Soutache (Or Why It Pays to Persist)

I saw a piece of handmade jewelry on the internet three weeks ago.  It was a graceful swirl of beads and something that looked like very, very, very thin ribbon. I oohed and aahhhhd and drooled. I spent long minutes staring at it and wondering "How'd she do that?".

A couple of clicks on the mouse and I was Googling "soutache".  Heck, I didn't even know how to pronounce the word so it's a good thing Google can't hear.  And for the next week each time I got home, I would scour the world wide web looking for clues as to how I could learn how to make this.  The blog posts I found were mostly dead-ends -- many of them contained photos but no instructions I could sink my teeth into.  So I went to my next go to source of tutorials -- YouTube. LOL.

Two nights later, after typing in variations of the search query "soutache jewelry" (among others: soutache, soutache braid, soutache jewelry tutorial, how to make soutache jewelry, what the heck is soutache jewelry anyway) I finally found something. I waited for the video to play, my hands clasped on my lap like a little girl waiting for Christmas.  The lady who had uploaded the tutorial began to speak -- in ITALIAN. Groan.

But I figured I'd watch it and since I learn better visually, I turned off the speakers and watched. And watched it again. And again. And again. And again. And after a while even the lady's glitter nails stopped bothering me so much.

To add to the challenge I even turned up the speakers one time and tried to decipher what she was saying. LOL.  (I couldn't but it was fun.)

Two weeks and three days later, I finished my first soutache piece:

I challenged myself to make something a little more symmetrical, more controlled, less free form.  This is what happened

After all that metallic soutache I wanted to go back to more earthy tones and this is what I came up with

Persistence does pay off. 

Wishcasting Wednesday: What Do You Wish to Let Go Of?

She lived in that pretty little house, a long time ago when she was young and had the whole world sitting in a glass jar she held on her lap.  One day, she was startled by some noise and the glass jar slipped and fell, breaking into a million pieces of jagged snowflakes.  Her world, contained as it was in the glass jar, fell too, and all those who populated her royal kingdom lay either dead or dying in the deadly carpet of glass.

She watched the tiny, tiny driblets of red as they slowly spread on the carpet of glass shards.  She listened intently for any sound that meant some of those from her kingdom still lived.  Hearing none, she carefully sifted through the sharp glass with the point of her shoe, gingerly at first, then with more urgency when it slowly became clear that no one in the world she held so tightly in her lap had lived. 

She screamed.  Long and loud and with such a keening noise that her voice travelled to the depths of the ocean and bounced back up to the far reaches of sky and space.  Her screaming began at noon and stopped only when it was time for dinner -- of the following day.

I wish to let go of the world that no longer makes me happy. I had thought for a time it was all I needed but now, as I go farther on my journey, I realize there is more to life than hanging onto a broken glass bowl and keening over shattered dreams.

New lives can be created, dead dreams nourishment for new ones. 

(The little story above is something I wrote a few months ago during an afternoon when nothing much was happening. I wrote this rather spontaneously, and the words came almost instantly leaping from mind to pen to paper.  I had always wondered what it was about and why i wrote it -- until today.)

Wishcasting Wednesday: What Do You Wish to Make Time For?

My paints lie idle on the shelf where I keep them.  My brushes, all clean and spiffy, have not been touched for weeks.  My painting partner, my two-year old niece, has stopped asking me to paint with her – she knows what I will say: “Tata is busy today baby.”

There are two unfinished journal pages waiting for me and each night when I come home I look their way longingly, calculating how much time I would need to add something to at least one and then walking away when I figure out that it will take too much time from what I need to do.

Need to do? Did I just say that – NEED TO DO.

Yup, I guess I did. As in:

I need to do this because it puts food on the table.

I need to do this because the deadline’s coming up.

I need to do this because if I don’t, no one else will and we’ll all be screwed.

I wish that soon I will make the time to do what I DON’T need to do.

As in:

I don’t need to draw but it helps me see things better, deeper.

I don’t need to experiment with mixing colors and layering them but it’s fun to see what the results of these experiments are.

I don’t need to make that necklace but wearing it when it’s finished will make my step lighter.

I don’t need to read this book but sitting down and digesting each and every word will satisfy a gnawing hunger inside.

I don’t need to stick out my neck but doing so will mean I would have one less “what if” to worry about.

I don't need to sit down and write out what I wish, but they have all come true so far and it won't hurt to try.

Sweeter the Second Time Around

What’s that old saying again?  About things coming in three’s?

I forget if they meant good things or if they were referring to bad things.  But as I am someone who always sees the glass half full (with strawberry milkshake at that!), I prefer to go with the good things coming in three’s.

After their first run at the UP Bahay ng Alumni last July 16 Step Up Events are at it again.  This time, they’re back with Round Two!

