Living with the Unhoused

Parman Branch Library is finished. I made some small changes this morning but basically it’s how I left it Monday. I added a street lamp that I had originally decided to take out. I felt the lawn needed something, needed to be broken up a bit. I also added the sign and some shadows.

I also started a larger painting of Brook Hollow Branch Library. The parking lot is graded so when I was there painting it I was almost looking down on the building. It was less obvious when I was on location, but in the photo it’s kind of stark. I decided to go with it. I think the most photogenic aspect of the image is the way the light filters through the trees above the building. It looks kind of majestic. Hopefully I can capture that in my painting.

I went to get some blood work this morning so I stopped and took some photos of the Fredericksburg I-10 intersection on my way back. I want to use some of the photos for bigger paintings. My plan is to get a roll of canvas and stretch some larger canvases for a series of Fred and I-10, but for now I started a smaller painting of the view East from under the overpass. In the background is the homeless shelter. I often wonder how long it will last. There haven’t been a lot of developers in this part of town, but if they do come, I’m sure that shelter will disappear pretty quickly.

I don’t always know how I feel about politics, about who matters, who should be treated certain ways and who shouldn’t. I certainly don’t think that a homeless shelter should be treated with indifference or cruelty. But I also think one would have a hard time selling a condo with a homeless shelter next door. 

Before the pandemic I used to spend a lot of time at the Starbucks on Fredericksburg and Hildebrand. There was a homeless guy who would sit in the corner with sunglasses on and every once in a while yell at the top of his lungs. When I first started hearing it I thought someone was fighting. I would turn around to look but I could never tell who it was. And no one else in the store seemed to notice. What I realized over the course of a few months was that the guy in the sunglasses was yelling and everyone in there was used to it. He never moved or acted threatening, so after a while I got used to it too.

There were a lot of homeless people who would order water and sit in the store for hours. They would put all their bags of stuff on the chairs and take up space. One time someone asked to use my phone and it upset me, but for the most part, other than the yelling, the homeless people didn’t really bother me. I always wondered though what the people working there felt. What was it like to have to manage the patrons that didn’t behave like the rest?

I was sitting outside once when a woman came up and asked to use my phone so she could call her boyfriend in Afghanistan. When I said no she was incredulous. She seemed to think that I was stingy and cruel. “But I need to call my boyfriend,” she pleaded, as if that would make me change my mind. Unfortunately, she wasn’t someone I trusted to use my phone, in Texas, to call her boyfriend in Afghanistan. Plus, I had a hard time believing she even had a boyfriend in Afghanistan.

I would see management outside telling people that they needed to leave, which never seemed like an enjoyable or safe task. One time there was a guy passed out on the grass. The manager working that day had to come out, wake him up, and ask him to move on. And I couldn’t help noticing how sensitive the non-homeless people were to the homeless. We were walking on eggshells. Telling someone she couldn’t use my phone felt risky, even though I said it nicely. 

When the pandemic hit, Starbucks closed the dining room and became a drive-though only store. Every time I drove by the line was through the parking lot. It made me wonder if they lost any business. Was it easier to work there without having to deal with the homeless and (possibly) drug addicted that were always hanging out? If they sold as much as a drive-through only store, would they go back to opening the dining room and patio?

These are tough issues to figure out. I like my neighborhood. I like all the diversity here. And I like the idea that I’m able to share space with all kinds of people. There’s a house on my street with a very nice Porsche parked out front. There’s also a house a few blocks away with a front porch that has caved in and junk in the yard, but people still live there. There are the cozy cottages, like mine, and then there are the large 2500 and 3000 square foot homes too. Is it possible to live together? If someone builds a condo next to the homeless shelter, would people who could afford to buy it.

