Even though I knew this, somehow seeing it in writing is disturbing.

Due to severe budget cuts to the California Community Colleges, Ms. Hackett’s teaching assignment at El Camino was terminated effective fall 2009.

***
On the bright side, the art consulting firm that commissioned the recent project loved the painting and approved the shipping & packing fees I inadvertently omitted.

Game face on, people. Game face on.

Another day, another attempt at orderly conduct.

Non sequitur: Yesterday I was talking to an artist I don't know that well, but at some point they assessed me as being polite. I have conflicted feelings about being referred to as polite. One- of course I am, and two- I'll scorch the earth we walk on within 2 seconds flat if I need to make a point. Nothing personal, I'm an Aries.

****

The studio is being taken over by a large painting for a corporate client. I have no shame. It's money. Money is good. Mondrian painted flowers for money. Plus, if I were to suddenly be like, "Hey, I'm working on this large painting, y'all, and it's so much fun painting large again, and I'm like all in love with those big brushstrokes and they're rocking my world again," you might wonder what happened to me swearing off large painting. So I tell you up front, I'm being paid to paint. We'll let it go at that. It would be better if there were a waiting list for my large paintings and THAT was why I was being paid to paint. (Anything is possible.) But it is without shame, that I report I love to paint and I consider myself lucky to be paid to do so with a certain amount of freedom. Plus I have this split-brain mentality that I'm able to successfully engage when working on this kind of work and it makes it all very factory-like. Timers, time-sheets, grids. It's all very organized. Eureka, it's Design! Gasp!

Lollygagging for a day.

I spent the day lollygagging and shooting the breeze. Most of it was pleasant, though there was one unsettling occurrence. That’s the best word I can come up with for now. Nothing tragic or seriously disturbing, just odd. Not quite square peg in a round hole kind of odd, but odd enough that I’m still obsessing on how odd and I still don’t know what to make of it. Art World politics and decorum are not my strong suit, and possibly because of this, I try to be peripheral. I know it must sound strange to want to be marginal in a place where everyone is hoping to stand out and be #1, but when all is said and done, I’d rather be content with what I’ve done, rather than worrying about what other people thought or what kind of mark I should have been making. Not very playerish of me to fes that. I have no idea what it would be like NOT to have art be such a major part or THE focus of my life, (Well actually I do, there was a period where martinis and manhattans were a major focus, but I digress.) and yet, on occasion, I've been able to have meaningful conversations with a few select people about something other than art.

I so need a vacation. [refrain]

Yesterday was the last day of the semester. Yay! Tough 6 weeks, but they pulled through. I still have to calculate grades, hence today’s agenda of lollygagging. I did however spend time answering a former student’s email and was quite touched by the fact that he had sought out my response to a project he did for a design class he just completed. I won’t go into detail, but apparently he had caught quite a bit of flack from some “left-brain engineers” as he politely put it, about his choices, both conceptually and aesthetically, and he wanted to know my opinion. He sent me a jpeg, outlined the project and told me his rationale for what he did. I was happy to reply.

Usually I wait until the end of the semester to show images of my work. This semester, I did not offer that up at all. It seemed like a lost cause. I had a student this semester who told me she couldn’t see the still life because she had gotten tired and decided to draw slumped over with her head propped up on her elbow. A vortex of apathy, I tell you.

I so need a vacation. [refrain]

I have an appointment with the divorce lawyer next week. I cannot believe how long I’ve dragged this out due to mere procrastination. I have let moss grow on that part of my life. Change must be the answer.

I so need a vacation. [refrain]

Oh and I hate to spoil this, but if you’re hooked on "The Wire" and have not finished the series, turn away now.

Omar is dead. I thought I would be way more crushed when it happened. Of course I knew it was coming, and there was even a moment of foreshadowing that made it obvious how it would play out, but still, I imagined I’d feel the same way I did when Wild Bill got offed in Deadwood. I swore I wouldn’t continue watching the series. I did of course. And even when they show Omar in a body bag in the morgue, I had a moment of suspended disbelief in hopes his eyes would open and he'd wake up, only to realize it was “The Wire” after all, not “Lost” or “3o Days of Night.”

I so need a vacation. [refrain]

8 days worth of things.

I don’t consider myself a compulsive blogger, but on the other hand, it’s like checking the mail, it’s just something I feel obligated to do every day even when I know for a fact that Thursday is junk mail day. That said, I refrain from telling you how often I brush my teeth, or how there were maggots in my kitchen compost bin. I try; TRY to keep it roughly centered on art and the next concentric circle or two out from that, but sometimes I wonder how many posts about picking up a paintbrush and gushing about how much I love my new work people care to read about.

