Art Stuff

To be an artist... can mean many things. Playing an instrument, working in illustration or commercial art, or painting whatever the angels send; they are all art. I have been very lucky to have somehow caught the joy of drawing when I was a little girl. Attending Art School was never easy, not when I was thirteen, or when I was twenty-three at the Academy. I wasn't the best; I was not able to paint the way I would have chosen. I had to work at drawing. But one thing never changed; I loved using oil paint and drawing with ink. People seem to believe those are the two most difficult types of art; but they both feel good to me and that's what counts. To pursue your heart's desire, one has to please oneself, not do what other people think looks good. The point is that the highest forms of Art--painting; music; or writing--are forms of self-expression, not what sells. And then from there, it becomes tantamount that the artist finds some way to support herself and her family.
I chose not to attempt Art as a career, and that choice paid me well although there were disadvantages. Working in "normal" jobs takes the artist out of the art community. Often artists are non-conformist as I am, and that can be hard on the psyche. Fitting in with average white folks was an impossible challenge for me. It never really worked. I wasn't living in artsy communities, and they knew I was strange. Oh, well, such is life.
Now that I live in a Delaware suburb, on my own garden, no one, except who I choose, know me well. Whatever my neighbors think about me remains their secret as I re-enter my house and close the door. Out in the sunroom, paintings are always in process. I have been painting abstracts. They have been fun, even though even abstracts are work. But I have grown from the need to represent people and scenes on the canvas. Yes, they were always serious challenges, but I think I may be done with them. Perhaps it's time to simply enjoy myself painting. I've come to sixty years; painting has always been a large part of my identity. I am finally old enough to paint whatever flows from my brush. I have railed against galleries for years and I allow myself to forego their bullshit. If I can, I'll open my studio to show my work. I cannot look for glory and accolades in the art world. That, in itself, is hard, discouraging work. One needs to live and know people in the artworld, and that means Manhattan really. I would need to sing "The Impossible Dream" day in and day out. It is too much work. I just want to paint.

Passover. I'm soooooo tired. G'night.

So Serious...Dashing to somewhere..

I love this goofy drawing. I know it has the guy's penis in it, so that makes it explicit, but it's supposed to be a joke. He's had a "Eureka!" moment, and ran out forgetting to put on the rest of his clothes. Oh, well. I guess you had to be there. I used to do these at work and amuse myself.
I got my pain doc's report today. Everything is wrong with my neck and my lower back isn't so hot either. My neck has serious problems though that could cripple me gradually. I'm sixty. I'm not looking to live into my eighties. Some people are healthy and maintain their independence, but I'm not trusting. I've always left the games early, worrying about what might happen if I stayed. This is no different, but I'm not ready yet. Even though my one knee is very painful, I feel otherwise okay. Able. I'm still painting up a storm. I am upset to read about all the problems I've got sitting just below my head. Ugh. I need to exercise.
Tomorrow is the Jewish Passover. I printed out twenty-seven pages of a secular humanist Hagaddah. I hope it's worth it. The old one made no sense for irreligious people.

Living to Paint (and loving it)

That's The Birds. One was my daughter's Conyer and the other was one she worked with at the Philly Zoo. Birds are incredibly beautiful. So are cats and my little girl is climbing on me now. She just moved off because I had to lean forward to use the mouse, but she'll come back. She goes back and forth and I notice she's sleepy.

My tummy is big and full, certainly big enough for Autumn for sit on. I just ate, I guess, about a cup of spagetti with garlic, anchovies, and olives (with cheese). At 11:30 PM. I have a "procedure" tomorrow morning and I'm nervous, so I ate with the expectation that I wouldn't eat tomorrow. We'll see. I always eat.

I'm getting another epidural in my lower back. This time it's to deal with the pain radiating from my knee down. I kept off my feet today so I wasn't in much pain. I sat on my padded stool while I painted. I finally had to get up because my butte got numb. I like the painting I'm working on. I liked it yesterday when I'd sort of covered it in white. I'll still work on it, but it's virtually done. I hung the yellow one on the wall just to my riht. It makes me feel good. I love the texture, the yellows, golds and reds. All the colors and they're all there. Before I started the Funny Fine Art, I usually wasn't satisfied with my paintings. Especially my paintings. I got such a kick out of my funny paintings; I loved my drawings; and now, I love my paintings. They're not Rembrandt or Manet level. I don't have that kind of talent. I would use contemporary painters, but I can't tell how much talent they have. Even Alice Neel, but she was very good. Anyway, I did get to paint and that's what counts.

I also put the plastic wear, nested, into a huge plastic container. I had them in the sunroom and there is too much stuff in that room. We do a lot in there: plants; painting; relaxing; and kitty litter. It doesn't sound like much, but there are tools for each activity and it's not a large room.