The Little Things

I set up my easel outside this morning and started a painting of my house. I thought I would paint it and use it as advertising for ‘house portraits’. I’ll put it on my neighborhood Facebook group and see if I can get some business. Ironically, while I was out there a neighbor whom I’d never met, stopped to chat. She shared that she was really inspired seeing me out there painting. It was cool. We talked and I told her about the house portraits and she suggested posting it in the neighborhood newsletter. I’ve lived in my house 14 years and I never knew there was a neighborhood newsletter. She graciously said she’s drop it off the next time she gets one. It was sweet.

Things like that remind me that there are good people out there. Not just good, but great. I like to make mental notes of things like that, remind myself that, although I’m constantly flooded with bad news and things to worry about, there are positive things to notice too. She was friendly and it made me feel friendly. I appreciate her stopping just to say Thanks for doing what you’re doing. To say, You inspire me. That’s pretty cool.

I’ve spent a lot of years trying to check my relationships. I’ve been learning how much of my energy is spent trying to get my needs met by others. Years ago I was introduced to what ‘codependency’ is. It’s complex, and when you’re in the grip of it, it’s cunning and baffling. Back then I was under the assumption that everything I wanted and everything I needed, from love to comfort and stability, were things I needed to get from others. I was what they call ‘looking for love in all the wrong places.”

I did things because I thought I was going to get something in return. I wasn’t a giver. I was a taker. I was scared, insecure, and immature. I wanted a hero, a savior, a rescuer. I wanted someone to come make all the fear go away. But, at the same time I didn’t want anyone to know how desperate and needy I was. I was doing one thing but acting another. It was misery and I always felt that I’d been wronged. I always thought that it was other people who were letting me down or betraying me or using me. I was a blamer and shamer. 

It’s hard to look back and remember those times.

What I’ve learned over the years is that I can get my emotional needs met on my own. What it requires is living an inner-directed life. Having a Higher Power turns my attention inward. So when I’m full of blame, when I’m defensive and certain that someone has done me wrong, I can turn my attention inward and work through my resentments. I can look at what’s at the root of my anger. I’ve mentioned this before, but when I look under the surface, I usually find that the true source of my rage is usually myself. It’s usually because I’ve let myself down, because I’ve acted selfishly, because I’ve been afraid and dishonest with myself and others about what I feel. I can turn my back on myself as well as anyone else.

When I was bitter and deprived my life felt scarce and empty. I felt without - without love, respect, and dignity. But as I’ve grown I’ve come to appreciate the little things, like someone stopping to say You inspire me. It means a lot. In fact, it means a great deal. She didn’t have to do that, but the fact that she did, let me know that I’m not isolated in this world I live in. People notice me, and I matter. Not more or less than anyone else. But I make a difference, and knowing that opens my eyes to the fact that others make a difference too.

Remembering the Good

I drove to Brook Hollow Branch Library this morning. It’s off 281 and Bitters. It’s not a very exciting building but I did what I could with it. The sun was coming up behind it so I tried to capture the shadows and highlights as much as I could. I think, as usual, when I paint it bigger I’ll have more room to play around and add to the character of the building. 

I think this is the twelfth or thirteenth library I’ve painted. There are 28 branches, so I still have a ways to go. It’ll be cool to see them all together, hopefully in the gallery at the Central Branch. That’s my goal.

This weekend was interesting. Queen Elizabeth died, which reminded me of my grandmother dying. My grandmother was 97 when she died, the Queen 96. Saturday was my grandmother’s birthday, she would have been 98, and it was the day I met with my cousin to give him the painting I did of my grandmother. It was a lot. I wasn’t breaking down or anything, but I was emotional. 

I have mixed feelings about the monarchy.

I have to admit, if we had a monarchy here in the U.S. I’d be a lot less anxious about Trump and MAGA and all the stress that brings. I would worry less about whether people think the election was rigged, whether they’re going to run for office so they can attempt a coup again, and just get on with it. I know the Queen wasn’t in charge of running the country, but if things did go awry, her opinion would have had a big impact on the country. I’d like to have some back up like that too.

