The Artists Life - Make Life Your Art

   Everything in life is art. Think about that phrase for a moment. One of my many mantras fro years was "Make your art your life." However, after all these years, I have to change it - make your life your art. Why? Because every positive thing that comes from you or me is art. From your walk, to how you smile at a passing stranger, to how you warmly love someone, even the way you chose to feel is art.

   When I was younger, I used to think my mother was absolutely crazy. Every month, magazines galore would arrive in our mailbox and she would pour over them. She would find one creative idea after another - anything that "looked interesting" to her. At some point afterwards, she would visit the local craft shop or department store, in search of supplies. Once the bags of seeming odds and ends would arrive back home, she would assemble these "interesting looking" projects to the best of her ability. You name it - she was creating it.

   I didn't realize it at the time, but my Mom was showing me one of her secrets to her happiness. I'm currently reading a book (yes, another one) on creativity and towards the back, it lists creations that the reader can do every day of each month, providing one has the time of course. I also have a wonderful artistic friend who has been blessed with the room, the time, and the money to host wonderful events - ranging from cookouts, to holiday parties, to the most recent event this weekend, the annual pumpkin carving party. Yesterday afternoon, my husband and I drove to her home and shared in a festive good time along with about 20 other people. The get-together was filled with pumpkins, spider guacamole, ghoulish meatballs, devilish cheeses, chocolate / pretzel witch broomsticks, and plenty of laughter.

   The design I chose was of a crescent moon, a pumpkin, and a bat. Then began the arduous task of cutting around the stem for the lid and scooping out the seeds and the guts inside. The feeling I get when I'm performing this task is not very high on my "yippee" list - as I'm not a fan of the sticky, slimy goop. My husband, on the other hand, says that's half the fun. He had his work cut out for him (n pun intended) as he did a skull that seemed to be a combination of Mardi Gras, the Day Of The Dead celebration from Mexico, and something from the early 70's all rolled into one. We used scooper's, big and little knives, and my hubby used a battery-powered mini caving saw.

   In the end, the pumpkin creations were as varied as the personalities that attended - one could say as unique as each persons fingerprints. They ranged from a barn, to traditional Halloween favorites, to a bubbling cauldron complete with fire underneath. Everyone was into the spirit of things and had a great time. I will admit, I am out of my element and my league when it comes to crafts. I hate following directions - this is why I paint. It is also the reason why I hate to cook. But that is me. To thine own self be true. I hope you can "find your fun" and turn your life into art.

   "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments, both big and small, that take our breath away." - Anonymous

   Go have fun - until next time,
   Time for me to paint,
   Jill

The Artists Life - Warm Wishes

   I just finished reading one of my favorite books, "Make Your Creative Dreams Real" by SARK (Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy) and when I turned one of the pages, a Christmas postcard from a deceased neighbor dropped out and landed face up on the floor. Memories flooded me - not only about my neighbor, that former neighborhood we used to live in, but also the dream of creating cards.

   Most people wouldn't know it, but I'm a nostalgia buff. The postcard depicted a cozy fire in a brick fireplace with festively-wrapped presents off to one side. I briefly thought of our old farmhouse we owned over 15 years ago and then sold in 2006 when my husband and I started to downsize. That farmhouse made me feel "at home". The cape that was built in 1820, with it's antique decor, wide pine floor boards, and rainbow colors, surrounded me like a warm familiar comforter blanket. Ironically, as large as the house was, there was no real studio space for me to create like I had before and since then. Back at the turn of the millennium, I still worked a full-time position in a local school department, working with junior and high school students as well as teaching art. Whether it was at the end of the day or the week, there was precious little time left to pursue my private activities, although somehow I managed to squeak in some journaling as well as being able to finish a painting over the course of 1-2 months. Back then, I had artistic dreams all over the place; from painting full time, to making cards, to God knows what else.

   Fast forward to October 2017. I've had an interesting week - I still managed to paint every morning for about an hour and a half on abstract designs. My husband and I then photograph the paintings, transfer the files onto our computer, where we use a program to create a quad-reverse (also known as a 4-fold mirror) and transform the design into something totally new that ranges from beautiful to totally off-the-wall. I hope to sell these designs to textile companies or through art licensing companies.

On Wednesday, I had a new acquaintance stop over to my home and she commented on a large 30"x40" oil painting that her recently-married daughter would absolutely love. I let it go to a newlyweds home. Thursday was my Zumba class, which I always look forward to. In recent weeks, we've welcomed a new instructor and she's been full of surprises. One week she wore electric dance leggings (not literally, but design-wise - I may have found an outlet for my designs). This past week, she brought in scarves with silver medallions all around them. These scarves were tied around the waist (and covered our butts). When we moved our hips - we jangled as well. I took a sky blue scarf and tied it on... and started wiggling. I was a kid in a candy store. This one little accessory ramped up my dancing class to a whole new level of fun!