I'm really tired. The weekends are busy. I hate for the weekdays to get busy again. Right now, I'm not swimming or doing Tai Chi and I love being home, painting. That's all I want to do. My body will fall apart though. My life is very easy, but, well, no but, I guess.

Life on the Farm

Something different. Wasn't that a pretty picture though? That one sold through the web to a guy in Germany. Eventually, I sent it to Belgium, where he'd moved. I had to take it off the stretchers. I like the fact that nothing sexual is really shown. Just a hint, and it's so erotic. Oh, well. I see mistakes now and they would bother me if I had the painting. I'm glad I don't. I've got too many hanging around already.
I cleaned a ton of kitty litter today. I've got seven--four outside and three inside. The outside kitties like it too, and one of them seems always to be in the closed one. He's decided I'm not to be trusted because I tried twice to put flea medicine on him. I tried to close up their route to the little park also stopping the big old tomcat who was eating their food and scaring them to death. I'm hoping the inconvenience will keep him out. Let him go bother the raccoons next door.
I did a lot of physical work today and my knee swelled up and it's been hurting. I never got to paint, but I knew I shouldn't anyway. I am not used to sitting on anything while I paint. I miss painting terribly when I don't do it, but I really did have too much to do. Of course, I'm not up that long anyway. I worked on my website tonight and late this afternoon. God knows, it needed the work. I fixed the abstract page and knocked out stuff I can't keep up like New Work or My Life Through Pictures. I don't even like the Life page. I think either I, or Harry's host, knocked it off his site. It's not relevant anymore. Harry's right, I do go through phases and eventually, they're done. I'm grateful all those folks posed for me. I may be interested again sometime, but not now. They were so good about it.
I was going to write the incredible stories from my jobs, and maybe later. I guess when we work, we come across amazing people. My cousin ran into brilliant people and I came in contact with political "drones", nice people, and nuts. Some of them thought I was nuts. After all, I never followed their quaint customs. I never fit in and some people were bothered by that. I sound so snotty. I really wasn't though. It killed me to be treated like an outsider and not be trusted. When I worked out in the boondocks with Poggy Horsemanure, I think her trouble with me was that she was insecure. Like I wanted her job, or that I looked down on her because she got her job through having sex with the boss of the department. As though that's unusual. She was blonde and he liked blondes, especially those who would sleep with him. He never made a pass at me. I guess I didn't seem the type and I wasn't. So she was. So what. I put her down because she was a "company woman". Screw the clients and please the boss. Ugh. I had one supervisor who I think of as "The Cancer Woman" because she was dying of cancer. She lied to my face, knowing I knew she was lying. Cancer or not, she was disgusting. One of my bosses, Edmund Fitzgerald, was crazy, but honest. He drove me totally crazy, but I respected him. I had to finally take Xanax every time I was going to meet with him, but I still have good feelings about him. Honesty is a big deal. He was a religious guy and he stuck to his morals. I give him credit for him.
Poggy actually tried to have me arrested! after I escaped from her and Mr. Fitzgerald. I was stupid, but she was a witch. All she was missing was a cauldron. I'll talk about her more later. She ruined other people's lives. How does one do that and sleep at night. I think Edmund Fitzgerald did people in too, but not out of pure malice.
I have to stop now; I'm so tired. I don't care if Poggy recognizes herself, but I don't want strangers to stop her on the street and say they read about her. She doesn't deserve the fame, good or bad. I've prayed for her, but most of me thinks it's right for her to stew in her own hatred and misery.

Me

Me My BackyardThat's my painting of my backyard. Right now, in April, it's still mostly mud, but it's beautiful in summer--not that beautiful, but lovely to someone from a rowhouse in Philly. We moved to a single house with a big yard and a little park run behind it in Delaware, from Philly, in August of '06. Except for the lack of creative artistic experimentation, I love it here. I never tried to have my work shown in the best Philly galleries, so I don't know whether they would have accepted my work. They do hang it down here, but except for my buddy's, who grew up and went to Art School in Philly too, none of the work reaches gallery level. It's too much work for me to exhibit in Philly or Wilmington. (I really SHOULD send emails to the Philly galleries. Hmm) I just can't take work in for them to see and decide. That's work! Taking paintings down, carrying them, and then hanging them back up is big-time work. They sit against walls for years. I don't hang them all either. Right now, I'm kind-of working on building a group of abstract paintings. Let me see if I can add one.Well, that didn't work. I'll try another one. Not that one either. Okay, I can't take anymore. No more pics. They're on Plaxo and I think, Facebook, and hopefully, my website at http://www.painterjayne.com/ I haven't added the last two abstracts though. Maybe today.xoxoJaynee