Does the monarchy matter? My understanding is that Royalty exist for traditions, to remind the country of who they are, what they’ve built over the years, how they’ve changed, and what they stand for. Parliament exists to run the country. People are saying that the Queen was just a reminder of colonialism. I’d say yes, but she’s also a reminder of a lot more than that. I’m sure in 200 years we’ll be appalled by things that are going on today that none of us does anything about - human trafficking, personal data, kids online unsupervised all the time. 

It’s hard to be happy and satisfied. I’m actually watching The Crown on Netflix right now and the episode I watched before the Queen died was the one where she has lunch with each of her children. I’m not sure how closely the show follows fact, but in this episode her four children were miserable. They complained. They were having affairs. They were already in to weird sexual stuff (Prince Andrew). I mean, they were some of the most privileged kids on the planet and they were miserable. The Queen called them ‘lost’. 

It made me realize that even if you ‘have everything’ you can still be miserable, and lost. You can still focus on everything that’s not going your way. You can still focus on everything that causes you pain - my mother doesn’t care, I’m forced to live for The Crown instead of for my own happiness, people make fun of me, he’s more important than I am. It’s easy to see from this vantage point that they had a lot to be grateful for. Is it possible I do too?

A few years ago I made a point of changing the way I was thinking, change the thoughts that regularly go through my head. First thing upon waking I would imagine good things, like appreciation, optimism, fun, excitement, joy, and satisfaction. I’d push myself to imagine I was experiencing those emotions rushing through me. It wasn’t always easy, but over time it got easier. It had an impact.

I always believed when I was younger that depression was something that I learned. I grew to be depressed. And I believed that if I grew to be depressed, I could grow to be happy. It’s been a twenty year experiment and it’s been working. I do not experience the kind of depression I grew up with, nor the depression and PTSD I lived with in my early adulthood. It’s been work, but I can say that I often (more times than not) wake up feeling good. I wake up feeling optimistic and ready for my day. I don’t have many memories of feeling this good.

For years I tried to ‘work’ through my pain. It helped to a certain degree. There’s nothing as satisfying as working through a resentment and realizing what the root cause of my misery is (it’s usually my own selfish behavior that I’m angry about). And, there’s nothing like recognizing how my selfish behavior has effected others and then expressing remorse for it. 

But, I would also say that sometimes I just need to stop focusing on what’s wrong. Sometimes the cause of my misery is just my habit of focusing on what’s wrong, or the habit of watching out for whatever could bring the next tragedy (that’s the PTSD). Sometimes you just forget (or never realize) that life can feel good. Sometimes you just need to remind your body what that’s like. 

Codependency

I’m not sure how I feel about Parman Branch Library. I’m pretty close to done but I think I’m going to sit with it over the weekend before I sign it and call it finished. I’m happy with the trees. I’m happy with the front entryway. But I want to sit here and look at it for a few days because I can’t quite decide if it makes sense. We’ll see. I can be harder on myself than I need to be, but I’m sure I’m not alone in that.

I got The Natural Way to Draw yesterday from the library. A lot of the exercises are of models, which the author suggests getting together with friends to hire one. I don’t see myself doing that but maybe I can take some photos of people at the park or something. We’ll see. I’m sure drawing objects will work too.

The other book I got yesterday was Pride and Prejudice. I started reading it last night and I have to admit it’s a quick read. I know I’ve seen and heard about the book and about the story a million times, Mr Darcy is an a-hole but Lizzy falls in love with him anyway? I’ll have to keep reading I guess. It’s fun to think about why Jane Austen wrote about what she wrote about. I think I’m more interested in that then the book itself.

The reason I decided to get it is because I saw something on YouTube the other day about her. It was a video that showed the museum and house she lived in with her sister. I can’t help but wonder what my life would have been like if I’d lived in the late 18th century. She died in 1817 when she was 42. Things like that always make me feel like I’ve wasted my life. She wrote a lot of books in her short life. 

