Paint the Point

This weekend, Arts Mineral Point, a non-profit org in my southwest Wisconsin hometown that supports local visual arts, artist relocation, and tourism for the arts, is hosting the first annual Paint the Point, a plein air painting competition that has drawn 40 regional artists to town.

Throughout the weekend the town has been abuzz, as artists have set up throughout, painting the local vistas and buildings. This afternoon, the resulting paintings are being exhibited at three local galleries in a silent auction, with a portion of the proceeds going back to the non-profit. In addition there are cash prizes and sales income for the competitors.

We wandered through the galleries today and I was very touched to see all of the portrayals of historic buildings, streets and farms that I grew up with. Mineral Point has always been a haven for artists, and there are more galleries and working artists here than even in some large cities. But there was something legitimizing about artists from afar capturing the beauty of my home.

It's my dream to open up a gallery of my own here someday. But in the meantime Paint the Point 2015 might be a good goal. Hehe!

Shower Buddies

I currently inhabit the same house I lived in during my toddler through elementary school years. It is an 1830's Cornish miner cottage that my parents DIY renovated in the 1970's. Most of their renovations remain intact, including the green/brown shower tiles seen here:

This evening, my 6-year-old surprised me by asking why we have pictures all over the wall. I laughed and asked her if she had discovered that on her own, or if I had mentioned something about it. The tiles always intrigued/amused/frightened me as a kid because of the range of hidden characters that I saw within. Even now, they can either be endearing or freaky depending on the time of day and my mood. Here are a few of my shower buddies:

polar bear, big sniffing doggy or vampire bat

 

freaky goat character (although it also looks in the bottom right-hand corner like a person peaking around the corner)

 

dancing nudes

 



 

Peggy/Joan

For an upcoming exhibit at my place of work, our Galleries team is photographing themed departmental portraits. Our Marketing Department naturally decided to go with Mad Men Season 1, and this morning, our photo shoot took place in a normally off-limits VIP lounge filled with original Audubon prints. There were 8 or 9 people in the portraits, which comprised several different set-ups-- I'm very much looking forward to seeing the results!

I love the Mad Men Series, and throughout have particularly identified with two of the lead female characters, Peggy Olson, the naïve, bumpkin secretary who in Season 1 shows up to work at the chic NYC ad firm in small town attire and awkwardly but steadfastly works her way up, and Joan Harris, the equally determined, yet inaccessible bombshell broad with the sharp wit and unwavering poise.

The aspects of the characters I most identify with unfortunately are the awkward naïveté and inaccessibility, but I aspire to the wit, strength (and bombshell-ness) wholeheartedly. Hehehe!

My colleague Rob and I pre-shoot

The photo shoot set

Love Note

Most mornings in my house are a little crazy, as I try to deny the arrival of sunrise (or ignore the chime of my alarm through several snooze cycles), get myself and/or my kids through that same waking process then dressed and fed, remember the inevitable dish-washing, dehumidifier-emptying, cat-feeding, daycare drop-off, empty gas tank...and finally head out onto the country highway on my hour-long commute to work.

It is easy in my mornings with the kids to race through the time with the goal of getting out the door, causing me to deflect the requests to bring precious heirlooms to daycare, have a post-breakfast snack, look at this or that, answer mind-boggling questions, soothe sudden whining/crying fits, or otherwise generally recognize the absolute precious nature of that particular time with my children.

This morning, as I rushed through my mental checklist, I was vaguely aware that my 6 year-old said something about how we were out envelopes and could we get more, and that she needed to put something under the pillow. I'm sure I distractedly muttered "uh-huh, ok, yeah, huh" several times without connecting.

So, when I got home tonight and flopped the bedcovers down, to have the following flip out from under my pillow, I was amused, delighted, perhaps a little ashamed, but mostly in love:

 

 

 

 

Real-Life Rosie the Riveter

I recently visited my 92 year old maternal grandmother at her home, our pioneer family homestead ranch, in the remote Eastern Arizona mountains.

Every time I visit the ranch I simultaneously feel a little silly at how automatic (I don't have to drive an hour just to get milk) and easy (I don't ride horses for 8 hours a day or perform manual labor 7 days a week) my lifestyle is, but also feel a bit of inner strength stirred up by the surroundings and the spirits of my pioneer and native ancestors.

My grandma is a quiet but sharp-witted woman, who was a WWII factory worker in CA, a real-life Rosie the Riveter. She (and my mom) promoted a "this too shall pass" and "grin and bear it" attitude to life that I didn't like too much growing up, but that has now helped me put life's foils in perspective.

Grandma was also an accomplished dabbler in the visual arts and crafts, so I think that some of that passion in me comes from her through my mother (also a lovely painter, weaver, quilter). My mom was able to send me some old family photos, and these are spectacular in my opinion. The hair alone is magnificent!

That hair must have taken hours.

So beautiful!

 

With a pal in California

 

With my grandpa, who I didn't get the pleasure of meeting, but who I definitely resemble.

 

Life In The Fast Lane

...Of course, none of my aforementioned futile attempts at Zen/calm can stand up to the whim of the Universe, who occasionally throws me into such a head-lock, I must concede and bend to her will-- as inconsequential as the circumstances may be.

Today was one such day-- early morning nightmares, a non-sleeping toddler, realization the first few minutes of work that I was booked into 25-30 hours of meetings this week and actually had to schedule further meetings with myself for "work," a 45-mile drive home that ended up taking 2 hours and 10 minutes due to weather/far-up-ahead fender benders/construction...sometimes the world decides that we are moving too fast or not paying enough attention, and that if we won't find ways to slow ourselves down, we must be assisted.

Luckily, I managed to count my blessings,* smell the roses and get on with things. I am hoping that sweet dreams will ensue.

 

 

*My blessings include never having to have experienced the horror that much of our world is currently locked in. Believe me, as I write in the comfort of my home, with a job, loved ones and plenty of food, I am well aware that the above is completely unimportant. 

Present-mindedness

Much of my time has been spent consumed by the past or future. I'm sure this is a uniquely human experience, but am uncertain whether it is a product of my home, culture or general era. This feeling propelled me into the pursuit of a theater degree, where I could pretend to be a variety of characters from a variety of times and places, with none of the plague, beheadings or apocalypses. 

Adulthood and its unforeseen solemnity has delivered some dose of reality to me-- the loss of loved ones, childbirth (ouch), child-rearing, financial responsibilities-- have all grabbed me by the lapels and forced me into the present in a way I hadn't experienced or expected in my youth.

Now, I'm in pursuit of a less dramatic sort of present-mindedness-- the type that can help me register fleeting moments like my toddler's last months of babble, or the summer sunshine streaming through my window and releasing the musty odor of the inherited poetry books on my desk.

In writing about solitude (meaning "present-mindedness"), Thich Nhat Hanh said "real solitude comes from a stable heart that does not get carried away by the crowd or our sorrows about the past, our worries about the future...we do not lose ourselves..." The idea is that in being present-minded, registering the actual moment we are living, paying attention to the needs of our minds and bodies here and now, will in turn nourish us in a way that will allow us to become our truest, most peaceful selves, and in turn more able to offer our best selves outwardly.

I am nowhere close to adopting this fully, and will never completely give up my romanticism or love for things old or futuristic. But, thus far, concentrating a little more on the present has given me a fresh and needed peace.