It's summer.

Crazily, because it's so early, it's been summer in Seattle for a few weeks now. Blue skies. No rain. Mid '70's to mid '80's. And...unlike New England - no humidity. We do have great summers.

Last night was Capitol Hill's revamped art walk. Eric and I, after great food and drinks at Boom Noodle, headed over to Seattle Central first. On the way to the college plaza we stopped because I had a hankering for Balsamic Strawberry ice cream from Molly Moon's. I really like that place because not only are the flavors wonderful, but I can actually purchase a kid-size scoop. It's maybe about half the size of a regular scoop and it's perfect for when I want a taste.

At the college, we bumped into my coworker and his partner, as well as into Anna, the phenomenal and dedicated director of the Seattle Erotic Art Festival.

There, we watched the double dutch girls doing their thing. I used to love jumping rope, but never practiced enough to get a handle on double dutch. It would end up a tangled mess, and very different than what I saw last night. These girls are good.

After my coworker left, E, A and I spent a lovely evening wandering the Pike/Pine corridor, stepping into galleries and shops looking at art. The Grey Gallery, Vermillion and the Fetherston Gallery all had work that I'm still thinking about.


It was a perfect summer evening.

teeth
New tooth. Yesterday was the final appointment with my dentist for the permanent crown. Very glad it's over. The back of my throat near where the novacaine went in is a little sore, as it the area of the new tooth, but ibuprofren kicks the discomfort.

While on the topic of teeth, I need to remember to stop buying generic floss. There is too much shredding. Of course it only comes to mind when the floss is in my mouth.


free weekend
This upcoming weekend is my first weekend in months without set plans and I'm taking advantage of it. It's going to be wonderful.


art, art, art
Thanks to artist Ellen Forney, Capitol Hill's art walk is being revitalized.

Blitz on Capitol Hill begins tonight, including an "Art on a Stick" parade. See www.blitzcapitolhill.com for a map and list of participating galleries, restaurants and other businesses.

Looking forward to seeing Target Practice: Painting Under Attack 1949-78, a new show at the Seattle Art Museum which begins June 25th.

From the press release:
" Organized by the Seattle Art Museum (SAM),Target Practice: Painting Under Attack 1949-78 is an international, historical survey of the assaults that painting endured in the years following World War II, documenting why artists felt compelled to shoot, rip, tear, burn, erase, nail, unzip and deconstruct painting in order to usher in a new way of thinking."


food fun
My coworkers and I were huddled over a computer this morning checking out food fun, and that let me to googling for images for cauliflower sheep which then led me to eggplant penguins.

Saturday night's play is still the gift that keeps giving. Each time I look at my body I smile. But a big gift was rending the veil that allowed me to see how burnt out I really am. I've been living off adrenaline for the last couple years. Doing what I need to, trying to take time for myself…enjoying the short relaxing moments, feeling what needs to be felt…immersing myself in intense therapy….and slowly losing my capacity to be productive.

Yes, I've produced quite a bit in this time…about 300 pieces of art. And I know it's not about quantity, but I'm the type of person who needs to do a lot hoping to stumble upon a treasure. So tucked within the 300 are a couple pieces I'm very proud of.

In my day job, as the foundation grows, demands are more and more complex and I've been able to somehow, miraculously create systems to meet those needs. Honestly, I have no idea how it happened, but it did.

The last month or so has seen me slowing down. I don't have the same strength to get over the tiredness and do what needs to be done. Some of the magic in Saturday's play showed me it's time to stop.

In addition to my 4 weeks of vacation, due to budget cuts, we were given 3 weeks of furlough. My salary was readjusted for that loss of income (which yes, hurts quite a bit), but it then opens up the free time. I thought by taking hours here and there during the week, I could maintain a balance. But, it is not the same as having an entire week to myself, not traveling or scheduling with lots of folks, yet instead just being.

I'll work next week to clean up a few things on my desk that can't wait and then take the following week. And this is what I envision:

Catching up on laundry the first day so I feel clearer. Then, long walks in the park and near the water. Leisurely gallery strolls. Seeing the new show at the SAM and the Frye. And, attending a few open figure drawing sessions. I haven't been to one in two years. The memories are too great but it is a hurdle I need to get over. That is the only hard thing I have planned for vacation.

