Day 79. Punk and Graffiti -SOLD

This painting is my celebration of visual and tactile texture.

Ever impatient to begin painting if I'm ready for it, I rarely reach for an artist paint palette to squirt paint on or into; rather, I grab whatever is handy. And, let me be honest--I don't know where the heck those plastic palettes are located in this crazy room. )-:

For quite awhile last summer, my palette of choice was the cover of a school-produced fiction magazine. It was heavy enough to take the multiple layers I was constantly adding to it.  Eventually those layers built up into something quite interesting--a stalagmite created by moi!  The coagulated mess appealed to my eye, the bumpy paint splatters revolting and appealing in their toady aberration.  I just couldn't throw that cover away--there had to be some way I could use it!

Eight months later, along came Mr. Punkster.  I added molding paste to the canvas to give the perception of a rough, crumbling wall.  Then, I tore and peeled the dried layers of paint from the cover--along with some sketches and words I doodled on said cover--and wrapped, bent, folded these pieces over the canvas.

I just love the way my urban guy and his environment turned out. (-:

How it began:

Day 78. Snow globe shake up

What was up with that crazy snow globe shake up of weather yesterday?  It was fine one moment, and the next it was a white-out blizzard.  I mean, a swirling mass of huge flakes covering the earth.  Stop shaking up those flakes, Mr. Winter.  We want spring.

Day 77 Advice on Love and Life from a Disco Cabbie (SOLD)

After yesterday's picture and today's gloomy weather, here's a gift of lightheartedness.

One of my favorite movies is 1999's, "200 Cigarettes" about a bunch of young things in NYC on a New Year's Eve in '81.  Do yourself a favor, and check it out.

Dave Chappelle is absolutely perfect as the "Disco Cabbie" who gives smooth-talkin' advice--both on love and life--to his passengers.  Chill, baby, chill, and enjoy the ride. (-:

 

How it started:

I used to have a great film clip of this scene, but now it's been removed from YouTube.  Bummer!  You can still buy it yourself on Amazon for under $5--such a value for a fantastic, quirky independent film, which actually, is full of great life advice. (-;  Take more advice from that cabbie:  "Say yes to your destiny...come on, mama, live, LIVE!"

Day 76. Frustrated

Frustrated.

Day 75. Fiona Apple Loves Caramel Apples

Fiona Apple loves caramel apples. 

Why?  Well, because of two things swirled together.

1)  At the beginning of "American Splendor" some lady tries to give a young Harvey Pekar a caramel apple as a Halloween treat, and

2) My favorite line in "Girls" from Season 2, Episode 5--"One Man's Trash".  Hannah tells Joshua of a quote she read about Fiona Apple in New York magazine and how she relates to it.  Apple says, “Everyone acts like I’m nuts.  I’m not nuts.  I just wanna feel it all.”

Day 74. A Hot Toddy Will Make You Feel Better

Thank you, Laura Cockrel-Pearlman, for the suggestion of making myself feel better by concocting a hot toddy.  It'll cure what ails you. (-;

I don't really have a bottle of Jack Daniels in my house, but here's a good recipe if you do.

This is from "Dr. Pat's Hot Toddy Cold Remedy at http://www.food.com/recipe/dr-pats-hot-toddy-cold-remedy-234344.

Ingredients:

• 2 ounces whiskey (we use Jack Daniels)
• 1 tablespoon honey
• 4 ounces water (hot from the tap)
• 1 teaspoon lemon juice (we use the stuff in the plastic lemon)
• 1 slice fresh lemon (if we don't have this we don't use it) (optional)

Directions:

1. Place the whisky in a large microwave safe mug.
2. Add the honey.
3. Pour the hot water into the mug over the spoon you used for the honey to get off the last little drops.
4. Add the lemon juice and stir well.
5. Place the mug in the microwave for 1 minute or until it is piping hot, but not boiling.
6. Add the lemon slice and serve.

Day 72. All Aboard the Love Train

I experienced a bit of delay posting the last 2 days of paintings due to a failed SD card. 

And now for a shot of soul from the O'Jays, Don Cornelius, and the Soul Train Dancers!  They got the looks, the clothes, and the moves!  Love it. (-:

I like how the colors turned out on this painting.

Here's a vertical shot:

How it started:

Where have these great moves and clothes gone?

Day 73. "Meet my new best friend, Nyquil®."