Take a look at some of the lovelies you can find in the links below.

http://pitakaonline.multiply.com/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tsibots/217563884923472?sk=wall

https://www.facebook.com/ferdinandcc

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000785561936

https://www.facebook.com/kbadz?sk=photos

http://www.angimahinasyonnicaca.com/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Free-Verse-Paperie/164371490253475

https://www.facebook.com/paperpodseedpaper

https://www.facebook.com/Alunsina.Handbound.Books

Handmade heaven!  (I know - I should've gone with the linky thing with thumbnails but my brain's not working right tonight and I can't seem to make it work.)  

I suggest you drop by early –  the better to snap up the best goodies before everyone else arrives! It really is sweeter the second time around.

Art Everyday: Zombie Army

Don't laugh -- but I am waiting for season 2 of "Walking Dead" to air. 

There's something about zombies that I find endearing -- the loping gait, the blank stare, the unintelligent grunts and growls, the way they walk around in packs, the way you can kill them with a shot to the head just reminds me of something. (No - I am not telling you what it is but I'd like you to guess and tell me.)

And then of course there's that crazy part of me that starts ticking off a mental list of what I would do in case of a zombie apocalypse.  Doing that can actually put me to sleep. 

So in anticipation of watching one of the shows I actually watch on TV that's not on History, NatGeo or Discovery Channel, I thought I'd draw my own zombie team. 

Crew No. 1 drawn over two lunch breaks.

I realized though that some of them looked  like they were smiling.

These two don't look too happy though.  Maybe the fact that I was really hungry and the lunch I ordered had not arrived yet had something to do with it.

Ghosts and ghouls and things that go bump in the night - a few of my favorite things. 

Message from the Universe

Just when you think that you’re walking all alone, a Divine Power comes along and reassures you and tells you what it wants you to do next.

I was gessoing pages, mindlessly slapping it on.  In my head a constant stream of talk floated – questions about where to go next, about what I should do.  Since I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing, I had inadvertently gessoed two pages together and when I tried to pry them apart, one page ripped leaving a wide gash that exposed the text printed on the page underneath it. 

Sometimes the most meaningful answers come from the most unlikely sources.

Getting Dark

Nights are a little longer now and daylight fades quickly.  Dusk creeps in when there still used to be a mild, afternoon sun and my mind starts to walk down the dark hallways that are filled with strange beings. 

They come in nightmares, grotesque creatures that only a mind steeped in greyness and mist can conjure.  I give them names and they speak to me and tell me of fear and running and loneliness. I realize that I know them.  They are after all, not really different from me -- they are who I am when I lash out and howl, when I look at myself and not like what I see.

My hands have become busy, trying to draw them out.  Hoping that by giving them form they will be easier to live with.  

Hammering on tin, I create a cage for a crimson butterfly.  Trapped in grey shadow she waits patiently for sunlight, her delicate wings blood-red against blackened metal.  Garnets stand guard around her protecting her from the night's demons, banishing the melancholy that comes with the darkness, keeping safe the passion that sits still for now, waiting, waiting, waiting for light.

And now I lay me down to sleep, around my neck this talisman I keep.  

Wishcasting Wednesday: What Guidance Do You Wish For?

Be there when I am afraid. Fear makes me do crazy, silly things that I later regret.  Like backing out of an activity I really, really would like to do, or keeping my mouth shut because what I want to say does not echo what everyone else is saying or even keeping my face covered when I should be walking tall and proud.

Be there when I am discouraged.  When I look at what I have done and only see the cracks, the misses and the imperfect story that is my life. 

Be there when I am lost. When every turn seems to lead to another dead-end, when directions given don’t seem to match where I want to go, when I lose sight of why I want to do something, when I forget that holding another wandering soul’s hand  is sometimes the way to find the center.

Be there when I am jubilant and happy.  Remind me that these times DO come.  Laugh and dance with me to more of these moments.

Be there when I am sitting in Light, when everything falls into place magickally and when I feel that I can do anything .  These are the times when I feel invincible and powerful and sharing them  is the only way I can say thank you.

I wish for guidance that walks patiently beside me, never tiring of whispering instructions even when I don’t seem to be listening.

I wish for guidance that will lead me inward and then outward – to find the answers that I look for, answers that will lead me out of the labyrinth, into sunlight and straight into the purpose that has been laid down for me.

  

An Afternoon in Alabama (Street, That Is)

I had a plan. It was so simple I knew it would work.  In order to keep a promise, get my hands on one of those new mini leather journals by Enan and Nadja of  Alunsina Handbound Books, and have enough time to take a quick nap before my brother's birthday dinner, I mapped out the steps I was going to take at the Handmade Art Fair at No.10a Alabama Street:

1. Brave the noonday glare (I hate glare!) and leave the house right after lunch. Get to No. 10a Alabama in 15  minutes. (Hey, on a Sunday, anything is possible!)