   On Friday morning, my abstract painting reflected my energy level. I felt young, excited and eager to face this day. That afternoon was also the party to celebrate my 2nd oldest grandsons 8th birthday. Prior to that, I walked a 2-mile trail through the woods near our local medical center that meanders down by the ocean. Along this path, people leave and take Grace Rocks (which I also painted for a number of years - another dream fulfilled). A vast number of different rocks have been exchanged all summer. The best one I've found so far read "Shine On". To top the week off, my husband purchase some day-glow orange (literally) nail polish since it's getting close to Halloween.

   So what does my past week have to do with fulfilling dreams? That while I need to keep painting - I also need to stay full of positive energy. This will keep me in the proper mindset and maintain the drive to keep pursuing my dreams and allow them to come to fruition.

   Until next time, warm wishes.
   Jill

The Artists Life - Methodical Me

   I was on such a creative roll last weekend, that I wrote this week's blog seven days ago. My husband and I were returning from one of his photo shoot engagements and I chanced stopping into another artists gallery which, until that day, was "never open". Lo and behold, as we approached the old green building, a big "OPEN" flag was waving in the afternoon sea breeze. Dave and I entered this fellow artists gallery, and we were greeted by the artist himself. He was very laid back and personable - which was a real plus. Most people know that artists love to create but usually can't stand to sell and/or market themselves, so personality can be a slippery slope with artists and especially painters. I've been meaning to talk to him about his business, not necessarily his art - even more slippery. I was curious to know how he made a living - he was on a state highway where the speed limit was 50mph past his gallery. Foot traffic is non-existent. He was only open in the summer, and whenever I drove by, his establishment was never open. Was he just another wealthy retiree, (no offense to my readers who are wealthy and retired), who had money to burn on his "hobby"? The reason for all these questions, is that my husband and I are in the process of building, (very slowly but surely), a house that is not in a downtown area. It is much more rural. Would I be able to make a living with my gallery in that setting - much like his?

   First off, he thanked us for stopping by - a very good start. Then he told me that his gallery hours are 10-5 daily from mid July to mid September. All other times by chance. He does go back to Kentucky for the winter and most of the spring. He also weaved a short story about how he has been an artist for almost his entire life, (he is now 75 years old), and taught art in college after he graduated from college. It took him a number of years, but he was finally able to branch out on his own. He's also co-authored several books about his works as well as his creative process. I asked my questions point blank, still being a little nervous; "Do you make a living?"

"Well," he replied, "I'm not to disclose how much I make a year, but yes - I do make a good living." Most of his paintings sold for at least a few thousand dollars and some for even as high as $70,000. Two paintings were already boxed up and ready for shipment. He had four more to package up. I guess he does make a living. I also asked what percentage he sold locally and he responded it was quite low. About 90% of his works are sold to customers who have read about him in a magazine, or through his website, or some other avenue. "I sell very little locally - in order to make a living, I must sell worldwide," he finished.

     Dave and I took our time walking around his gallery. This particular artist paints in watercolor as well as egg tempura. Oil painting is completely different, and that's a good thing. His colors are somber, mine are not, and that's okay. His style is realism. Mine is all over the place... and I like it that way. I am not about any particular shape, form, color, subject, although I do have a single creative process. I'm still young, vital, alive, and bursting with energy.

   I've looked at my works over the past 30+ years and sometimes I can't seem to tell who created them even though my name is on all of them. My husband tells me, the same process occurs with his photography; our style will change. Our influences will still be present in some way, but our works will change. This is because we are improving, growing, learning. I wonder if this is true, because I've painted realism, abstracts, and expressionism that lies smack dab in between. Others tell me, "Paint what you love!" Big problem - I love everything! I love the ocean, flowers, sunrises, sunsets, old barns, you name it. And there lies the deeper question - who exactly is Jill Langdon and what does she paint? One artist on Main Street in our fair city told me he was painting "abstract in reality." Hmm... I wonder what that would look like?

   Lately, I've been working on 7"x10" abstracts painted with gouache. I've been painting one a day since September. I still plan to paint more through November and into December. Starting in January and going through mid-February, I'll be working on a sketchbook project for the library collection that's in Brooklyn New York. At this juncture, I have no clue how all this will come together. My colors verses real life? Where do I end and the paintings begin? Can they stand alone? I am the cheese.

