It's About Time

This show is opening today at the Art & History Museum down the street:

Here is my piece.  It is called, obviously, Time Flies.

Yep, that's a hand-tied fly, on a cork.  Eric Bjorge made them probably ten years ago.  We bought four intending to put them in tiny individual shadowboxes.  Never happened.  And the moulding I used here is leftover from a big corporate job we did at least six years ago.  It has long since been discontinued but I found some upstairs.  Waste not, want not, eh?

And ... an explanation

I wrote that poem a couple years ago based on a very vivid dream I had.  I remember driving somewhere (to work the next morning?) and pulling over twice to write it down.  Boom, there it was.  No revisions.

Behind Closed Eyes

I had been asleep for some time before realizing
Ubu, my cat, was astonishingly pregnant and in need of help.
My local EMT was there, wielding both a small knife and
a disconcerting air of nonchalance.
In my hands the cat's body had miraculously transformed into a white plastic squeeze bottle and,
"Cut here," I said,
"on the seam of the label where it won't hurt as much."
But no.
Slash.  Slash.  Like a V.
Out they came, not moving,
looking like nothing more than Petit Fours composed of layers of raw meat and white bread.
I nudged one with a finger and it moved, as if pulled by a string,
toward my once more black and furry cat who cleverly cleaned them all
down to the size and shape of ladybugs.

Why does my subconscious mind not find this strange?

And why do I remember it with unbelievable clarity when
other dreams merely play in the background, like a radio left on in another room?

What lesson is here I need to know?
Is it that things are not how they appear,
or merely an acknowledgment of the absurdity lurking just below the surface.
Behind closed eyes.

March Madness

No, this post is not about basketball.

There are three parts to my life that are critical for my emotional well-being and it seems, based on many past experiences, that I am not able to maintain at a high standard more than one of those parts at a time.  Case in point:  a few months ago I finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up, and I started painting things of which I am very proud, and I started a blog to yap about it all.  This is good.  However, at about the same time, my commitment to exercise became fairly nonexistent, and I started eating my weight in bad carbs every day.  This is bad.  Very bad.  I have many times attempted a multi-faceted "fix" but it has never worked.  In March I am going to try again.  This is madness.

First is food.  Here is my nutrition philosophy, cleverly summed up by Uffe Ravinskov, MD, PhD:

"Everyone must gain the truth in an active way.  If you want to know something you must look at all the premises yourself, listen to all the arguments yourself, and then decide for yourself what seems to be the most likely answer.  You may easily be led astray if you ask the authorities to do this work for you."

So I did all my research, and I know what I want to be eating and why, yet I can't get myself to do it.  I have been packing away cookies like there is no tomorrow, knowing all the while that SUGAR IS EVIL.  This I am fixing in March by following the Whole 30 plan.  I actually started yesterday so today, March 1st, is day two.  Check this link for more info.: http://whole9life.com/2010/12/whole30-2011/.

Next up in the Big Three is exercise.  Here is my exercise philosophy, cleverly summed up by me:  I am happiest when I feel good about myself, and I feel the best about myself when I work out a lot.  So -- no brainer, right?  I even set what, at the time, was a very attainable goal:  run 1,000 miles this year.  Then I quit working out altogether.  I had all kinds of excuses, good ones, bad ones, stupid ones, you name it.  March is going to be the month I get my shit together again.  Crossfit is still on hold because it is costing me a FORTUNE driving to Kalispell four times a week, but I am becoming reacquainted with the treadmill starting today.

Last, but certainly not least, is my creative outlet.  I've already got this one figured out - the trick will be to keep it going.  And I am working on something new that so far appears to be halfway decent.  This is good.  I am also finishing a project for a show at the Art Center this week, getting some pieces ready for a one-day group miniature show on the 11th (more on that later) and I need to paint a piece before the 19th to submit to another miniature show.  If this blog suddenly turns into strictly an exercise log, or a food diary, you will know I am struggling with my juggling (heh heh - that was funny).

March Madness.  Bring it.

Full Circle

When I was talking about the pieces I have painted using molding paste, I forgot about this one:

I call it "Star Ascending."  It is a self-portrait.  (As a side note, I even framed it myself, including building the frame, which is generally Derek's department around here.)  I made this one quite a while ago and it hangs in my bedroom.  The woman who bought my first little snowman wanted this one as well, but I said no since it is a self-portrait.

I called this post "Full Circle" because over the past few days I painted these:

The photos are total crap - maybe I will repost when the paintings are framed.

I haven't used the little circle in ages, and after painting these guys I remembered about "Star Ascending."  I can't believe I forgot about it - I see it every day.  Just goes to show how often we really look at the things we see.

Happy Anniversary

This was one year ago today.  My life has been changed for the better, in ways I never expected.

I love you poodle face.  xoxo, me.

Gotta lotta nada

I have painted a few pieces similar to the one Tracy bought and will call them "From the Heart."  No pictures yet - they will look better framed and they need a loud gold frame like the first one.  That being said, I have nothing new to report.  Except that for dinner tonight I had rotisserie chicken and dill pickles.