In addition, there will be relaxing studio time. Unless highly motivated, I won't touch the rectangle/group paintings for a week and instead, set up still lifes. So it would be a painting vacation away from my current paintings.

And, the vacation ends with another play party that weekend. Hopefully my body will be healed enough to play again by then.

After a very full weekend of meeting a new friend, play and giving love, hugs and pets to others through their difficult time, today was a take-it-slow kinda day.

I shot this last Thursday during art walk. At one point in the evening while in the studio, the thick smell of salt air came in through the two large open windows and hit my nose. That familiar calming scent called to me and so stepped away from the throngs, walked outside and across the street. Immersing myself in the smell and the view for a bit, I was able to return to the studio refreshed. Salt air does it every time.

It also brought up a powerful longing to return to the NH coastline...my former home.

I really hope to make a trip back east in August for family, spend time in Boston, hear my niece do some jazz, and then up the coast. Finances are really rough right now and I'm hesitant to throw the entire trip on a credit card but do ache to sit on my familiar rocks at the beach. It'll get figured out somehow.

Here are a few other shots from last week's Art Walk:

Right outside my studio door...



Right outside the front door of the building...

A much needed evening. It was brilliant and perfect. I'm a little disturbed because I once again saw how the last few years have really affected my play...but I'm determined to fucking work through it and am blessed to have loving, compassionate friends and sadists in my life. There is very little left on my body...front, back and sides, that isn't bruised or welted.

Thank you R. for being there through the grief and into the hotness.

Cage thoughts~


Cages. Locked away for how long...? Almost indescribable. Blanketed in darkness, metal bowl thrown through the slot, feed with my hands. Pee into a plastic jug. Smell the sweat and piss and sex that comes from my hot cunt.

Fed and watered at the Top's whim. Minutes into hours which then slip into days. Morning and night do not exist. The heavy metal bars are a massive liberation.

Freedom. Heaven.


Then there is another type of cage - loving one who loves fear more than they love you. Seeing their heart...knowing...

...knowing and yet, there is nothing you can do.


The cage is constructed of vision...and helplessness. Aware of the exquisite and rare beauty of the potential while living with the reality. Not wanting to give up, continued longing, along with the knowledge that I cannot return to elusiveness and muddy nondirect communication. It includes an immense desire to love and let them be exactly who they are, because it is perfect...and to do so without the ongoing everyday pain. Holding the great need to simply let go. Where is the key?

Intimacy is not born of sex yet slowly created from messy, dirty, terrifying risk-taking. Daring to reveal yourself to another and having them return the gift. To taste of each other and then have it ripped away...

...they are forever branded in my heart.

With this I live and work and play and paint and fuck from my tears, my anger, my woundedness, my pain...all the while screaming inside at the universe for its horrid, cruel joke.

This cage can also become a place of great liberation.
I just need to find the damned key.

Last night's Art Walk in another studio in my building...

excavation


cutting into, digging up ancient pipes once buried deep
unearthed and so exposed, to then live within my sleep

slipping into daylight, sitting on my chest...
feelings, memories refuse to be suppressed.

Almost done. Here are a couple more from my SF trip.

It was a resting weekend. My only studio time was running down there on Saturday to drop off the rent check.

Other than rest and sorting thru Saturday in SF photos, the most productive thing I did this weekend was iTunes/iShuffle related. I tend to purchase from iTunes while at work and for a few years I've wanted to get that music onto my iTunes at home. A few weeks back, I burned them all onto 5 cd's. So yesterday I spent time importing those into my home laptop and then creating new playlists for the shuffle.

It's art walk this week and it's been a helluva month. Lots of good and lots of challenging stuff. Between emotionally prepping and coming down from my trip as well as being sick last week, the painting went down the tubes. So the wall will stay the same as last month.

Oh...here's an interesting little tidbit. It's a surprising development from therapy. For the first time in most of my life, at 49 years old, I stopped biting my nails back in January. In the past I've tried to break this habit and would succeed...for a few weeks to then slide back which is why I waited almost 6 months to say something.

In January, I had an infected finger and, like other times, it would stop my nail biting, which would then return when there would be a nail snag. I don't know why, but this time, it stuck. Clipping my nails for the first time in my life was an awkward and yet pleasant experience.

It's strange and yet I know that everything is so connected...a small but important sign that things are moving and changing. Cleaning and reorganizing my house was another one. Coming home from SF into a tidy space was refreshing.