I’m also reading a book about the transcendentalists, who lived in the U.S. around 1820. The book I got from the library turned out to be a 600 page history of Concord, Massachusetts, with bible thin pages. It’s a little more than I was looking for but I’ve decided to read it anyway. One of the things I’m realizing by doing so is that life was pretty similar to how it is today. Same with Jane Austen. It’s amazing to me that I can read a book written in 1813 and relate to it. I mean, I’m not going to balls at castles and whatnot, but I can relate to the characters. Same with the transcendentalists. 

In 1813 Concord, MA there was political and religious strife comparable to what we’re living with today. There was social strife, betrayals, marrying for status and social stability. There was all kinds of stuff going on that still goes on today. Things don’t really change much. People look for what they lack inside ‘out there’. They look for money and relationships they believe will fortify them and give them a sense of control and power. Human beings scramble for what they think they need in other people, in land ownership, in a business, and a daughter’s marriage. It’s pretty crazy when you think about it.

I’d never even considered there was another way to live until someone suggested it. Stop looking out there and start looking inside yourself. At first it sounded cliche and Pollyanna, but that was because I didn’t have any tools to do it. But once I stopped trying to get other people to esteem me, give me security, and recognize my worth, my stress levels dropped dramatically. I stopped feeling frenzied and dependent. 

It’s hard to ask for help. It’s hard to admit that you can’t do something on your own and you need help. But it’s a relief to realize when other’s can’t help you too. It’s a relief to realize that human beings aren’t capable of healing your wounds or keeping your chin up. And it’s a psychological burden when you believe they can. It seemed simple at first, but looking at all the ways I try to get people in my life to do for me what I can do for myself has been eye opening. Codependency goes deep. It sticks in my blind spots. And it seems as if it has plagued humanity for quite a long time.

Dream Analysis

I made a lot of progress this morning on Parman Branch Library. I was worried about the proportions but I think it’s going to work out. It’s a very ‘rough draft’ so to speak but I can see how it will evolve, or least could evolve, and that puts me at ease. This is one that’s going to take a little longer than usual.

Tomorrow I’ll go paint another library and then I need to start looking at buying some supplies. I’m going to get a roll of canvas and stretch my own large canvases. I think it will be cost effective. I want to start on my urban landscape paintings. My plan is to paint Fred road and I-10 and then from some photos I took several years ago downtown. I was by Southwest School of Art when I was taking some classes and the photos are while the sun was setting and a flock of jackals were perched on some wires. I’ve always wanted to paint from these photos but haven’t gotten around to it.

It feels good to have plans, a vision for what I’m trying to put together. Later today I’ll go to the library and pick up my new books (the second one arrived yesterday) and tomorrow I can start working on drawing exercises again. Yesterday I got discouraged trying to paint another profile portrait. I finally traced the imaged through the glass view-finder she had us make [Betty Edwards from Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain]. I just couldn’t get the drawing down. My nose is not that big and by mouth juts out further than my eyes, but yesterday I just couldn’t see it. I’m glad I had that tool though. In the end I was able to figure out what I was struggling with. Hopefully, those little things click in my mind and will help me in the future. 

I had a funny dream the other night. It woke me up at 3:30am, so I figured maybe I should pay attention to it. In the dream I was pitching my book to Matthew McConaughey. In the end he gave me his email and told me to send him a link to my google drive so he could read it. I spent a lot of years working with a therapist who did a lot of dream analysis. We worked like that for months and after a while I realized he was getting more out of me by asking about my dreams than when I was trying to tell him about my life. So I pay attention to dreams, especially if they wake me up.

I was getting triggered a lot throughout the dream. I was in this situation that was hard to be with, hard to believe I was in, and so I was getting really triggered. But throughout the dream I was staying in an emotionally and psychologically stable place. I wasn’t going into shame attacks or letting my ego get the best of me. I was staying grounded in reality, staying present and in-the-moment. 

