Phew! Thanks to great neighbors and her vocal chords, our little skinny kitty was retrieved today after a few days of adventuring. She's stinky, hungry, skinnier than usal, sunburned and scraped up but she isn't talking.
Now, I'm ready to paint and draw and read and think.
While she was missing it was hard for me to not think about a white cat. The only one preoccupied now is the cat (trying to take her new tag off).
So, off to paint but I won't be too silent for too long.
Take care,
Rachael

We wish we knew where she is. Missing. Snuck away while I took out the garbage or some other random moment. Now, it's been several days without our little cat and we're both still pretty pre-occupied. Like Mark and K who are going through the same thing (may Pavi come home soon), we had fitful sleep thinking we'd hear her meow. I tried not to worry all day yesterday and today but she's tagless and skinny and lost. She's small and whiny.

We never claimed to own her. That's a big reason she was never named, but I called her (want to call her again) baby since that's about how we treated her. She was simply living in the apartment we moved into 7 years and 3 states ago.
We hope she comes back but will understand if she's happy (maybe she's decided on a new life with a cat she'd been making eyes at.)

more soon,
Rachael

Man, I been talking too much. This morning I gave another how working artists work talk and on wednesday I'll blah blah blah about early 20th century american art (thus the Dove, the Hartley, the Burchfield books on my table). I've been calling old friends and I seem to have opinions about everything. But before I say another word, I'm gonna promise myself and you (my dear readers) something.

In a few minutes I'm stepping into the room in which I paint and I'm not going to read and prepare for a talk (that's done enough), and I'm not going to write another chatty letter to a friend (they know I love 'em), and I'm not going to clean. These are all tried and true avoidance techniques. When really, if I simply face the challenges all those (yes, too many projects in process is part of the problem) stops and starts have, I will feel better. The more I talk and the less I work the more the fear of being a faker comes in.

I'll paint today, hit the wheel after work tomorrow, throw a bit more on wednesday maybe and start in on that new sketchbook I'm ready for. I'll take my lunches sketching again. If you don't hear from me, don't worry, kids, it means I'm busy doing what I'm supposed to do. Shut up and paint. So, talk amongst yourselves, I'm going to get busy now.

take care,
Rachael

Just under a year ago we lived in Atlanta, worked a lot, made art and good friends, engaged in long lazy conversations with friends on porches, and scraped together our nickels so we could go see troublemakin rock-n-roll rumpshakin music on friday and saturday nights at the earl and the echo and the star bar. We're now in a new town, happily setting up our new life, working a lot, making art and good friends, and every once in a while going out to see live music. Glad we saw The Forty Fives and The Sadies last night.

Last night we were happily among the other seedy characters in a teeny bar listening to one of Atlanta's finest troublemakers. They sounded good (loud, tight, frenetic, and honest) and standing there listening and reminiscing reminded me of a pockteful of simple truths:

Life's too short to worry about what other people think as you live your life. Make the art, the music, the strange things you wanna make.

Playing music, painting pictures, writing small bits of nonsense are all about connecting to other people. So certainly you want to work your hardest to make the best you can.

Loud is good.

The tall people will stand in front. The girl who smells like salami (really) will be next to you all night. There will be discomfort but if the music is real it is really wonderful to hear it live.

If you were born to be a rock star you will crisscross the country playing dive bars for a couple of bucks and listening to a lot of people say you rock or you suck but you will be honored and excited to be on that stage. Even as it wears thin, you'll keep it up and more than your inner circle of friends will be glad you did.

Passion in the process is contagious.

Just about what I thought but mostly I just loved the rock and roll...

Take care,
Rachael

Arthur Dove is and has been and will be an inspiration. He took a lot of risks in his life and his art and somehow managed to always make work that rings true. I'm thinking about Dove and Dow and Homer a lot lately. These men who wanted and needed to paint, found their place ( Geneva, Ipswich, and Prout's Neck) and regardless of how their work was seen or accepted, they made the work they needed to make.

It's foolish though that only a few could see the truth of Dove's work when he made it.

I centered something today and actually managed to get it off the wheel. It might not survive the kiln. It's sure nothing too special, but it is a step on a larger road. The object is nothing compared to the thrill of how it felt to have control, to feel connected to that clay for a minute or so...and not to wreck it! My stupid thumbs get in the way a lot but yet, I'm learning.

OK, so, I'll keep trying to make and recycling the mucked up clay. It certainly helps to remember the people (love me some dove) that inspire.

take care,
Rachael