What She Said

I said a few words in a previous post when I'd heard about the celebrity deaths last week. A post on Facebook by my art friend and teacher Gina Gabriell of Dublin, CA stopped me in my tracks. I asked her for permission to print it here.
When I first met Gina in August of 2008, I couldn't believe she was my age. In fact, I probably should have gotten her driver's license. She's young and hip and talented and down to earth and smart and nice, all really significant adjectives in my book. I took a very fun class at the ZNE convention, almost by accident, in Gina's brand new shop, Tangerine. She also has a studio, Eleven Morning. Her memories of Farrah and Michael mirror mine. It's that age thing.

But, she probed a bit deeper. The Stevie she refers to below is her daughter, who died in early 2007 with a brain tumor at age 19.

Her post (I edited a bit for length):

"I remember my cousin Ron (and every other teenage boy) had the Farah in the red bathing suit- nipples at attention poster hanging in his room. I remember thinking how beautiful she was and how I wanted more than anything in the world to have two things: 1. Boobs and 2. Big Hair.

Lucky for me curling irons and a home perm weren't too expensive but the boobs would be harder to come by and a long wait. The boob fairy finally did visit me after the birth of my first child. Because this fairy was late she decided to make up for it by giving my great-grandmothers heavy breasts. It is feast or famine with me always.

Charlie’s Angels...sigh. You had to love that cheesy show, the original crew made me want a jump suit, made me want to learn karate, made me want to wear lipstick. Alas I was trapped in a skinny boy's body but I loved those Angels.

Although I am not a People magazine reader and I don't follow what goes on in the magic world of all things shiny, I did respect Farrah making the documentary of her cancer journey. I have not seen it, but I think it can only raise awareness when someone who was the standard of beauty in her prime allows the public to see what cancer takes away. It isn't like the movies; it is painful, scary, and ugly.

Michael. It was a shock to hear that he had passed, I knew it would happen some day; I just could never imagine Michael Jackson at 70. It was hard to believe he was 50. My instincts tell me his demise was drug related but it doesn't really matter how he left, it was just his time. His heart breaking seems like a tragic and fitting ending.

The monkey, the out-there clothing, Lisa Presley, Neverland, seriously how could that shock anyone. Hollywood is the land of make-believe and he gave people something to talk about, to wonder about and keep them interested, pure marketing genius.


When I was a kid I went to see The Jackson Five at the Circle Star theater in Oakland. We were way up front and it was spectacular. These boys sang their hearts out. Micheal had a ‘fro back then and all the brothers wore bell bottoms. I thought that was boss. I was a runny nosed little tom-boy, but I danced my little chicken legs off.

While I was driving home I spoke to Stevie. I told her, "Hey Michael Jackson is in heaven now; how cool is that?" She had a little collection of DVDs that she used to watch. To her it was all ‘Old School’ and she loved the music and videos.

Stevie didn't judge people. She liked them or didn't like them. There was never an explanation or an apology, she never wavered or changed her mind. She could just feel to the heart of a person. She didn't have time to waste.

I wonder if that is how we should all live. I could have saved hundreds of hours of my life if I didn't try to help people who didn't really want help, change people who were happy in their misery, trying to build friendships with people I didn't really like because I thought it was the right thing to do. My instincts were always right but always a hindsight observation.

I am not saying people should be hateful or avoid helping another person; it isn't about the worth of a person. What I am saying is that we all have a moral compass/ good instincts, and if we listen to that without judgment we could live a little more effectively.I get lost in this. I always tell myself that that gut feeling isn't a tool for me to move in another direction but a challenge, a hurdle that will help me build a better me if I do the right thing, maybe I am wrong.

The universe gives us a road map for our lives, Point A to Point B. It offers us guidance and direction. We have the freedom to take our own route, and we can make it as long or as difficult as we like. Only two things are for sure: there is a point B and there are no shortcuts.

I think I am going to stick to my map now, listen to that inner guidance, love when my heart tells me to, run when my heart tells me to. My girl had this all figured out by the time she was five; I am a slow learner.

For some reason humans need idols. Icons serve a purpose but they too die and fade away, making room for other icons.We can chose who we love. I think we should learn to see lovable greatness in ourselves and not hang all our hopes and dreams on someone else who seems bigger and better.This is the only life we have and know right now; we have to be kings and queens of our own beauty and promise."

Well said.

Body of Evidence or Mad Scientist at Work

I've had so much fun stuff on my art to-do/wish list, and tonight I finally got to make a dent in it. Actually, my list of things I want to do includes both art and writing. With work (a lot) and sleep (a little), it's hard to get very far on my 'what I'd really rather be doing' list.

But thanks to a burst of inspiration last night, I got some writing out of the way that is due July 3. I've been lucky enough to receive the Rylan Harris Memorial Scholarship to the Midwest Writers Workshop July 23-25 in Muncie, IN. Not only am I excited that the cost of the workshop is covered, but I am thrilled beyond words that the fiction and poetry I sent in were apparently good enough to earn this award.