2. Walk  in and find Enan and Nadja’s space.

3.  Pick up precious leather journal.

 4. Do a quick 20-minute tour of the place.

5. Brave the mid-afternoon glare (I really, really hate glare!), get home and nap (aaah).

6.       Total time spent: 1 hour and 30 minutes AT MOST.

I should’ve known that the perfect little plan would be all for naught as soon as I saw this guy:

It was a sign.  This fellow, like me, had resolved to stay no longer than an hour and do a quick exit.  But here he was, reduced to skin and bone (mostly bone in my assessment) and still he could not leave.  The draw of the handmade, the call of creativity and art proved far much stronger than the desire for a Sunday afternoon nap - or even meals I think. (Uhm, mister - you're clavicle is showing.) 

Shaking it off as coincidence, I moved to step no. 2 – get the leather journal from Alunsina Handbound Books.  Not easily accomplished though – I had to pass through several tables of handmade goods and I had to remind myself constantly that I had a mission to get out in 45 minutes or less – or else my wallet would self-destruct. 

It was the hardest 10 meters I had to walk through in my entire life.

Surrounded by handmade items, I was in heaven.  Not a single mass-produced, neon colored baller ID in sight.  There were no tops that had that ubiquitous hand-lettered sign that read “Korea blouse – 150”, no stalls that advertised chemically laden skin whitening poison.

Instead, I found these:

‘80s themed shirts by i love 80s that screamed to me, bringing back memories of that carefree decade when bad men were vanquished by a few swift kicks from Bioman and Scheider and your friends considered you top dog if you had an Atari  

Vintage inspired jewelry by Erika Avancena Bustamante that brings one back to simpler, less harried times

Vintage buttons transformed into pretty rings

Handmade quilts by Linda  – all of them with a fascinating story to tell

Whimsical paper quilling pictures by Amihan Abueva

Amazing art by Eugenia Alcaide  which were responsible for my jaw involuntarily opening and closing and opening again in sheer awe. (She does custom work - so if interested, you can get in touch with her via eugeniaalcaide@yahoo.com.) 

Portrait done entirely with string

This is a three layered drawing - first layer shows the full face, behind it is a skull and I think the third layer is another angle of the lady's face.

I finally made my way to Enan and Nadja’s space and snagged my journal – all within two and a half hours of arrival.   It took me another half hour to get my nieces to move away from the table selling clay art (bribery with handmade clay pendants always works!).   Another  half hour to do another walk-through (translation: more shopping) and squeeze in a pleasant chat with Ms. Sandy Beltran (she of the  Triple Treat Tiangge and Reading Room at Cubao Shoe X) who was tending a booth showcasing  her Pippin Art and I was set to go.

I looked at my watch. It was 5:00 p.m.  and I had missed my deadline horribly.  My wallet, however, did not self-destruct  and being around handmade artisans and artists had energized me far better than any nap could.  Sometimes, plans go awry for the best reasons.

(The Handmade Art Fair at No. 10a Alabama happens each month. This address is also where you can find Resurrection Furniture and Found Objects Gallery.   The next art fair is on October 22 so if you love handmade and support handmade artisans, go check it out.)  

Wishcasting Wednesday: Which Path Do You Wish to Follow?

It was difficult to write today.

For the past few days I have been standing still, not moving, stuck.  I kept watching people move forward so I pretended to do the same.  The laugh is still there, the quick-witted replies that always make people chuckle are still there, and the time to encourage someone groping along in confusion was still there.  But I wasn’t really there.

I have been standing alone and confused in the middle of a road that I had thought was leading to something since that morning I woke up with the thought that maybe it wasn’t leading to anything.   

So I stood still. I’m still standing still. My feet and legs (and maybe my body up to my neck) are mired in thick, brown goo that unfortunately isn’t chocolate.  And even if it were chocolate, I just don’t seem to have the energy to want to eat it all up so I can get unstuck and move.

And I look down the long road that stretches ahead of me and I am instantly tired, like a runner who has been running for a full year non-stop.  My eyes scan the horizon for an end to this mucky road and I see none. 

There’s a part of me, the Frightened One, that tells me to get off this road.  It is rocky, she says, and sometimes the sharp stones cut through your feet and make them bleed.  But I think of those times when the stones turn into soft, cool grass drizzled in dew that is like a sweet balm to my wounds. And I tell the Frightened One that I am staying on this road.

The Frightened One warns me that there will be more times ahead where I will get stuck and I will stand there confused and alone and maybe even angry at myself for stepping right into the trap.  But I tell the Frightened One that when I am stuck, I see what lies along the road, things that I would never be able to appreciate if I were moving at a jaunty clip  – that bush with the blue flowers, the nest in that tree to my right where three baby birds have just hatched.  It is also when I am stuck and alone that I start talking to myself and the questions I ask and the answers I get are far more useful than those that come when I am moving forward swiftly.   I tell the Frightened One I am staying on this road.

