Every now and then I imagine I am homesteading. Then I imagine true homesteaders would be up in arms.

My tomato crop (4 plants) yielded two (2) super ass lame tomatoes. I'm almost embarrassed to call myself a Southerner. I killed a hydrangea and two gardenia plants from neglect. While bushwhacking I caught poison oak or ivy and am certain I transferred the urushiol onto the chin strap of my motorcycle helmet. I finally took the liner out yesterday and thoroughly washed it, dousing the chin strap in Tecnu®. Sap is covering my car because my studio is my garage. I would suck at true homesteading. I would also suck at bomb squad duty. I am rewiring a lamp. It looked easy enough until I got to the part where I'm supposed to tell the difference between the hot and the neutral wire. No can do. There are no ridges, and for the life of me they are the same color. I've been invited to a friend's studio tonight. There will be chili and everyone will be casually be working on their own thing. I'm bringing some watercolors to work on. I may break down and bring the lamp.

Until I install proper lighting, I have placed table lamps in strategic places in the studio. Cozy, yes, and I am only a handful of bulbs shy of having the entire house, inside and out, on energy saving bulbs. Yesterday, while at Lowe's®, I almost bought a shop light but couldn't figure out the difference between the $10 lamp and the $14 lamp. Normally, I'd opt for the obviously cheap one without further ado, but I asked the guy with the name tag and smart uniform what the difference was. He stated the obvious- four dollars. Aside from that, he said one took a larger bulb- another rather brilliant observation— and just in case I was totally blind, he pointed out that one had a black hood, and the other had a white hood. I dug a little deeper for the difference between the larger bulb and smaller bulb, but nope, no real difference. Sensing I was having a hard time making up my mind, he all but laughed and said he had the $10 lamp at home, and it worked just fine. He moved on. I am a label reader. I scoured the box for anything informative and noticed the black one had an electronic ballast and the white one, a magnetic ballast. Unfortunately there was no information stating what this really meant, and and I didn't want to suffer through an answer like, "one's electronic and the other isn't," so I walked back to the paint department to pick up my can of something-close-to-ceiling-white to touch up a patch on the bedroom ceiling. I don't mean to be hyper critical, but after googling the terms electronic ballast and magnetic ballast and immediately finding this, it seems a home improvement store might want to point out that the electronic ballast is more energy efficient and cost less to operate. Seriously. Lowe's get points for being less crowded, and having the cheaper unit, but it's twice as far of a drive as Home Depot®, so not sure where I will be buying my shop light. I do need better lighting in my studio though.

My lighting is all over the place.

My view every morning when I have coffee. Not sure about the warm lighting.

Ambient lighting in the studio. 

I think I am done with this one. Damn, that means it needs a title, pronto.

No, upon further inspection, I am not finished with it. I need to tweak the color behind the Shriner-Treeman and Fake Cousin Itt's hair. I am loathe to admit I concern myself with such pedestrian formalist matters, but I do. And for the record, that's not really a Shriner or Cousin Itt.

I am still working on this one, I think. If not, it was a really quick painting, and you know how I feel about those.

Happy Birthday Process!

Woo-hoo! An anniversary! October 10th, 2005, marked my first post. My initial intent was to document my process as an artist. No, that's not quite true. My intent was that the blog would serve as a document of the artwork I made as a result of that process, i.e., a picture blog with a few sentences posted under each finished painting or artwork, more or less briefly describing my thought process as it related to the work. A mini-statement, if you will. (A plan, I might add, that had I stuck with, would have bailed me out of the recent statement fiasco of 2010.) A mere twelve days later marked my first pity party post where I let my guard down: I had broken a toe while training for a marathon and received two rejection letters in one day. It was also in this post that I revealed, that on occasion, I have doubts and insecurities, and that as confident as I think I am, I do, in fact, relish questioning my capabilities and admit to being a sensitive artist. Five years later, I still like to question my capabilities and I am still a sensitive artist. But other than that, much has changed in five years.

Then: Lived and worked in Culver City, California
Now: Live and work in Nashville, Tennessee
Then: Worried a lot about if I would ever have another show.
Now: Worry a little about whether I will ever have another show.
Then: Obsessive and copious amount of works on paper, large paintings.
Now: Smaller paintings, prone to being obsessively detailed.
Then: Fear of impasto
Now: Love impasto
Then: Team Fang & Fife
Now: Otto
Then: Abstraction, Technicolor palette
Now: Landscape? Figures? Colors from Nature? Abstraction?
Then: Married, Adjunct Art Faculty
Now: Single, Speed reading, "What Color is Your Parachute?"