Today:
Today is the next to last day of the intensive drawing session. Their final project is a modern day vanitas or self-portrait using meaningful objects. The students that did their research felt that vanitas were really depressing. I felt it rather depressing that for 90% of my class, iPods were meaningful. Actually the depressing part was that technology is so cold and yet they were trying to represent their love of music or family by using technological things. (Note: STBX had my 2nd gen iPod etched with a few lines of our marriage vows, so I’m able to comprehend a connection between sentimentality and technology, lest you think I’m a some kind of Luddite.)

Yesterday:
I called my mom (affectionately referred to as Maryadd Sr.) to wish her a Happy Birthday. 86 years on this planet. She'd kill me if she knew I publicized that.

Showed up a couple hours early to begin grading portfolios before class. Forgot to bring sweater. The tuner or amp is finally shot to hell- every station was static. I played Stan Getz, Boards of Canada and Calexico on my laptop. Came home, made pasta with sundried tomatoes. No movies at home, too tired to read, decided to turn on TV. Can’t believe I’m going to say this in public, I stared at The Bachelorette. I spent most of the time noticing the guy’s shoes. Thank God she picked the guy who wore black shoes. The guy who wore white shoes would have cheated on her. I’m certain. Note to the pointy brown shoe guy- sorry, dude, but nice abs do not make up for pointy brown shoes. I felt they milked the sunset filter just a bit much and I couldn’t believe the dialogue for the entire show was various renditions of, “I have to make a decision. I really love him/her. I think I’ve made the right decision. This is so hard.” Went to bed early. Decided that a television set could replace a skull in a vanitas still life.

Monday.
Went in early for office hours. Being the last week of school, I'm slightly concerned about job/teaching situation and the bigger picture of job searching and where to focus my energy for freelance or perma-part-time work. Saw message on cell phone from Kristi and heard that I may have sold a painting. Felt somewhat better. Had dinner with a friend at my new favorite and way too convenient dining spot, Green Peas. Stayed up late.

Sunday:
Attended opening of group show at The Attic, a new space in the attic of an artist, Cherie Benner Davis' home. I knew several people in the show. Nice show. For some reason, several people kept assuming I was in the show. It was nice to run into people I knew. Since I don't get out much, I'm always amazed that when I do go out, I usually run into people I know. Maybe there's a mathematical theory for this phenomena. Lovely digs and studio space filled with natrual light. I’m wondering what effect working in natural light would have on my work.

Saturday, Friday, Thursday and Wednesday: Bunch of paper, office work. Sometime in here, I had my motorcycle seat reupholstered and stopped by Kinkead Contemporary to have a portrait taken of the motorcycle and me by Heather Cantrell. I'm going to order a small one for my mom for her birthday. It's what every mother needs- a art-house portrait of their daughter posed on a motorcycle. The small ones are an edition of 10 and are priced at $100.*
* I think this is what the small photographs are going for. I can't get over there to purchase until the weekend, so not 100% positive yet.

I painted during this time, but like I said, I'm feeling a little self-conscious about droning on about the act of painting right now. Maybe later.

I'm taking a break.

I'm such a liar. I said I would speak no more about a certain stack of papyrus pertaining to the dissolution of a certain set of promises, but here I am telling you once again that I have not completed my paperwork. I reconciled 3 months of bank statements and credit card statements, which was a step in the right direction. Hence THE BREAK, I am now taking. Earlier, I spent a few minutes in the studio working on a painting. I'm really amazed at myself now. You should be too.

Once upon a time, I would have scoffed at the idea that I could accomplish ANYTHING in the studio in less than a 3-hour time slot. Then one night when I was feeling sluggo, I bribed myself to work at least 1 hour in the studio even if I did not feel like it and found myself working at least 2 or more hours. So, here's the amazing part, and it has to do with the small paintings- I, who in a previous life would have dismissed anything less than a 3-hour time slot in the studio as negligible, have been able to walk in and make a few meaningful strokes on a canvas in the amount of time it would take me to open and sort the mail. This includes washing my brushes. Occasionally it includes putting caps back on paints, but not really. Which is all to say that I have accepted the oddity of making marks in the space in-between. And I do love the concept of between and all the things that happen there, so it's perfect. Ah, fodder.

