Be like the blue bird...

Be like the bluebird who never is blue,

For he knows from his upbringing what singing can do.

- From Cole Porter's "Be Like the Bluebird", 1934

I've had this very very old cutting board just hanging around my art space for the longest time, then out of nowhere I suddenly knew that it wanted to be painted red like a barn.

The bluebird just flew in of his own accord. For sale here.

And now for something completely different!

Here's a man playing a cello in exchange for a burrito. Viva New York City!

Lady, you are never dull.

A little wind in my sales...

I suppose I originally started created braille cards for much the same reason that I bought these two super neat little markers. You can write whatever you'd like and it will remain invisible until it's mate colors over it, revealing the message.

Braille cards aren't for everyone.

Like with my invisible marker, only certain people can read it (easily).

The average onlooker isn't going to pay any attention to the pretty dots on the paper, but to a blind person, or someone willing to take the initiative to look up the braille alphabet and do a little decoding, meaningful messages themselves reveal. ("Love is being stupid... together". Currently available here.)

I made most of these around Valentine's day, but I've continued production because

a) they sell and

b) I like to make them.

That's a very lovely combination.

I only have a couple more in stock in the store, but my head is full of ideas just frolicking around waiting to be commited to paper.

What the world needs...

Less hate.

More HUGS!

For a good time click here.

If I make it to Moab I'm gonna get my canteen filled.

There's nothing that the road cannot heal.
Yeah, there's nothing that the road cannot heal.
Washed under the black top, it's gone beneath my wheels.
There's nothing that the road cannot heal.
Vela grazie!
They say the sun won't burn forever but that's a science too exact
I can prove it, watch, we're crossing the state line.
See those headlights coming towards us? That's someone going back
To a town they said they'd never, yeah, they swore it on their life
But you can't break out of a circle
That you never knew you were in.
Washed under the black top, its gone beneath my wheels...
There's nothing that the road cannot heal. You can't see it very well in any of the pics I took, but the tree growing alongside the road is made up of the lyrics from that chorus.

Notice how the road looks like its a different texture than the rest of the painting?

That's because it's band aids.

And what gives the rest of the painting that spidery texture?

Medical gauze of course.

Every element of this piece is in keeping with the theme of healing.

Buy it here.

Thank You, Pearl Bailey

I think the 1970 Ambassador of love said it best

The sweetest joy,

the wildest woe is love.

This one was seriously fun to make.

I kind of went wild with the feathers and fabric and whatnot.

If the last painting was a funeral, then this one is a party...

every material in my reportoire wanted to be invited.

Invite her to your house, buy here.

Painting of the Summer 2009

What we have here is the painting of the Summer.

I know it's not over yet, but between our money issues, family issues, and scheduling issues, I don't think it's going to get much better.The title is a coin toss between

"Its farther than you think"

or

"The Let Down"

and, yes, I did permanently attach my favorite little pair of scissors to the painting. Don't you think artistic accuracy of emotional expression is worth sacrificing one small thing you love?

Having An Awesome Marriage 101

Because we are both crazy, passionate, goal oriented people, my hubby and I can go for days without really running into each other.

Even though we live in the same apartment and sleep in the same bed.

I'm not talking "see you tomorrow", either. I'm talking, "are you going to church this week? Cool, me too. See you on Sunday!"

But isn't communication the key to a successful marriage?

Sure!

But how do you communicate when you don't see each other for 3 or 4 days?

text messages and, of course... the bathroom mirror.

You know you've found the right one when he can make you laugh without even being there.

(He doesn't just print off the ones from the front page, either- he shuffles through them to find ones he knows I'll especially love).

a quick (and completely unentertaining) rant

There are some people whom I don't ask very much of. Seriously, the BARE MINIMUM. Simple things like leave me alone. don't call me. and I can't get that much. And alongside promises to do anything humanly possible, too... I guess letting me live in peace isn't humanly possible. I have very uncomplicated methods of keeping my sanity.