I'm a huge believer that almost all, if not all of our habits are due to deep internal stuff. They are symptoms. For me, each attempt to work on the habit would lead to backsliding - a sure sign that maybe I should be looking deeper. So with therapy, I've learned to not angst too much about the habits, trusting they'd take care of themselves when the time was right. Thing is even with this belief, the change in nail biting took me by surprise.

Well, now to focus on my desk. Even though I'm still not up to full strength, it's going to be a really busy week at work. Have a good day everyone~

Some SF photos from the De Young with Robbie and Stephen on Saturday, May 16th. Again, click on each to make bigger.

I think this was about the middle of the tour. We had to rest.



This is the groovy space we were resting in.




Near the entrance was a Frida Kahlo exhibit of art done by kids. Aren't they beautiful?



Shapes that intrigued me...



I call him "penis face".



More shapes that I like. And I've always been a huge fan of primitive art, ever since my first formal drawing class at the museum when I was 12. Our teacher would let us wander through the natural history museum with our drawing pads. Great fun.














It's funny. I didn't shoot any of the pieces that moved me so much that they've inspired me. But even without photos, they've remained behind my eyes. I think of them every day. It's pretty much my modus operandi. I don't even know if I can write about them. The experience felt like wicked and intense intimate sex.

Lately, I've had many art experiences that I've no words for. Maybe that's as it should be. Maybe the words will happen once I've integrated the moments into my own work.

The day was an amazing day. Thank you Stephen, Robbie and Richard (who joined us for a part of it).

I saw a few friends last night...and spoke with another a couple days ago. In addition, J checked in with me Wednesday morning. They all said... "You look tired..."

Yeah.

I've been working through something for about 4 months, each week with increasing intensity. This week, and it's no wonder I became sick, was the worse. Fully discouraged I made an emergency appt with my therapist for Thursday night. It felt like I was experiencing a total meltdown and I needed to make sure this was part of the healing process and not going crazy.

This morning after once again waking in tears, one of the horoscopes I checked said:

Saturday, May 30
If you're honest with yourself, can you feel the pain? If so, conscious healing is taking place. But Mommy, the booboo still hurts. That's the station of Chiron.

That little statement alone was encouraging. And needed.

I'm sitting at the bar up the street. It serves espresso until 4 pm and then cocktails and sushi afterward. They have seriously comfortable leather seating and free wifi. I needed to get out of the house and in another environment, indulging in a tall iced mocha and sorting through photos. This image is another from my SF trip. It's today's method of self care and pleasure.

We found this bear in the tree on last Sunday's walkabout. He was in the fenced-in yard at Crawl Space Gallery.

Since Tuesday night, between the first appt. to repair my tooth, a nasty cold/flu thingy and some life stuff, I've mostly been out of commission. Pretty much no work, and no studio time. I'm finally on the mend although I missed out on an important annual work thing today. It was the scholarship breakfast, where we celebrate and pet our scholars. It's an amazing event and there was no way I could make it there, sharing space with 500 people. This is the first year I've missed it.

Today, even though I am beginning to feel better, it's prudent to take it easy. And yet, I've been truly bored for the last two days. Seeing I'm behind on posting images, maybe I'll go through photos.

I've had these tulips for almost a month.

Tulips are my favorite flower because of their elegance, simplicity and grace. Every once in a while I'll pick some up for my house. They offer beauty each step of the way...in life as well as in their death. So yeah, I'm one who won't throw them out just because they've begun to wilt and fade.

Writing this reminds me of a time in art school. In sculpture class, the current project was exploration of the figure in clay. That day, I was so over the skinny, young model. While observing the model, I took creative license, imagined what she'd look like as an 80 year old woman and proceeded to sculpt her. It ended up being an amazing learning experience in more than one way. I sought to create a piece with inner depth and a history which was reflected in body changes such as wrinkles and sagging skin.

It became a powerful life lesson.

So, the doc returned my call. And yup, not only could I take the Tylenol with Codeine (which I took at bedtime), but she heartedly supported the glass of red wine.

Mouth is better this morning.

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How about this week's Freewill Astrology?