She tries again (oh how fearful she can be!) and she tells me that the road is long and it winds steeply upward in places and then suddenly dips low – so low that it will feel like I have been buried alive.  I ask her if, after dipping low, it rises again.  She says: “Oh yes. Certainly.”  So I tell her I am staying on this road.

I wish to follow the path I chose long ago when I didn’t even know I was choosing.  It is long and sometimes difficult and there will be times, like now, when I will get stuck.  But there will also be times when there will be flowers strewn at my feet, when sweet rain falls gently on me to cool my fevered brow, when I will walk with someone who knows the words to the song I am singing, when daylight and brightness seem to go on forever, when I will laugh loudly and clap my hands in wonder at something I will find along the way, when I will move forward quickly and not be afraid.  I do not know where it will lead me or when the walking will end but I know it is a road worth travelling, it is a road that has a happy ending.  I know that because I chose it.   

Art Everyday: Making Friends with Watercolor

There are several things I'm afraid of: sharks, deep, dark water (and sharks!), earthquakes, snakes, rats, riding in a speeding car (or running alongside one especially one of those buses along EDSA) and watercolor.

There has always been something that scared me about watercolor.  I don't really know what but to me it seemed like a difficult monster to tame. So of course I set out to see if I could make friends with it.  It's a new month after all -- and I was scouting around for a brave thing to do this month.

What really motivated me to try it was watching my two year old niece slap watercolor on like it was the easiest thing in the world.  And while it's true that her artwork consisted mostly of squiggles of color (she insists they are paintings of Rio, her favorite parrot), I tried to see what it was that made her so fearless.

It was simple. She didn't care.

She simply slapped that paint down and dipped that brush into the pots of paint, not worried about how they would look like on paper.  She was painting for herself, enjoying the moment and not even bothered that her older sister taunted her about how "unbirdlike" her paintings were.  They were paintings of PARROTS. 'Nuff said.

I went back to being two years old and decided the best way to confront the beast was to play. And I did. The first try, done in between finishing up a custom order for brooches last week, did not go too well -- sort of like an awkward introduction at a party. A quick slap-dash piece that quickly ended up looking like - well, strange.  I recovered quickly.  I wasn't going to let this dismal failure get to me. Channeling my inner two year old, I tried again.  It worked and I was able to make a semi-decent face. It's the one on the left-hand side in case you couldn't tell LOL.

I was hooked.  I wanted to play some more.  I actually woke up at 3 AM this morning wanting to paint.  I came up with this -

My niece had it all figured out I guess.  Making friends with watercolor was no longer as daunting as it seemed.  I think we actually had a conversation in this last piece.

Now, about that fear of sharks ----

Second Life

Let’s pretend that we’re taking one of those logic tests.  Now, which of these words do not belong in the series:  REUSE, REDUCE, RECYCLE, WEAR.

a)      a) Reuse

b)      b) Recycle

c)       c) Reduce

d)      d) Wear

e)      e) None of the above

f)       f)  All of the above

g)      g) Next question please

I see furrowed brows. I see thought bubbles sprouting with a huge question mark right smack in the middle of it.  So who’s got the answer?  Give up?

If you are a denizen of our world it would most likely be (d) – Wear. But if you live in the world of Ros Flores  of Junkshop Abubot,  the answer would be (e)  - None of the above.

More furrowed brows.  More thought bubbles.  Wait – let me explain.

Ros is a firm believer in making use of every teeny-tiny bit of material she can lay her hands on.  Discarded bottle caps, old buttons that have seen better days,  scraps of metal,  keyboard keys, lengths of cable, electrical wire and other things that have been given up for dead are rescued from the trash pile and reborn into wearable pieces of art.

Don’t believe me?  Here’s proof:

 Those are actually used up colored pencil stubs turned into earrings.

And these are made from discarded aluminum soda cans.

Are these more your type?

For the geek - LAN cables turned glam

 Her early training under her mother (a great seamstress ), taught her to do fine needle work by hand and was, by the time she was in 5^th grade, her mother’s assistant tasked to do the beading on the gowns and dresses her mother made.  (At  5^th grade, I didn’t even know what a thimble was!).  Watching her mother sew and alter dresses and other clothing influenced Ros greatly .  Growing up with artistically inclined siblings also trained her eye and it was easy for her to put this and that color together, or experiment with different materials in her creative work.  Ros tells me her siblings are her mentors. 

