My fingers are draped and swaddled in rough, wrinkled skin. The signs of age are taking their toll, and yet I sit here and stare at them. I examine them as an outsider, much like how I stared at the various hands that took care of me, nourished me, held me, silenced me as I grew up. I look at mine, as they are at this moment, and I can’t help but take a deep breath and recognize my mother in them. Her hands are like mine. I am hers as she is mine and, despite everything, I have her hands. They’re strong, aged, imperfect, and gentle. The crevices scream of hardship and love, both deeply ingrained, yet I can’t help but smile and delight in the fact that I finally share something with her.
I’m not sure how many times I’ve used that title for this blog, but I’m sure it’s been often.
And it has been a while. I don’t have much to say except I’ve been working on new drawings/paintings and want to share the newest. Prints are available in my Etsy shop.
Sometimes I liken my moods to a plane and I’m the pilot.
I’ve been really motivated recently. I’ve been getting a lot done, maintaining my house
really well, being very creative and focused. I’ve been keeping up my various social media accounts, updating them with pictures of what I’m currently working on. I’ve just been doing really well.
About the plane… For the past 2 days I’ve felt a descent. Not a gradual descent. More like
my engines suddenly failed. I woke up and the colors weren’t nearly as bright and vivid as they have been. Never a good sign.
A few things can happen. I quickly descend in a very rough way, unsure about the landing. Or I quickly descend in a graceful way, unsure about the landing, but able to control the plane enough that I have a chance of not crashing. Maybe I have time to plan. There’s still that uncertainty, though.
When I get close to land, I might be able to land the plane in a relatively safe way.
Certainly some turbulence and discomfort. The seat belt will undoubtedly dig into my thighs and leave some bruises, but I’ll be okay. Shaken up, but okay. Or I crash and burn. The plane is wrecked and cleanup will take some time.
I think I’ve been hypomanic. I want to believe that all of this progress I’ve been making,
all of this focus and drive is 100% me. I did this. I created and maintained this. I am
doing great. The way the plane is shaking, though, I think it might’ve been hypomania and I’m getting ready to descend.
So far, my descension isn’t reckless, so I’m definitely ahead. I’m noticing it rather than
my engines bursting into flames. I’m getting little warnings here and there, letting me
know something’s amiss.
I have a feeling I’ll land with some grace. My fear is that everything I’ve been doing will
stop. The motivation will stay gone. I remember, though, that the desire has not left.
That’s a great sign! Maybe I can work with that.
In the meantime, here’s a photo of my oldest boy, Patrick. He’s 15 and a professional. What is he a professional of? I’m not sure, he won’t tell me. It’s clearly something really
Typical Jenn. I always forget how long it’s been since I last wrote. I’m surprised by the amount of time that has passed. I shouldn’t be, though. Things happen, life happens, etc…
I’ve been working on boxes for the past couple of weeks. Little decorative boxes that I paint and sculpt embellishments for. I’ll post pics at some point.
For the past 30 minutes, though, I’ve been going through files on my computer. Specifically old artwork and photographs. I’ve been sorting through the past several years of my life wondering where I would be now, artistically, had I been able to keep my shit together.
I have prints of my ocean photographs on Fine Art America that I occasionally sell. I found the folder containing them and I wanted to share one of my favorite ones. It’s not the most colorful or interesting, but it makes me feel the most. It’s not anyone’s favorite, but mine. I call it “Pull” because that’s what’s happening. I was standing in the water at Topsail Island in North Carolina and the waves pulled back, my feet sinking into the sand. It made me dizzy, yet it grounded me. I love that feeling. I look forward to going back.
I’ll write again soon.
I started doing art again. Tonight I revisited my early 2000s style. I think I’ll continue.
Oh, the horror. I know. I look at it and several choice lines from “Carrie” pop in my head.
So, here’s the thing: I hated the first version. I did. Her left arm was too short, one leg was inexcusably thicker than the other, and her vagina (well, her groin I mean, not her actual birth canal) looked weird. Can’t have that. Now she’s covered in what looks like blood, but at least her extremities are getting sorted.
I used my hate as an excuse to paint the next version of her using slow-dri medium. I’ve never used it before so, of course, instead of doing it the right way I mixed 1 part water with 1 part slow-dri, tossed it in a spray bottle and hoped for the best. The best didn’t come, but I don’t have proof in photos. More on the slow-dri debacle later. For now enjoy Carrie.
I didn’t stop forever, just for a while. I finished the Alice painting, which I will post once its owner gets her sexy mitts on it. In the meantime, here’s some weird shit I’m working on. I’m frustrated with it because, well, look at it. It’s a frustrating thing. I suppose that’s why it’s an in-progress picture and not a voila-done picture.
I don’t know what I’m saying. It’s been a weird few days. I’m out.
I keep neglecting to post here. Maybe it’s because I feel like words are required and, elsewhere, I just post pictures. So, that’s what I’m going to do for now. Post pictures.
I have been working on a few things lately, which is a big change from not working on anything. I’m also trying to learn how to make proper flourishes because I need them in my life, but it isn’t going as well as I want it to.
Next goal: To figure out this whole acrylic medium that slows drying time. Wooo! To mix in the paint or to spritz it on from a spray bottle? I don’t know yet. Hashtag learning.
It was completed the other day, I just failed to update here.
The night I finished it I had a stress dream. You know how once you stop driving after driving for hours, you feel like you’re still going? That night you might dream that you’re driving and repeatedly wake up in a panic, feeling as though you’re still behind the wheel? I also do that when I finish a painting that I spent a lot of time and energy on. The ones where I’m often holding my breath while I paint and screaming in my head “DON’T F*CK THIS UP”, because…motivation. Also, the husb felt it was necessary to tease me and say there was just a bit more to do to the painting right before I fell asleep. Just…a bit…more.
Most important thing is whether or not Grandma likes it. Hopefully I’ll get it shipped tomorrow and we’ll all know in a week. Fingers crossed, y’all!