski day because I roped my pal into it), things are looking good. I am still addicted to Sookie Stackhouse, and am looking forward to, pause here now, listening to her, rather than Justin Timberlake while I clean. I know. It's a shocker. JT is being passed over for Sookie.

So with grand plans for the day, my south Boston accent well in practice, my hands itching for the exercise that is drawing, I shall be off!

Brief Update on the reading front

2010-01-07T07:55:00.000-08:00

Sookie Stackhouse is my new Kay Scarpetta... since I have read the up-to-date Scarpetta Factor and now have to be patient... Sookie, a Louisanna Waitress, who's dating a vampire.... is entertaining enough...Charlane Harris... (the author).

Touching Base

2009-12-16T16:45:00.000-08:00

Recognizing that I have hugely neglected this blog is less disturbing than the fact that compliments to the holidays in the retail world in which I work, I have not had much time to create art. However, today, on the first of my double days off I have reveled in my art desk, my art overalls, and finishing up some holiday gifts. Above you can see the finished xmas card. It is off to UPrinting for proofing and then should be in the mail-- I am thrilled to bring in this New Years, wave good bye to my previous year, carve a notch on the birthday years, welcome 2010, so if it doesn't make it in for Christmas, then it can be a Happy Winter/New Years!

So despite not having a lot of time at the painting and drawing, I have been knitting as though it is my one clutch in life as I drive forever back and forth to work. This has been a nice relaxing way to fill my break hours and minutes, as oppose to staring at computers, or mindlessly roaming the mall. I am getting ready to prep for another trip to the world's largest knitting store (in Northampton, MA) soon--a world of color.

I also have become addicted to Patricia Cornwell's Kay Scarpetta series on books on tape. Typically I am a strict lover of books, the physical book, so that I can revel in the page turn, the smell, where the words fall on the page ect. But, recognizing the need to stay connected with the world of literacy I have since had my opinion on books converted to the audio and can admit to enjoying listening to stories on my way down to work. Cornwell's series is all about a forensic scientist--an alter ego lifestyle I once thought I'd have... and after six books in the last month, I pretty much feel as though these characters are my pals. Trouble is, I sped through her 2009 new release so I'm in those torturous days where I have to wait for at least a year HOPING to hear what is to come of Scarpetta, Lucy (my favorite character), Benton, and Marino. That is the latest in my literary and art world.

OH! And I had a fabulous interview with Rich Michelson from R. Michelson's galleries (http://www.rmichelson.com/) in Northampton, MA recently about Trina Schart Hyman. Rich owns a gallery that features both 'fine' artists and illustrators of children's books. One of the chapters I have still to wrap up is on illustrations out in the public and private collector world. Rich had such a fabulous way of storytelling, that I delighted in listening to him share his experiences as a gallery owner and his relationship with Trina. Having opinions of my own, I was happy that his sharing fell right in line with what I was hoping to have a gallery owner or collector share. I am itching to touch base with one other set of gallery owners and then dive into the writing. If anyone knows of any private collectors that have Trina's work, please pass my info or their info along to me so that I might have a chance to talk with them--so far, I have a nice balance of both, but am always looking for perspectives on Trina from those who admire her work such as I do.

Votes

2009-11-20T19:16:00.001-08:00

So here's the Christmas card ideas for this year... which one I plan to finalize is still up in the air. I'd love opinions...

Monday at The Starving Artist

2009-11-16T20:39:00.000-08:00

When I fantasize about my perfect life, I dream about the possibility of having a place, a gathering of artists that join in to draw together, not to compare who's better than who, who went to what school, but to draw, to share in the common space and delight of gathering together to continue growing as artists. The Starving Artist makes me feel the reality of this dream. Collecting every Monday night, many of which I have missed due to commuting, artists of all ages join together, women and men, and we swap around who poses and we draw the figure.

Tonight I was a bit tired having rushed about my day and having left a painting at home for which I was working on to attend this evening gathering, contemplating if I wouldn't rather be continuing the piece at home. I rounded up my paints and an entourage of sketchbooks, watercolor paper, watercolors, pencils, watercolor pencils, you name it. One of my dilemmas has been that I have not responded well to my mediums the past few times. Once while in art school I had a girl tell me she was not particularly successful at painting as she was a line drawer or line artist rather than suggestion artist. This felt like a light bulb going off in my head, suddenly I had a way to articulate my connectedness with paint and seeming frustration with line. I am not a line drawer. Unfortunately, I often still try to educate my line, and have found this frustrating at these fun gatherings so today I tried something new.

What resulted is seen above. I had SO much fun. I liked what I did. I had this silly bit of excitement in thinking, "Wow, if I saw these done by someone else, I'd be drawn to them." So with an Ohio band playing softly through the room, reminding me of different geographies and different periods in my life when I was in the midwest, I had the best evening, steps closer to what I imagine my "rooted" area to be like.