You can use my method too!

It's simple.

It's easy.

Are you ready? Cause here it is...

RUN!

Run far far away!

You don't even have to go far if you don't want to.

A tiger twenty feet from the tent is still outside the circus.

It only stops working when they chase you.

write now

Last week I was asked to use my calligraphy skillz.

And I was like whaaaa? Good handwriting? I has none.

Oh sure, I have all the accoutrement of a person with fancy writin capabilities-

Fancy pens, ink in little bottles, pens with little notches in the tip...

And I use all of it.

Just not for writing.

I use them mostly for things like this: (Birds On A Wire; ink on acrylic on polyurethane, on feathers, on acrylic, on wood).

My handwriting has always been a little aWkwArD. In fact signing my name on a painting is often the most stressful part.

That's right, I'm not even comfortable signing my own name.

How the heck did that happen?

24 years of living... ugh.

So I decided to work on it.

I puled up some fancy fonts on the 'puter and got out some of my fancy ink in fancy bottles and after several not so pretty practices, I made some fancy little things to hang around the house. Half of everyone I know has this framed somewhere in their house. It looks extremely grown up hanging around with all my other art made of feathers and whatnot.

btw- the FBFPP lives on. the next installment is coming, so hang in there, I'm getting to you.

It's Saturday for 15 more minutes, so there.

July 18, 2009

Yesterday I promised that I'd have the second installment of the Facebook Friend Photo Project today.

If I hadn't of said that, the Facebook Friend Photo Project probably would have died an untimely death.

Yesterday I thought it would be no prob to have the second photo done today since I already had the preliminary sketch done, but today... oh today.

The creative spark was not kind.

No color seemed accurate.

No shape correct, or even human looking.

The wind blew my papers away.

The paper got little blotches on it, making awkward shading choices necessary.

Oh, art. Why dost thou forsake me? I love you so much. Yet some days you are nothing but cruel.

I would have given up altogether on painting from photos today if I hadn't already committed myself to it in writing not once, but twice (here and on FB).

So I must say, Thank You, Blog. You have, for once, served a purpose.

I'm still horribly displeased with the finished product, but I'll keep the FB.F.P.P. going because I now I feel like no image I choose can be as aggravating to finish as this one was.

And to the lady in the picture, good luck recognizing yourself.

Here's to better art tomorrow.

A fool falling from the sky.

Daedalus fashioned two pairs of wings out of wax and feathers for himself and his son, as a means to escape the Island of Crete where they had been in exile. Before they took off from the island, Daedalus warned his son not to fly too close to the sun, nor too close to the sea. Overcome by the giddiness that flying lent him, Icarus soared through the sky curiously, but in the process he came too close to the sun, which melted the wax. Icarus kept flapping his wings but soon realized that he had no feathers left and that he was only flapping his bare arms. And so, Icarus fell into the sea in the area which bears his name, the Icarian Sea near Icaria, an island southwest of Samos. This mixed media illustration of Icarus flying too close to the sun is painted on a vintage wood tray.

The feathers are just that... feathers, held in place- as Icarus's were- by big heavy droplets of wax.

The entire painting is covered in a light coat of pure beeswax, which not only preserves the paint, but also gives it a very gritty look.

Just like your expensive deconstructed jeans, this painting has many flaws, which was my intention. They could easily be "fixed" but it would take away from the overall feel of the piece. This is one of my favorite things I've ever created.

The second portrait from my facebook friend photo project will be posted tomorrow, (July 18) so stay tuned :)

Phacebook phriend photo project

July 16, 2009

I posted this on Facebook, earlier today

"More and more people keep asking me if I could paint a particular photo. The truth is... yes, I can. But I don't like to.

Painting from life= not difficult.

Painting from a photo= difficult.

