It’s a “rather blustery day today” as a coldish Winnie the Pooh would, I’m sure, properly mutter under his teddy bear breath today. Even for someone who positively detests wearing socks and shoes at home as much as I do, today is a work day in which I have to, at the very least, wear my red fluffy socks.

It also doesn’t help that I have the blood circulation of an anemic vampire. My unusually small feet can creepily turn purple if temperatures drop even a bit below 70 degrees. I’m sure you didn’t need to read that before you eat your breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

Anyway! Enough about the weather and my poor resistance to cold. I know I tend to make my updates very lengthy, but I promise that today I will try to make it brief.

The rewards for being in the Sawdust Art Festival continue to trickle in, as I received some interest from an out of state festival, and I also made a genuinely kind new friend, Vicki Kaufholz, who is not only a pleasant person to have an ice blended mocha with, but is also an  immensely talented jewelry artist. I’m very glad I met her. Her newly refreshed Etsy account is as follows: http://www.etsy.com/shop/victoriakaufholz

I’ve also experienced some powerful personal changes in my life recently that have been eye opening and gratitude inducing. I have a piece I’m in the midst of mulling over that is inspired by such changes.

The concept of the piece is also slightly inspired by one of my favorite movies, “The Umbrellas of Cherbourg,” in which time powerfully changes things in ways that one would never dream of or imagine. Even the familiar landmarks of our lives can transform to the point of being unrecognizable.

Such changes in our lives can either be agonizingly impossible to accept, or such changes can be embraced as refreshing alterations, like splashes of cold water in our faces, that wake us up and opens our spirits to new experiences and adventures. I have decided for myself to embrace the latter, and I have thankfully been rewarded in a number of ways.

That’s it for this not too lengthy update! Unfortunately I have to compute my taxes, try to stay warm, and hopefully, in the very near future, actually paint and create again and  work on the new piece I explained. If I don’t post again sometime soon, Happy Valentine’s day !

Like a winsome elf caffeinated and sugar high on pixie sticks, children’s laughter, a triple shot espresso, and Christmas cookies, I ecstatically prepared for my debut at the Sawdust Art Festival the last time I wrote a post. In other words, you can think of ecstatic Scrooge from the famous Charles Dickens’ story A Christmas Carol as he recited the following line after he found out he was gifted with a new life full of promise and hope:

“I’m as happy as an angel! I’m as merry as a school boy!”

Like Scrooge, I feel I’ve received a new lease on life. It is truly remarkable how powerful dreams can be and how much those can change the course of life, especially when those dreams come to fruition after much hard work, faith, and help from others. Happiness takes a lot of blood, sweat, tears, and the growing pains of change, but the rewards are bountiful and can lift the soul in ways one would never think possible.

The festival ended and I have to say that being an exhibitor of the Winter Fantasy Sawdust Art Festival 2012 was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. To experience the festival itself as an exhibitor was one of the happiest times of my life for many reasons.

I learned so much from the very talented artists and staff I was surrounded by. Not only did I feel moved by the art I was immersed in there, which was a wonderland of exotic ideas, but I was amazed at the encouragement and positive energy I received.

My art booth was nearby a great cast of characters. Patrick Moran was the mad scientist genius of art who came by and kindly showed me different variations of sketching. Vicki Kauflholz was a witty fellow Leo, and a jewelry designer with a flair for primitive shapes reminiscent of ancient wall paintings fused with elegant precious stones. Lastly, Karen Williams Smith was a delightful, soulful rock artist who healed kindly through the power of her rocks. Other immensely gifted artists were housed in that little corner with us, and all of us glittered with our own strengths and contributions alongside the tranquil water wheel that all of the guests were transfixed by.  I believe in what Picasso once said which was that “Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.” I felt like in our own ways and through different vehicles of expression we swept the souls of many who visited our little corner.

