How did it get to be Wednesday already?

Really? Wednesday?
And I haven't posted yet? Well, I better get on that.

So this week...

Well, I made the Rainbow Jello that I linked to last week. Here's what I learned. It's really pretty, but it's a lot of work for something that still just tastes like Jello. I don't really like Jello.

I also made oven-dried tomatoes. That was easy and satisfying. I am all about things that are easy and satisfying.

And I painted. I still can't show you what I've done, but I think I've cleared a new hurdle with my work. I've talked before about how I seem to hit a wall, when I'm ninety percent finished with a painting. Last week, Gary offered a cumulative critique of my work from the year. As we talked about my work as a whole, I was able to see the consistent weaknesses and, more importantly, how I could fix them. So since then, I've been working on details. Straightening edges, smoothing transitions, sharpening perspective lines, adjusting value shapes... it makes for a better painting, but boring blogging--especially without a camera. Sorry.

I love this...

oh, my! How complicated-- but it's soooo pretty.

http://adventuresofafoodslut.blogspot.com/2008/04/rainbow-jello.html

A story... and a reminder to myself.

So, I was 9 before I learned to ride a bike.

Yeah, I know. Most people learn around 6. I had a bike, but I was too busy trying to learn to tie my shoes--or learn to swim--or cut my own food-- uh... wait. I didn't really learn to tie my shoes until last year (it's a long story), I'm still more of a floater than a swimmer, and I became a vegetarian mostly because I'm not so good at cutting meat. Ok, so I don't really have a good excuse.

Anyway, for whatever reason, I couldn't ride a bike. It wasn't that I didn't try. It wasn't that my mom didn't run behind me for hours holding the back of the bike, it wasn't that I didn't know how to pedal. I mean, every member of my family spent hours in the driveway with me, but I just couldn't get past the training wheels stage. Finally, I just started to feel dumb, inept and ridiculous. It was frustrating to me and to everyone else. The bike with its streamers went into the garage and stayed there for months.

Then we moved to a new neighborhood. It was quiet and friendly and a perfect place to spend hours riding a bike. But I couldn't. I just walked or stayed home. The bike stayed in the garage. Eventually, someone noticed. At a cookout one evening I wanted to go with the other kids, but they were all on bikes, so I sat with the adults and looked bored. Our neighbor Richard asked me why I wasn't out there. As I hung my head in shame, my mom gave a long and embarrassing explanation while all the other adults proffered helpful suggestions.

"Yes, we tried that, but she still can't ride it."
"No, it didn't work."
"I just didn't know what else to do."

Richard spoke up. "I can teach her."

"Really? I don't know. We've all tried..."

Richard looked at me and said, "Meet me in our driveway tomorrow afternoon."

I was afraid, but I walked the bike over to Richard's house the next day. I was fully expected to fall, to fail, to disappoint another adult and embarrass myself yet again. I was afraid this was going to end in another visit to the dentist or the ER. Worst of all, I was afraid that Blake and Michael-- Richard's teenage sons-- would make fun of me.

But I got on the bike. After a few falters, Richard said, "Jolie, when you feel like you're going to fall, turn the handlebars in the direction you're falling." Huh? But, if I'm falling that way, then don't I want to go the other way? That doesn't make sense. "Just try it and see what happens."

Fifteen minutes later, I was riding a bike down the biggest hill in the neighborhood with Richard running behind unable to keep up. It is still one of the proudest moments of my life.

I still remember that--"turn towards the way you're falling." There's probably an important life lesson there. But the thing I remember most is that someone believed I could do something, even after I had given up on myself.

Thanks, Richard.

Sock evangelist...

This morning, I was on the bus early. Chris left before 5 to catch the bus to the airport (he's on his way to Easter Island, if you're curious*) and since I was awake, I decided to just get up and go to the studio. So I'm on the bus, the sun is shining and I'm knitting an orange sock. Because it was so early, there were several empty seats, so I was surprised when a lady sat down immediately next to me. She was obviously on her way to work and I was a little annoyed when her laptop case invaded my personal knitting space.

She watched me knit for awhile and finally turned and said, "So I followed your advice. I'm on my second pair." Huh? It was early, I'm not a morning person and I'm generally pretty wary (with good reason) of social interactions on the bus.

I must have looked pretty confused, because she said, "Oh-- you don't remember. I was on the bus with you last month when you were knitting the red and blue striped socks and you told me I could knit socks, too. You told me you could barely tie your shoes and so if you could do it, then anyone could. So I went out and got the yarn and Googled the pattern and now I can knit socks, too. You were right." And then she pulled out her sock to show me.

Another one brought over to the wooly side.

*Note: The camera is on its way to Easter Island with Chris. Don't ask. I'm so annoyed with myself that I don't have any pictures to show you. A solution to this camera craziness is simmering-- stay tuned.

ARGH!

I forgot the camera again. I'm a doofus. I have nothing more to say!

Sugar cookies and... what else?

Last night I made a big batch of sugar cookies. I cut them out into heart shapes. They were really good. Chris ate more than 10.

