February 25, 2010
I’m having
an exciting time in the studio playing with acrylics and oils. I love the oils. They’re bold and buttery and it’s just
pure fun. However since my winter
studio is very close to the bedroom, the smell is too invasive. Also since I’d love to be able to work
outside in the summer, I want to work be able to work in acrylics, just because
they dry quickly. The acrylics are
a challenge. Yesterday I spent the
day working on a glorious sky.
When it was dry, I put some details over the top. The details weren’t just perfect so I
tried to lift them with a little damp tissue. OOPS off came
all the sky right back to the pink underpainting! Today I did a test of the six different brands of acrylic
paints that I happen to have.
Several lifted when dry. I
now have to figure out if this is a brand problem or is related to individual
colours.
It is
always great fun to learn new stuff.
Last week,
Jim and I were in Halifax for a couple of days. Early one morning I saw this view up Quinpool Road. I’m sure that this small painting will
gradually morph into a large work at some point.
This afternoon, my daughter Danica dropped in to bake one of her polymer clay masks in my oven. Last week, I had bought an additive so that you can use acrylics on fabric. Danica and I spent the rest of the day each painting a shirt! It was so much fun! Tomorrow the two of us are taking in a workshop in Truro on Tissue Paper Collage, and earlier this week, I was dying wool to start a new mat and collecting silk bits to do something glorious on an antique chair that I’ve just acquired. This is exactly why I needed to stay tucked in the studio this winter instead of happily traipsing around South America. I needed some time to just play at being creative.
February 24, 2010
Scribbling about dying
I love to get my money’s worth.
Maybe it’s having parents that lived through the depression and the second
world war. I grew up with stories;
When my Mom ate an apple during the depression all the neighborhood kids would
gather around and beg for the core! She also said that on Christmas morning, it
was huge treat to get an orange in the toe of your stocking. I couldn’t never
imagine that getting an orange to eat would be a Christmas treat. My Mom tried to shovel an orange into
us every day because they were so healthy.
My getting value for dollars could
also have come from me being an artist with a family to support. Now that’s a big problem. First of all
it’s hard enough to support yourself as an artist, then tack on some kids and
it’s pretty well impossible.
In any event, I am not tight, or
cheap but I am very choosey about what I spend. I love to spend my money on stuff that I love; books, art
supplies, marvelous works of art. I remember well, twenty-five years ago,
buying an incredible hand made coat for $ 500. My ninety year old friend, Rachel, had seen it modeled in a
Women’s Institute fashion show. The next time I visited, she told me that she
had seen a coat that I would love.
The Nova Scotia government had commissioned an artist to make a special
coat for Princess Margaret. The
artist made two coats; a short one in blues and a long one in pinks. The government chose the short one and
lucky for me I was exactly Princess Margaret’s size and I bought the pink
one. And then there was the time,
I wanted to buy a enormous house in Great Village, because it came with hand painted
Limoges door knobs, a bathroom covered in Delft tiles and a great story. I didn’t however want the ten car
garage, or the twenty by forty foot dinning room or the maids quarters, and I
didn’t have the $ 125,000 for a great story. So I do love to spend money on amazing things. I am less than happy to replace tea
towels, socks or to spend money to eat fast food or stay in generic motels.
Three years ago, I married a new husband. Although he knew what it was like not
to have a lot of money, he loves new tea towels, socks that match and don’t
have holes, fast food joints and motels. I admit not minding when new tea
towels just show up in the kitchen.
Anyways, when we decided to
marry, my prince charming, left all the wedding arrangements to me. I bought a fantastic handmade long
sleeved white nightie (lace with a white satin lining), on sale for $25 instead
of $ 125 and then we invited all of our friends to a pot luck supper and
surprised them with the wedding.
It was fun, easy and cheap and we loved every minute of the
wedding. When we went back packing
for our honeymoon, I took along my wedding dress nightie!
Recently I received a renewal for my
term life insurance, and got back some health tests that are somewhat
problematic. Also my 60th
birthday is coming up in June. I’m
at that time in my life; the thinking about dying time. I’m beginning to really begrudge the
$80 a month, I spend on term life insurance. It seemed a necessity when I was raising young
children. Now it seems like a
wasteful luxury. However, if I
cancel it, I’m sure with my health history that I will pop off immediately and
loose all those years and years of paying. If I don’t stop, it will probably mean that I’ll live to at
least 70 when the policy ends and I will have lost fifty years of payments!
