Like many people, I’m working my way through “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up…” by Marie Kondo, also called the “KonMari” process. It’s about decluttering, and surrounding yourself only with things that bring you joy.
The process has been astonishing, and I’m still early in the process.
The following is this morning’s observation, which I shared elsewhere (in social media), but… well, you may enjoy this, too.
…
Clearing out, I keep stumbling onto things I’ll like but I know I’ll never use.
Or, an item that’s long past its “use by” date in the real world, but I’ve had the idea that “I might need this someday.”
Or, the reason I bought it…? Now, it’s LIGHT YEARS off my current and projected creative trajectory.
But, I’ll be honest. Letting go of the item is, on a small scale, kinda-sorta like a divorce.
The breakup itself can be difficult (or not), but the REALLY excruciating part is: letting go of the original dream.
You know… that “ooh, shiny” moment when I acquired whatever-it-is. The idea that it would be the coolest thing EVER, when I used it for… something. Often, that was some specific event or project that was part of an even larger, future vision.
And then, my life swerved in a different direction.
A direction that made more sense and turned out pretty darned cool, and I do NOT regret it.
But each new adventure on that path took me even further from the earlier vision.
So, a lot of the stuff I’m letting go of now… it was part of a rosy, “what if..?” dream. But that’s in the past.
Often, the swerve in my life happened for an external reason.
It’s WAY too easy to blame it on someone who really DID stand as an obstacle in my path, at that point. And he or she really WAS a jerk.
But, jerk or not, my life went in a different direction. And I had fun anyway.
Probably a LOT more fun than I might have had, on the previous path.
Still, some of this process is like a divorce. And it’s FAR to easy to want to hold onto that old dream (and that related, old grudge)… IF I let myself do that.
The process isn’t easy, but it’s healthy. And, by releasing those mini-anchors to the past, I’m allowing myself to move forward with less holding me back.
This is one of my favorite quotations about the importance of your art… expressing YOUR self in a way that is unique to you. Whether it’s through music, visual arts (including photography & coloring books), a garden that delights you, or a perfectly-tuned car engine… your expression is important.
(My current “art desk” is my bed. I have stacks of paper for drawing, plus a silverware drawer insert – $2 from IKEA, but you can find similar ones at Target, Walmart, etc. – filled with pens, pencils, paintbrushes, etc.)
Anyway, here’s what’s on my writing/computer desk and (at least partially) shown in the photo:
1. Computer (bearing a Honeydukes sticker from the Harry Potter shop at Universal Studios theme park), printer/scanner, and monitor.
2. One mic, plus one headset with its own mic.
3. Two pens, four thumb drives, a calculator, a portable hard drive, and a spare USB hub.
4. Two bottles of vits and a glass of water.
5. Lots of papers: My daily to-do notebook, and yellow, lined pad for notes. Notes from said yellow pad.
6. A printed page from my upcoming coloring book, still in progress.
7. Last but not least: A white mouse from IKEA.
(If you’re just desperate to see everything in detail, click on the photo for the 800 x 600 pixels version.)
Since I’m incredibly busy right now, it’s a minor miracle that my desk is this tidy.
I decided to post this since it’s kind of in line with “Real Professional Qualities,” my somewhat sarcastic article from Professional Quilter magazine, March 1986 issue.
If you know me in real life – and possibly even if you don’t – you probably know that I draw. And draw. And draw.
It’s something I’ve done all my life. I draw on shopping lists. I draw on church bulletins. I even draw in the margins of my Sudoku pages as I complete each puzzle.
So, when I saw an opportunity to share my drawings with others, I jumped on it.
I’m talking about coloring books.
This is kind of “how I spent my summer vacation.”
HOW THESE BOOKS STARTED
Since somewhere around the middle of July, I’ve been assembling my latest drawings and creating new ones for coloring books.
When I started out, I thought, “Sure, this looks easy.”
Boy oh boy, was I wrong. Coloring books…? Not so easy, after all.