When I ask myself what my therapist would have said, I think about perspective. In the past, I was always looking for an escape. I wanted to be taken out of my life and transported to something better. So I often reacted to life in two extreme ways, either by feeling ashamed and critical of myself, or by puffing myself up and acting invulnerable. My focus over the past fifteen years has been to see myself realistically. I’m not a p.o.s., but I’m not grandiose either. I’m just a person. And so is everyone else, including big celebrities. 

The dream makes me feel like I’m in an emotionally good place and that I’m taking positive steps to advance my career. I’m keeping my head on straight, and honestly, that’s all I can ask for. I’m not as interested anymore about what happens, about the circumstances I create for myself. I’m interested in my emotional and psychological stability. My mental health is what it’s all about for me, and that dream felt very affirming. 

Telling My Story

I think there’s a time when I put in a rough sketch of a painting and love it, then I work on it a second time and cringe. I guess those are the phases of making a painting: pleased, not pleased, pleased, not pleased. I have made the mistake too of not stopping when I’m happy with it, thinking I could improve some aspect of it just a ‘lil bit, only to find myself not pleased again. So, I have worked on Parman Library again and find myself feeling kind of wobbly. There are aspects of it I like and aspects that have me cringing. But the cringe is what will have me get up tomorrow and work on it again.

This painting is a combination of a landscape and architecture. I’m going to see if I can get the two to mesh. The building is back there. I didn’t want to do a painting of part of the building, like a section that’s clearly visible with cool contrast and shadows. I wanted to paint what you’d see approaching it. Of course when you’re walking up to a building it changes as you move, more of it’s revealed, and your mind’s eye can make out what’s there even if it’s obscured by the landscaping. I have high hopes for this painting. Fingers crossed I can get it there.

I have a new drawing book ready at the library: The Natural Way to Draw. There’s another book in transit that hasn’t been delivered yet, so I may wait until that book shows up before I go get it. I don’t want to wait too long though. Yesterday I spent a few hours working on another profile portrait. I drew from a photo, and although I don’t think I captured my likeness I was happy with the results. The proportions are right and that makes me satisfied. The shading is a little too contrasty. I think in the future I will think twice about toning the paper before I start. Sometimes that works for me and sometimes it doesn’t.

I’m beginning to like my palette. I’m using titanium white, cad yellow light, yellow ochre, cad red light, sap green, and cobalt blue hue. After several months of using this palette I’m beginning to see colors that I really like. I’m beginning to see a tone that I like too. When I did the plein air painting Monday I was really happy with the colors and tones. It feels like I’m discovering something about myself. I’m seeing myself in the painting instead of feeling detached. Is this what it’s like when a writer finds their voice?

I know that color mixing is something I want to incorporate into my work day. I want to get more familiar with the colors I’m using and what’s possible. I want to feel what I’m feeling with these paintings I’m working on now. I haven’t known exactly what I’m trying to achieve or what I’ve been reaching for, but over the past year I’ve known that there’s something I’m reaching for. I believed I would know what I found it. When I was a photographer I felt that the images I was producing were an expression of myself. They clicked. I clicked. The whole process clicked. But painting is different. It’s not just a matter of capturing light, shadows, and contrast. It’s more complex.

So if what I think is happening is happening, I’m really happy. I’m really happy. This is a turning point in my work. This feels like going from producing images to telling my story. That’s deep.

Painting With Others

Yesterday I left early and drove to Parman Branch Library in Stone Oak. The building is modern, and pretty cool looking. It’s actually beautiful. When I got there about 9am, I could see the sun hitting a table and chairs by the window. I found myself wanting to go in and sit there with a cup of coffee and a book.

But it was a hard building to paint because it’s hidden by the landscaping. Out front there’s a huge old oak tree and some kind of small, amphitheater. I think it will be like painting a landscape with signs of the building in the background. I’m looking forward to painting it, to the challenge. 