   I paint because I was born to paint! I absolutely love what I do. I honestly don't care about the money, even though I would love to make more of it through my art. However, I have to be good with my art, as well as myself, regardless if I make $100,000 a year or not. If I'm no good with it, I'm no good without it. Another idea I've been batting around is to complete 10,000 paintings during the rest of my lifetime. Only time will tell, one day at a time. Will there be a method to my madness? How will I be able to find me? And how will I know it is in fact me? Light and beauty are my signposts. Onward I go into this journey, one brushstroke after another.

   Until next time,
   Methodically,
   Me

P.S. I need a gallery again! Throughout the blog are various shots taken at galleries over the years.

The Artists Life - Symbolism

   Symbolism is an art term that means one thing represents something else. This week, a couple unique situations presented themselves with a variety of symbols. During one of my daily walks for exercise, fresh air, and rejuvenation, I routinely see signs; some belong to businesses, while others belong to Mother Nature. They range from the common-place like stop signs and crosswalks to the extraordinary magic of watching a tree slowly change color as more leaves turn from green, to yellow, orange, then finally red and brown, only to float to the ground in the end.

   As I write this, it is Friday October 6th. I have been a nervous wreck all day anticipating the art show opening that Dave and I have this evening. In an effort to get my mind off the event, my youngest daughter along with her two sons took me on an outing in the morning. We went to an ocean-side playground in a neighboring town. However, as we drove there, it started lightly raining. My daughter and I didn't know how long we would be able to stay outdoors. In an effort to stay as dry as possible, we sat under a large oak tree - so far, so good. As I looked around, there were squirrels scurrying across branches. Acorns fell all around us. A lobster boat was leaving the harbor. Through it all, my grandsons played to their hearts content. I also noticed an orange construction cone where an old merry-go-round used to be. The last time we were all here, we played on it despite how rusty and rickety it was. Now it's only a distant memory. I'm wondering if the town will install a new one next Spring...

   After a while, the rain came down much harder. We gave up the playground and drove to the library in Camden. While the rest of my family used the restrooms, I wandered into the gallery where Dave's and my art works are. I noticed my portfolio was opened to a different page - "This is good", I thought. "People are reading about myself and my work." I then joined my family in the children's room. In the same room, there was a young couple with an 18-month old, who talked with my daughter and I. He was a sailor for one of the windjammer boats and had the day off. "I'm an artist and my work is in the Picker Room," I replied. By the way, the Picker Room is the official name of the library gallery. "That's yours - it's great," he expounded. "I really love all the colors." "Thank you," trying to sound as graceful as possible as I felt a little overwhelmed with emotion.

   Soon it was near lunchtime, so we departed and my daughter dropped me back home. The sun had returned by now and was heating everything up to an above normal temperature for this time of year. Once home, I changed into fancier duds. I figured now was a good a time as any to be dressed for the opening which was only in a few hours. I found my teal shirt and matching scarf soon enough, but the black pants I wanted to wear were nowhere to be found. All of a sudden, I was in panic mode. I tried remembering where was the last place I saw them. Couldn't remember. I thought, "What would Dave do? He's so good at finding my stuff when I can't." That didn't work - he wasn't home and I'm not him! Damn! I ended up going through multiple drawers, shelves, and even a remote pile of clothing or two. I did finally find them... in the last place I looked. Still I was overjoyed.

   By now, Dave was just about due home from work. To pass the time, first I made myself a cup of tea. This particular brand of tea has inspirational sayings on the tag at the end of the thin string. Today's tag; "Peace of mind comes piece by piece." Obviously, this is a huge sign from my Greater Power, who also has a tremendous sense of humor. The second thing I delved into was to finish the painting I started this morning. I still had to fill in the background and some tiny spaces. I have a one track mind and honed into what I was doing. It took a good 45 minutes to complete.

   About the time I finished painting, Dave arrived home from work. He brought in the food for the opening reception, readied on our serving platters, and changed into his dress clothes... in a matter of fifteen minutes. I love my husband with all my heart, but sometimes his efficiency makes me want to strangle someone. We drove to Camden and arrived about 15 minutes before the reception started. The events coordinator, I believe, was a little nervous as she has not done this many times before. She was pacing when we walked into the gallery. We set everything up and were ready to roll.