Not if you’re a perfectionist like me, anyway.
I want every drawing to look “just so.”
I want every book to be available in right-handed and left-handed versions.
I want each book to be the perfect size for the illustrations. And so on.
I put together five coloring books (under another name, so not to embarrass my family) before I felt like I was finally getting the hang of this. (They weren’t awful books, but they weren’t up to my usual standards, either.)
Things I learned:
If my one-year-old granddaughter likes a design well enough to grab a crayon and start coloring it… it’s a good design.
Testing some of my designs with adults: some people like big lines. Others like fine lines. Some like big coloring areas. Some like super-intricate designs. And so on. It’s best to focus on books that will make many people happy, but expect criticism. And some one-star reviews.
I’m far more finicky about how my books look than the pre-press guy assembling them for publication. Sometimes, my requests drive him crazy. (In this case, that “pre-press guy” is my husband. He does this kind of work for a living.)
But finally (cue the drumroll), I have books to talk about. Each is for a different kind of coloring enthusiast.
My current favorite is a coloring book that fits in my purse. At 5 1/4″ x 8″, it’s just a little larger than a standard paperback book.
I had a lot of fun with this book, because I’ve been drawing these kinds of pictures since my early teens. They make me happy, and I’ve always liked coloring them myself. I hope you’ll feel the same way.
This coloring book offers a lot of variety… simple drawings (like on the cover), mandalas, and repeating patterns.
Some can be colored quickly. Others might take a few hours (depending on how many colors and how much detail you like).
Each design is printed on just one side of the page. (I still recommend putting a sheet of paper underneath the page you’re coloring, just in case the ink seeps through.)
My next coloring book was Bold and Easy Coloring Pages. It’s a collection of coloring designs with bigger-than-average coloring spaces and bolder-than-usual lines.
I created it when my daughter & I realized my granddaughter really liked easy-to-color pages.
Then, as we talked about it, we thought of other situations where bold, easy coloring pages might be really helpful.
Like when you really want to color in the middle of the night, but don’t want to turn on a bright light.
Or for people who don’t like to wear their reading glasses while they color.
And for use in therapy settings. And so on.
So, it became a book.
The very first “bold and easy” coloring book. And yes, I thought that phrase was funny. I still explained that it wasn’t a trashy book, it had bold lines and it was easy to color. LOL
And that’s what I’ve been working on this summer.
Here’s my coloring book info:
Looking for free coloring pages to download? Start here…
This is where I’ve explained how the freebies went away, and how they’re returning, starting with a free coloring page: Ready for Something Different…?
Since I use a lot of vintage images in my art, I’m always interested in early photos.
Lately, I’ve been especially intrigued by “selfies” from the 19th and early 20th centuries.
However, not all of them are genuine. It may be important to watch for that, especially if you’re careful with copyright issues.
One of my favorite selfies is (supposedly) dated around 1900.
It’s shown at the right.
The largest version I can find was posted by Sabine Niedola.
Frankly, the subject’s features look a lot like my own portraits from the 1980s. I’ve tried that kind of hairstyle and – even with ultra-thick hair – it turned out the same as hers.
So, I wasn’t alone with the “pouf” issue. (Yes, I know about “rats” – long, sausage-shaped supports hidden under the hair – for better-looking versions of this style. I just wasn’t that committed to the style.)
Note: Since I posted this, my friend David Locicero pointed out authenticity issues.
This may be a hoax or a cosplay photo.
Something looks a little like an electrical outlet, on the lower right side of the photo. I’m not certain it’s an outlet, but it might be. I don’t know enough about household hardware from the early 20th century, to be sure.
My bigger question is about the matted photos on the shelves. The double-matted pictures are more consistent with modern-day presentations.
In the past, someone who could afford that kind of matting would have framed the photos under glass.
There’s also the question of the light fixture (if that’s what it is) on the ceiling in the reflection. And, the high quality of the mirror reflection.
But, whether it’s an authentic photo or not, it’s not the earliest “selfie.”