I'm going to finish knitting my socks this week. They are pink and orange.

Umm...

I'm just telling you this because I forgot the camera again today, so I can't show you the paintings I'm working on. That's frustrating. I guess I'll just tell you about them.

I've done two small landscapes this week-- more views from my bedroom windows. One is the view from my porthole on the Anastasis. Well, sort of. I had so many different views, that I chose to paint a view of sailing. I also painted a night scene, because that's how I remember the view from our bedroom on Water's Edge Lane.

I've worked more on the monumental still life, correcting angles and sharpening edges. And I've started a new landscape--it's a memory of something I saw last fall. The moon was rising through the trees here in the neighborhood and there was a lamp in the window of a house across the street. The brightness of the moon and the lamp in the window were a lovely contrast and I took a picture with my cell phone. And then forgot about it. This week, when I was transferring stuff to my new phone, I found the picture-- so now I'm painting it.

Ok, tomorrow I'll really try to remember the camera to show this stuff. Meanwhile, I'm going to eat a few sugar cookies.

Well, I'm 31.

I guess it's time to take off the birthday crown and get to work.

This weekend was lovely. Jaymi at the Frye made a cake for me, then Chris took me out to dinner, and last night the girls at Hysteria brought cupcakes (thanks, Kiana!). I had many happy birthday wishes from strangers (that's what happens when you wear the birthday crown on the bus) and the weather was beautiful.

Today has dawned cold and grey, though and it's a reminder that it's time to settle in for another week and get to work. Pictures tomorrow, when I have the camera with me.

29 of 30 complete...

One year ago I began an adventure. I made a list of 30 things to do while I was 30. I put some wild and crazy things on the list, and some challenging things, and even some small triumphs. I wasn't sure I would get any of them done, but Chris had more faith in me. He started the year by helping me accomplish three of them on the first day.

This year I have been to the Symphony, had Veuve Clicquot champagne, been to the Grand Canyon, jumped rope, learned to tie my shoes in under 30 seconds, rode in a hot air balloon, climbed a mountain, skied down a hill (sort of), copied a masterpiece, swam half a mile, sang in public and had a fondue party.

I also knit a sweater, drove a stick shift, made bananas foster, made chocolate mousse, learned to kayak, read a short story in French, sang in public, went to New York City, grew my own vegetables and cooked with them, painted a portrait of Chris, read The Message, and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and Rime of the Ancient Mariner.

And I made both of Chris's favorite desserts, published something, sold a piece of artwork (I actually sold three!), mostly conquered my fear of dogs, was mostly honest all the time, and made a quilt (that wasn't even on the list).

This afternoon on my lunch hour, my friend Kathy is going to pick me up, I'm going to meet Chris and we're going to ride a roller coaster at Seattle Center. It's the last thing on my list and the perfect way to welcome 31. Chris says this year is going to be even better, but I'm not sure. Then again, he was right about 30. We'll see.

Out of the ordinary

I'm at the museum today and I normally only post when I'm at my studio, but I think I'm going to shift some things around over the next few weeks and I thought I'd start with this.

It's a gorgeous day out today-- I sat in the sun and drank green tea and ate vegetarian sushi for lunch. I've had a low key week. Lots of painting and getting back in to a rhythm with life. I've been a bit out of my groove for a while now. First I was sick for nearly three weeks, then Chris was away which always throws me for a loop. Then my sister's wedding and the trip to Alabama. I'm hoping for a bit of quiet and order for awhile now. I know I paint best when there's a certain pattern to my days.

But-- warmer weather is coming and Chris is already planning is next big adventure, so I know this respite won't last long. Soon I'll be back to crazy-ness and uncertainty. It's all part of the fun that is my life. I like it that way mostly, but for now I'll enjoy these few mundane days.

Monumental Still life project

A new painting... the idea here is that you paint the still life objects with perspective that makes them look much larger in scale. So rather than having objects look like normal cream and sugar bowls, they look as if they are the size of buildings. A bit disconcerting and not my usual thing, but I decided to be daring. What do you think?

Now showing...part two

And a few more...

Now showing...

Here are a few photos of my show-- most of these paintings will be familiar to you if you follow the blog, but it's nice to see them on the wall.

A boring title...

But my show, "Recent Paintings: Jolie Guillebeau" is up on the second floor hallway in the St. Nicholas building at Gage Academy in Seattle. For those of you too far away to see it in person, I'll post pictures sometime this week.

I've been in Alabama this week for my sister's wedding, but I'm finally back in my studio today. It's nice to have a paintbrush in my hand again. The wedding was amazing--it was fun and silly and meaningful and a great celebration of Tera and Wes and their new life together. They really made the wedding their own. It was clear that they are in love and really committed to building a life of fun together.

But I must say, the best part of the trip to Alabama was on Thursday night, when Chris arrived. He flew from India, by way of Tokyo, Los Angeles, Chicago and Nashville. I was so happy to see him!

Darkest before the dawn?