And so forth and so on. The blog still serves as an archive of what I was thinking or doing- who I was on a particular date. I don't revisit the posts except if I'm trying to remember something- like what events might have triggered a painting, or see what a painting looked like before it transmogrified before my very eyes.

Some other things have changed- some good, some difficult, some challenging. There's also a realization that life is short, and it's never too late. I should really hook up the nice stereo system and sell the uncomfortable sofa, soon.

The blog knows all.
Happy Birthday Process.

After I finish this post.

I am seconds away from downloading Anti-Social, essentially a firewall for social networking sites. I thrive on social networking and not just for the banter. I love seeing what other artists (okay, especially painters) are doing, and I love reading essays and reviews about art, (okay, especially painting) that prompt me think about ideas that are new and exciting, or simply ground me if I am lost.  Tricky, if I'm really working though, because all it takes it's a nanosecond of lag time for an application to open and I'll quickly sneak over to fb or twitter to hang out by the water cooler. Often it takes the whirring sound of my Activity Monitor to remind me I have Aperture or Photoshop needing my undivided attention for my original task at hand. Like now, for instance. I'm officially beginning my non-art side project of selling collectibles and vintage items on ebay. To call it non-art is convenient, but possibly untrue, because since reading Alan Kaprow's book, Essays on the Blurring of Art and Life, and my foray into documenting my life as art during grad school, everything is potentially art if I proceed to think about it in terms of art. This, of course, is distracting when all I'm trying to do is clear out the house and make a buck. As is facebook and twitter, which is why I'm downloading Anti-social, just as soon as I post this.

My show is going on it's 3rd week. I have the audio file of my artist talk where I reveal the secret of my universe. I have not had a chance to listen to it. I will post excerpts or perhaps the whole talk depending on how monotonous it is after it is transcribed. I am still hoping to distill a statement or at least an essay out of it. Um, never mind. Painfully inaudible.

Recently, an artist told me paintings of dogs sell. I laughed. Then I laughed again later when I realized it might actually be true.

"Overlooking the Clouds Sea (Fang Corners a Crow in the Backyard)

"

Meanwhile, I'm still hung up on trees and the quest for unadulterated abstraction.

Ta-da. I finished a watercolor sketchbook.

And it only took me 77 months. And the really pathetic thing is that since it was a Moleskine watercolor book, it only had 35 pages. It was specifically for plein air painting, but again, I am a cheat, so it also contained sketches of furniture, a lackluster hot dog, and even one, totally abstract painting I did to look busy at the only sidewalk art fair I will probably ever do, but never say never.  To be fair, I also had a smaller notebook which I used on trips. But overall, no, I did not do much watercolor sketching over the last 3 years. Pang of sadness when I came across the anniversary watercolors from a trip to Two Bunch Palms in 2007. One of the drawbacks of documenting your life as an artist- very few stones left unturned.

I have poison (ivy, sumac,or oak) again, and this time it's back with a vengeance. It's on my neck and throat. Don't ask. Just assume it's a jungle out there and I was on a kamikaze mission to bushwhack overgrown foliage. Obviously I think I know what poison ivy looks like, I googled it  twice this summer, yet I've had a mild reaction every time I've done yard work since moving here.  So here I sit, for all practical purposes, looking as though I wore a scarf made of poison ivy. Sadly, this obstinate trait, and possibly the allergy is inherited. My mother kept calamine lotion on hand and talked about getting poison (ivy, sumac or oak) whenever she did yard work. I bought a new bottle of calamine lotion. There was an unopened box of Burt's Bee's poison ivy soap in the cabinet.

I'm a little sad today, but I shouldn't be. I celebrated 6 years of sobriety today. My mom used to email on the 5th of every month telling me how proud she was of me, but then she forgot how to use email, so she would call. The last few months before she died, she forgot to call. A couple of close friends remembered and called to say hello. Later the Fed Ex truck arrived with a surprise box of chocolates and a note that said "Welcome Home Sweetheart," and congratulated me on my paintings and my show. I have a few amazing friends that I've had for a very long time. I shouldn't be sad, I hope I can be half as thoughtful to others as people have been to me.