Not only did I learn a lot from the artists that were there, but I also learned, truly, that my art has a place in the world. I was overjoyed and blown away to encounter so many people who loved my artistic voice. I felt validated to find out that my artwork did hit nerves and that others understood and connected with my work. I loved to look in the faces of some of my clients and know that my artwork made them feel understood because they found themselves in whatever I created. Those clients would say to me over and over “This painting embodies exactly how I feel.” It was incredibly rewarding and moving to know that my work, in its own small way, made positive thumbprints in the lives of those who encountered it. It made me feel alive to connect with such wonderful people, and to receive feedback like, “Your work is so incredibly unique and beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

As if those weren’t tremendous gifts enough from the Sawdust Art Festival, I was also interviewed by the Laguna Beach local newspaper, “The Coastline Pilot,” which was absolutely incredible. My geeky gratitude leapt great heights off the second page of the Coastline Pilot article. If words could do cartwheels it would read something like this: http://articles.coastlinepilot.com/2012-11-15/entertainment/tn-cpt-1116-sawdust-winter-fantasy-20121115_1_cynthia-fung-star-shields-children-s-art-spot

The only negative component to the experience was how much pressure I put on myself to achieve absolute perfection for the festival. I’ve learned my lesson to take my natural perfectionism and try to shelf it (as much as possible, anyway) when I prepare for festivals.  If you’ve read my blog at all, you would know that stress does strange things to me, and when I prepared for the festival it was no different. I murdered a humongous spider with a hammer, developed a semi concussion after I hit my head on a wood table, had anxiety ridden sleepless nights, and plenty more Calamity Jane moments. When the festival opened, I looked about as fresh as if I had just slept on a fire ant hill with a deranged Kodiak bear, but it didn’t matter. Regardless of the fact I looked like dreadful road kill from sleep deprivation and stress, I was thrilled to be there and to have that opportunity.

I can’t wait for what’s ahead and the adventures I will be taking. I am so glad I took a chance not only on the Sawdust Art Festival….but also on myself.

If you’re looking for gorgeous, bohemian fine jewelry pieces that echo a time long past, please visit Vicki’s website at  www.victoriakaufholzjewelry.com. To experience Patrick’s lively event centered works please go to www.morangallery.com and if you would like to encounter the earthy, nurturing works of Karen Williams Smith please to go http://www.touchstoneartwork.com/

Sometimes when we’re so stunned with emotion there is only one word that even remotely comes close to how we feel. The delightful characters Mary Poppins and Bert from the movie musical “Mary Poppins” said that it’s best to use the word supercalifragilisticexpialidocious as something to say when there’s nothing to say.  

I will define what happened that leads me to use such a magnificent word in this post. I will never ever forget what happened on Wednesday, August 22nd 2012. Ever. A dream came true that I’ve had ever since I was a little girl and I was old enough to hold a paint brush. No other word could even come close to how  I felt when I found out this grand news other than supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Nope, I didn’t find a unicorn.  

No, I didn’t find a DeLorean time machine, gun it to 88, and go back to Europe during the Renaissance period to live the rest of my life as a princess or queen.  

No, I didn’t scientifically prove the existance of Bigfoot (or Sasquatch, if you’re fancy). 

As you can see, I had some strange (mostly unrealistic) dreams when I was a little girl. Because, well, I was weird and am still weird or as my mother nicely describes me as “eccentric.”  I think my weirdness in thoughts, actions, and artistic expressions have paid off though because…..

I was accepted into the exclusive Sawdust Art Festival of Laguna Beach!!!!!!

My mother took me to this festival when I was a little girl, and this thought always popped into my head, “I think my artistic voice has a place here! I want to be here!” I never verbalized this dream to anyone. It was always in the back of my mind though every time I visited this festival. To see this dream come to life is more than amazing. Not that long ago I was scribbling doodles with a desire to get back into a creative place in my life. Now I’m at this point and I’m so overjoyed and grateful I can hardly see straight.  

I will be in the “Winter Fantasy” edition of the festival, which is amazing, because, hellooooo (pardon my “Clueless” movie moment)…Santa Claus will be there, they serve delicious food, there will be live entertainment, and amazing art all within a whimsical atmosphere that feels like it was ripped from the pages of a J.R. R. Tolkien book.  It sounds really magical, and it really is! I should know. I’ve attended this festival almost every year for the past 20 years.