She never sketches out her designs - she picks up her chosen material and plays with it until she comes up with something beautiful.  (The operative word here is PLAY – I told you making art is play!) In fact, she says she has often surprised herself by how a seemingly useless piece of plastic or metal can look so pretty sitting among other resurrected “jewels” like this button bracelet:

Ros confesses to not being past stooping down in the middle of a busy street to pick up an interesting piece and she has sourced her computer LAN cables from the office she used to work for, giving the cables a glamorous second life as necklaces, rings, and belts.  Even plastic bags are not spared. 

While she enjoys creating  art-to-wear pieces out of junk, Ros has a deeper motivation for doing what she does – she firmly believes in the benefits of recycling and the good it can do to a planet that is already straining under centuries of abuse, pollution and senseless waste.  Ros says every little bit helps and if doing our share means wearing such lovely, quirky accessories – then I don’t see why this is a bad idea.   

Her pieces are sold at handmade bazaars and you can catch Ros and Junkshop Abubot at the Triple Treat Tiangge in October (she told me that she’s working on new pieces for this event!).  If you can’t wait till then, visit her Facebook page or get in touch with her through cell number 0906-395-3061 or via email at  ros.rflores@gmail.com.

 (All photos courtesy of Junkshop Abubot)

Wishcasting Wednesday: What Do You Wish to Say No To?

I am haunted by this lady. She follows me around night and day. She sits across me at breakfast, drinks half my after-lunch cup of coffee, dives into my dessert before I do at dinner and always manages to hog the blanket when I sleep.

She also has the annoying habit of saying NO to everything.

“No you can’t – you’re too old for it. The chance has passed you by.”

“No you don’t – nice girls never do.”

“No – that’s not something your mother would say. Bite your tongue and pray they go away.”

“No – you’re too fat for that dress. And I don’t care if the color makes you feel alive.”

“No – you’re not talented enough.”

“No – it’ll never work. Trust me.”

What is more annoying is that I usually find myself saying Yes to her.  As in: Yes, you’re right. It won’t work/happen/manifest.  Yeah, I believe you.  Yup, I am too fat.  Uh-huh – you’re right again and I should forget that dream/project/idea.

So beginning today – and everyday, I wish to say NO more often to HER. 

No – one is never too old to try and learn something new.

No – I know I am a nice person but I have to stand up for myself sometimes.

No – my mother would most likely be proud of me for speaking my mind. 

No –  I like that dress.  And if I do look fat in it, then maybe I am but I don’t care.

No – I never said I was talented.  I only said that I was brave enough to try so I will.

No – it WILL work.  Trust ME.

So there – you crazy lady with the perpetually pained look – I am saying no. And I wish that you be quiet and leave me alone with my coffee and dessert. 

Art Everyday: Transformers

In one of my posts, I wrote about trying out a technique I read about.  It involves cutting out a magazine image and then painting or drawing over it.

I started out with this photo from a fashion magazine of a male model. What attracted me to this image was how androgynous he looked. (And how he looked like he stepped out of the '80s! LOL)

Look at that hair! 

I wanted to turn him into something unrecognizable and totally different from the original photo. So out came the bucket of gesso and a few coats later, I can fairly say, he's starting to look like a ghost of his former self.

Still wanting to alter this image some more, I dove in with more paint and put in a totally new face with my 5B pencil.  Do you still recognize him?

The initial intention was to turn him into a girl, with rouged cheeks and ruby red lips. Tough luck on that one.  I think my muse knew better :-).

But I did like how the face turned out.  Seemed to have more character and a smidgen of angst.  Now I don't really know why but the wings came next.  And in the end "he" ended up looking like this

If you're not that confident with your drawing skills (like I am) and painting a person from scratch gives you the chills, this is a great technique to try.  Having the original face and figure as a guide gave me the confidence to "draw" in a new one without having to worry about stuff like proportion and anatomy.  I think I'm going to do a few more of these until I gain enough gumption to draw a human figure from scratch.    

Wishcasting Wednesday: What Do You Wish To Enjoy?

Thinking about this wish prompt made me dig deep to find what the word “enjoy” really means to me.  And I found this – it means savouring with all senses, reading between the lines,  getting down at ground level like a curious two year old to figure out how something works.  It means feeling deeply – even when doing so could leave me raw and scarred.  It means chewing on every morsel of experience that each day brings and taking from it bits to dream with when I fall asleep.  It means listening for sounds that maybe only I can hear – probably because their message is for me alone.  It means breathing in air and picking up the scent of rain, or smoke, or newly cut-grass. 

I wish to enjoy what comes with each day.  Yes, even the things that I would rather not have happen. Because they will only happen once -- and I want to be fully present when I am given the gift of experiencing them.

Sunrises.

And sunsets.

Quiet time.  And loud laughter.

Books to read and paint to create worlds with.

Rush hour traffic.  And long lines at the grocery store.