Pics from Lit

2009-11-12T08:09:00.000-08:00

I have been incredibly slack when it comes to updating my blog lately. My poor excuse is that it is holiday season and my job requires my presence in higher volume. Here are some pictures from the children's literature festival with Jane Yolen and Lois Lowry. As these women have been so helpful in my Trina Schart Hyman biography I wanted to snap a picture with them in the event of being able to use them in the book perhaps. Jane is signing my copy of Girl in a Cage--the last cover art Trina did before passing away.

Sifting

2009-11-02T08:28:00.000-08:00

Dad and I raked leaves this morning--him with the power blower, and me with the old-fashioned wire rake. The wet leaves clung with earnest to one another clutching the damp morning grass only to be tossed to the air and slowly directed to piles at the edge of the driveway. I smiled with my wool sweater and goofy hat, watching as my dad in his classic outdoors sweatshirt and "Proud Grandpa" hat shuffled the leaves along.

And then I shifted back, back to weekends where we three girls piled in the back seat of an old Honda, with Bruce Springsteen "Working on the Highway" sounding from the cassette tape in the front as we cruised down the highway to my dad's parents house in Connecticut. Squirreling out of the car, M&M wrappers trailing, Kate and I would race to the one tree we were allowed to climb--a large maple in the side yard. As Dad and Mum unloaded the suitcases and my little sister, Kate and I were already dangling from the branches, our 80's sweatshirts high on our tummies. And then Dad would be there raking a nice pile of leaves under our low level branch. Piles of brown and slightly yellow leaves grew higher and higher until we got the signal to jump, falling from the limb with Mum's voice echoing out the door, "Girls, be careful not to break your arms!" And we would laugh, damp by the wet leaves, pulling sticks from our hair, throwing leaves at each other, burying ourselves to see if Dad noticed we were missing, and then shaking them off and crawling up the tree for another launch.

Dad swapped me for the leaf blower after half the front yard was done, so that he could teach me a trick, flipping the rake over and pushing the leaves like a snow plow down the yard into the pile. "Like a true New England boy," I laughed, taking the rake back to test it out for myself and tossing the leaves high on the pile thinking about Kate's little boy mere weekends ago lying in a similar pile of leaves to have his picture taken...

The Keene Literature Festival II

2009-11-02T08:07:00.000-08:00

The Keene Children's Literature Festival was awesome! Featured speakers this year were: Jane Yolen, Katherine Patterson, Lois Lowry, Lita Judge, and Beth Kromme--novelists and illustrators.

I was particularly excited about this event because like most conferences, one gets to sit among hundreds of children's literature fans, often teachers and librarians but a speckling of soon-to-be writers and illustrators as well. This event is nice because we all pile into one auditorium and everyone gets to hear the speakers present back to back so there is no juggling of which author/illustrator you want to attend & conflicts of when they overlap. I will post some pictures once I get my camera out of the car.

Trina Schart Hyman and Jane Yolen were the two most frequent speakers at this event and I was happy to hear her name mentioned a couple of times in recognition of her role in the history of Keene's festival as well as with Lois Lowry sharing a humorous story of the two of them and simultaneous black eyes.

Every single speaker this year was engaging, humorous and left me thinking about some aspect of my own world as a writer/illustrator. Jane Yolen took the approach of talking about poetry--an area I do not fully understand but like most in the children's world. Her speech and Q & A after gave me the opportunity to learn not only how one is to read poetry but just made me think about the discrimination given to poets who publish in the children's book arena vs. the "adult" arena. Lois Lowry had us cracking up at the humorous letters she has received over the years. Lita Judge had a facinating history as a child and learning through self-teaching how to be an illustrator and really painter as a whole. There was a lot that I enjoyed observing in her watercolors. Beth Krommes was too cute about winning the Caldecott Medal this year and I loved how she shared her experiences as an artist and answered all my curiosities about the C. medal as is. Katherine Patterson gave a very moving speech pertaining to hope and was just charming on her 77th birthday (what an interesting birthday to have on the 31st of October). She also spoke of being classified as a weird kid, and having another classmate also classified as such because that boy was adamant about becoming a ballerina (what boy is not going to be brutally made fun of for this dream) but low and behold as life separated them, they reconnected many years later and that young boy had become a ballerina after all. I love those stories, the idea that if you are passionate about something, and believe in yourself amidst diversity, you can persevere. Now, I obviously am giving the cliff note version because it was far more entertaining and powerful when she shared the story, but the moral is good to remind my slew of readers about.