Why? because it's not something I do very often. It's something I need to practice. So here's what I'magonna do. I'll be sifting through YOUR facebook pics, and picking out the cutest/sweetest/ strangest photo to paint. THEN I'll post the finished piece up on my blog (www.la-sha.blogspot.com) and talk a little bit about it.

Claim it within the first THREE days and I will mail it to you, no matter where in the world you are.

To claim it, all you have to do is leave a comment, saying something along the lines of, "hey, that's my photo!"

The photos I pick will be utterly random, and NOT based on how much I love you.

Even if we haven't spoken in years you have as much of a chance as getting a painting as someone I talk to every day.

*One little aside: If there is a particular photo of yours that you think would be a particularly great painting, just tag me somewhere in it, so I'll be sure to see it. Folks with babies or cute pets have a slightly higher likelihood of getting picked.

**Also, I'm intentionally NOT going to paint any photos taken by artist friends- I don't want to commit intellectual property theft- this is about fun and growing as an artist. If you're an artist (valarie, jane, Alissa, Gerri etc) and DO want to be considered, just let me know you don't mind.

***Oh, also, some will be sketches (like color studies) some will be in acrylic, some in water color, some on paper, some on canvas. I'm eXpErImEnTiNg!!!!!"

And here's the first one!

It's a watercolor/pencil of an infant at 1 month old ( think he's about a month old, here).

I picked this picture because he is just a GORGEOUS little guy. His coloring is just so delicate and sweet, and I love the repeating color pattern of his blanket.

Who could it be now?

Oh, who could it beeeee now?

a southern fried fourth of July

Have you ever celebrated the fourth of July in Dawson County Georgia?

If you haven't, let me tell you, you are missing out, boy howdy.

I guarantee you it is unlike any fourth of July celebration in America.

First there's a steam engine parade.

That's right, a big line of what amounts to steam powered tractors rollin down main street pulling trailers full of little league baseball players, doing their darnedest to hit your face with hard candy and hubba bubba.

Just in case you aren't impressed by steam engines, don't worry- they're decorated!

Check out the flags on this beauty!

What? The Sons of the Confederacy don't march on the fourth of July in your home town?This one makes sense because clearly the best way to express your love of country is to celebrate breaking away from it.

After the parade was over and my purse was filled with broken mints, bubble gum, and other bits of Kiddie Mix candy we headed over to Concord Baptist for my family's big annual pot luck dinner.

I love that part. Seriously.

I love all the home grown veggies, almost as much as I love the homemade lemonade served out of a big wash tub.

(Correctly pronounced "wursh tub").

Eventually, we left the beautiful backward hills of Dawson County for the subtle sophistication of Gainesville, Georgia.

To go even further in the extreme opposite direction, we went to Chateau Elan, a pseudo-french winery/restaurant/hotel.

We spread out a blanket and pulled out the lawn chairs, marveling at the fact that Chateau security didn't seem to have a problem with folks pulling their mega trucks up on the carefully tended sod.

I had kiddie cousins running all over the place.

It was beautiful and the fireworks were great! The fourth of July this year really did serve to reinforce my belief that to truly appreciate the south, you've got to leave it, at least for a while.

Hey moon please forget to fall down!

If all our life is but a dream
Fantastic posing greed
Then we should feed our jewelry to the sea
For diamonds do appear to be
Just like broken glass to me

The ink is running toward the page
It's chasin' off the days
Look back at both feet
And that winding knee
I missed your skin when you were east

You clicked your heels and wished for me Panic! really needs to get back together. Like... now.

I swear, all you really need to make me love something is to make it unavailable. I don't really care that MJ died, but the fact that I can never go to a Panic! concert makes me miserable.

(Don't worry, it's just a tiny bit of miserable- the kind necessary for maintaining my malcontent status quo.)

a place less DaNgErOuS

I recall being in one of my contemplative moods a few weeks ago, and pondering on what percentage of my life is personal, and what percentage I allow to be seen by the public.

Probably 90% public and 10% private I recall concluding.