   Slowly but surely, people strolled in - some people we knew would be there, others complete strangers. Some stayed and chatted for over 20 minutes, others came, saw and left. During a brief break while talking with patrons, the events coordinator handed me what looked like a very small ceramic spike. She mentioned she didn't know if it was part of one of the paintings, or it fell off from something as she found it while browsing through my portfolio. When I informed her it wasn't any part of the current show, she offered to throw it in the trash. I replied that I would keep it as it was an enormous symbol to me. Back in my 20's, I created eight ceramic pieces that I created for a college class. The idea began with a blow fish all puffed up with its spikes. The other pieces followed suit, whether it was a vase, or a sea plant, or whatever.

   Over the years, Dave and I have moved to different locales. Despite our best efforts, many of the spikes have fallen off. The spikes represent the defiance's of the blow fish. At that time of my life, I felt I had to always "be on guard" - my defenses - my walls were impenetrable. To be given a spike after all these years was a sign to be friendly and outgoing. I don't have to be so defensive anymore.

   Over the next two hours, numerous people stopped and engaged in our work. People of all ages, including children. Just about everyone found something to engage with - whether it was the colors, textures, the lines, the patterns, what-have-you. We even had one gentleman state that he didn't like any of the works... right to the events coordinator. Oh well; it is what it is.

   After the reception was over, we cleaned up, packed what little food and drink was left, and headed back to Rockland. Dave and I were going to celebrate at one of our favorite restaurants, but being Friday night during the early evening, the establishment was packed. We decided we had had enough of the public and headed home. As I finish writing this, I'm in comfy clothes, we have some mellow jazz on, and the lights are low. I'm winding down... content. It was a good day to talk about art and it's meanings - both big and small.

   Until next time,
   Jill

The Artists Life - Anticipation

   As I write this, I am currently between art shows; one ended last week at a gallery in Tenants Harbor Maine and the next one I set up this morning, (as it started this afternoon), and runs all month at another gallery in Camden Maine. I must admit, the last showing "retaught" me a great deal, as it had been five years since I last displayed in (and had the wherewithal to deal with) a gallery. Communication is still key, especially when there are personnel changes on the gallery's end. Communication about set-up times, who is taking care of the opening reception, and what is expected as part of the "show".

   Feedback from gallery employees was also helpful. Some galleries just require an artist statement. This gallery also wanted a sheet telling about the "why" of my art, as I wouldn't personally be at the gallery all month to answer questions. So, that form was a beyond-last-minute type up. In the end however, the show was a success, despite a bumpy first day or two. This is what can happen when the gallery events coordinator leaves the job approximately 3 weeks before your show starts!

   This morning my husband Dave and I hung our works for our current show. Displaying in Camden has always kinda been a dream of mine, as it is rather difficult to "get into" gallery space in this sea-coast town. It is extremely tourist heavy from May through October and is a very affluent town; which I hate to say, is that the town attracts a great deal of people who spend lots of money. And as superficial as it may seem, other people suddenly view your art in a different light. I haven't changed; my art hasn't changed; it's other peoples perception of it that has changed because of the setting. The opening reception, by the way is Friday October 6th starting at 4pm. Details are on my Facebook page as well as in Village Soup; both the local paper as well as on-line.

   My only desire from this moment right now, is that everything will go off without a hitch. Things have a way of working themselves out. I anticipate a wonderful time to be had by all as another dream of mine comes true. At least I was less stressed about this showing; and that's another good thing.

   Until next time,
   Jill

The Artist Life - Insights

   As I write this, I am sitting length-wise on my living room sofa with my legs propped up by a few pillows with the air conditioner humming in the background, doing it's noble best to cool the place, while pondering what to write about this week. I could write about the way-above-average temperatures (85+ degrees) for the first weekend of the Fall season, but that's hardly anything to do with any artists life. Accomplishments comes to mind - as Dave and I took down our remaining art works from a gallery in Tenants Harbor; a small coastal village (and big on tourists) that's halfway down the Saint George peninsula here in mid-coast Maine. All in all, it was a good show. We each sold one of our works, and the curator thanked us again for displaying. Apparently, the town was all a-buzz with the "abstracts" that were on display, and they were received warmly. Just about everyone enjoyed the change of genre for the past 30 days, except "...the old fogies - it really stirred them up," as quoted from the curator who was also smiling widely.

   One piece of advise from another experienced artist who viewed our works, told us to raise our selling prices even more. That has always been a struggle for me. As of this writing, my works sell for $2 dollars per square inch, which seems to be a going rate, since my works are currently not in a huge local gallery that's going to take a 70% commission if a work sells. The other artist told me, "You want people to think they are getting a priceless piece of work. It adds value to the original work and the customer feels better about their purchase and investment." I feel strange about raising my prices, as only one work sold out of fifteen. I took the other artists advise with a grain of salt, especially when I asked her if she had sold any works over the past three months and she replied that she hadn't.