And on the workshop... Cheryl who hosted it at her academy made sure the experience was lovely. Coffee and pastries to start, (lunch for me from a near-by vegan joint) and at end of day she served wine, and for us non-drinkers, some bubbly coca-cola. In between the food and drink, I was on conveyor belt. It was a great time, but 12 students was a couple too many to work with one-on-one. I have a good idea of how to tweak it next time, which includes being specific about realistic expectations for all involved, cutting the session short to chill out and relax while we evaluate everyone's painting in a group setting, and possibly suggesting a size limit on canvases for a 1-day workshop. Some students thought they would finish a painting in 6 hours and nearly everyone was exhausted. Many said they had never painted that long or hard and by 5 pm, some still had a long ways to go before a solid painting would emerge. A few played it safe and did what they knew best with regard to abstract painting and a few tried really hard to mimic the process as I described it. Twice I felt the need to warn everyone that at the end of the day, although their paintings might look like a disaster, it was a good starting point and not to give up.

I'm not sure I would pay good money to take a workshop from someone who said that, but then again, I wake up and live by that code, so I don't have to. Perhaps I made abstract painting seem too grueling. And no, the paintings didn't look disastrous, but seriously, 6 hours was a starting point. The good thing is that as everyone was packing up, I could see the next step for all of them. We'll see where it goes from here. I liked conducting a workshop. Lots of good energy and I felt useful. Good ole Protestant Work Ethic at work.

"Disaappointment in love, where the character is amiable, gives a pathetic interest to woman or man..."

Another one bites the dust.

I have in my possession and intend on actually reading, a book titled, "English Portrait Miniatures." Meanwhile, I've only had the time to pick it up and randomly open to a page, which is how today's post title came into being.

From what I've gathered, a portrait miniaturist by the name of Cross suffered a stroke of "temporal misfortune" during the 1790's. Although he was born a "deaf-mute," he had an aptitude for art and was a successful and prolific worker until he either took ill or went on holiday, at which point his production dropped quite drastically. Furthermore, Mr. Cross was totally dissed and rejected by the woman he was in love with, who natch, being the 1790's and all, was also his cousin. He proposed, she rejected and he withdrew from society. It gets better. He harbors a ton of anger all his life, they run into each other 30 years later, she's looking rather ill and sickly, or "broken and dying," as the author would have it, and all his anger washes away and he's totally in love with her again. They part, I assume she expires, and I have no idea what happened next.

Such is the life of a one, Richard Cross, miniature portrait painter.

Let us all live and learn by this.

***

I'm teaching an abstract painting workshop tomorrow. 12 people have signed up. It should be fun, though I readily admit, "teaching" abstract painting is a mystery to me. I prefer to think of it as showing people how process-based paintings begin and evolve, according to me. I believe it quite impossible to make any painting, but especially an abstract one, without some sort of personal vision or mission to communicate something, so teaching techniques without knowing what people are interested in, is like only half the deal. I suppose it's like teaching writing, by giving people a dictionary, which now suddenly sounds like a splendid idea and I think I shall capitalize on that next. Meanwhile, maybe I'll ask everyone what they're interested in before I start wowing them pretending like I know what I'm doing with my artillery of techniques paints and brushes and coffee spills. I didn't decide to be an abstract painter. I think abstractly and work my way back to actuality and the concrete during the process of painting. I'm not sure how to do it in reverse.

I had another studio visit today and showed off some of the new ones on linen. I think it was a good visit. I've stopped being able to read people anymore, but I think it was good overall. I got some pointers: Be more social. Go to openings. Meet people.
Stop being so lazy and complacent. I'm paraphrasing of course.

Oh, and I need more paying work. Couch, cough, like a permanent part-time job that pays really well. Ideally one that I've designed. Still brainstorming on that small detail.

Addendum: Whenever I have left a rather hasty post, I re-read my post to make sure I wasn't spouting off nonsense, and since I am not a publication with any sort of ethical standard, I reserve the right to correct or delete things said in haste. Blogging, to a certain degree is about haste. I haven't yet pre-written any posts and pasted them in, though don't put that past me either.

That said, I came across a couple of sentences where I, the "I" was having trouble defining the gap between appearing knowledgeable about what I do versus pretending to be clueless and way more humble than I am. Note the strikeout phrases. Somewhere between those two strikeouts is the truth. At certain times, I do feel like I have the ability to amaze, and that painting IS like pulling a rabbit out of a hat. On the other hand, I pretend every day that I know what I'm doing. And after a few or more years of pretending every day that I know what I'm doing and maybe I don't pretend anymore, but in my studio, I never assume they'll win. It's a game in there (the studio) and I need to be sharp, but not so sharp that I have it all figured out before I walk in the door. Which brings me to my "artillery of techniques." It seemed a tad less trite than "bag of tricks" and far more economical than listing any and everything I have used in order to get paint onto a surface.