Last week we passed out items to 850 students, 200 of whom were sick (ha!, just kidding, but not quite).    One week later, I have a new best friend.  I love you, Nyquil®.

.

Day 71. Hold onto Your Spring Bonnet. This March Ain't No Lamb.(SOLD)

Hold onto your spring bonnet.  This March ain't no lamb.

******************************

I had a hard time getting a good shot of this one.  Remnants of an Anthropologie cup, metal flowers, wire, glitter, jewels, a lot going on, camera acting up, shadows creepin' in--the kind of craziness that's blowin' through the air in this blustery March.  (-;

Day 70 Goodbye Emily-I Wish You Could Come Back

Yesterday I found out that one of the students at our college had committed suicide.  I opened just a general information email and glanced through it.  There was also an attachment, and I only clicked on it because it mentioned IVAR (our local animal rescue organization).  My husband and I do a lot of work for them so I wanted to see what the message was.  When the email opened, it said Phi Theta Kappa was sponsoring a food drive for IVAR in memory of Emily Dunn.

I looked at it again..."in memory."  

I looked at the picture.  

I looked at the name again.  

I felt like I was in slow motion, mind drugged, body shaking.

I read those words again, "In Memory."  I...couldn't believe it.  This student had come to my window so many times over the last couple of years.  I wait on a lot of students, but there are a handful who I really click with, and she was one of them. Our conversations were always 5-10 minutes long, which is a lot when you're running off to class. She was smart as a whip with one of the most wicked, witty, cynical, rapid-fire sense of humors you've ever heard.  Her comebacks were like a ping pong game on speed, and she would have me roaring in laughter.   I told her all the time that she needed to forget college and go be a comedian.  I had even printed out information on the adult immersion summer course at Second City for her--I wish she could have went.  You know, if you're really funny, you're really smart.  And she was.

She was often changing her schedule, and after the last semester, her major.  She used to joke that "just because I'm Asian doesn't mean I'm good at math."  She was adopted from Korea as a child, and we talked about that dynamic as well.

She was a firecracker.  One day she came in with a stocking cap covering her bald head. She told me that someone--I will purposely be vague here--had told her the only thing beautiful/pretty about her was her hair, so out of spite, she shaved her head.  What a rebel.  I don't even know if the story was true or not, but I believed her.

I remember thinking at the beginning of the semester that I hadn't seen her much.  And then one day she was at my counter.  I don't even remember what we said.  It was a strange exchange.  Enough so that it registered in my brain that something didn't seem right.  She was quiet, she barely looked up, and she seemed...distracted.  She seemed in a hurry--I thought maybe she was late for class--and I got the distinct feeling that she didn't want to talk.  I've since learned (again, I'll be vague), that she wrapped up details at the college.  That was Wednesday before Valentine's Day and by Friday she was gone.

I asked everyone, do you know what happened, did anyone have a clue?  Someone mentioned she had a lot of things going on, but didn't elaborate.  I want to know.  Not out of morbid curiosity, but so I can understand; and also because I want to hold onto all pieces of her, as if knowing more about her will solidify her in my mind, help bring her back; but, of course that can never be.  I was lying in bed last night, thinking of that last exchange.  It seems ghost-like now.  Not scary, but ephemeral, hazy...like she was already going.

I have been there, had that feeling that it makes no difference if you're around, that you feel like you have no hope or way out.  Anytime I hear someone spout those ridiculous words that "suicide is the ultimate selfish act" I want to scream.  When someone is in that much pain--so much pain that they will end their own life--they're not being selfish; they're being tortured internally in the most brutal of ways.  So people, you stop being so selfish when you say something like that.

Emily, I think of all the mean-spirited, crass people still walking around this day and then I think of your love of animals, personality, intelligence, and humor gone from this earth.  I miss you; I wish I could have known what was wrong and helped you; and I will never forget you. Your beautiful spirit mattered in this world.

Day 69. One Man & Two Views of His Bouffant

Oh!  I'm lovin' this larger painting I finished today. (-;

How it started:

Day 68. Ben Affleck - Getting Back Up

Can you believe the Academy Awards were just a week ago today?  It almost seems like a month ago.  Wait until I talk about the Grammys; you're going to think they took place last year.