Ok, so last Wednesday's post was a bit bleak.

Since then, however, the curator here at Gage contacted me and we hung my first show this morning. AND-- I am looking at a check! That someone paid me!! FOR A PAINTING!!!!!!
That I painted!

It was a bit of a confidence booster.

Welcome to the roller coaster that is my life!

Crisis of Confidence

When I was in first grade, I had the most wonderful teacher. Her name was Lucy Cotton. She was all softness and sweetness just like her name implies. When I was stressed, or worried, she took me in her lap or put her arm around me and reassured me in quiet soothing tones. Even when I'd done something wrong, she still used a soft voice to correct me. She was wonderful.

Then I moved to second grade. My teacher was Pinna Gattis. She was also all that her name implies. She should have retired long before I arrived in her class. I clearly remember her saying to me on the first day of school, "You'll never be able to write well, because you're left-handed." And in second grade, handwriting was everything. All my report cards that year said, "Jolie's handwriting needs work." At some point in the year, I started writing with my right hand, but only when Mrs. Gattis was looking. When she was on the other side of the room, I'd switch back to writing with my left hand. If she caught me, she'd slap my hand with a ruler. Needless to say, I entered third grade with little self-confidence and terrible handwriting.

It took a few years, but I eventually developed neat handwriting. I worked at it so much that when I was in college, my education professor used my handwriting as an example of "what a teacher's blackboard handwriting should look like." It was one of my proudest moments. (So there, Mrs. Gattis!)

I've been trying to remember this lately. For some reason, I can't seem to make a straight line. All my edges on this painting are supposed to be sharp and crisp, but instead they are wobbly and fuzzy. I keep piling on the paint, but just can't get it to come together. There have been a few afternoons this week where I've looked at my painting and thought, "Maybe Mrs. Gattis was right."

I know that part of this feeling is because my main cheerleader is in India right now, but I feel a bit like a second grader today.

I still don't have a camera...

and I've spent a bit too much time goofing off on the computer today, so instead of painting progress, you get my attempt at Cubism .

Look at my baby sister...

Ok, so Chris is gone and I have no one to share my joy with, so I will publish it on my blog! Yay--I solved my own problem without feeling sorry for myself! (sigh-- I feel a bit sorry for myself that I have to share my sister's pictures with the internet. Pathetic, I know.)

Ok, moving on... so these are photos of my sister, Tera and her fiance, Wes. They're getting married in 2 weeks and 3 days and we're really excited! These pics really capture that excitement and also who they are. I've never seen photos that show so clearly the spark of personality that makes me love them so!

http://authenticphotograph.wordpress.com/2008/03/09/tera-wes

Shameless older sister plug: Tera and Wes have really good taste in photographers, because they are such great photographers themselves. You can see their work here:

www.terakaylen.com

Adding details...

Well, I don't have a camera here today, so I can't show you what I've done. My camera is in India with Chris-- I'm looking forward to having both of them back in a couple of weeks.

Meanwhile, I'll catch up on details in life. Around the 22nd of February I went to bed and when I got up it was March 11. It's taken a week to get myself back to almost normal, though if you've emailed me lately then just be patient-- I'll respond eventually. Last week when I emerged from my house I discovered that it was Spring! Things are blooming and trees are budding--though all that pollen isn't really helping me recover.

I'm now back at the studio on a regular basis and I've even been back to the gym. With Chris gone, I have a lot of alone time (both a good and a bad thing) and it's giving me an opportunity to take inventory. For example, last night I made a list of all the things that are on my knitting needles or things I want to knit. It's extensive. I need to finish Chris's sweater, and his socks, and my socks, and a hat, and a dishcloth, and then I want to start my sweater, and another pair of socks, and a scarf for a friend, and... um, maybe I should stop typing and start knitting.

This is the problem with taking inventory!

The Twilight Zone...

Which one is my reality?

Obviously, I'm having fun with this. Though I am starting to wonder how many times I'm going to paint that sunset. It was originally a sketch based on a photo from the ship. I painted it last summer to commemorate a year of life on land. (You can see the sketch on the wall behind the easel.) Then, I thought it would be the perfect background for this still life painting-- I just added the sand to make it a beach scene. Now, I'm painting a painting of the same painting. Oy.

A stack of small paintings

A stack of paintings that I did while I was sick-- it was too much effort to start a big new project.

Each of these are 5x5 inches square and they are small landscapes from memory. Each is the view from my bedroom window in various houses that I lived in as a kid.

This is the view (as I remember it) from my window at 508 Owens Drive. I lived there from 1984-1985.

This is from 5620 Jackson Trail (1985-1988)


And this is 450 Frank Patterson Road. I switched bedrooms with my sisters, so the view changed, but this is the one I remember most. (1988-1992)


And finally an exaggerated view from my window at 1107 Mulberry Road. (1992-1995)



I decided not to paint any buildings in these paintings, but otherwise this is what it looked like to me. I made a list and I've lived in 17 houses in my 30 years, so this series might take awhile!