 My name is not listed on the list of artists for the Sawdust Art Festival yet, but it should be soon. If you would like to come visit me in all of my excitable/spaztic glory, my booth number is offically  #435. The dates of the Winter Fantasy Sawdust Art Festival will be November and December. The November dates are 17 & 18, 23, 24 & 25 and the December are 1, 2, 8 & 9.

For more information please go to http://www.sawdustartfestival.org/

To say I’m in a frenzy of disorganized bliss like a cartoon squirrel that found a treasure chest full of acorns would be a great understatement. Only a highly defined google calendar can help me keep focused on what I need to accomplish to get ready.

Off to sing the day away while I work, “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocioussssssss….”

At times such as this, I think to myself, “It has finally happened!  I’ve turned into a sour, cantankerous old man or a real version of the Grinch, evilly enhanced with severe PMS.” My monster transformation is always temporary, but I’ve remarked to my boyfriend quite often lately, “Sorry I’m scary lately.” I have my own personal definition of scary. My definition of scary includes that I’m not as delicate or tactful as I could be and that “I need some chocolate. You better get the Hell out of my way.” Or as Harrison Ford fiercely proclaimed in “Air Force One,” before he punched a terrorist in the face and saved the day, “Get off MY PLANE!”

As a high spirited (soon to be) 28 year old woman, who rarely has these spells, I think I have an understanding as to why I feel this way.

 Today, like many other days prior, is a disgustingly sticky summer day in Southern California.  As a practically translucent person (in person, you can probably see my prominent freckles and veins from 20 feet away) heat makes me physically sick, feel faint, and fogs my mind as if a sugar high toddler decided to play with a fire extinguisher inside my cranium. Needless to say, I’ve never been a fan of hotbox summers, especially when I’m desperately trying to write, run errands, execute public relations strategies, coordinate art applications, brain storm new works, among many other things all while the blistering coals of another Southern California summer steam up my glasses like nerdy Velma’s from “The Adventures of Scooby Doo.”   

 Thankfully, the good Lord created things like the air conditioned local library and the Coffee Bean so all is not lost in a dog day haze. If not for places such as these, I would hopelessly melt into a Salvador Dali clock puddle, and then transform completely into the Bride of Frankenstein, to the dismay of my boyfriend. If only I could bring my acrylics and canvases to such places without getting thrown out.

Onto why I’ve written this post! As I’m sure you can tell by now, new paintings don’t spring forth from me like expected constant sunrises or sunsets that are timed by the hour. Each piece I create comes to life in its own unique way. I’m a very organic artist and I’m excited in regards to the direction of where my life is going right now and the direction of where my art is going.

I don’t treat my art desk like a candy factory that quickly produces sugary empty pieces with no heart, which is why you don’t find new art from me constantly. Any time I create something and send it out into the world, I’m excited and nervous like it’s the first time all over again. I only publish pieces that my perfectionist brain and spirit connect with, otherwise I will store it in the dusty garage or keep working on it until I feel like it is worth being shared.  

My most recent two pieces, along with a lot of old favorites, I’m happy to say, might be shown at the Sawdust Art Festival at their Winter Fantasy edition this year, if they accept me as an exhibitor. As a fan of the festival for over 20 years, I’m crossing my fingers and toes that my work has its place there.  Below I describe two of my works that may be shown there.

The latest painting of mine, “Aspiring toward Equipoise” was a painting that hatched from a dream I had that stirred me.  I dreamt that I was in an oddly abandoned town in the 1950’s, and my vision was in black and white.  There were people around me who tried to force me to ride a biplane, which was fashioned like a carnival ride. I refused to give into what everyone else wanted, and did what I wanted instead. They flew in the biplane, and I was content with my decision because I didn’t have a good feeling about the town and the biplane itself.

My position of power in the dream encouraged me to create this piece. The biplane in the piece soars toward the viewer in an attempt to be “present” where it is, as it leaves the dreary, sometimes painful memories of daylight behind. The next stage is night, which is muddied because it is an untouched realm.  The biplane is haunted by two things; the memories of what were, and memories of what will be.