The Earliest Selfie?
Robert Cornelius, self portrait, ca. 1839. Courtesy Library of Congress.
One in the running for “first selfie, ever” is a self-portrait by photographer Robert Cornelius.
He’s the dashing young man in the photo on the left.
The fashions are, of course, post-Regency, but I still see a little Colin Firth / Pride and Prejudice in that photo.
Ah, if time travel were possible…! (If he came through a time portal, like in Kate and Leopold, I’m sure many women would swoon.)
According to some, that’s his own photo from around 1839. Others simply say it’s the first actual portrait photo… taken by an unknown photographer.
It’s difficult to tell. Many websites give a nod to the Top 25 Most Ancient Historical Photographs as the source of Mr. Cornelius’ picture. That site says it’s a self-portrait.
Then there’s the Russian Grand Duchess Anastasia’s self-portrait, on the right, dating to 1913 or 1914.
The Daily Mail featured the picture in a really nice article.
I’d always hoped Anastasia had survived the attack on her family. Alas, DNA evidence suggests otherwise.
Nevertheless, I’m intrigued by the white blurry image in back of her. Online, that’s sparked some discussion with no firm conclusions. Very cool.
If you enjoy old self-portraits like these, visit Google or any search engine and look for “oldest selfies” and “earliest selfies.” You’ll find plenty.
Stage fright has been part of my life for as long as I can remember.
It’s very selective.
I’m fine in front of a crowd of thousands, especially in halls where the lights are on me and I can’t see the faces of anyone past the first row or two… and even they are too dark to see clearly.
Put me in front of an audience of 20 or 30 people, where I can see every face and every micro-reaction to what I’m saying…?
Panic.
Total panic.
I have to steel myself to even think about that kind of public speaking.
That’s why, when I teach, I have a firm rule: I need access to the classroom, in solitude, for at least 30 minutes before the students arrive. (Otherwise, I’m likely to blurt all kinds of things… usually extreme and unexpected. It can be confusing if you’re not ready for the panalopy of creative ideas that rush through my mind. The words can tumble out, sometimes a little scrambled, like high schoolers rushing to class before the “late” bell rings.)
During my personal pre-class time, I give myself a “pep talk,” and use breathing techniques that would make Dr. Lamaze proud, to relax myself enough to teach. With the right mindset – or at least mental distance from “not good enough” self-talk – I can teach a great class with lots of student involvement.
(Without exception, every class I’ve taught that fell flat… it’s because I wasn’t given that 30 minutes to prepare.)
Creating art can be a similar issue for me and many other people. We may not have that visible audience, but when the initial spark of inspiration fades, the voice of the inner critic can be worse than any heckler in the classroom.
(You know that student. She’s the one who sighs loudly and repeatedly. And, at the end of the class – when it’s too late to do anything about it -she tells you how deeply you’ve disappointed her, and how you really shouldn’t be teaching. Or making art. Or both.)
Regardless of where the message comes from, we’re often striving for impossible perfection… as artists and as teachers. The slightest shortfall or flaw seems magnified on a big screen and in HD, and every metaphorical pore and blemish is the size of the Grand Canyon.
In fact, we’re often our very worst critics. We hold ourselves up to impossible standards, and we’re usually using the wrong measuring stick.
Last night, I was disgruntled. I’ve been working on a series of small (5″ x 7″) oil paintings, based on memory and photos I’ve taken.
Unfortunately, the results are – so far – uninspired. (I’ll get back to that in a minute.)
Click to download the ATC file. (Original is 5″ x 8″.)
So, I took out my pen and paper, and started doodling one of my Pandorica-inspired pieces. (The Pandorica is a Dr. Who story element.)
I was so caught up in it, I let it run to the edge of the page. And then, I felt so disappointed, because that meant the piece would require an additional, larger support, just to be matted.
This morning, my husband pointed out that it’s a perfectly good work of art, as it is, and there are worse things than needing something in back of the work so it mats well.