Now, though, I must correct myself- I think it must be the other way around; 10% public, and 90% private because the things that really bother me will probably never be talked about, much less blogged about. I would never speak out loud the things that wrench my guts so it is beyond extraordinairily unlikely that I would turn it into a one-liner for my Facebook status.

This personal revelation is all the more confounding because I spend 90% of my time amongst others, but it's the 10% that's kept to myself that's the genuine article.

The only time I ever release the muck inside my head is when I'm painting, because the truth is so deeply disguised in color and imagery that it's the only safe way to discuss the things that trouble me most. The only person who could dicipher the code is, well, myself, which makes canvas a very safe place to talk.

How about you?

What percent is public and what percent is private?

Pupp-e-mail

Dear Radar,

Sorry I forgot to say goodbye to you. I was in a pretty big hurry to leave today. Life and death…that sort of thing. Anyhoo. Be a good boy while I’m gone. Don’t lick General Beauregard too much. You know he hates that. Be good for Pastor Tim. Try not to get his kids too dirty! I was going to give you a bath before I left you with them, but you know… life and death, etc.. Peter would give you a bath, but he knocked a fingernail completely off and he’s trying very hard not to get it wet. I guess I should apologize more to the Richmonds than anyone- you don’t really mind being a dirty dog. In fact, I’m pretty sure you prefer it. So, um, enjoy being stinky. I know you’ll have fun licking lots of kiddy feet. They’ll probably find your love for sneaking up and licking people’s feet as gross as I do. It’s a very weird way to wake people up, you know. Most dogs would just bark.

Love,

Your Sha-kins

Red eye(s)

Tonight I’m blogging from 14000 ft.

I think it’s about 1400 ft. Isn’t that cruising altitude?

I was planning on driving down to Georgia later on this week, but you know what they say about plans…

(No, what do they say about plans?)

If you what to make God laugh, just tell him YOUR plans.

I was planning on working a long day today but then around noon my phone started ringing off the hook.

I don’t usually even carry my phone, and if I do have it, then it’s uncharged or on silent.

I really have no love for the thing.

But today I had it.

And charged, too.

(Thanks God!)

Because otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten the calls that told me I needed to catch the first flight I could and get down to Georgia as fast as I could if I want to say good bye to my Papa… for the last time.

Now I’m on a red eye flight hoping to make it to my Grandpa’s side before the cancer takes him away.

There is a baby wailing in the seat in front of me. I wish I could hold it because I feel like commiserating. Life is hard and cruel and just so so so sad.

That baby seems to be aware.

Then again, he may have just pooped himself. on a redeyeood bye to Papa for the last time.o catch the first flight I could and get down to Georgia as fast as I could if I

Why be dirty, when you can be flirty?

(Sweetheart style)

Juz so you knows, the last of the aprons are now in my Etsy shop.

If you want one you better jump on it quick, cause

1) I'm out of the beautiful vintage fabric I made them from

2)These are the very last ones left and

3) I really don't plan on making any more.

Unless you're someone I love and you ask really nicely.

(gardener style apron)

These really are so so lovely.

(Gardener style in "Lady Traveler" print)

What? You don't run in corduroys at 3 am?

Did you see a crazy person running down Queen's Blvd last night around 3 a.m. wearing blue corduroy pants, a turquoise t-shirt, a long black rain coat, and crocs over bright red fuzzy socks, no makeup, and Ka-Razy hair?

That was me.

Why, oh, why would I be sprinting down the boulevard in randomly acquired clothing?

Because last night Peter said, "I think I'll play with the dog for a minute then go to bed. It's sooo late." Then he proceeded to knock his entire fingernail off by banging it into a doorjamb while rough housing.

Talk about a bloody mess. Literally.

Unfortunately, we are running a little low in the first aid department so I high tailed it out to the pharmacy by our building, which turned out to be closed, so I had to run (literally) to the Rite-Aid a few blocks away.