Large Shrub by Street, 8" x 5," gouache on paper

I downloaded Google Earth. I have coordinates, which thanks to Carla, will be featured in the titles, or on the backs,  but will not be publishing these on the Interschnitzel. And once again, I'm inside, looking out or I suppose I could be outside looking in. Makes ya wonder.

My first real fall in almost 23 years.

I feel like I just fell off the turnip truck. It's like I've never seen bare trees, leaves fall, or afternoon sunlight through a cloudy sky. 

Tree, View from Utility Room, 8" x 5," watercolor and gouache on paper

It was chilly yesterday. I cheated and stayed inside for yesterday's plein air painting. I double cheated, because I worked some more on it today. A plein aire purist, I am not. I was simultaneously doing laundry. Below the shutters is my washer and dryer. My goal is to paint every tree in my yard. If I can figure out accurate GPS coordinates, I think I will title them by their GPS coordinates. In the likely event I lose interest in such an elaborate titling ruse, I'll just name them something obvious.

In case you were wondering, this blog is just my diary that I left on the bus or something.

It's fall! It's fall! Fall news alert: I have added tofu chili to the fall menu. I may have mentioned that left to my own devices, I am perfectly content eating the same thing over and over again. Case in point, my summer menu selection for dining at home:
Yogurt (vanilla or peach)
Banana
Pimento cheese
Hummus
Saltines
Tomato sandwich on white bread
Soy cheese sandwich
Once a week, (usually on Sunday) I cooked: vegan quiche, made from scratch.
Once a month I bought a nice frozen pizza.
I think I made a salad 3 or 4 times.

Prior to that my L.A. menu for almost 2 years consisted of the following:
Oatmeal with raisins, bananas, cranberries and soy milk
Baked potato with soy butter
Once a week (usually on Sunday) I might order a pizza.

Oh sure, I've sucked down a chess pie here and there, but otherwise, it's standard fare.
So, yes it's a big deal to introduce the tofu chili to the fall menu.
I still have an espresso at 2pm sharp every day.

I came across a blog called daily routines. I like routine. Routine and structure work for me.
Love this one on Mr. Rogers.

I worked on watercolors today- tweaked 2 of yesterday's, and started a new plein air. It was cold today. The garage studio is going to be a challenge this winter. The garage is not sealed tight nor insulated. One of the garage doors is damaged and has a gap between the panels, meaning open air access. I painted in the utility room, standing up, using the washer and dryer as my table.  I painted the view outside the window. It felt good to wake up and paint. It's been a while since I pulled out the watercolors. If I had an ideal studio space, and if the house were in perfect order, I would probably never put my brush down. Painting has become a seamless activity like eating or opening the refrigerator door when I think I'm hungry that I almost didn't even notice I had set up and started painting. I didn't want to put it down, but as I said yesterday, with watercolor, you have to pull out and either call it done or wait until it dries. Later, I was lazy and painted on the counter by the kitchen sink. Today was a good painting day. Works on paper, I have missed you.
I have a sneaky feeling I may use the cold as an excuse to paint inside this winter. I have 4 canvases working out in the garage studio, and I need to complete them. They're barely started.

Yesterday's plein air, reworked. Untitled tree, 8" x 5", watercolor and gouache on paper.  

I like trees. I'm not ready to title my plein air paintings, I'm going to jump on the affordable art bandwagon and offer my plein airs up for sale. email me with a bid.

Plein air Saturday afternoon. Gallery hopping Nashville evening.

From my favorite watercolor site, Handprint:
Instead I found that commercial plastic spaghetti containers, the kind available in many kitchen supply stores, make superb brush containers (shown at right is my preference, The Click Clack. Three or four cardboard cylinders (from toilet paper or paper towels) cut to the right length will hold the brushes upright, and no bug can ever get in. Pasta containers can hold almost any brush, even the leggy Winsor & Newton Series 7 #10's.

I spent one hour pacing the house looking for my watercolor brushes. The ones I use all the time. The nice ones. They were rolled up in in a bamboo mat. I was positive I had seen them and unpacked them within the last 3 months, but I have not done any watercolor since arriving, so I was racking my brain for where I had seen them last. I was prepared to take the plein air challenge and decided to ease into it again with watercolors, my plein air medium of choice.
Finally, leaving no stone unturned, I looked under a box of contractor bags in the dining room studio. Voilá.