The question of whether or not the biplane lands safely to its next destination is unknown, but the biplane proactively attempts to secure acceptance of where it is in the present and takes flight from there. 

Aspiring Toward Equipoise

 The next piece I’m excited to share is “Compelled but Hushed.” This piece, like a lot of my other pieces, was inspired by personal experience.  During a certain time period, I felt unable to express myself fully without having to confront dastardly aftermath beyond my control. This painting confronts the complexity and the yearning behind those feelings, and the power that lies just below the surface of the face. I’ve discovered in life that not everything is black and white. I struggle sometimes with what cannot be categorized, defined or solved easily, and faith can sometimes be the most difficult thing for me. 

Compelled but Hushed

As my art life propels forward, so does my personal life, full of new joy, experiences, and adventures. I look forward to sharing more of my art, pictures, and pieces of my life through this blog as it’s been a pleasure to do thus far.

I’m convinced at this point in my life I’m like an ultra sensitive dowsing rod, connected to my maker, the earth, and to the energy of life itself in a way that overwhelms or exhilarates me. Being such an antenna of intuition helps me in a lot of arenas. It primarily pays off though when opportunities come my way.  

 If an opportunity is right for me, an internal fire of energy and passion is instantly ignited in my belly, and my heart leaps up, as if inflated by helium. Right then and there I know I’m meant to take a particular journey.  

 A few weeks ago I came across a heartfelt project on facebook that lit an internal spark for me, and started a new journey for me. My heart elevated past my rib cage and I thought, “I have to do this!” The project I stumbled across was Adoptable Art, which uses artists as vehicles to help shelter cats get adopted through public awareness, art, and socialization. Artists through Adoptable Art spend time with shelter cats to help socialize them, and then they create artwork of the shelter cat of their choice, which is then donated to the shelter. Then the shelter gives the work to the adoptive pet parents.  For more information or if you want to get involved please go to: http://www.facebook.com/AdoptableArt .

 After I received further details from the friendly founder of the Adoptable Art project I was glued to my cell phone.  After a few phone calls to a number of shelters, I was pleasantly surprised to find a receptive voice on the other end of the phone at the Laguna Beach Animal Shelter. I came by the following day, nervous, but excited. I was greeted by the friendly staff, who looked at me curiously, but kindly. Armed with drawing pads, pencils, my purse and a camera I was ready.    

 I was lead into the cat room and was greeted by 3 cats up for adoption. The names Peaches, Baby, and Linus were adorned on white boards beside the doorway. Linus, a 2-year-old domestic medium haired orange and white cat was the first cat who caught my eye. He sat comfortably in a nearby chair like it was his throne, with his yellow eyes at half-mast. I was especially struck by the beauty of his very regal, full tail that varied from a burnt copper to a milky white. It was almost like his tail was a decorative train to a luxurious coat. After I greeted a 2-year-old saucer eyed domestic long haired cat named Peaches who was in a cat kennel, I sat by Linus.

He allowed me to pet him, and I was struck by how incredibly soft he was. His coat was like a plush pile of down feathers. He closed his eyes as I pet him, and he flicked his ear. I could tell he had been through a lot in his life. To pet him was like I cast a comfort spell over him that made him feel whole. I looked in his sweet eyes and, in my own way, I could really relate. As someone who has not had a life of ease, and a share of life lessons fit with metaphorical black eyes, his presence brought me solace as I also brought him comfort.     

 After I visited with Linus I spent some time with Baby, a 1 and ½ – year-old Flame Point Siamese that spell bound me with her light blue eyes like the sky, and a white coat speckled with blushes of pale orange. She was a bit suspicious of me at first, but soon realized I was a playmate, not a foe, and allowed me to play with her red fish, which she curled her  four legs and little cat jaws around. She also loved to roll on her back where sunlight streamed in between the cat room spaces.  I found she was an artist herself, and her scratch post was her canvas. With artful precision, like a focused sculptor, she chiseled away furiously at it like a piece of marble.