He also reminded me that art is about the inspiration.
That gets me back to my paintings… the ones that aren’t turning out.
I said that they aren’t inspired, and I mean exactly that: I’m working on them, production-style. By definition, that’s an industrial approach. (Yes, I am reading Seth Godin’s The Icarus Deception. It’s brilliant, inspiring, and terrifying, all at the same time.)
So, I went back to my Pandorica doodles. I’m waiting for this evening’s sunset, hoping the colors will be inspiring enough to spark (and complete) some or all of the six little paintings currently on my easel.
I want to take them with me to M.I.T. next week, when we’re hearing Seth Godin speak and participating in whatever’s going on at that event. I’d like to hand out art, at random, as a random acts of kindness gesture. In other words, just for fun.
But… I feel a little stuck. And, I’ve been trying to work with a deadline more than inspiration. Bad idea.
It’s compounded by my fear of disapproval, or – worse – no reaction at all. Boredom. Kind of a “What, you think you’re an artist…?” reaction, as they drop the art in the trash. (Have I mentioned how well I can awfulize when I’m in this mode…? *chuckle and sigh*)
Okay. I’m not sure if this is more stage fright or the visual equivalent of writer’s block.
Either way, it’s putting the emphasis on the finished work and others’ opinions – even their potential opinions, if it’s work I haven’t shown anyone – instead of where it belongs, on the inspiration, and the creative expression that results.
But, what I’m describing in angst-laden terms is how we, as artists, make ourselves tiny and insignificant. And, it’s why we often stall and lose precious time in which we might be making art.
It’s a toxic, all-or-nothing approach. It’s so far from being in flow – in the creative process where we’re in touch with the sublime – we couldn’t find it with a road map, a compass, and a laser-tuned GPS.
The teaching…? I’ve become more selective. I decided not to be part of events where profits are more important than the quality of the courses offered to students. (One of my favorite events is still Dragon Con, though you may not think of that as an arts event, per se.)
The art…? That’s another matter. Recovering my willingness to be creative, out loud… that’s why I changed this website back into the blog it was in the first place, back in 1995 or 1996, when I began it.
And, it’s why I’m staring down virtual stage fright, posting last night’s Pandorica piece here, as a graphic and as an ATC you can download (and print at 300 dpi).
Click on the illustration, above and on the left, to print your own copy. Or just click on this link.
When I’m not working on art, I’m usually researching and writing books… mostly fiction, but some true-life stories, as well.
So, I was excited when I saw someone talk about journaling as a way to plot a book.
(This concept was sparked by an article – now gone – called RJ’s Guide on Creating a Story Bible. You can read a similar piece at Jane Friedman’s site, “The Story Bible: What It Is…“)
What’s a story bible? Well, it’s a notebook (or some other system) where you keep your ideas for your book:
Locations
Characters
Background information, like history (real or imagined)
Plot ideas
Plot twists
Sequel ideas, if you might make this into a book series
There’s something rich and juicy about using pen-and-paper as much as possible, when writing.
Often, by using a journal as a story bible – mixing writing & graphics – my books seem to write themselves.
Oh, I’m still writing my books in Scrivener. For me, that’s the easiest way to create Kindle books and printed manuscripts. (I also use voice recognition software, so I don’t have to type anything, if I don’t want to. That’s a time-saver and avoids carpal tunnel issues.)
But the idea of using a journal – written and visual (art journaling) – plan a short story or novel… I really like this.
Let me know if you try it, and any tips you have for fellow artsy writers. Leave a comment – or question – below.
This year, we chose some real, alternative Christmas tree options.
We had two trees in our living room. (I’ve always preferred to have more than one tree for the holiday season.)
One “tree” was actually a bunch of small branches, arranged in a large glass jar, so they looked like a small Christmas tree. I’d picked up those branches at a nearby Christmas tree lot, where they had a stack of extra, odd-shaped branches in a pile to go to the trash.