The Art Show

Here I am down here. Almost totally exhausted. Got up "early"--just before 10:30, cleaned, painted, set up the dishwasher, and went to the Art Alliance here for the show. The opening. all the "Intelligentsia" must have been there. Almost all the work there, other than Ken's and mine, was either awful, beginner stuff, vacation photos, or badly hung. Except for Ken's wall, most of the walls were badly hung. My Celebration Circles hung next to three black and white photos the same size as the painting. The photos were artsy and bad, okay, or great family vacation photos. I felt like a nasty snob. The people looked like nice upper middle class people and the center did a great job with food and entertainment. It was done beautifully. I don't really know about the monthly art show in one big room. It had two stand out pieces, I know. They were a pair done by one woman. A wall hanging was nice too. That part was hung okay, if boring. In Philly, I don't think the bad part of the show would have stood. Somebody would have screamed.

I went. My kids came and went too and Harry. Both of my legs were killing me. I found out yesterday at my pain doctor's that I have some serious problem in my neck that is probably causing problems I attributed elsewhere. My neck hurts a lot when I try to sleep.

I'm falling asleep. Better get busy on my teeth.

Driving

Tomorrow I review my neck MRI with my pain doc. I've never had one on my neck and it's been bad for about thirty years. My mom's was and so is my daughter's. Tells you something. My knee is spasming right now. I was standing and painting with gloved hands. I still have my Philly clothes on. We went today. We have been driving all the way up past Philly for one doctor and I have to find one down here. That's ridiculous. As soon as we moved down here, we saw a difference in drivers. It's not always or everybody, but it's better. But drivers are so much worse all over. I learned to drive in 1964 on a 1954 Chevy with regular steering and brakes. There was no such thing as seat belts or power steering. (People regularly went through windshields in accidents.) There just weren't as many cars on the road. My dad used to think women were lousy drivers and my aunt, another experienced driver--older than my father, born about 1902--used to yell about people getting their licenses at Pep Boys. My dad loved to drive, as did most of the family except my mother. Driving fifty MPH was fast and there weren't as many cars. We had no highways in Philly or nearby New Jersey. We drove to New York on Route 1 and down the shore on the back roads. We cruised in cars as heavy as Mack trucks. It wasn't a great time, but it was a good time for driving.xoxoJaynee

Jerry

A number of times, when I was asleep, I believe I visited "the other side", to a place like an auditorium where people sat staring straight ahead. I've seen my brother at least once in one of those although he was in a smaller room. I've been praying for him to be in a place he chooses, with our family, doing whatever he wants. I don't know what that place is, but it's not a happy place. Not horrible at all, but I don't like it. It feels like a lost place. So I pray for him.One night, when I'd been depressed for a day or two, he came, hugged me, and just showered me with love and compassion.Last night, he came and hugged me, needing compassion and I held him. I hope I'm not keeping him tied to earth. My heart breaks for having lost him, but I feel very close to him now regardless. I wish I knew what really goes on.xoxoJaynee

My Day

Not much is doing here. I'm painting the frame on my newest finished painting. It turned out that yellow was the right color. I like the lattice stripping frames because they don't intrude on the paintings. Even though it hurts to stand for a long time, I'm still painting. I'm more forgetful because of the pain. I didn't go to Tai Chi or swimming this week because I was afraid of the pain. Both involve standing for an hour. However, I did go shopping three days in a row, and yesterday, I spent at least an hour at Penny's. I'd been looking for another quilt or coverlet for our bed. The pretty one we bought--turquoise to match the bed frame and walls--was dirty. Our cats, especially Moon, are big shedders. I wanted another quilt so I could change off and keep them clean. I wanted turquoise though and that was impossible to find. They had one online, and I probably should have stuck with that, but I finally found and bought one that's light blue-green. I can't think of the name of the color. I also bought two new sheets because ours are wearing out and they were on sale at both Penny's and Kohl's. The only store that's not nearby is Target, and Whole Foods for gourmet food. Every time I go to Philly, I'm very thankful we've moved to Delaware. Delaware is so much more livable. Anymore, I hate to be in Philly. Drivers honk if you make a turn, or pull into a parking spot because it slows them down. They honk if you don't rush into traffic the second the light turns green. And people run the red lights every time, usually long after it's turned. On city streets cars drive up to seventy miles an hour and people are surprised pedestrians are killed so often. At least once every couple of weeks, there is a hit and run of a child. I guess the adults aren't as newsworthy. A nun was run down about five months ago and no one was ever charged. Philly is changing. The nature of it is becoming meaner. xoxoJaynee