 I then circled back around and observed sweet Peaches, and I found that whenever I put out my hand to her, she reached out her paw to me, like she would have put her paw in my hand if she could have. Toward the end of my visit I became teary eyed, as I often do when I’m touched.  The entire process really drove home for me the importance of projects such as Adoptable Art. Animals are defenseless and innocent, and projects like Adoptable Art create voices for them to be heard. I will do what I can to make my one voice ring out for them.  

 Pictured below are the cats I met, and the painting I did of Linus! If anyone is interested adopting any of these fabulous felines please go to http://members.petfinder.com/~CA25/CA25.html or call (949) 497-3552. This painting also goes with whoever adopts Linus

I will continue to participate in this project, as I’ve learned several things already. The shelter cats  reinforced something very important that the Beatles have already told me, which is that “Love is all you need.”  

This fairly empty blog has, unfortunately, up until today, fallen prey to my neurotic and overtly perfectionist tendencies. These unyielding tendencies have taken over the village of creative writing processes in my mind, like a deranged, murderous Viking. Births of eureka moments have been burned down unblinkingly like the thatched roofs of the innocent. Many nights I’ve frowned, and the super critical Viking of my consciousness screamed at the wheels that turned in my brain, “Not good enough!”  Inspired eureka moments have been destroyed by swift blows of unrealistic axes wielded by the unmerciful slayers of the mediocre in my mind.  

It wasn’t until today, in the bathtub no less, I happened upon an idea of what to write as a post that was not immediately slaughtered by my neurosis. Isn’t the bathtub where many greats in history had their genius moments? Anyway, although the right words eluded me, I’ve had an inner renaissance through art and in my life in general.

This renaissance was fueled by the fact that, for some time up to now, I was completely handicapped physically. I was wonder woman in almost every way before I was struck down with illness. Deadlines met! Calendar full of super important appointments! Errands done! Responsible dog mom, with doctor visits fulfilled! House cleaned for possible out of town guests! No energy? Coffee can fix it! The endless check list was checked obsessively. Opportunities hung on the walls of my future. I felt tired, but I thought oh, I need just a bit more iron in my diet. An hour or two more of sleep wouldn’t hurt either.

From all appearances, I portrayed an appearance of clear headedness, grace, and drive. All the while I felt clouded. I couldn’t concentrate. I pushed and pushed. I visited my boyfriend after one important appointment, and the look of concern on his face at the sight of me conveyed that I looked like one of the zombies from Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” music video. I was so weary I almost couldn’t drive home. The next day or so, unbearable night sweats followed, and I was greeted by all over muscle pain and nausea.

I was handicapped by whatever it was I had. I went to the doctor and was shocked to find out I had mononucleosis. The doctor informed me I would be sick for a month or as early as 3 weeks if I was a good girl and rested. The doctor also said I would not have full stamina for a long time, and within the next 6 months I was going to catch every nasty bug that walked through my life. The doctor sent me home, with orders to rest, drink fluids and not to participate in contact sports. My tendency to be sarcastic almost jumped out when he mentioned no contact sports, “Yeah, sure doc. You’ll see me play football while I feel like this.”I was so sick that if the doctor had a window to jump out of to get away from me he would have. He stood so far away from me he needed binoculars to exam me. Then I got worse after I went home, which lead to a second appointment.  

It spread to my liver, which was inflamed, and my lymph nodes were swollen. To eat a small salad felt like I ate an entire lasagna myself like one of my childhood heroes, snarky cartoon character cat Garfield.  Steroids were thankfully prescribed. Ginger snaps eaten. I started to feel a smidge more human, but I still couldn’t do a lot of things myself. Fevers spiked all day, and to brush my teeth most days felt like the greatest accomplishment ever. I looked like big foot; my hair was a bird’s nest every day. To brush my hair hurt too much.  

The timing could not have been worse. I had a slew of things that hung on my calendar over me like a dreadful mobile that mocked that moment in my life. I could not physically do what was asked of me, or be around anyone for 3 weeks while I exhibited symptoms for fear that others could contract it. I went out for only one appointment during my illness, which I physically paid for dearly afterward.  After that appointment, I painfully made the decision to make it all stop until I recovered. The fear of nothing to replace my momentary ray of sunlight hovered over me like a darkened rain cloud until I stumped my fear cycle with these lessons.  I still have my moments, but the following lessons help me.

