In August, my husband and I decided to sell our San Francisco Bay Area home and move north to Oregon. We’ve been in the house for a long time, and I thought the sorting, clearing, and packing would be the most challenging part. It wasn’t easy, but with lots of effort and help, we got rid of what we could and put about 80% of our remaining possessions in storage. We’re now living in our professionally staged home, which is weird — imagine being locked overnight in a Crate & Barrel showroom — but all in all, the prep went great.
The hardest part is what’s happening now: We recently learned that the house’s 100-year-old foundation needs significant work. We made detailed disclosures and dropped the price, and we still hope someone will see what a good deal it is. At the same time, we’re conversing with engineers and builders, knowing we may have to take the house off the market, address the foundation, and begin again. We have no idea how it will go or what we’ll have left in the end. The not knowing is the hardest part.
This, then, has become an opportunity to work on my own foundation. What matters most? What practices help to keep me strong, kind, and reasonably calm? My art practice is one of those things, and I’m still holding on to it, if at times by a slender thread.
Drawing Through Chaos
Because of the disruption at home — exterior and interior painting, staging, open houses, a bout of food poisoning that sent me to the emergency room — I’ve stayed in seven different places in the past month. Drawing is the thread I’ve followed from place to place.
I’ve felt judgy about how much my “style” shifts from one drawing to the next: Shouldn’t I have one style and stick to it?
Talk about a limiting belief.
Refusing to explore what’s calling to us because of ideas about who or how we should be is an unfortunate shortcut to a very small life.
I let myself continue even if I don’t know what I’m doing and get lost in the details . . .
When I sit down to draw, I ask: What tool do I want to use? What kind of mark does my hand want to make? The process is satisfying, and the results are unpredictable.
Maybe someday I’ll settle into a style (for a while). For now, the practice itself gives me structure, and I learn from the little sparks along the way: wobbly lines, splatters, signage, scribbles, some semblance of likeness or essence, at least.
6″ x 6″ Birbs: So Many!
I know these look like my bird blocks, but they’re not. They’re 6″ x 6″ image transfers on collaged 1/2″ plywood panels, with hanging hardware on the back. The edges and backs are painted fun colors. You can see that some feature the same bird, but every background is unique.
I made these specially for a sale that didn’t happen, so now I have 18 of them! I’m offering them at a special price to help them find homes before I move—$45 each, including U.S. shipping. And 25% still goes to pigeon rescue.
Here’s a video that gives a more complete view, including the colors. If you’re seeing this in your email inbox, there will just be a big blank space here. Sorry! To view the video, click through to view this post on my website.
October Giveaway Coming Up!
Speaking of bird blocks, the entire flock is currently on display at Madge & Me hats in San Anselmo.
And I’ll be giving away a bird block at the end of this week. The winner can choose one from those available in the bird block gallery after the drawing. Or, if you prefer, you can choose one of the available 6 x 6 pieces pictured above.
As usual, here’s how to enter if you haven’t already:
- If you’re getting this post in your email inbox, reply to it and tell me you want to be included.
- If you’re reading this post on my website, subscribe to the blog and reply to your confirmation email.
Meanwhile, I hope you’re all well and feeling supported by your own foundations!