I wanted to do this painting immediately the next day, but things happen, you know?  Maybe my delay was good, because it allowed a few more thoughts to go into it.  Here's the thing:  I was so impressed by Ben Affleck's emotional acceptance speech, I had tears running down my face.  I just watched it 2 more times before I wrote this post and was crying again.  This tearful reaction happens every year so I plan for it; in other words, I've got my popcorn in one hand, and my kleenex box in the other.  What I'm unprepared for is exactly when or for whom the floodgates will open.  Who will give that speech that touches your heart so tenderly you can barely contain yourself?

I remember one year, there was some obscure award for best editor on a short film documentary or something very close to that.  (I don't even think they televise that particular category anymore so as to truncate the show and keep our short-attention span tuned in.)  As I recall, it was a Chinese man who won.  He was seated so far back in the audience that by the time he finally made it to the stage, you could tell half the crowd had departed for a quick cocktail and a run to the bathroom.  I stayed riveted to the screen.  I thought to myself, they deserve my attention for their hard work--I want to listen.  And I remember this man moved me with his emotional words of perseverance.  It was the most brilliant speech of the night.

You don't get many of these speeches anymore.  I hate that the music kicks in while people are still talking or before a 2nd person on stage gets a chance to talk.  The winners can barely get any words out except some obligatory thanks.  And that's the other problem.  Most of the speeches are just politically correct thank yous.  I want to hear what they went through to make the movie or to even become an actor.  What inner drive got them to where they are at and/or through the movie?  Whether someone is getting a Tony, Emmy, Grammy, or Oscar, we are celebrating some of the pinnacles of musical/acting/writing achievements of the year.  Let's hear what it takes to reach these great heights of art.

Whew!  Sorry for the soapbox.  I'm just about done with that bar of soap, but not quite.  So the next morning I'm still thinking about Ben's speech and how I want to do a painting of him, and what do I find on the internet?  About a zillion entries on what Ben said about his marriage to Jennifer Garner; i.e., what his words meant about the state of their marriage and how people criticized him for their perceived inappropriateness of what he said.  I couldn't believe it!  This was the focus of winning an Oscar for producing (and let's face it, directing) the best picture of the year?

In case you missed it, here was the marriage bit:
 
I want to thank my wife who I don't usually associate with Iran. I want to thank you for working on our marriage for 10 Christmases. It's good. It is work, but it's the best kind of work and there's no one I'd rather work with.

So I guess because he didn't say:

"You're the light of my life" or 

"You're my reason for waking up each day" or 

"You're my Battlestar Galactica with whipped cream on top," 

their marriage is over.  I'd take his honesty over any of those other utterances.  Marriage is hard work, and that's the truth of it.  How brave to admit it and what an ultimate honor to the partner to say, "even so, there's no one I'd rather do it with."  That's love.

Well, about this time, I've lost all of you and you're out getting a quick cocktail and taking a run to the bathroom.  Here's my point--(she still hasn't made it? God, help me!). HERE'S the part I was sobbing over, and I THOUGHT everyone else would be cheering over as well.  The part that celebrates what's finest and most triumphant in being a human being.  The fight of hard work; the fight of getting pushed down and going on; the fight--just like that Chinese film editor--of perseverance.

"And I'd just like to say, I was here 15 years ago or something and I had no idea what I was doing. I stood out here in front of you all and really just a kid. I went out and I never thought I would be back here. And I am, because of so many of you who are here tonight, because of this Academy, because of so many wonderful people who extended themselves to me when they had nothing to benefit from it in Hollywood. You know what I mean, I couldn't get them a job. 

I want to thank them and I want to thank what they taught me, which is that you have to work harder than you think you possibly can. You can't hold grudges. It's hard but you can't hold grudges. And it doesn't matter how you get knocked down in life because that's going to happen. All that matters is you gotta get up. Violet, Sam and Sera, this is for you."

Here's the full, emotional speech:

Day 68. Hairstyle Repeat and a Golden Barrette

If you remember on Day 62 ("Idle hands Plus Scissors Equals Disaster"), I chopped off my bangs.  They are a little crazy looking, let me tell you.  I have tried to convince myself that they have a "mod" look to them, and besides, everyone is getting the heavy bang look right now.  However, as I was driving along in my bug, I looked up into the rearview mirror, and suddenly I had a horrible realization.  I have the exact same hairstyle that I had in my 4th grade school picture.  The one with me wearing a little jumper with an apple appliqued on the front (made by my mom).  OMG, my face is aging, yet my hair is regressing.  Will I ultimately be 85 years old with a pixie haircut circa age 2?!  Will I only have a partial "Benjamin Button" experience?