To make a long story short, during my mononucleosis haze, I learned many lessons. The first lesson I learned was that if I didn’t have my health I did not have anything at all. Opportunities are great, but if I was not well enough to embrace those it didn’t matter. I needed to take care of myself physically, emotionally and spiritually and I needed to have faith that God’s hand was at work in my life. I realized God wanted me to work for what I wanted, but He also wanted me to be balanced with trust in Him. He knew, just as my alarmed intuition told me, that what was presented to me was not right for me and would have lead me down the wrong road. I still have a journey ahead of me, one that my intuition, which is rarely wrong, tried to tell me.   

I also learned that I could be a prisoner of my own body again later in my life. I came to the conclusion I need to be more adventurous, and take more risks in my life. Even the smallest leaps can bear great rewards. I don’t mean that in a Peter Pan, irresponsible kind of way, but from an optimistic place that desires more joy in her life. I realized that pain and anxiety can happen whether I’m cautious, play by the rules, play nice, do the right thing, or not.  Anxiety and worry cannot change what is, what was, and what will be.

In my latest piece, which I will present soon as it is not yet finished, the past is shrouded by dreary daylight, which tries to haunt the biplane with drips that represent memories. The biplane flies toward  the next stage, which is night. Night is uncertain and mysterious. In the middle of those stages, the biplane tries to be present where she is. If she does not stay in the moment, she will not be able to fly to where she needs to be.

The uncertainty of the future and the pain of the past are bookends of our lives we all deal with in our way. Hopefully, I can fly through to my next adventure peacefully and healthfully.

Here’s a spoonful of honesty from my blog to your eyeballs. Yes, that’s right. I like to say things like eyeballs instead of eyes. I don’t know why that cracks me up. The word eyeballs reminds me of one of my comedian heroes from the cult classic series Strangers with Candy, Amy Sedaris, who has a curious fixation with plastic googly eyes, which she obsessively uses in one of my favorite books Simple Times: Crafting for Poor People.

Whoops; I got side tracked! All right, back to this post. I obviously haven’t written in a very long time. Some of you who read this may think I’m a severe procrastinator. I protest that I only procrastinate once in a while when it pertains to superficial things like oil changes, mending clothes, car washes, and other mindless tasks. In contrast, when it comes to important goals or tasks that require attention, I become like a Jack Russell terrier furiously fixated on a ham bone placed close to the edge of a kitchen counter; no one is more intense and focused than I when it comes to going after what I want. So why haven’t I tended my art blog? I admit that I’m a very private person and a part of me is afraid to post about my artwork and my life.

An art blog entails that I expose aspects of my life that inspire my artwork, so I want to express genuinely to art enthusiasts and readers out there where my life is now so that they can better understand my works. To be honest, my life for the past few years hasn’t been a box of puppies, and my artwork at times reflects that. Don’t get me wrong; I recognize the blessings in my life like my friends, the love of my life, my Maltese, and my family. Financial prosperity and career fulfillment, however, have been clever mistresses in my life that have left me bewildered and exasperated.

I’ve felt them slip from my grasp time and time again, and as a result the freedom I desire in other areas of my life is restrained with the strength of a dangerously defensive boa constrictor. “What do I have to do to make you stay?” I’ve found myself silently beg like a jilted paramour. I’ve received whispers of success from my art, which created stirs of hope, but I’ve come to understand that my client base will take a lot of time, patience, and exposure to develop. Art will always have a strong place in my life, but for now it has become a side car passenger while I strive to find a full-time position to take the lead in my life to bring fulfillment emotionally, and financially.

In the quest to find such a position, I’ve encountered more twists, turns, ups, downs, and challenges than Alice from Lewis Carrolls’ Alice in Wonderland. In fact, I’m pretty sure she would feel so overwhelmed in my royal blue pumps, she would simply explode. Tufts of blonde hair and black hair tie fragments would be found speckled all over the slack jawed from horror, untimely, white rabbit. Curiosity didn’t kill the Cheshire cat, but it sacrificed an adventurer who tried to find her way home. In a way, I want to find a position that will guide my way home much like Alice, without any explosions of course.