A leaking faucet.  A dog that just can’t be taught anything.

Rain - preferably with loud, booming thunder.

And harsh, hot sunlight that sears through skin.

Tears that fall because I hurt – and the realization that I hurt because I feel.  Because I love.

  

Art Everyday: Scrapped

Okay -- I admit it.  I don't like to waste anything when it comes to my art materials.  We all know how expensive these can get and having imposed a strict monthly budget on my art spending, I have found myself keeping even the tiniest bit of scrap paper or canvass.  Some people would call me a pack rat.  I call myself frugal.

These little bits and pieces that get thrown away are still very useful.  Don't believe me? Well, here's a page out of my art journal that was made entirely from scraps.

This page was gessoed over twice.  And then I stopped.  I didn't know what to do with it.  Didn't want to paint it, didn't want to scribble in it.  That was when I turned to my scrap pile.  The torn pages that served as background on this page are what remains of a page I tore off this old book.  I had been using it to protect my work table when I was slapping on paint and some of the red and yellow paint I used sometime ago was on it.  I tore this page up and glued it to the blank white gesso "wall".

Even the face in the art journal page was painted on a scrap piece of paper.  And the paint I used to paint it with was leftover paint from one of the backgrounds I worked on.  Didn't want to waste it so I figured I would turn it into something that I could use later.

Here's a closer look:

Working with scraps has given me some great results and lovely surprises!  When I was painting this face, I was not aware of the spot of red paint on the scrap paper.  How can I not see a bright slash of red?  I don't really know.  What I do know is that I just painted that face, with my leftover paint on my leftover paper.  When I finished, I realized that the red spot was in the perfect place --- it went right across the area where the mouth should go!    And it gave the face just the right amount of color to make it more interesting.

The watercolor that went over the glued scraps were also leftovers -- my niece likes to paint but she doesn't really like to put the caps back onto the paint tubes (she's only two after all).  So her very first set of watercolor tubes all but went rock hard. I snipped off the end of the burnt sienna one, cut up one side and found me enough solid paint in there to give this page a single wash.  The cut-up tube of course is still in my stash -- I'm sure I'll find something to do with it later.

See?  You don't need to run to the art supply store each time you want to create something. All it takes is a little visit to your trusty old stash of "throw-aways" and you're likely to find something in there just waiting for you to give it a second chance at life.

Wishcasting Wednesday: What Do You Wish to Choose?

Having to make a choice often stumps me.  Something as simple as picking what I want for lunch can turn into an epic saga and a major attack of analysis-paralysis so let’s not even try to discuss how I go about making the big ones.

I get stumped because when faced with making a choice, I always tend to go with the one that makes the least ripples, the ones that create the least tension, the ones that will please everyone.  Sadly, the ripples turn into large waves of regret, the tension forever lives in my bones and in the end, I am usually the only one who is not pleased. 

I usually end up making the “safe” choice, the one that won’t raise any eyebrows, won’t cause much talk, won’t  freak anyone out too much, won’t make much of a dent, won’t show against the pristine background of my life.  I’ll go make the choice that matters to THEM, the one that’s FOR them.  And what about the other choice – the one I didn’t take? Oh it’ll sit there and it will be the choice that I will wonder about, the one that will haunt me with the “what ifs”.  It’ll come to me when I fall asleep after a day of compromises, whispering in that all-too familiar voice:  “ What about you?” 

And because I rarely choose the one that will make me sing, the one that will fill my heart, the one that will make me want to get up in the morning  and turn cartwheels at the sheer joy of being alive, I will brush the voice away and tell myself – no, force myself to believe – that I made the right choice. 

So I wish to choose ME.  I choose me.  This time, even just for once – I will choose ME. 

And when I do, then choosing will not be such an agonizing thing to do because even if my choice (on anything!) does create huge tsunami-like waves, I will be happier and fuller and more alive.  And the people close to me will understand because they will see how much better I am for making that choice. 

Of course there will be those who will not understand – but that’s okay.  I didn’t choose them. 

Art Everyday: Art Journals for Cheap

You know I love blank books and notebooks -- the kind with no lines. The plainer the page, the better for me. Looking at a blank page and knowing I can do anything with it -- oh the giddiness of it all!

But blank journals (especially those Moleskine ones) are quite expensive and there is something to my frugal upbringing that squirms each time I try to buy one of those. The thought of slapping paint and paper and filling something with a price tag like that makes me squeamish.  So where do I get my blank book fix?

I make them - out of old books that no one wants to read.  Books that will most likely be tossed into the landfill and left to rot. Old books that cost about P25.00 each over at the second hand books bin. I like the thought of giving these babies a second life.