   One of my dear friends, who hadn't seen my paintings in a while, but went to see the display, was a little surprised; "I was expecting sunflowers. But it looks like you found your true self in these paintings." I love my dear friend and knew she what she meant. However, if it was a casual acquaintance, I would be a little unsure if it was a compliment or not. If anything, this show proved I've reached yet another epoch in this series of works as well as development. On to the next series and adventure as well as to pursue my dream of being self-employed artist again who makes a living at it. A "living" by my terms.

   A second accomplishment this week was I worked each day and achieved five new designs in my smallish sketchbook. I worked in quash paint for a few hours and was able to freely create. In a way, I was grateful my painting only occupied a few hours, because the weather (except for Tuesday night into Wednesday) was stunning. And with the temperatures being at ten degrees above normal, I had to be outside and soak up the sun. I know - a real Cadillac problem; but these warm sunny days will disappear faster than we realize. It's hard to believe next Sunday will be October 1st.

   With all this beautiful weather, I'm still able to get out for a walk, get some fresh air and exercise. One would think, that after all these years, and all these walks, that I would tire of the same ocean vistas that I view daily. Believe it or not, I don't. Not because I'm a being a bitchy snob holding the fact over people that "I live by the Atlantic and you don't - don't you wish you were me", but it gives me a chance to see something different every day. It's never the same view twice. These memories propel me forward with the knowing that Spring and Summer will come again... and with it, more opportunities. Opportunities to create, show, and sell.

   But, being the typical artist, I'm jumping ahead of myself here. Come next week, my husband Dave and I will set up our next art show, this time a few miles north in Camden. Having the insight that Camden has the demographic to support higher pricing, we are redoing our placards to reflect just that. This along with artist statements, receptions, as well as other aspects that go along with showing (and hopefully selling). It's all part of the journey.

   Below is one of my new designs in my next series of abstracts that was painted this week. I'm hoping to transfer these designs onto clothing like dresses, etc. Kinda funky and psychedelic, but I think it will work!

   Until next time.
   Jill

The Artists Life - Flash Dance

   We seem to be on a slight roller-coaster this year - I have changed the name of the blog yet again. While I've gone back to an art theme, this time the theme is more encompassing. It still does not solely involve painting, or spreading love. It involves my life - which under that umbrella is art, painting, love, and anything else I may come across! To my own self be true.

   Last Thursday, I was attending my Zumba class, where we welcomed a new instructor who also brought her own music for us to dance to. One of the songs she had was "Flash Dance" sung by Irene Cara way back in 1983. I hadn't heard the song in like 15 years, but some of the lyrics moved me -

 - First when there's nothing, but a slow glowing dream, that your fear seems to hide, deep inside your mind.  All alone, I have cried, silent tears full of pride, in a world made of steel, made of stone.
 - Well, I hear the music, close my eyes, feel the rhythm, wrap around, take a hold of my heart.
 - What a feeling; Being's believing; I can have it all; Now I'm dancing for my life.
 - Take your passion; Make it happen; Pictures come alive; You can dance right through your life.


   I followed the movements of the dance while singing (not too loudly) to myself, and thoughts came to me with the lyrics. A slow glowing dream (a new painting), deep inside my mind (most definitely). I see colors - colors dancing in my life. It's my passion - pictures coming alive. It takes hold of my heart, and I'm painting for my life. Take my passion and make it happen... what a feeling!

   The problem was, after the song was finished, I wanted to go straight to my studio and paint! One problem - the new gouache paints I had ordered had not arrived yet. I wouldn't have them in my possession until Friday (the next day). Later on that morning, after I arrived back home, I got into my head and started thinking, "What should I paint? How creative process should I use? What colors should I select? When would I have time to paint?" I tried with due diligence to visualize what the finished product would look like, but to no avail. Desire, need, blockage, and excuses... I was full of all of them.

   Painting, or any type of art for that matter, cannot be forced. No drill instructor method for me. I have set a goal - practice painting daily on a 7"x10" sketchbook. Let the journey begin. Experts have said that in order to create a habit, you need 21 days. So, here goes nothing - creativity unleashed.

   Believe it or not, painting small frees my mind. I don't have to set aside a specific time block, be it eight, six, four, or even a two hour span. The painting I did this afternoon was done in an hour. I feel exhilarated. I've begun on yet another new path. It seems like in a flash, I feel alive. Do what you love, follow your bliss, because this is what makes life worth living.

   Until next time,
   Jill