My journey has led me East and West. In one direction, I felt golden rays of optimism from the risen sun, in which I met very professional contacts from organizations that I would be more than honored to represent. In the end, those organizations chose other candidates instead of me. I respected their decisions, but it left me at a dead end once again.

In another direction, I’ve watched the sunset and met the unforgiving chill of night through bizzaro interviews. When I say bizzaro, I don’t mean it in a whimsical or charming kind of way.

These other types of interviews I’ve had came in one of two forms; begrimed older gentlemen who only wanted to employ vacant, beautifully slim legged young things that made great coffee, or overworked managers who so potently salivated with negativity it would take the paint off a car, let alone take the varnish off my confidence. I’ve actually walked out of those interviews, looked up at the sky and said “Really? Not sure what I was supposed to learn from that.” Yes, I sometimes make sarcastic comments to God. Not exactly respectful, but honest none the less! God appreciates honesty, right?

Even when I feel like a hopeless steel ball in a pinball machine, punched mercilessly by flippers, I take a step back, and say that the next day I will continue to make an effort to move one positive step closer to my goals. I’ve learned a lot despite how painful it’s been. My attitude and optimism have shifted realistically. I’ve never believed in deluded optimism that says wishing on hearts, stars, and unicorns gets you what you want in life. I clearly understand that God has a plan, and the plans I have for myself may not align with what He has in mind for me, so I have to be flexible in regards to my efforts, dreams and life paths. I have to stay open and keep working hard.

I’ve moved away from applying to openings in the marketing, public relations and advertising industries for now to pursue other positions in other fields, including entry level positions with veterinary practices because I love animals and care a tremendous amount for my own little dog, Angel, and would love to share my skills. Who knows what tomorrow will bring for me, but I’m happy that I’ve come clean to you, dear readers, so you know where I stand as an artist, and person. Some of my latest artworks I will post soon, and I will keep you updated as to festivals my work may be exhibited in this year.

I personally believe that everyone is a champion in their lives who tries, gives their best, and deals with defeats and wins gracefully. Being the eclectic music listener I am, I’ve been listening to Queen a lot lately, and I’m pretty sure that “We are the Champions” written by Freddie Mercury said it best…

“I’ve paid my dues time after time.

I’ve done my sentence, but committed no crime.

And bad mistakes, I’ve made a few.

I’ve had my share of sand kicked in my face but I’ve come through.

We are the champions my friends.

And we’ll keep on fighting until the end.”

It happens to all of us once in a while. Even the most impossibly cheerful people have their funky weeks when they feel like the karma fairy is paying them back for something they didn’t do. I like to say I feel something “weird” in the air when a waft of discombobulated energy crosses my path. I like to think that everyone who has one of these weeks starts off at the beginning of the week as optimistic unsharpened pieces of graphite, receptive to the world and whatever comes with it. This attitude is reflective of the prior week in which everything was pretty darn fantastic. You think to yourself that all is well. You are so centered and optimistic that you could easily envision Bono serenading you with “Beautiful Day,” while you dreamily practice a yoga pose (in my case Corpse pose) before you start your day.

All of a sudden you come into work and you feel the “weird” energy creep past you. Your boss calls you in his office to chew you out because you haven’t produced enough new consumers as a result of the campaign you spearheaded.  Your job is on the line if you don’t up your numbers. Dread and impossible deadlines are now dangling over you like a dismal mobile and the incident seeps through your psyche, and drips down through the rest of your week, almost like a negative liquefied magnet. Suddenly you find a few shavings of yourself on the drafting board of your life as you try to problem solve and hope your new marketing strategies and visuals will suffice. You’re rattled, but the eternal optimist cheerleader inside drowns out your fears and tells you that your new creative advertising options are brilliant! Your boss will promote you instead of let you go, and these new ideas are more effective than what you conceived before.