Contemplating those old school pictures and my creativity with my hair, I must tell you this little story.  In 2nd grade, again in a cute little number sewn by the madre, I headed off to school with a headful of Shirley Temple banana curls.  My mom was a beautician and had painstakingly rolled up my hair the night before --does anyone remember those pink spongy baby curlers with a plastic clip--so I would look all adorable.  And I did.  Cute as a little curly-headed dumpling.  We were all standing in line in the hallway, waiting for our turn to be called into the little room to get our picture taken.  I started to get impatient.  Those curls kept falling into my eyes, and they were driving me CRAZY.  I pushed them out of my eyes one final time, and then I took a big plastic yellow barrette out of my pocket--why did I have it--and shoved it smack dab into the middle of my forehead.  Ah, finally relief!  With that, my name was called, and I happily sat down and got snapped.

My mom, of course, had no idea of this transpiring.  That is, until a month later when we got our little packets of pictures, and I took them home.  Listen, my mom was not happy to say the least (she laughs now)!   Oh well, I always have been a little impulsive--with hair and otherwise. (-; 

3rd set of 21 days - 9 weeks

I forgot to post my 3rd set of 21 days of drawings (Days 43-63).  I had sold a couple of paintings before I took the overall picture, and I had a few more to go after this pic was taken.  So, here you go:

Day 43 and 45 (sold before large picture taken)

Days 44 and 46-61

Days 62 and 63

Day 67. Ode to Rick Tulka (Not Available)

Right up front, people, this is not an original, but rather drawing practice.  This is my copy of Rick Tulka's drawing.  What you see below is my version, which I just drew on 14" x 17" Bristol Vellum paper with vine charcoal while staring at his original.  My only addition is coloration with gouache and additional lines in the sweater.  I still figure it's a drawing a day and a tribute to one of my idols.

Day 66. Cowboy Boots - Old Gringo Style (SOLD)

I love cowboy boots.  You put on a pair of worn-in cowboy boots, and your feet just take on a confident gait of comfort.  I'd rather wear cowboy boots over a pair of heels any day!  In college, I had a great palomino pair of Nine West boots that I wore so much, I had to get them resoled twice.  Luckily I was in Austin at the time, the land of boots and repair.  Poor little beauties, I wore those babies into the ground!

Nowadays, my very favorite brand of cowboy boots is Old Gringo.  They are pricey, baby, which is why you have to hunt and hunt and hunt for them to get a bargain--and when they're gone, they're gone.  Here's a pair I wished I could have gotten:  the cross boot--does it say "the Old West" or what?  I do have a great pair, however; if you take a look at these babies, you can tell I've been wearing them for years.

Day 65. How to Make Snow Ice Cream - Magically Delicious!

That darn "Top Chef" finale.  I had to watch it, and it has made me stay up late.  I won't give away the winner, but I will give you a magical recipe.

Since snow is still flurrying around here, it's time to grab a fresh bowl of whiter than white snow and make yourself some snow ice cream.  This recipe comes from my Grandpa Peacock, and it really, truly tastes like that old-fashioned, homemade ice cream.  We used to crank and crank that ice cream machine in the summer.  Then we would put towels and rugs--the kind of multi-colored, lightweight, braided rugs you used to have to lay down on the floor in kindergarten and take a nap on for 30 minutes.  I hated those "nap" times.  I would just pretend to sleep, and think to myself, when will this be over?  A thought quite unsurprising considering my decision at 2 years of age to stop taking any naps, whatsoever (or so my mom tells me).

Back to the ice cream--ha!--which then would be placed under a shady tree.  Oh, the agony of waiting for the ice around the metal canister to thicken and chill that delicious concoction inside.  It was so worth the wait--so delicious--EXCEPT, all that work, and it seemed like it was gone lickety-split!  Everyone wanted a bowl!

With snow ice cream, however, you're only limited by the amount of fresh, clean available snow.

Whiter than white, let no yellow alight. 

(I just made that up.) (-;

In other words, keep the diggity dogs clear of your main ingredient!