I do pick them carefully. I always choose the ones with a sewn binding, never the ones that are just glued to a hard spine.  These (the glued ones) tend to self-destruct within 10 seconds of the first application of gesso. The ones with the sewn binding last - well, forever. And they can withstand the tortures I put these books through.  It's also easier to cut out pages to make a thinner book -- the better to add bulky collage elements in.  The kind of book or what it's about also counts for me.  The one I am currently working on used to be a hardbound novel with the title "Point of Origin". I picked it because I felt that it went with what I was starting -- a new journey.

To turn it into a blank art journal, I first take the old, trusty glue stick and glue two or more pages together.  Old book pages can be very porous and gluing two or more pages together makes for a stronger, sturdier substrate that can take paint and water better without fraying or tearing.  Next, one of my favorite parts -- glopping on the gesso.  I love gessoing the pages.  The repetitive movement of brush gliding on the page is almost meditative (to me at least! LOL).  The pages look like this after two very thin coats:

Then it's time to work on the backgrounds.  I spend my weekday evenings working on backgrounds. I love putting on layers and glazes of paint on the page.  And sometimes, to add a little texture, I lay some sheer tissue paper on top of the painted page and crumple it a bit. Two background pages I made last week had that textured look I like.  I stamped them with my wooden stamps from India.

Here's a page with just a plain background (for now).  I still don't know what else I want to do with it

You can use a brush or even a clean kitchen sponge to apply paint.  I keep several cut-up kitchen sponges handy just in case I want to pounce the paint on.  Using a sponge can give you really cool effects and textures.    If you want to go for an antiqued look, you can stain your pages with tea or even coffee.  I sometimes use coffee grounds to do this -- just get some damp coffee grounds and smoosh them on the page.  Messy - yes. But it's fun -- it's play.

And that's what I was up to the past week.  After this post, I'll be going back to my work table to finish something I started over the week-end.  It was an experiment of sorts, just trying out a technique I saw while nosing around, but I like how it turned out.

And tomorrow -- I'm going to take a trip to the used books store to pick up a few more of my "artsy-fartsy journals" in the making.

Wishcasting Wednesday: What Door Do You Wish to Open?

My feet are tapping out an impatient rhythm on the cold, tile floor.  I am waiting, waiting, waiting. In my head, ideas are buzzing around and the images are like hornets in a frenzy. I know I can do it. I have been waiting, waiting, waiting.

I wish to open the door to opportunity.  Not just the garden variety type of opportunity but the in-your-face-shining-like-the-sun-this-is-the-moment-created-for-you kind. I realize that door has opened many times for me before but I never took the step toward it. Either I was too young, too foolish, too afraid, too doubtful, too distracted, too unsure, too busy making a living instead of actually living.  So I tap my feet in an impatient, ragged staccato on the cold, tile floor - waiting, waiting, waiting.

When it does open I will go boldly toward it. I will be afraid but I will go anyway.

When the light peeks through the little crack that appears when the door to opportunity opens, I will breathe deeply and say "Yeah - beam me up".

I wish to crack that door open into the life I've always wanted, step into the person I know I have always been, live the rich, adventurous, rewarding, whole and unbelievably fulfilling life that I have always known to be mine but never took the chance to seize.

(Late) Wishcasting Wednesday: What Do You Wish to Nurture?

(I was supposed to post this last Wednesday for Wishcasting Wednesday but life got in the way - which is another way of saying "I was sooo darn tired I plodded home and fell asleep with my shoes on".  Here it is though -- I always thought wishes didn't have to made on a particular day.)

I once knew a little girl –  she was fearless.  She asked questions, probed into things, danced whenever she felt like it, sang loudly, spoke clear and  true.  There was in her eyes an infinite amount of curiousity and the world to her was an endless source of adventure.  She climbed trees and rooftops and walked atop neighbor’s fences.  She never opened the  gate to go in or out – she always climbed over it.

From my July 2011 Art Journal

People warned her to be careful telling her that little girls who asked too many questions and spoke her mind too much were likely to get in trouble.  They told her to speak softly and bat her eyelashes and say pretty please to get what she wanted – saying No, cocking an eyebrow when she disagreed and basically acting (even thinking) like a boy would get her nowhere.   When she heard this, she cocked an eyebrow and squinted and thought:  that may not all be true.

But the world she lived in was inhabited by more people who believed the warnings to be true and by only a few who whispered “NO, go on” (and even these few lived underground so it was hard for her to find them).  And so slowly the fearless child forced herself to follow their advice, at first painfully swallowing what was forced down her throat and later, numbly accepting that fearless children should not exist.  And bit by bit, the fearless little girl faded away and in her place stood a waif of an excuse for a woman.

Sometime ago though, the fearless child, summoned by some unknown call, woke but the woman did not recognize her.  The child too was afraid of this woman, who was both, at all times,  her Mother and her Self.  They did not know what to make of each other but they knew they could not live without the other.  And so a tentative bond began to form between this unsure, cowed woman and the fearless, curious child.  With each passing day, the bond grew stronger as they recognized the other and took turns caring for each other. 