You try to brush the cobwebs of the day off after you finish your work late that night. You head to your favorite coffee shop and order your favorite drink to try to bring a steady upswing to your day.  Suddenly someone in a flurry knocks your freshly blended mocha into your chest so your new white Jones New York button up is drenched with no apology. Your blouse you purchased at full price yesterday is now ruined. Of course you’re upset, but the eternal optimist cheerleader inside you, who is now starting to lose ground, whispers again, “It’s not important. It’s just a blouse!  You can buy another one.”

Then something serious and worrisome ends the week and sends you straight over the edge. This usually involves the hospital, something medical, or something scary that you know you can do nothing about. With this scenario all you can do is wait, pray, and hope for the best. For example, you find out that your dog who means everything to you needs surgery and she may or may not survive the operation. Not only that, it will unexpectedly cost you an arm, a leg, and a foot. You wonder how you’ll get through the next week as you wait for the results and hope that your boss doesn’t fire you over your new ideas. You hope Ashton Kutcher’s immature face will shine out like a distorted ‘Scream’ mask from behind a tree and say, “You are SO PUNKED!” Over a week you have become a finely pointed pencil, shaved mercilessly and are incapable of seeing any other side as you feel trapped and worried about the future. You feel like you just fell down the rabbit hole with no solution in sight.  This is when humor tends to leave us which is when we need it the most.

When I’m at the point of no return, my family, best friends and boyfriend rattle my perspective and lighten my heart and I do the same for them. My best friends are usually the first aid though when these dismal funks rain down. Our language of love and support come in the form of inappropriate and absurd humor. Picture a Monty Python movie, mixed with a Kathy Griffin special, with a splash of ‘90s Saturday Night Live (when it was still good) and a whiff of sock puppets.

We make each other laugh by doing such odd things as wear Burt Reynolds fake mustaches on cooking nights (before it was popular), make up fully developed flawed characters and storylines complete with weird voices, and we dream up empowering scenarios we would apply to our current situations if all laws did not apply and if a state of propriety was not an issue. For our little rag tag group, laughter really is the best medicine, and our imaginations happen to be the drug pushers. We’ve known each other a very long time so there is a sense of comfort there. We are never concerned with looking beautiful at all times, nor do we have to act like we have it all together (Who REALLY has it all together?!?!). There is no competition nor do we feel the need to impress anyone when we’re together because we are true friends and we love each other exactly the way we are.  

I come away from evenings with them with a smile because I know that whatever difficulty I’m dealing with will not be permanent, and that whatever happens is meant to be and I will land on my feet. They also remind me of what is most important which is to have faith in God, faith in others, faith in myself, and most importantly to not lose my sense of humor.

What is that you ask? Is that a sparkly birthday toilet card painted with acrylics and taped down so the paper won’t curl with the name of the birthday girl blurred out in Photoshop? Why, yes it is. And a comment from someone named Clive in the corner of the card? Yes, that’s one of our many characters we made up. He happens to be a disgruntled British lead singer of a band that happens to dislike our silliness.

When I heard my friend scream with laughter at the sight of this card I knew it was the right thing to create for her to remind her to keep smiling and know that she is cared for. Somehow we came to the conclusion one night over margaritas or something (I think?) that “toilet” could be transcribed as “truth” or “seriously” in our little group.  Whatever, anyway!  As you can see, my inspiration can sometimes come from the strangest places.

As long as our imagined club house for three still stands, I think I’ll make it through. No, I know I’ll make it through.

Welcome to my finally finished website! Thank you for visiting! My first order of business is to say hello to all of you, art lovers, friends, family etc…if you’re out there. My second order of business is to let you know that you may notice that the photos of my works include copyright symbols, dates of publication, and my name across the middle or top of each photo of my pieces.

Those are watermarks that will NOT be included in the prints I sell. The watermark symbols are security measures to protect my works from being printed and distributed without my permission. All of my works were also submitted today to be registered under copyright.

As for my blog, there will be plenty of posts to come! This blog is meant to illustrate what artwork I’m working on, what inspires my creative works, and will also give you a glimpse into who I am as an artist and person so stay tuned!