I finished painting about 10:15 and had a lot of time before I met my mom and uncle for lunch. We were supposed to go Sunday but my aunt’s back troubles kept her from being able to do much. The holiday was mostly a day off but not entirely. It felt good to get out and paint outside, to hear the birds and feel the breeze. This summer went from triple digits to overcast and rainy. Finally we’re having some sun without extreme heat.

It’s interesting how one day I can feel so good about my artwork and then the next day feel as if I’m terrible. I was happy with my painting yesterday until a very kind woman asked if she could look at it. She was very supportive, but the moment she looked at it I found myself wanting to explain why it wasn’t better. I guess that’s just the experience of being an artist, of creating personal things that are intended to be shared. I can’t seem to feel great about the sharing process, even when it’s with someone who clearly has an appreciation for art and the different ways people create. 

Saturday I met up with a group called Urban Sketchers: San Antonio Chapter. I had a really great time. We met at Denman Estate Park off Fredericksburg Road and drew for a few hours. I wanted to make sure I connected with everyone there because I would like to have people to go paint with and make art with. I’m normally not that outgoing but I decided to walk around while everyone was working just to introduce myself and see what they were up to. 

There’s an old house, which was where the Denmans lived and down a trail is a pond and gazebo. Unfortunately the pond is mostly empty, as are all our lakes and ponds in Texas these days. There were some great sketches and watercolors created. It’s hard to describe how exciting it is to see other artist at work and to compare what we came up with. There was no competition involved, just pure appreciation and support. I look forward to meeting up with them again. 

I’m also looking forward to getting some more books from the library. I’ve got another drawing book that’s in transit and a novel (Jane Austen Pride and Prejudice which I think I’ve read). When the drawing book arrives I’ll be able to continue my afternoon drawing practice. I’m going to spend some time today doing some sketching but it will be cool to get some instructions and suggestions for how to grow. 

Who's the Boss?

I finished two paintings today. Pan American Branch Library and the reproduction of my grandmother’s portrait are finished. I feel pretty good, I’m not going to lie. It’s a relief and a sense of accomplishment to finish a piece. 

I’ve said this before, but when I read about artists it always sounds like they knew exactly what they were doing, that their entire oeuvre was planned out in advance. I have no idea what I’m doing. I know what I like and I know what feels good when I’m finished. I know each step. Sometimes I experiment with a step and decide it wasn’t right. Then I choose a step in a different direction and see how that goes.

I guess that’s the benefit of writing about a painter’s history, especially if they’re dead. A retrospective is easy to analyze but confusing to read about and apply to your own work. Lately when I’ve been waking up in the morning, I’ve been reveling in the fact that I have the freedom to follow my gut, to listen to my heart, to live an inner-directed life. I have the freedom to make art that way too, and that’s a dream come true for me.

Twenty years ago I spent two summers working at a summer camp as a photographer. Each year, after camp ended, I went on extended road trips with friends. The first year we spent three weeks driving to Seattle and the second year we spent four weeks on the road. They were some of the best times of my life.

For years I tried to figure out what was so uplifting and magical about those trips. I wondered if I needed to hit the road and live a nomadic life. Other times I thought it was nature I needed, sleeping outside, sitting in front of a campfire. I think it was both of those things combined with the spontaneity of road trips. We were headed to the northwest. That’s all we knew. And there was no rush. We took it day by day.

That is the life I’ve wanted. A creative, spontaneous life. A life where I know the general direction I’m headed but can make up the specifics as I go. I’ve wanted to be creative and free to chose what feels best, right now. I’ve had a tough time getting there. I believed, for years, that living that way was irresponsible. Childish. But I kept wanting it, and eventually I discovered that I was living my dream.