There will be sessions with published authors, literary agents, writing contests and manuscript evaluations. To warm up to my writing, I wrote a review of my recent visit to the American Visionary Art Museum for the 'guest reporter on location' spot on Vintage Indie. For the writing workshop I needed to have done the first five pages of my proposed novel, a synopsis and query letter, another five pages of a short story for a contest, and five pages of poetry for the evaluator. Most of that was done at midnight last night, with poetry from midnight to 2 a.m. Then I started reading a book on writing non-fiction memoir and got sucked in until 3:30 a.m.

So tonight I was determined to make a doll out of a fat canvas and porcelain doll parts like Lisa Kaus and Beth Quinn have done. See those here and here. I got this particular doll head from Kris Hubick at Retro Cafe Art, and I've been saving it especially for this project.

I set up my art table and got out the supplies I would need, knowing that some would carry over into what else I wanted to accomplish. I had already painted my 4" x 4" chubby canvas that I got on Ebay (although you can get even fatter ones from Dick Blick).

I cut out some scrapbook paper that I had gotten at Archiver's into the shape of a dress. Then I embellished that with several layers of ribbon and lace, and some scraps of sheet music and a page from a children's book.

Once I assembled the dress, (after tea-dying the biggest piece of lace out in the sun for awhile), I attached everything to the canvas with Golden's gel medium. I used E6000 to attached the head to a bottle cap and then to a fabric covered disc and then to the canvas. I used wire and eyelets to attach the porcelain bisque legs and arms.

I finished my dolly up with some jaunty vintage millinery in her hair and an exquisite passementerie flower and leaf that I had received in a swap. Then I brushed a thin coat of melted beeswax over the entire canvas. I added a sawtooth hook on the back for hanging. Not sure if she will stay or go to my Etsy shop. Lisa's dolly canvasses have been featured in Romantic Homes, Somerset Studio and Cloth Paper Scissors magazines and regularly sell out immediately for $200 or more.

While dolly was drying, I grabbed a couple of smaller old German doll heads and some paper clay. Both of the heads were broken at the neck, and in one case part of the cheek and the end of the nose were gone. So I built them up with paper clay as you can see above, and now they'll be usable in a project.

With the paper clay out, I sculpted an owl and a mushroom by hand, hoping to paint them as cheerfully as Pam Garrison has done here. I can't stop looking at her critters. I love her journaling, too. I only hope my paint job turns out half as cute as hers did. Paper clay takes about 24 hours to dry, and then you smooth any cracks with a little household spackling and water. Dry some more. Then paint. Big fun.

You can see in my pencil doodles I tried to emulate Pam's owl there also. I've been admiring all the talent in Suzi Blu's art group as well and can't seem to stop doodling girly faces. A few pages a night seems to be what the art doctor has ordered. I like doodling best with woodless graphite pencils. Then I spray a little fixative to keep it all from smudging away.
Lastly, my 17 pages for the Marie Antoinette Mail Art fat book collaborative that I blogged about pre-painting here, were ready for me to start painting the faces. I drew the face I wanted in my sketch book first, then I traced it on tissue paper. Next I cut 17 of these faces out of tissue paper and adhered them directly to the book pages with gel medium.

After letting that dry awhile, I painted the faces with Golden's liquid acrylic in titan buff and then I painted the hair with Golden's white, adding some white Pearl Ex pigment for shimmer, some Gesso to thin it all out, and some Golden's molding paste to give the hair texture. So far, so good. I have my ribbons, rivets, filigree findings, gold leaf and fabric at the ready to finish my pages, well before the July 20 deadline. Can't wait to see how they turn out. More importantly, can't wait to get my finished book back. There's so much talent in this upcoming book. It will be fit for a queen.

Although I was kept busy tonight and last and although I always try to stay chirpy on this blog, I am deeply saddened by all the deaths today. It is strange feeling to hear about the icons of one's childhood- icons in some cases one's same age almost-dying much too soon.

I grew up tearing Michael Jackson pictures out of Tiger Beat from about third grade on. I remember my dad driving us past the Jackson's house in Gary back in the late 60s. We lived nowhere near Gary, so I think we made this a side trip in addition to visiting the Indiana Dunes State Park on Lake Michigan. Such a talented family, those Jacksons- five, six, seven of them-how ever many performed in addition to the core group. One has to wonder what will become of Michael's three (or is it four?) children.

Farrah Fawcett. Who did not want her hair when I was in high school? Or for that matter her job or her bathing suit body. I spent many hours forced to look at her famous poster in a boyfriend's room. I wonder if he is thinking about her tonight.

And Ed McMahon. Didn't we all feel comforted closing the evening with Ed and Johnny, waiting for the television set to go to snow after their show?

Icons of my generation for sure. They will be missed.