I wish to continue to nurture this fearless child, that wild-haired, barefoot spirit that is as much me as is the poised, controlled woman in the dark business suit and heels.   She has been in hiding for too long and deserves to be set free again.  I wish to nurture the tenuous bond between us – she needs to learn to trust the world again for it has, in some ways changed.  And I need to learn to trust her instincts too so that once again I will be able to see as she does.

Art Everyday: Becoming More Daring with Noses

The obsession is still on with noses.  This time, I wanted to draw it in profile.

So on a rather long, boring day I managed to give it a try

I think this one is quite okay - first try, beginner's luck. It's far from perfect and I don't want any of what  I draw to be.  It's the little imperfections that make it real to me.

Drawing the eye on this one was a blast though -- so I think I know what my next obsession will be.

Art Everyday: Trapped? (A Couple of Pages from My Art Journal)

Seriously, you expect me to be quiet?

And do you really think I will never, ever fly?

I'm growing my wings now. And my voice is no longer the raspy whisper it used to be.  

Soon. 

Wishcasting Wednesday: What Do You Wish to Try?

I badly need a vacation.  Somewhere. Anywhere.

I have not had one in a while and I've been craving the ocean and I would love to see my old friend again. Here's the thing about vacations though -- I have never taken one alone.

Vacation time with family is usually so stressful for me that I would find myself wanting a vacation from my vacation - if you were put in charge of handling all the arrangements you would understand I guess. And now here I am suffering from withdrawal symptoms caused by a vacationless year.  But this year I would like to do it differently. I'd like to go off on my own.

This sort of thing is never heard of in my family.  We go everywhere together -- except the bathroom -- and the thought of me wanting a few days away from them would probably be taken as a huge insult.  It's taboo. We don't do that. How can you go away on your own and leave us? (Cue in melodramatic music here)

But I think I need to. And I would like to try that. To have a few days on my own, maybe in some place I am not totally familiar with, would probably jolt my brain into hyperdrive and wake me up to what I am missing.  Becoming lost in unfamiliar streets would be an adventure.  Communicating in sign language because I can't speak what they speak would bring out the hidden thespian in me I'm sure.  Eating something unrecognizable would be totally allowed and there will be no one to warn me that I may not have packed enough Imodium or Pepto-Bismol.  Sleeping in out of the way places (without having to worry if they had cable TV or internet connection) and waking up when I want to would be heaven.  And sitting still, staring off to nowhere or doodling in my sketchbook would not be interrupted by trips to go see some of the sites, or shopping, or even the flash of an unexpected camera that always seems to catch me each time I open my mouth wide to yawn.

I wish to try going off alone to see the world the way I see it. I wish to see if by doing so, I can somehow tune out and tune in.  I would like to discover a new place on my own terms,  to listen, ears close to the ground, as a place tells me its story on its own, just the way it should be told.  I want to be able to walk up to people and  prove that the human race isn't doomed because there still those who are more than willing to help a silly lost woman find her way.

Now that would be an adventure worth retelling.

Art Everyday: Sniffing Out the Perfect Nose

For some reason I’ve been obsessed lately with perfecting the NOSE.  Looking at my past drawings, I realized that in the faces I drew, the nose was usually represented by either an L-shaped, slightly askew line 

or a squiggle with some shading to show the outline of what I hoped looked more or less like a nose.      

And while they work for me (I sort of like the whimsy that a squiggled nose evokes), I figured it would not be a bad thing to learn how to draw a nose correctly – or, should I say, a little more accurately than a squiggle.

As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I have never had any formal art lessons.  At the rate these cost, I don’t think I ever will get the chance to attend any LOL. But if one is resourceful enough (okay, obsessed enough in my case), there’s no reason not to find and get what you need.   I wanted to draw a nose properly – so I went to look for someone to teach me.

I found my teachers on the internet of course.  There are tons of free tutorials on just about anything on the net and   this tutorial video by Dan Nelson  was particularly helpful to me.

My eyes bleary from watching the tutorials , I bravely took one of my sketchbooks and sat myself down to draw me a perfect nose. 

It wasn’t easy.   

The first few still looked like squiggles.  Only this time they looked like properly shaded squiggles.

I tried again.  And I think I managed something quite decent.  Rather crooked, but a bit decent.

And again. And again. And again.

I never thought I’d knock  myself out drawing noses.  But I did.

After two days of shading in nostrils, trying to shade in a proper philtrum ('ya know – that little indentation between the nose and the mouth?)  and kicking myself for drawing yet another version of the Wicked Witch of the West’s nose, I think I finally have the hang of it.

I think.