Regarding the studio visit. I must have been feeling sad at end of day, because it was a very good visit. My self-described laziness and complacency does need to be worked on, both socially and in regard to goals. At the end of the day, give me a book and a bowl of cherries or "The Wire" and a bowl of popcorn and a furry creature at my feet (or at my side) and I'm content. However, I don't think that defines social and so having the good fortune to live in the smack center of an art world proper, I need to get out more.

I'm slow on bouncing back during this D thing, and I wasn't particularly extroverted before.

I may as well have re-written the post, no?

Drawing takes time.

My students did, for the most part, a kick-ass job on their value project. I'll be grading mid-term portfolios Monday and Tuesday, but by end of class yesterday, their approximately 7 to 8-hour drawing of a sphere, a cone, a box and some metal thing, under dramatic lighting looked very good. I used to be of the belief that anyone's drawing will look spectacular after 8 hours. I have discovered this is not true, but that's okay, an 8-hour drawing is still admirable no matter how awkward it is. The student above works quickly and had an excellent drawing by the end of the first day, yet she managed to put another 3 hours in on the second day. It shows.

THE LAT DAY OF SPRING SEMESTER. Effing A!

Student work from the color theory part of the Drawing Fundamentals class I taught this semester. (Lest anyone think I jumped ship and walked over to the dark side of representational painting.)













The beginning drawing curriculum calls for 12 hours of color theory. Some sections don't feel the need to teach color theory since students have other opportunities to pick up the basics (Beginning Design, Intro to Painting, Color Theory, to name a few) but big surprise, I love color and wet media, so of course, I'm going to teach it. This semester, I accidentally may have snuck in a a few more hours and justified it as value, composition or aerial/atmospheric perspective. I promise, it was an accident. I wasn't being subversive.

To keep me on my toes, I switch the media every semester or so, but it's either watercolor, gouache, color pencil or pastels. Natch, I prefer watercolor, but I'm leaning toward gouache and I've concluded it's easier to teach beginning drawing students who have no experience with paint whatsoever, how to paint AND demonstrate color skills in a mere 12 hours, more successfully with gouache rather than with watercolor. I thought watercolor would be easiest since I've been working with watercolor for about 30 years, but I've decided there are too many nuances to learn on top of the basics, and with only 12 hours to devote to color and a new media, I've settled on gouache.

After the obligatory color wheel, they painted a monochromatic still life. Next, we went outside and had a 5-hour plein air session of campus surroundings. Then for their final project, I let them choose their own props, arrange their own compositions (though I offered suggestions, where warranted) and basically let them do their own thing. I thought most of them did an excellent job of pulling all their drawing skills together, implementing successful paint handing AND depicting local color and values. Plus, a couple of them want to take some painting classes. I'm very proud of this class.

Oh right, did I mention the California budget cuts? I'm without a class beginning fall semester. If you know of anyone who's hiring, let me know.

GRRRR.

In lieu of venting about state budget cuts and how pissed off I am for being so flexible with my class scheduling for the last 7 years that I let myself be scheduled into an apparently provisional Saturday class that was cancelled, I'll just tell you that sulking in a double soy cappuccino at Pete's, plus a motorcycle ride home along the Pac Coast Hwy lifted my spirits ever so slightly.

I'm beat.

...as in tired. I haven't been on the bike much lately. I've been out of town a lot and it hasn't been under the most pleasant of circumstances. I'm looking forward to staying in the same time zone for more than a month...after next weekend. I go back to Nashville next weekend, but that's another post.

I meet a group of like-minded individuals who ride motorcycles every Sunday, and 4 out of 5 Sunday's, I ride my bike to meet up. Other than that, it's mostly been little short trips to run errands or catch a show or lecture. I haven't commuted to school on the bike once this semester. Today some of us rode up the Mulholland Hwy. to hang out in the backyard of a friend of a friend's B & B, The Knucklehead Inn. Quite lovely and beautiful scenery. And although it would be a decadent get-away for me to hole up in a B & B a mere 40 miles down the road, it's totally a possibility if I need a quick retreat.

It was gorgeous day full of traffic. Nary a pocket of unoccupied asphalt the whole ride home. Which is to say, I was lane-splitting and on the clutch the entire time. Which is to say, I was tired when I got home. Good tired. Which is to say it proved a successful procrastination tactic in avoiding the tiresome divorce paperwork required by the state of California.

So today, I am doing nothing. Tomorrow, I have much to do:

1. Drop off painting for the Venice Art Walk and Silent Auction. I was hoping to drop off a larger painting from '07, but found out there was a size limit, so instead, I will be donating one of the new small paintings, titled, Shelter from The Storm.
   