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And although I'm disappointed and confused by Obama's silence on gay issues, I was incredibly thrilled to see this article about the changes they are making in art for the White House. The pastoral scenes and pretty pictures are disappearing and instead, we'll be seeing works by Kline, Diebenkorn, Jasper Johns, Louise Nevelson and other more contemporary artists. The Wall Street Journal article includes a few examples as well as explains the process of how works can be chosen for the public areas of the White House. Check out the link.

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Another very interesting article from the WSJ, Why Donald Duck Is the Jerry Lewis of Germany - The cartoon character turns philosophical in translation; quoting Goethe. It's the comic books, not the animation, that have elevated Donald into a pop culture icon.

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And for a seriously cool treat...from The Slog - This week's New Yorker cover was created by Jorge Colombo using the Brushes app on his iPhone. He did it in an hour while standing in Time Square.

Here is a short, less than a minute, animation of that process:

This morning was the first of two dentist appointments to fix a broken tooth. Gotta say...I am not a woose. There are a few of you who know how high my pain tolerance is. Two years ago, after surgery, the surgeon gave me painkillers. I never took them. It was the second surgery of my life and both times I sailed through the recovery period without pain meds which yes, would surprise the nurses. I wasn't toughing anything out yet honestly didn't feel any pain.

That's a prep for what I'm going to say. My mouth fucking hurts. It hasn't eased up. I've taken two Aleve and it is still pounding. I returned to the office after the procedure only to turn around and go home. Felt pretty beaten up.

I even called my doctor an hour ago to see if I could take those leftover painkillers from that last surgery and am waiting for her return call.

In the meanwhile, I've decided to walk two blocks to the little Italian restaurant near my house for a glass of red. That should help. Red wine helps most things.

Some thoughts after yesterday's Prop 8 ruling~


I went to the studio after work. Because I wanted to hit the rally at Westlake, I only had a half hour to work art. So I pulled out an 18x24 drawing pad and a couple sharpies and doodled. Still struggling with a short statement for these paintings, I spent the half hour quickly moving my hand…creating lines and boxes - trying to draw a statement, hoping to get the junk out so maybe something will come to me. Then it was off to Westlake Center.

The rally was good. I think it was important for people to come together in support of their hurt, their anger, and their vision of a better world that doesn't give a flying fuck who you sleep with or what you look like or how much money you have or how famous you are.

I know change takes time. I also believe that as a culture, we have become spoiled and expect things to happen quickly…without pain and suffering. Change does not come from sunny days or because the only activism we do is bitch online.

If I had my way, we'd pull marriage and even partnering out of this entire mess. Why do I need to be partnered to someone to easily have legal access? Why shouldn't every single adult be able to sign one piece of paper that offers those protections? I may want to pass them on to a confidant, or a family member. Why do we need to be in a relationship to be a protected group?

But, having said that, we work with what is. It's a place to start.

What hurt yesterday and at the same time I found titillating, was that there are now 3 classes of people in CA: straight folks, LGBT folks who are married, and the remaining queers who cannot. It's quite the conundrum and one that will change.

I believe the Court made the decision they needed to, despite their beliefs, and they took about 180 pages to say so.

In WA State, they've been working on marriage in steps - a little at a time. Last week, the governor signed the domestic partnership bill, aka the "everything but marriage" bill. It offers ALL domestic partners the same legal protections that Washington state grants to hetero marriages.

Jamie Pedersen, at the rally, made a good point with examples. He said that about 3 years ago, with one bill, he was finally legally able to be there for his partner who needed surgery. Pedersen could access the pharmacy for his partner's meds, etc. The next step, a year later, one of the added benefits meant that now he too would be responsible for those very hospital bills. And now, with the new bill that was signed, if something were to happen to their child, he would be allowed to take time off of work for caretaking, receiving family leave.

Everything is in steps. Sometimes they are excruciating minute ones that we can't even see until later when we turn around and realize how far we've come.

Everyone has a different life experience and therefore our reactions will be all over the map. They are each valid and all need to be honored.

As for me, I need to believe. Coming from the place I do, living the life I lived and live, I HAVE to believe, otherwise there would be no point. I have enough chips on my shoulder from years of discrimination, rejection and abandonment. The struggles are immense and at times feel impossible. Most of my energy is spend in not disappearing into the untouchable-ness that is part of my core belief system, based on years of history. Therefore for me (and I know this will sound odd), the work for social justice and civil rights seems like the easiest. Looking back over decades upon decades, we can actually see movement forward and when I see that kind of change, then it gives me specky bits of hope for my personal life.