Mostly Cat Health & My Knee-Ruled Decisions

Susan G's husband gave me three copies of The Enquire. I love them (till I can't stand them anymore). So I guess I'll enjoy the mags(Entertainment).
I just woke up; I have to decide whether to go swimming. I want to go to Kohl's. Dear Hubby has a "thing" about the rain and I have a "thing" about the pain in my knee. Standing for an hour in the pool is painful. I'm using my cane to walk on dry land and it helps a lot. I guess that is my decision. I haven't done the exercises. I did the shoulder exercises while I was in the shower and just done my shower. That worked; this doesn't and that sucks. I have to figure out a way. I also have been eating bad stuff, such as a pepperoni roll for dinner last night. I cannot eat it again; it tasted lovely, but my weight scares me. I found out my wonderful trail mix, instead of being 140 calories for a bag, according to the print I previously ignored, is 420, supposedly it's to be shared by three people. That's likely.
I forget what else I ate--oh, yeah--we ate in Philly the night before. No wonder. I still have the seafood salad too. It was full of crab meat, scallops, and shrimp and good. I had half Dear Hubby's dessert too. Ugh.
Harry's been feeding the kittens every morning which is good. He likes them a lot and they return it. I feed them around dinnertime. They come up on the deck often when I paint and that's a lot. Autumn was just sitting on the top of my chair cleaning my hair. The mousse offended her. I had to hold her little hand to get her claws out of my forehead. She doesn't notice I have no fur on my face. I love when she fools around with my hair, but it's not a good idea to let her lick mousse. Not the cat who eats $23 dry cat food. I bought her two kinds yesterday. The $23 one, I forget, it might be Venison. I really need to switch her to Venison or Rabbit. She still has the little sore on her lip and that's an allergy sign. I might try Paul Newman's dry food because it has no wheat. I doubt she's allergic to chicken although I do want to try Venison for her. Or Rabbit. (Ugh) I spent a very late hour last night on here looking at dry cat foods. I am going today to compare prices of the Venison stuff with the food coop.
Well that's everything. I'm feeling guilty about swimming. I do stand the whole time when I paint, pain or not. What I really should do is put my leg up and relax (without eating). Tendenitis responds to rest. I think that's REALLY it.

Little Note on Ethnic & Racial Distrust

♠Not doing anything right now. Too tired to paint a frame. I think the abstract I’ve been working on is finished. I’m working on two others too. I had wanted to sell the landscape. I’d been offered money for it, but it wasn’t enough. Hopefully, later that will show up. My landscape page--at = is messed up and I guess I’ll fix it when I get off here. My website is old and I don’t update it often enough. I’ve sold work--a lot of work--from it, but what I like to do is paint and in the evening, watch movies. When I used to have a job (three days a week), I worked on that site and talked on line all the time. I guess I was starved for normal human contact. I worked in Civil Service with mostly South Philly politicians. Nuff said. I loved their spirit, but they thought I was from Pluto. After all, I’d gone to college and I was an artist, no less. I wore flip-flops during the day, my God! (My feet always hurt.) I had Lupus too and everyone knows anybody who can walk is not too sick to work like everybody else. Lupus had to be a put-on. Of course, they knew everything and there was no arguing. I still got a kick out of them. The only people who talked to me like another human being though, were my African-American colleagues. They were my favorites.
Actually, switching the subject a little, one of my co-workers passed away shortly after she retired. I’ll call her Brenida. I liked and had great respect for her. I’m somewhat psychic. Brenida kept appearing in my dreams. I was happy to see her, but something was wrong. I could see she didn’t really trust me. She was there for a purpose. When she showed me a picture of her husband, which looked like the young boy murdered down south for whistling at a white woman, I realized why she was contacting me. I called her girlfriend from work and told her Brenida was popping up in my dreams and I thought maybe Brenida wanted me to tell her she was okay. After that, Brenida never appeared again. I believe she had overwhelming dislike for people my color, and she had every right to feel that way, but I truly liked her, and I was sorry. I wanted her to be my friend and come visit. I wanted to know what Brenida thought and felt.
Thinking about Brenida, and then Obama, I believe people of my light color do not appreciate the resentment darker people feel. We don’t notice the little (and big) slights they receive. The fella I hope will be my son-in-law is of Mexican heritage. In the Southwest, he grew up feeling prejudice. One of my friends visited the other day and complained of the same weird responses sometimes. She’s of Filipino heritage (and beautiful). She thought it was her big breasts. Who knows? Surely not me. I know I got plenty of prejudice at work for being Jewish. A lot of people accepted me once they knew I didn’t fit the stereotype, but I was physically assaulted by another worker because of it. Most of the world is anti-semitic, especially with Israel being strong and fighting the Arabs. Of course, it’s not me. I think even the Israeli’s don’t know what to do, and I’m an American. Not that I don’t care about Israel. I read history. Ain’t too many countries who would take me and mine if this country gets totally crazy. You don’t think that could happen? Look at W and all he’s done and not done. One horrible strike and we’d be in the Dark Ages.
Well, that’s enough for me.
xoxo Painterjayne http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LnBhaW50ZXJqYXluZS5jb20=
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