It makes perfect sense if you think about it.

Mary Addison Hackett, "Pontiac," 2011, oil on linen on panel, 10 x 8 inches

Mary Addison Hackett, "Zombie Paintarm," oil on linen on panel, 10 x 8 inches

My work has always been diaristic at some level or another, be it the abstract paintings, the videos, or the blog. Self-portraits are the ultimate form of self-scrutiny. Just add paint. The studio tendrils are coming together again. I bought some large paper yesterday and gessoed 10 sheets. I'm excited. All I want to do is paint. I'm ignoring some of the obvious problems with this obsession to be in the studio non-stop— however, the great thing for me about being an artist is the seamless line where art and life come together. When I get whiney about having to do chores or work on the business side of things- I just need to remember these things are fodder for the paintings, and without my experiences I wouldn't have the work. Pontiac, above was taken from a mirror from the old Pontiac we had. The car was an engagement present from my dad to my mom. When they finally sold it, they kept one of the mirrors. I found it last summer in the garage. The abstract work is still going on but at a lower volume. Background noise. Kind of like the electrical hum of unknown origin here in the house. This is my life. 

There's been an interesting series on Nashville Public Radio called Transitioned, "stories of Tennesseans who are learning to survive and adapt to an uncertain marketplace, and an economy in flux." It's an engaging program. People of various professions, including a few creative professionals, have shared their stories about having to get second jobs or switch careers altogether in order to live the lifestyle they want or make ends meet.. Everyone has different priorities and different necessities. It's interesting to hear how people define themselves. There's lots of talk about leaving egos behind and breakthroughs that can occur when this is done. I think I left my ego in a two-car garage studio back in Culver City, California. The ego thing has given me pause on a few fronts, including why I chose to hide behind an alter ego to sell affordable work done in a style that I actually embrace. I have no cause for shame here. One of my peeps back in LA who played arm chair psych with me suggested I drop the alter ego, claim the paintings as my own, and work bigger—and if I was hard up for petty and not so petty cash I should just do T-shirts or graphic design. I'm slowing heeding portions of that advice. 

In 2 days, I will have been in Nashville for one complete year. I don't really know what to say about that other than it's been a milestone, for sure.

[*credit to Sherie' Franssen for the term, 'paintarm,' which I stole to use as part of my title in the Zombie Paintarm  painting above.] Here's what Sherie's paintarm does: 

Sherie' Franssen, "Blood Muscle Meat," oil on canvas, 78" x 78"