The other conundrum is how to handle
the actual dying rituals. I don’t
like the thought of expensive, black suited strangers painting me up and
stuffing me into new clothes. I
don’t want to be snuck into an “attractive” funeral parlour or a church, so
that it’s easy for everyone to just show up, say goodbye and carry on with
their lives. Of course, I want my
departing to be doable, legal and not a huge hassle for my friends and family
but I also want it to be inexpensive, meaningful and to reflex the way I’ve
lived my life.
Several questions need answers. I
have a great friend who’s also my doctor, so I can get a death
certificate. Is that all I need to
establish my change of status? How
quickly does the body “set up”, “go stiff” and if it’s ridged, how do you stuff
the body into clean clothes?
My wonderful friends; Laurie, Serena and Janice are signed up
for this committee. I am
quite relieved that recently I decided it was worthwhile to spend money on new
underwear. Luckily all the gray
drooping underclothes are in the garbage and my mother would be pleased that
I’m now okay in that department.
If I don’t die in the next ten years though, I may be back to drooping
gray undies. And I’m not a small
woman. When I tried to get back into the boat after swimming in the jungle with
dolphins , I was like a beached
whale. When I tried to get up onto
a horse in the Pantenal, the poor cowboy under me pushing from below was a
sight to see. And these were times
when I was alive and trying to help move myself. How will it work when I’m a meat puppet? And how long does it take for bodies to
start smelling?. I don’t want the
pickling and the makeup. Just add a little blue oil paint to my face, put a
paint brush in my hand and pop me in a handmade box.
My son recently built an amazing ice
fishing hut. Kelsey, you’re signed
up for box building and if your truck is long enough would you please also do
any necessary deliveries? Chris, if you are here, you can do the seasonal
bouquets! The rest of you can sign
up for digging or cooking and I‘d love to have little speeches from all of you
at the party. My darling Jim will
MC and purchase the booze on my behalf. If I die at home, is there a way, I can just stay at
home for the party? A day to organize and box build, dig and cook and then a
house full of people, a few kind words, a quick trip across the marsh to pop
the box in the ground and then everyone returns to the house for good food and
drink, lots of laughter and crying; time to celebrate a life lived, and time to mourn a loved one lost.
February 1, 2010
Princess Underwear The other evening I was sitting at a
concert. I was wearing my best clothes, A soft dark shirt and trousers, With a flowing purple silk blouse
over top. My winter coat was warm and down
filled, And slung on the back of the chair. I felt good because I looked good. All of my clothes that showed were
from Louie’s second hand shop. I love shopping here. It’s like fishing. You never know just what incredible Fish you will catch. Underneath, my Louie’s catch, I was dressed in princess underwear. Earlier in the week, I had made my first visit to Lily’s
Lingerie in Halifax. I explained to the young clerk of
bra fitting, That my shoulders often ached and
rather Than add one more complaint to My litany of health problems, I was going to spare my family
doctor, By procuring a new bra. The next thing I knew, I was modeling my gray worn bra And having my very first bra
fitting. My clerk chose numerous bras for me
to try, She waited outside the curtain while
I put each one on, And then she assessed the bra and
me: Too big, too small, just right. She showed me how To tuck my breasts in place, And told me of the necessity of
keeping the back of the bra high. Feeling a little humbled that I had worn bras for forty-seven
years without Knowing these essentials, I added what I did know. “Only bring bras on sale.” I stated. After we had narrowed the selection
to one perfect bra; Only $ 239 less 30%, My clerk asked me if I’d like to try
the matching panties. Of course, I said boldly. When the panties arrived, they were
priced at $ 119 each. Sadly I gulped and decided to pass. My clerk then admitted that she had
panties on sale too. Soon a rack was pushed next to my
curtain. Over my old gray knickers, I pulled on some of these expensive bits of lycra and lace. The thongs I left on their hangers, As I couldn’t imagine ever being
comfortable Walking around with my bottom bare. Eventually I settled on a couple of
pairs of panties. Lucky for me, I quite often drop in
to Louie’s To fish for new clothing. And lucky for me, I managed to exist