2. Look for additional work. I'm crossing my finger that I may have a class at Riverside Community College. It's a haul, but it's a nice department & if I'm really lucky there will be a watercolor class to teach.
   
3. Figure out how to manage 3 large crated paintings in a city 2000 miles away that are now at another artist's studio when ideally they should have been shipped back here on someone else's dime.
4. Figure out how to sell a motorcycle that is in a city 2000 miles away and whose battery is dead.
   
5. Go to the bank. Cash the Traveller's Checks I was holding onto in case all hell broke loose.
   
6. Write large checks to people who want money for doing things like accounting and legal stuff.
   
7. Run.
   
8. Write out the syllabus for the summer Drawing Class.
9. Stretch 5 more canvases.
   
10. Figure out my net worth and itemize my possessions as required by the State of California.
    
11. Spend some quality time with Fang.
12. Be grateful.

A good omen.

Yes. Got the class.

How things happen-

Shortly after moving to LA, I quit/left/abandoned/was no longer needed in the high stakes world of commercial film editing. Not having painted in about 7 years, I decided to fritter away 6 months of savings and dive back into painting. After 6 months of being in the studio, I also resumed my slightly non-existent search for teaching positions. (After grad school, I had my proverbial résumé foot walking toward two doors, commercial post-production and academia. The world of post-production hired me first and that was that.) Moving along then, after I left post-production, people with nothing better to do than ask stupid questions would ask me why I left commercial film editing to teach part-time at a community college, since it was assumed my pay would be minuscule compared to the pot of gold and endless rainbows in the post-production world. (Sorry, that was a tangential rant having nothing to do with the story.) I digress. Anyway...

Yawn. I know, like what does this have to do with today? My second studio in LA was in Mar Vista and housed about 10 other artists' studios. And in that studio was a woman who is a classically trained painter, who now runs her own art academy here in LA. And it just so happens that as a classically trained painter, she was looking for an abstract painter to teach an on-going abstract painting class founded on a historical approach to abstract painting. And since I am now a hustler of money and culture, I talked to Cheryl this afternoon and voilá, got the gig. The space is wonderful and I'm thrilled to be working with her. And ding ding ding, it's 2.7 miles from my house, aka 7 minutes, which in LA is a HUGE coup. My work is pretty much the antithesis of her work, and she seems to be thrilled about that as well. (I always think it's funny when people who could literally paint my ass in a corner are enthused about my work.)

It's only one class to start, but she seems terribly excited and is already thinking of expanding to two classes a week.

I now need students. 7-14. Spread the word, peeps.

Timing is good. Yay.

Really, I'm sitting on my ass now, not doing a thing.

And although I'm missing a couple of openings, I'm enjoying being relatively otiose.

Today was the last day of the semester. I didn't really put 2 and 2 together until last week, but because I was teaching on Saturdays this semester, I decided that my studio days would be M,T,W,R, and F. I can't say I was performing at 100% capacity in the studio for 40 hours every week, but I showed up 5 days a week for the last 16 weeks and got work done. The 2 + 2, well, duh factor is that last week, I hit my threshold. I heard someone say TGIF and I realized that for 16 weeks I was attempting to work a 35-40-hour week in the studio in addition to teaching on Saturdays. Only Sunday was designated as my official day of inactive nothingdom. Hence, a slight low-grade feeling of all work and no play. And on top of that, I'm also thinking that because I'm working on smaller canvases right now, I'm running through a lot of ideas at a faster clip than when I work on large canvases. It's that 'I'm a factory mentality' again.

Anyway, I'm inert now, save for knitting my tweed skirt, and next semester I'm taking Mondays off.

I was out of bed at 6:17 am and yet....

The good news is that I am physically in the studio and about to scan some work. The other good news is that I ate breakfast, so I won't be grumpier and the other good news is that I can use the word, "vacuum cleaner" in a sentence.

There is no bad news, just that it's 10:41 AM and I feel like I haven't done much.

My last class of the semester is this Saturday. It was a good group for the most part. I find that students who commit to showing up at 8:30 am on a Saturday morning in order to spend the next 6.5 hours honing their observational skills are usually dedicated. Usually. Some students never really got the 8:30 AM start time down pat and a couple never understood "lunch break" meant that class would resume after a brief interval and after awhile, you realize you're preaching to the converted when you remind everyone that most drawing requires some sort of presence of mind and body, but other than that, it was a successful class.

And I just remembered I am out of white oil paint. How did this happen? UGH. I do not want to traipse across town to save a buck at Utrecht or Dick Blick, so I will pony up the extra couple of bucks and go to Graphaids in Culver City. Damn.