I left the Irish Cottage of David White's (the festival director) feeling gloriously energized. I loved the comfort of each of the very established women (Jane, Lois and Katherine) and how presenting to crowds like the 500 present at Keene, was a breeze; they were natural and comfortable with themselves as human beings and as writers--or at least came off as so. And as I sat across the aisle from them, I smiled as Jane Yolen spoke words of calm and encouragement to one of the younger speakers. What a kindness to see that camaraderie rather than competition. What a kindness to see the generations of powerful women writers sharing with a different generation. Not to mention, how nice to hear a two time prestigious well-recognized woman not be stuck up and snotty, but rather very human and like the type of human I wish all could be. (Then again, she was friends with Trina, and since I hold Trina up to a certain standard, I'm glad she liked these women too ;))

Trina Schart Hyman Update

2009-10-30T14:22:00.000-07:00

This is in response to a question I had about my Trina biography for which I sent out months ago:

I have not heard any word on it yet and am hoping to send it out again next month. I am however, conducting some additional interviews in the month of November to strengthen a section on gallery owners, personal and private collectors etc. and am very excited for those and the insight they will bring to the book.

I am still hopeful and determined.

Ode to the Eric Carle Museum

2009-10-30T14:09:00.000-07:00

Today I went to the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art. There are a number of things that I love about this place, having been three times in my adult life. One: I love that their library is sorted according to illustrator. There is none of the author bias with Eric Carle. This library is the first and only library aside from my own where this has been the case, although truthfully, even mine can be a mix, however, Trina's work is always organized by her name even if it is a novel and she just did the cover art. This makes it so much easier for an artist like myself to bring my friend in and say, "This is one of my favorite illustrators," and instantly have a slew of books to demonstrate the quality of illustrations, rather than rely on my packed brain to remember authors, titles and artists and dig out the common artist name all over the place.
Two: I like that you can get within inches of the paintings hung up in the gallery. Ernest Shepard and Tomie dePaola were the featured artists this time and I LOVED being able to be within centimeters of Strega Nona and see how crisp and clean Tomie's work was. I loved seeing the faint pencil lines around Pooh Bear and how Ernest's ink flowed from image to image. It was just delightful. I stopped for awhile to look at a cushioned top to a basket Tomie dePaola had created, mesmerized by the acute sense of detail in the light wash, darker wash and faint colored pencil on top to create the form. It reminded me of the importance in SLOWING down.
Three: The gift shop is my heaven. I personally love reading biographies, autobiographies, books on books, books on writing, books on certain categories related to books (ie. cover art, golden books etc.) all of those books Leonard Marcus puts out. I am just devouring each book in the slim amount of time that my friend's attention span can maintain the gift shop. It was in this gift shop that I was first introduced to Holiday House, the first sixty-five years, a book that inspired me to want to intern and work for the company. It was here too that I began to learn of other places where I could read and learn about Trina Schart Hyman which as all know later turned into a passion, and a book.
Four: Eric Carle himself. He seems such a gentle soul. I have spoken only very briefly to snatch a photograph with him, but his adorable little self seems enchanting and I like that he took the interest in creating a museum to celebrate children's books and I like that he is a staple in children's books, yet kind of in a different category from the Caldecott winners and the schmoozy sectors.
Five: Meghan Lambert. This is a woman who works for the museum who kindly opted to interview with me about Trina when I was a mere Jr. in college. The fact that the museum staff supports and encourages such dialogues has earned them high respect in my eyes. Plus she introduced me to yet another library at the museum that is jam packed with all the types of books that I like that I can sit and work in whenever I make a reservation.
And Six: It is in the middle of freaking nowhere. Seriously. You're just driving along and then POOF, Hampshire College and Eric Carle Museum. Too funny.
So there you have it. My many reasons for loving the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art.

Experiments

2009-10-23T11:21:00.000-07:00

I decided this piece was struggling because it didn't have a directional source of light. I am presently attempting to fix this but again something bothers me about it. I have noticed this happens here and there with art and that is where I really appreciate critiques. I think, "I have gone as far as I know," and often sit and look at it for awhile till I know what it is that the painting needs. I much prefer when the painting comes together easily and I feel, "Yes, you are done." with no further dispute. So, for now, this is the newly adapted cloud image.

Studio me

2009-10-23T11:15:00.000-07:00

Here I am working on touching things up. You can see my nice little studio space. I have been fortunate enough in all my moving and sharing homes to have everyone support me in my artistic quest, providing me with a card table, a wide table, a whole apartment, or in this case, a table and table cloth to avoid getting paint all over the room. I like my little corner that I have now. Like usual, I have my styling studio clothes on complete with a hat to keep those pesky fuzzies out of my face. Despite the 33 degree mornings, I get warm painting thus the rolled sleeves.

Lion & Mouse illustration

2009-10-23T11:09:00.001-07:00

This is an illustration I did to join with my lion and mouse sequence. Some of you who receive my postcards will recognize it from that. It's done in ink & watercolor.