O.K. so here we go.  Mix together in a bowl, the following:

4 egg yolks OR 2 eggs

2 cups of half and half or heavy whipping cream  

(milk doesn't have enough richness--or use WHOLE milk in a pinch--but you shouldn't really)

1 c or up to 1 1/2 cups of sugar

3 Tablespoons of vanilla

Mix it all up until well incorporated.  Add enough fresh, clean snow to get the correct slushy consistency.  You will not believe how closely this mimics homemade ice cream!!!

Now, we used 4 egg yolks** without the whites.  I looked online to see how my memory matched up with any current recipes, and the closest one to mine said to use 2 regular eggs.  I like using just the egg yolks--it gives the ice cream a beautiful yellow color and a rich, french vanilla flavor.  

**O.K., here's the big disclaimer:  We used raw eggs folks.  People are FREAKED OUT by this.  In my lifetime I have eaten gobs of raw cookie dough, raw pie crusts (with egg in it), and raw ice cream and I'm still alive.  STILL, eat raw eggs at your own risk.  I don't want anyone to die of salmonella poisoning and then pointing their finger at me from the grave.  Consider yourself warned!

Here's Paula Dean's egg-free version from the Food Network website:

 8 cups snow or shaved ice

1 (14-ounce) can sweetened condensed milk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Place snow or shaved ice into a large bowl.  Pour condensed milk over and add vanilla.  Mix to combine.  Serve immediately in bowls.

****

Mmmm.  You're going to love me for this one.  However, I had another childhood recipe that may have made me a millionaire!  I was sitting out in my grandparents' front yard with a bowl in front of me, and my grandpa told me it was time to come inside.  I told him, "Not yet, I'm making witch's brew."  He asked me what was in it.  I said, "Witch's brew."  Of course!  Anyway, I ended up spilling this deadly mixture onto the lawn.  My grandpa said he wished he knew what I put into that stuff, because it killed the grass off and nothing grew in its spot for 5 years.  True story.  What they heck were they letting me play with? ha!  Ah, the unsupervised childhood freedom of the '70's!

Now, get back to that ice cream!

By the way, that's a tongue sticking out of my mouth catching snow flakes, NOT a set of duck lips--you'll see better in person. (-:  Should have taken this at another angle, but I'm too tired to fix.

Day 64 Wang Dang Doodle Koko Taylor Dirties Up a Little Rooster (SOLD)

You know how you can often see faces in things where there are no faces?  I do this all the time...in the bathroom floor, in wallpaper swirls, in the rocks in an alley, in trees...um, you get the drift.  Anyway, I "saw/envisioned" a rooster shape in a printed piece of paper.  That made me want to paint a rooster, but this baby just looked too sweet and cute.

I thought of Koko Taylor singing "Wang Dang Doodle."  Now, I saw Koko Taylor 3 times.  Once in college; once at Kingston Mines in Chicago (2548 N. Halsted, peeps); and the other time at the Chicago Blues Fest. (I am too young to have ever seen Howlin' Wolf rip it up.)  Anyway, I had to interject a little dirty blues onto this thing so I added a few of the songs lyrics and ran my fingers--lightly coated with black paint--over the surface.  I think it gave it a little bit of a letterpress print feel.  Anyway, nothing too complex, but here ya' go--a nice little dirty rooster.  It's cute.

An example of me seeing faces in things--From my 2nd Sketchbook for the Brooklyn Art Library--"Sandwich and Sandwiched Between"

Here's Koko Taylor and Howlin' Wolf servin' up a version of "Wang Dang Doodle."

Day 63. Adrien Brody

I'm working on a magazine submission so it has taken all my time today.  Still (I want to say "todavía" in Spanish), here's my drawing for the day.  A quick sketch of the beautiful Adrien Brody.  Well, I think he's beautiful!.  Oscar winner (Best Actor) for "The Pianist"; kisser of Halle Berry at the Oscars (isn't this great that I'm tying it all in with past Oscar shows since it was on yesterday--more on THAT tomorrow!); great as Salvador Dalí in "Midnight in Paris"; nasty (mmm hmmm) in 2001's "Love the Hard Way."  Heck, he even makes a Gillette razor commercial too hot to handle.  Ha!  O.k., here ya' go.

Day 62. Idle hands plus scissors equals disaster

Here's a lesson I absolutely seem incapable of learning.

No matter how frustrated or bored or happy or ingenious or capable or creative or depressed or needful of a change you may feel, keep your hands off your sewing scissors and DON'T trim your own bangs!