April 2017–I packed for the cold, wet rain, but this morning it is fresh, clear and sunny, about 60 degrees by the backyard thermometer. Extra leggings, socks, fleece, down jacket for the cold overnight. The first day we hiked the East side of the Pinnacles, where the campground is, site #65. Two caves, scary piles of huge boulders (earthquake zone) and waterfalls! I brought chili fixins, mostly made. I cooked it up on S’s stove and Art did his tortilla magic on his camp stove.
In the morning I got hurried out of my not-yet-awake complacency. Our hiking companion was packed and ready to go when I was just up and making coffee; knocked my bag and bed-roll over spilling Art’s raisin bran to the ground. Then, instead of sitting with my coffee and cereal and having a civilized morning repast, I rushed to pack up the stove and pot and spilled half the coffee on the table and bench. No real harm done–while Art packed up the tent I wandered off to decompress by the creek. Bonus, vanilla cappuccinos at the Supermercado in Hollister.
Discoveries: S. does not drink coffee; 1/2 the little jar is plenty for an overnight trip; the green and yellow percolator works great; S. smokes cigarets. Art does not want help with the tent. S rushes ahead, Art likes to wander and dawdle. I am somewhere in between. I love sitting in the car reading and writing, somewhat sad to Arrive.
I had a lens malfunction on Steve’s Canon–it is a signature, it is what I do. I switched out the batteries to see if it would reset–my iPhone battery is dead because I used it for light in the caves, as my flashlight was left in the tent–so no photographs today. The West entrance, perfect hiking weather and high puffy clouds.
What an amazing place! Pinnacles! So happy I came, so happy I brought so many comforts and necessaries. I don’t think we felt a drop of rain after we got into the park.
The trees are oxygenating, the sky is clear, the air cool. Everything is Green, with tiny flowers, and several species of TINY butterflies—a black and white! a checkerspot or fritillary, an off-white but similar to a blue. Not skippers, but that small.
Soledad, mucho comida, 3 PM and homeward.
To cultivate that fearlessness, watching PP set up the stage, while we continued to play–that obnoxious command of canvas, string, and poles!
To know what I want, and push every living thing aside! to get it. But not to be a total Ahole. That was my dream for 2011.
This should be my art blog! Aren’t the concerns much the same, for music or art? The need for fearlessness, the necessity of going vigorously after what you want?
Perhaps less chatting and more posting of process. A watercolor bouquet of three of five sunflowers Art brought me after Rick’s death, with the original sketch.
Well, how long has it been since I posted ANYTHING here? A very long time. Here is some recent stuff I have done.
A sketch of the moon, white and black Prismacolor pencils and white gel pen on 7×7″ sketchbook paper–January 12, 2018. A little too much snow up top.
Fat little bird, from a Christmas card, December 2017, pencil watercolor and glitter.
Eight months ago, I began almost exclusively using my brother’s laptop, a mac book Pro. I never used it for blogging, and I am not sure why not. I don’t know the password . . . haven’t even tried. Since this computer has a no-longer-supported operating system that I am loathe to change, for the most part I have kept it offline.
In January I began an online course, now on Day 143 of A Year to Clear What is Holding You Back, and have been emptying out my storage under the house, the crawl space, and the stuff from the shed that we tore down at the exact wrong moment–there were a couple cease and desist and emergency clean-up letters from the landlord’s lawyer, and Paul B, Ann and Art came and helped me clean up the yard–there is now a pile of wood debris that has been settling on the property line since mid-April, with no indication that it will ever be taken away, unless I do it.
I have a long list of stuff I have gotten rid of–I have made huge changes in my life-. A lot of big change in what I am now calling the studio- the rat-shit-garage framing shop, much cleaned, and updated. Art helped rearrange the tables and I brought in my red rug, gradually moving most of my art supplies from home. I have adjusted my view, spending more time there than when I thought of it as the Frame Shop, and the stink and dust was so bad.
Since I lost Steve, sold the shop–and moved my stuff here. Is that what it’s about?
Just did a big redo of the “Frame Shop”, or whatever it was. That dog never did hunt. Now it is a space, a few blocks from home, that I dedicate to leisure and puttering, but still had been avoiding . . . . why? Hunkering like a recluse in my little bed-sit. Never mind.
Jude wanted her stuff up front, so Art and I moved a big sideboard and some other heavy things. I was conscious of all her paint cans and milk crates of mysterious old stuff from previous people who used the space crammed in the corners and under the bench.
I have done some rearranging, finding projects and materials that just may come together in this little sunny space. The #1 change is my approach, experiencing process as it unfolds, instead of judging it, with trepidation, in advance. This may be at the root of my lack of “output”. There has been an avoidance of adding more “stuff” to my cluttered life, but in shutting down two storage spaces and giving almost everything away, I have come across enough unfinished panels and canvases, and unused materials, that I could paint for months without adding a molecule to the pile of stuff I have already. The plan is to transform the garage into my Painting Studio.