While I was running I encountered a woman walking the opposite direction of me. As I approached I noticed her expression became wild eyed and fearful.

Oh crap! I thought- is there something scary behind me? Then I realized- I was the scary looking thing.

I guess I'd be pretty frightened to if a crazy looking person was out for a run at 3 am and coming full force right at me.

(In my haste to get Peter some medical supplies I had exchanged my pajamas for the first articles of clothing I encountered in my dresser.)

I called a 24 hour clinic hot line and they said to go to the emergency room, but Peter, being the tough guy that he is, said his fix would hold it till morning, when we could go to the regular walk-in clinic. (Which turned out to be pretty fantastic- but I'll save that for another blog)

Turns out fingernails can be re-attached.

Kind of.

Who knew?

Sooooooooooooo true.

"When making a decision of minor importance I have always found it advantageous to consider all the pros and cons. In vital matters, however, such as the choice of mate or profession the decision should come from the unconscious; from somewhere deep within ourselves. In the importantant matters of personal life, we should be governed, I think, by the deep inner needs of our nature." -S. Freud

I made this poster years ago(during my experiment-with-calligraphy phase) but I still abide by the truthfulness of the quote. I know that I for one find myself agonizing about small things (baking vs steaming, sneakers vs sandals, etcetera vs etc.) but when it comes to the biggies in life, my gut knows best, and I trust it enough to just go with it.

I am exactly where I am right now because that is exactly where God wants me to be.

There's time for all things, right?

Right now I'm working a little harder than my body would like.

"Sit down!" whine my feet.

"Lie down!" pleads my back.

"Relax!" scream my arms.

Yep. If it were up to my tired bones I'd be the human approximation of goo right now.

But there's work to be done (And I know a little something about getting while the getting is good when it comes to work) and there's church to be attended. (I ran into my pastor on the way home from work- clearly a sign that I should cancel on that nap I was lusting after and drag my butt to Thursday night Bible study.) And there's puppies to be played with, and kitties that need petting and a husband that needs love and kindness and conversation (and dinner).

It's hard.

But it's the good life.

Sometimes I feel a little overwhelmed, but I just keep pluggin' on and give my worries up to God because I know that ultimately (acrylic on wood available here July 1, '09)

How to make a candle holder out of...

I needed a candle holder on the fly, so I made one out of stuff sitting around my place.

So today I'm presenting "how to make a candle holder out of a tea cup".

It's super easy and almost instant. like making tea. hmmm....

Anyhoo.

Here's what you'll need: a tea cup, a chunk of styrofoam, and a knife.

First, Turn the cup upside down on the foam and trace around it.

Use the knife to carve out a piece of the styrofoam using the knife.

After you've got the foam chiseled into a shape that will fit into the cup, whittle out a small hole approximately the same circumference of your candle into the center of the foam.

Voila! You have a candle holder.

Now go set the mood, ya crafty vixen.

I'll always love you, New York.

I swore I wouldn't.

I was planning to hate you.

But somewhere between 5th ave and Queens Blvd I fell in love.

You challenge me. As a Christian. As an artist. As a person.

I don't want to stay with you forever, but I'm glad to be with you now.

A Father's Day Post!

When I was a kid I was easily bored and fidgety.

(Much unlike how I am now, right?")

I could barely sit still through a t.v. show I actually wanted to watch, so having to "behave" while a room full of adults (my parents, aunts, and grandpa) watched... ugh... the evening news was pure torture.

Unbearable.

Impossible.

So I made up little games for myself.

One, undoubtedly inspired by Wishbone's portrayal of Oliver Twist, involved stealing my Brad's watch, (and, you know, whatever else was handy- i.d. card, pen, etc).

Sometimes he'd "catch" me (during commercial breaks) and I'd be sentenced to death by tickle bees. (Although usually he'd be the one to get kicked or elbowed).

I always gave everything back, but never in a direct way- I'd ask what time it is, or if I could borrow a pen or whatever, and laugh my head of while he faked confusion about where his stuff went.

