The boot is gone — yay!
Not trusting the weather for travel, I decided to send my art and my lights to Wabi Sabi gallery in Twin Falls, Idaho for Art & Soul! But, I had hoped to drive there at some point!
I hoped to drive to Wabi Sabi in Twin Falls, Idaho for the gallery’s event this Saturday, BUT the weather decided to ice and snow – we needed 3 days to drive and the weather did not cooperate. We travelled to Salt Lake City years back and on April 28 we were the last car allowed to proceed up the mountain road before the officer closed the gate. We fortunately were able to get off the road and find a motel. It was quite an adventure, and not one we really wanted to repeat. So, now i guess I will spend extra time rehabbing my back and now my foot. Gotta look on the bright side. And, maybe I’ll get to my 10 x 12 foot. But, I am missing the show.
So, as I am sharing my art adventure with you, here is what happened. I’m thinking the sciatica is healing, and I’m starting to paint on my large painting … and, another mishap … I tripped over my laptop chord, smashed my nose into my face, crumpled my neck and body like an accordion, twisted my ankle and broke my foot. Ouch.
So my painting is again delayed. I did however test the lighting for these 4 — 8ft x 4ft paintings that are going to be at Wabi Sabi gallery in Twin Falls for “Art & Soul. I managed to pack and ship them. They are on their way. YAY!
So, being an artist is more than playing with paint – it includes dealing with adversities and life, handling the details, doing not so fun grunt work — but getting it done, so we can share it with you and/or those that want to see/experience it.
I was so grateful when I got this boot so I could put weight on my foot and walk — NOW, I want it gone! Ahh, the luckier we are the more we want. Happy walking, everyone!
In lieu of doing a full-size installation at Art-Prize at the Harris Building (we will do one this year), I created a miniature replica. I asked the viewer to imagine that I created an installation in a much smaller universe than ours — perhaps one that would fit on the head of a pin. Below are photos of the finished miniature gallery in my studio and photos of my process.
These paintings are the result of a terrorizing experience a few years ago. Driving on country roads, I drove into a winter flash flood. I could not see. It was dark. There was no moon. There were no lights. I could NOT see! Ice and water slammed my windshield. That was at minimum a quarter mile that did not seem like I would ever reach the end of. If I let up on the accelerator, the car began to stall. Unknowingly, I had come upon a flooded creek. I had driven the same road a couple of hours earlier while the sun was shining, and it was clear. For months before this experience, I had been having dreams of driving and not being able to see! I have had only one of these dreams since.
This was an ordinary trip, taking my Mom to the doctor. I knew the road well. Perhaps this trip and the dreams were symbolic and foreshadows of the time to come — my Mom’s death, the fear, the helplessness, but gradually some light.
On Dec 14 a debilitating sciatic attack put me on my side for about a month. I couldn’t hardly stand, walk, or sit. I could only lay on my left side. What a journey! I am still unable to crawl around on my studio floor to paint. But I have the video below to remind me that I can do it. And, I will soon!!! And, in fact I have begun working on this painting again. It is 10 ft x 12 ft or 12 ft x 10 ft — I haven’t determined its orientation yet. It is one of the largest I have done in awhile. I can tell you that while I was recovering I was unable to do anything — working on the computer was so difficult. I did not leave my bedroom for a week and a half. It’s only been a month since I could lay on both sides and my back. When I did make it to my office, I did some small digital art — a part of my energy series.
I am constantly changing and experimenting with video, animation, materials and lighting. I’ve had a wide range of reactions from loving it to not getting it. It is so rewarding to touch someone’s life. I was so appreciative when a young man with dollar in hand wanted to “tip me” for all of this. I graciously showed him where my donation jar was, and told him he was going to help me do a large installation in Michigan. When people are moved… that is my reward.