I grabbed my canvas tote, sketchbook, paints and mason jar of water,  and picked a nice spot I had scoped out 1.5 hours earlier. I spent about an hour outside painting a treescape. A neighbor stopped by while walking her dog and said hello. I'll shave 15 minutes off painting time for convo and maybe another 5 minutes for set-up. I prefer to sit on a blanket and paint. I have a french half easel, but I prefer the blanket. I'll tweak the painting a bit more later. The thing with watercolor is you only have a small window of working time before you make it muddy or dull from overworking it. As soon as it's about halfway dry you have to cut your losses and pull out.

I went to the downtown art crawl this evening. Parking downtown is $10. That's a bit pricey if you ask me, but I just moved from a bankrupt state, so what do I know.

Whitney Wood Bailey at The Rymer Gallery

Whitney Wood Bailey at The Rymer Gallery

Carol Es at Tinney Contemporary

Carol Es and MJP

Inside the Arcade

Live painting in the Arcade

Sound Crawl 

Ron Buffington at Twist annex, curated by Jerry Dale McFadden

Mark Bradley-Shoup at Twist annex, curated by Jerry Dale McFadden

Joseph Lupo at Twist

A masked, Beth Gilmore at Twist

Once again, I surprised myself by stepping out, seeing some friendly faces and having a pleasant time. I need to figure out the parking thing though. I got used to free and easy parking for almost 10 years. Don't harsh my mellow, Nashville. I'm also riding my motorcycle for errands now, especially grocery shopping. Not too crazy about riding at night. Much darker here, and natch, I think no one here can drive. Twice I've seen a car veer into my lane and swerve back barely avoiding a head-on collision with me. I wish cell phones could be mysteriously sucked out of people's idiot little hands while they drive. Like maybe there's a sensor built into the steering wheel that will shoot a death ray beam to a cell phone when it senses the driver loses eye contact with the road. Just think about it. I'm sure it's feasible.

Mary Addison Hackett on The Front Yard

It seems like pulling weeds might be good therapy.

Oddly enough I am not depressed after this show. I am not elated, but I suppose I could see that coming a mile away. I've had to put on my self-promotion hat and honestly, I'd rather leave that to the professionals. Some things simply are what they are. I spent most of today pulling weeds, wielding electric hedge trimmers, getting gouged on motorcycle insurance, and looking for something called work. All the interesting job are internships for students. I hit the local college and university websites and found no teaching positions, save one for an Art Appreciation class. I hauntingly remember the chair of the department at my first teaching gig in L.A. telling me that teaching an Art Appreciation class is always a good skill to have. Kind of like the waitressing. There was a news production job at one of the local TV stations that I'm about 75% qualified for, based on my ancient film editing and post production experience, and I also saw a documentary editing gig with no pay. I mentioned this to my ex, who suggested I might take the gig to build up my editing chops again. But seriously, how many jobs with no pay can one work? And last by not least, I had to finally accept that the 2010 estate tax loophole blows. I've done due diligence and have placed some calls to the people in the know, but it's looking like a superfreakishly costly mistake for anyone of modest means who inherited property that was bought ions ago for a song. All because Congress was busy with other things. Not exactly a role model for the GTD set, and a bit nerve-racking since it means, as of now, I would not be able to sell the house and have enough cash to buy another home. Maybe in Detroit, but not here. Call me spoiled but I'm just trying to hang on to the American Dream while simultaenously being an artist.

I forgot about plein air painting until it was dark. I considered doing one in the dark, but didn't. Maybe I am a tad depressed. It's hard to motivate back in the studio, but I think that's mostly from obsessing about paperwork and work. It seems as if only yesterday I was promising myself to enjoy life. Matt sent me pictures of cuddly kittens to make me smile. Odd that it is my ex who can cheer me up.

A couple of openings are in Nashville this weekend.
Carol Es at Tinney Contemporary. "It is a psychological metaphor that encompasses the artist's separation from her family in the mid 1970s, and finally her parents deaths in the last 2 years. While the content is filled with personal memory, it is also fueled with humor, reverie, whimsy, and the colorful use of oil paint on canvas mixed with paper and meticulous embroidery work. In addition to the canvases, the exhibit also includes paintings on panel and drawings on paper."  I know Carol from L.A.