I was asked the other day, What would you do and how would you live if your boss and CEO was a loving Higher Power? It was hard to consider at first, but then I considered what I feel with a human boss and CEO. A human boss and CEO gives orders, tells me what to do, tries to get out of me what they can without compensating me too much. Human bosses I’ve had have always felt intimidating. They’ve felt like people I need to please, people who hold the reins in my life. But a God, Source Energy, a Higher Power as a boss?

First and foremost, I wouldn’t know who I am anymore if that were the case. I have been defensive and intimidated by authority figures since elementary school. I have played games, been passive aggressive, felt unworthy and undeserving. I’m a little embarrassed to admit all of this, but it’s true. I tried to hide it, tried to play along as much as possible, but deep down I felt no trust and no love. Having a Higher Power as my boss changes everything, and I’m happy to consider it.

Game Days

I need some new painting ideas. It’s been overcast for two weeks and I haven’t been able to go paint any libraries, so I’m running out of subjects. I worked on Pan American Branch today and I’ll probably do some touch ups tomorrow, but it’s pretty much done. Some with my grandmother’s portrait. I’ll work on it tomorrow too and see if it’s done. So, for Monday I’ll need some new ideas.

I used to stretch my own canvasses but got a little burnt out on it. I do think that stretching them myself would probably be a lot more affordable, which might be the smart thing to do right now. Some of those large canvasses can get pretty expensive, especially if you want something of quality.

I’ve got a bunch of photos I took downtown several years ago that might make good paintings. I had gone down there for a painting class, so it was about 2008, and the sun had just set. There were tons of jackals sitting on telephone wires and the sky was turning everything a burnt orange color. If I could figure out how to get that color I think it would make a good series. 

I’m also on this portrait kick, so I might think about a portrait. Right before the pandemic I had gotten a new iPhone. I’d never had the portrait camera mode before and was taking some really cool photos. Of course, once we went into lockdown I forgot about it. I’m not sure I’d have any good opportunities to take any portrait photos even now since I’m still pretty much at home all the time. But I’ve got some ideas.

I’ve been trying to read biographies about painters. I read about Andrew Wyeth last spring and it gave me a lot of inspiration. When I read about painters it makes it seem like they knew exactly what they were doing, but a good biography (I think) reveals that even the great painters have self-doubt. I was struck by how much Andrew Wyeth dismissed a lot of his work. He was quoted as saying a handful of his paintings were good but the rest were crap. It makes me feel better knowing that. 

It seems like the stuff to really work on, the stuff to really sweat over, is drawing and color mixing. It reminds me of sports. You’d spend all preseason, and most days after that, practicing. You’d do these drills, over and over and over again, until you’d wanted to scream, but then in the middle of a game, when your adrenaline was pumping, and the crowd was cheering, the drill you’d practice all week would happen, and the whole team, the crowd and everything, would gasp, amazed. And it was. It was amazing. It was incredible. I’d like painting to feel like like.

Over the past few weeks I’ve been reading Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain and doing the exercises. It’s how I’ve spent my afternoons. And it’s been an emotional rollercoaster. I’d be irritated and on the verge of losing my temper, but then I’d tell myself to relax and follow the instructions. Suddenly, I’d look down and there was an image there that was quite beautiful. If I do say so myself. Her exercises work. And my paintings have improved because of it.

I haven’t started color mixing yet. That’s next on my to do list. I want to figure out how to get the colors I’m looking for instead of just settling for what I can mix with the colors I’ve put on my palette. I need more experience just playing around. I need more practice. I need game days and practice days. I’m going to make my next urban landscapes my game days and spend some time practicing what I want to achieve with them. We’ll see how it goes.

(Not) Judging Myself

I worked on my grandmother’s portrait this morning. I think I’m pretty close to done. There’s still something not right about it though. I can’t wait to get to the point where portraits aren’t so difficult. Does that time come? I feel like someone who’s on the brink of becoming fluent in a second language. I feel like I can see what I’m not seeing if I quiet my mind enough. I think the problem might be the highlights of her eyes, which I haven’t added yet. I need to just sit with it for a while and wait for the insight.