I played that game for years- stealing his watch well into highschool.

Then one day I took his watch, but when I looked at the time I realized I was supposed to be at a cross country race, so I ran out the door still wearing it.

I was so excited about the race I didn't even think about the big ugly plastic digital watch still on my wrist.

Until I got out on the course.

Lots of things go through your head when you're long distancing running.

Little conversations with yourself to take your mind off the pain of burning calves and aching sides.

Looking at my Brad's watch gave me an entirely new kind of focus.

It was like having him with me.

I ran my fastest race ever.

I borrowed his watch for every race after that.

The cheap black plastic held almost magical properties in my view.

Then came my last race.

I ran and enjoyed every last exhausting second.

After the race, I went to give him back his watch, knowing I'd probably never "need" it again. But instead he let me keep it.

I didn't wear it all the time. After all it is a big plastic man's watch, but I did wear it sometimes.

(Because of this, people kept giving me watches as Christmas and birthday gifts. I guess they thought the one I wore wasn't very nice.)

But that watch is not about looking nice. It is not even about knowing the time. It's about a game I played for years while everyone sat watching tv together at my Grandpa Frank's house. It's about always knowing that there's someone cheering me on.

In the past five years I've moved seven times. Each time paring down my possessions to the necessities- twice whittling down everything I own into what could fit into two suitcases. But Brad's watch avails.

I'll be needing that watch long after it's counted it's last minute.

Casio watch from Wal-Mart: $10

A constant reminder of your dad's love: $Priceless

*A Brad is a step-dad who is exponentially better than a dad. If you don't have one be jealous.

Some art just makes itself.

Some paintings just seem to make themselves.

Like this one based on a well loved verse; "I will hide your word in my heart that I may not sin against God."

One part found object (a wooden tray)

One part paint.

A dash of old wire, and a smattering of beeswax

Mix well with a heaping helping of inspiration from this lady's style, and voila- a gloriously gritty work of art.

Buy it here.

Things I Love About New York #6; Grace Baptist

No list of things I love would be complete without Grace Baptist Church!

I've had several church homes in the past, but Grace Baptist really takes the cake.

It's been in existence less than a year, but its growing steadily.

What does it take to fall in love with Grace Baptist?

One visit.

That's it.

I've never left a service without something new to think about.

(And I'm that really annoying connoisseur type lady who's been to/listened to a billion sermons and is unimpressed by familial anecdotes, even if watching kids play tag did remind you of 2 Timothy... or something... I don't know... you lost me at that part where you strayed from the Bible for 20 minutes.)

But I'm not the tough customer.

HE is.

Never have we ever been able to completely agree on a church home... until we found Grace Baptist.

We looked and we looked and looked then we found this fantastic little gem.

Not only are the sermons consistently on point and crammed full of 100% Pure Bibley goodness, but the people, oh the people!

I've never met such a warm bunch of folks in one spot.

And at this point I've spent enough time with them to know that it's real.

They have real genuine sweetness in their hearts- not just that saccharin you get when walking past a greeter into a mega church.

Good Sermons+ good people= GREAT church

If Anne Frank could be happy...

The first time I read the line

"Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy"

in The Diary of Anne Frank I kind of went into shock. I read it over and over in complete awe at the sheer unlikeliness of it all. I mean here was a girl living in an attic, knowing that unimaginable horrors could fall on her at any moment, and she still believed there was beauty in the world, and in being happy. I snagged this fantastic old wood tray at a flea market for a song.

I love painting on random wood objects so much more than on canvas.

Oh, the textures- fantastic!

And honey the price is right!

Unfreeze me when there's a cure for freckles

I was going to write a blog post today, but I can't because I got to ride in one of the new F trains on the way home.

They are air conditioned... extremely well.

And I, of course, was wearing Summer atire. So now I'm cryogenically frozen.

Meh. It happens.