Now it is a lifetime struggle. Human nature is what it is and so there will always be some form of discrimination. But, if I can make one aspect of my world a little better, then maybe life really is worth living.

This is why I work where I do and it's also why I paint. It continues to remind me that I am alive and that with toil, change happens.

Yesterday's new recipe:

Take one 30"x40" blank, toned canvas.
Add a healthy dose of very loud Stone Temple Pilots and Metallica on your iShuffle.
Move quickly.
Mix paint with brush.
Don't stop the hand.

And this is what comes up. (note - it's a pretty crappy photo)




Who knows where it'll go from here, but it was fun to do. Looking at this again, there is still lots of room for more freedom in paint. It will just take a massive dose of inhibition on my part.

Playing catch up~

This was my wall for May's Art Walk. To give an idea of size...the smallest paintings are 14"x11".



And this was the big painting that was hung in the alcove of our space. It's 36"x60". If you click on it, you get a better sense of the color.



A few details of the big painting...







Again, these images really don't do the work justice.

The big painting, which is the one that's changed every month since December, is the first painting I'm totally in love with. It's strange. Every time I walk into the studio I need to touch it. Each time, I fall a little more in love with it. It's not like I haven't love some of the work before but it's different with this one. It feels like new relationship energy - the excitement and giddiness that keeps building with each encounter.

Last Friday morning at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art~

As soon as I entered the exhibit on the second floor my heart filled with anticipation and joy. Wandering from room to room, the feeling in my body was increasing...a slow orgasm build.

I didn't know what, but knew something wonderful was coming.

Then, I stepped into a room. The room. And immediately I was surrounded, encased in examples of such boldness and power. Tears began to fall.

Two years ago, in this very room I was introduced to Joan Mitchell. Her large, luscious works filled the walls. This time, it was an elaborate buffet. One painting or sculpture from:

Joan Mitchell
David Parks
Richard Diebenkorn
Franz Kline
Mark Rothko
Robert Motherwell
Giacometti
Manuel Neri

Most of them were artists I've been actively looking at for the last year...trying to capture my own strength and courage while studying theirs, in attempt to dare put myself on canvas as they have.

Upon entry, I was so overwhelmed that I could only focus on one at a time. I didn't even notice the Neri sculpture until I was headed out of the room. And then...I almost began to cry again. For me, she was another exampled of Sedna, the Inuit myth of the girl whose limbs were cut off by her father and she sank to the bottom of the Artic. In her hell of cold, dark waters...isolation and abandonment, she was able to create life in the form of whales and dolphins.

Sedna has been my meditation throughout these rectangle paintings begun last October.

Sunday Sex...

I needed to return on Sunday to sit in this room. The Kline and the Motherwell were facing each other. I could sit on the bench in the middle and feel each large piece pressing into me...pushing and prodding. Delicious enticement. Taunting me to spread my thighs, wet from desire and anticipation, open wide and allow my muse to fuck me with wild abandon.

Still...a week later, they still call to me.


Robert Motherwell

Franz Kline

Manuel Neri

Giacometti

David Parks

David Steinberg, a fantastic photographer from San Francisco, wrote up a piece found on SFGate.com on this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival. It's a good article, showing the growth and immense undertaking of such an event, and this year's astounding success in spite of our troubled economy.

You can read it here.

It's a holiday weekend and it's going to be perfect weather for quite a few days - sunny, high 60's or low 70's. The Seattle International Film Festival begins tomorrow. Saturday, I plan on screening the film Trimpin: The Sound of Invention and then running (or really driving fast)to be at the Lawrimore Project at 4pm for a panel discussion with the artist and a few others. I'm looking forward to the film.

And...I will be returning to my canvases. Between intense work projects at my day gig, the prep for my trip as well as regrouping afterward, it's been a few weeks since I've actually painted.

It didn't help that I broke a tooth sometime between Sunday and Monday. The good thing was I already was scheduled to see the dentist on Tuesday for my regular semi-annual cleaning and thought it was a new big cavity. I found out I've lost a good-sized chunk from one of my molars. Now I have a new crown to look forward to. Until it's fully repaired, no more ice cream for me! The cold is too painful. But, a little red wine helps to dull the sensitivity.