We decorated that arrangement with all the normal Christmas-y things, including a lot of small, sparkly, multicolored ball-type ornaments. The size suited the small scale of the tree design.
To visitors, it looked like a normal, small (2 – 3 foot tall) Christmas tree. We liked re-purposing discarded branches to create it. It felt very “green,” on several levels.
Our “Charlie Brown” Tree
Our other tree involved some serendipity.
I was out for a walk, and noticed a wonderful, large branch by the side of the road. It was about four feet tall, and I think it had been pruned from someone’s pine tree.
I brought it home and found a really large, gold, globe-type ornament to hang on it.
(It drooped, naturally. It’s the way the branch had curved on the original tree… it’s not sagging or anything.)
The effect was almost exactly like the little tree in the Charlie Brown Christmas Special.
I propped it against the wall, in a shallow bowl of water. It lost absolutely no needles during the holidays, and it’s still pretty soft & flexible, now.
This afternoon, I’m taking this little tree and our jar of branches to the nearby woods, so the branches return to nature.
These were among my favorite Christmas trees ever, and no trees were killed (or money spent) to enjoy them in our home.
I think this is the beginning of a tradition in our home, and it just sort of happened this year, because I wanted a couple of small trees that fit the size of our apartment.
Yes, this site is resuming its original purpose, as an online diary. After all, that’s where this all started, back around 1995 before the word “blog” was even in use.
On previous viewings, I just couldn’t seem to find a single, illuminated, happy childhood memory. I could look at times when I was generally happy. I could recall incidents in which I started out happy, but they ended Very Badly. (Like the time I went out with my little notebook, deciding to be a poet. And, lost in thought, a few blocks from home, I was attacked by a dog. Seriously.)
But… a single, early, happy memory…? Nope. I kept coming up with nothing. It was kind of depressing.
After that, I watched Simon Sinek’s TED talk. That added even more clarity to the process.
That’s when I took out a lined, yellow pad of paper. It’s what I like to journal on, when I just need to write and vent, and write some more.
I started writing down every happy childhood memory I could think of. And, along the way, I remembered my grandfather showing me how striking one tuning fork could make another one hum. It was a moment of awe, mystery, and delight.
I remember sitting at the back row of the movie theatre with my mother, watching Fantasia for the third or fifth or eighth time, and getting caught up in the fantasy and magic of it. (Mum was sketching ideas for her upcoming Fantasyland board game design.)
I uncovered several more, happy memories, and I found myself writing:
“Wonderful, magical things are everywhere, if you just look for them… and believe.”
Then I wrote:
“Magic and delight as a path, not a destination.”
Wow. That was absolutely illuminating.
I thought about magic — Disney magic, that is — and how it influenced my childhood and my adult life. I thought about faith: the belief and trust in things unseen. I thought about optimism and happiness, and how important that is.
And, I realized that I was pretty far off-course.
Mr. Sinek talks about one “why”… one thing that connects everything that gives your life meaning… everything you do, and love. Mine is about creativity, personal magic & delight, and miracles and beauty.
When I look at what I enjoy most, and what I want to share with others, it all comes down to that. Everything else is just noise. It takes me off my path.
I made a list of the things that can restore that happy, wonder-full vision of life… visual cues, music, books and movies, and even fragrances, that remind me of childlike delight and fantasy.
Along the way, I found myself getting a little sniffly. It’s like I found something that’s been lost (and badly missed), for years.
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Like many people, I’m working my way through “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up…” by Marie Kondo, also called the “KonMari” process. It’s about decluttering, and surrounding yourself only with things that bring you joy.
Stage fright has been part of my life for as long as I can remember.
So, I was excited when I saw someone talk about journaling as a way to plot a book.
I was out for a walk, and noticed a wonderful, large branch by the side of the road. It was about four feet tall, and I think it had been pruned from someone’s pine tree.
Yes, this site is resuming its original purpose, as an online diary. After all, that’s where this all started, back around 1995 before the word “blog” was even in use.