Not to beat a dead horse, but I keep wondering why there was no mention of death, loss and separation in my artist's statement or the press release. Maybe it was too morbid. I'm 99.9% certain I mentioned it over and over that's what the work was about, and although I didn't want to make a statement too personal, I'm fairly certain it would help the viewer. Somehow this only came out publicly at the artist talk. Communication is important to me. I can't believe I'm still having to craft my artist statement and the show is 1/4 over.

I'm a little slow getting back into the swing of things here.

On the other hand, that's what's so great about being back here. Slowness.

On the bright side, I was very happy to be supported by my L.A. artist friends and some familiar faces at the opening reception. I was also pleasantly surprised to meet someone at the artist talk who had been following my blog for a couple of years. (And just when I was about to go all radio silent.) The gallery recorded my talk, but I have no idea what I said. I sold a painting on opening night, which was an instant mood lifter. All in all, the trip ended pleasantly enough. Show ends October 31st. Huge thanks to my friends Sharon and then Matina for hosting me, and Meg for a great dinner around her abandoned pool. (Meg's pool is dry and makes a good dog run. I, as you may remember, have a small ecosystem.) It was so nice visiting with people. And again, a huge thanks to everyone who came out to the opening and the talk.

It was pretty much hot as f*ck the entire time I was in L.A., and in celebration of being 49 and a half, I bought a skimpy hippie chick dress  on sale, and threw all caution to the wind. No one noticed my mid-life, trampy hot, intellectual art babe look. Meanwhile back in Nashville, I'm digging out old cable knit sweaters and am certain the motorcycle boots will be part of my fall uniform. 

I am tired though, and  was so happy to sleep in my own bed, soak in my own bathtub, and have coffee in my favorite coffee mug while starring out my window. I even cranked up the gas logs today in the fireplace. Yep. It was slightly chilly this morning. I missed The Great Dust Motto. (Dust mop+ Otto= Dust Motto.) I picked him up today. Such a fluffy guy when he's all clean, and his paws no longer look like wookie feet. And thus, life on planet Nashville resumes. I am ready to embrace life here for a while: work, make more paintings, network and meet  with nice people, be open to change, clean house, make repairs, stare at trees, pull weeds, enjoy life. I keep getting inspired by LaRose's plein air paintings and want to do some and hawk them on ebay as well, but so far, I'm all talk. I fear I may have trouble separating my studio practice like that. Still, I am inspired. 

Fluid: Elusive Chapters from the Passage of Time, Vol. 2: Pools and Flowers

Fluid: Elusive Chapters from the Passage of Time, (Vol. 1: The Lost Months)

I anticipate getting installation shots before the show comes down using a real photographer or else I'm so fucked. These are grainy and wouldn't get me the time of day. There are more images from the weekend at my flickr site. The small wall does not photograph well by moi and I suppose I can safely say this work will probably not find it's way into a corporate lobby art collection. But who knows. It does look much better in person and up close. You might have figured that out.

The Lost Months: http://www.flickr.com/photos/mahackett/sets/72157624572078436
Pools and Flowers: http://www.flickr.com/photos/mahackett/sets/72157624435503885

A few people have asked if I will be showing in Nashville or in the vicinity. I need to start working the room, so to speak, and by room, I am referring to this side of the country.

Just between you me and the lamp post...

It's pleasant enough being back here, but honestly, I'm already to go home again. Apparently this means I have defined home. I also am at a small crossroad regarding blogging and facebook. Feeling a hibernation coming on. A retreat or withdrawal.  Made it to Steve Roden's show at the Armory today. Very good. Dental appointment followed by studio visit with Mark Dutcher tomorrow. My hostess has suggested I go to the Korean Day Spa. Perhaps I will. I did yoga this evening and fell asleep during shavasana. I rough hung the show this morning. Last night I had sushi with Matt.

9/25/10 Addendum: Bummed to have postponed my studio visit with Mark due to the dental appointment. My face was so numb my friend said I looked like I had botox and Bell's palsy. I'm still hungover from the anesthesia. Lesson learned: Never, EVER, miss the 6-month check-up again.

If you stick to your work it will take care of you somehow...Kiki Smith