Yesterday I did another self-portrait. This time I was working on a quarter profile view. I got the nose and the eyes proportioned but the mouth and chin are too small in comparison. Today I’ll try it again. It’s sobering to look at yourself a lot. I need to quiet the hurtful voices that want to judge me like I’m posing in front of the paparazzi or something. Why do I do that to myself? How does it happen?

Was there a time when people weren’t so conscious of how they looked? I think my grandmother’s generation was the first to have magazines featuring movie stars. When I was a kid it was celebrities, mostly from the entertainment business. Now it’s whoever can get attention on social media. Influencers. 

It breaks my heart to see female actors get plastic surgery. I can remember seeing a video of an actress my age and it looked as if she’d just had lip injections. I doubt she was more than 40 at the time. It sucks because you assume that no one wants to look at women over 40, that somehow we’re a buzz kill. Disgusting, really.

I’m wondering if and when the cycle will break. Apparently it won’t be Gen X that does it. I’m rooting for a female actress to age naturally and still make movies. I realize that it will have to be her that makes the movie featuring her naturally aged face and body, but maybe someone will do it. Maybe we’ll discover how many people out there want to look at older women (I do).

It’s hard to look at oneself no matter what age you are though. I can remember feeling disappointed by my image as a teenager. I’m hoping that as I get older I feel more accepting about how I change. I think what struck me the other day had more to do with my mortality. It’s hard to realize in those small moments that one day I won’t be here, that I’m closer to that time than I was the last time I checked. I don’t know when I last looked at myself that closely. Usually I just check in the mirror, make sure my face and hair are clean, then walk away. But to do a sketch, to capture a likeness, requires a harder look. 

My goal as an artist is to look around and see the world around me. To really notice what’s out there. I’m a reporter as such. My goal isn’t to shock or outrage anyone, but rather to tell the story the way I see it, the way I feel it, the way I experience it. I look with my eyes and my body, my soul, if you will. I’m reporting back an emotional, psychological, physical, and spiritual message. Not everyone’s receptive to that, but that’s my goal. That’s my aim. It’s hard to do that honestly if I’m judging myself.

Inner Guidance

I finished another urban landscape this morning. It was mostly done already but needed some fine tuning. I now have two paintings of the Cincinnati Ave and 1-10 intersection. I think I may have turned a corner with my work. I have wanted to make paintings with high contrast but have struggled with it. I’ve always been too afraid to go too cool with my colors. I was afraid the shadows would appear blue instead of the color I was seeing. But, now that I’ve taken the risk, I can see the effect cooling down shadows has. It’s what I’ve been missing.

I’ve taken so many drawing and painting classes over the years. I was a Fine Arts major when I first went to college, but after a year and a half I started getting afraid that I wouldn’t be able to make a living as an artist, so I switched. I listened to all those Talking Heads discrediting arts and humanities degrees. It’s so destructive. I’m beginning to think that people who dismiss Fine Art degrees as valuable are people who lack inner guidance. Or people who feel dominated by people who don’t believe in them.

I’ve always struggled with the contrast between the two camps of Talking Heads. Some people say you can do anything you put your mind to while others warn that certain choices lead to failure. Which is it? Can I succeed if I’m passionate about something? What if I’m not passionate? What if I just think this a good idea right now? I guess one camp is coming from trust while the other is coming from fear. I lived a lot of years in fear. 

It’s taken me a long time to figure out what living an inner-directed life looks like. I’m still working on it, still learning how to do it. I didn’t realize that as an artist I wasn’t running an inner-directed business. I was listening to talking heads. I was letting all the (most likely) self-centered comments I’ve heard throughout my life drive my decisions. I’ve lived in fear.

But what better profession than an art or humanities profession? What better profession is there than artist, lover of philosophy or literature? Or languages? These are the degrees that force one to live inner-directed lives. There’s no clear path. We have to make it up ourselves. We have to figure out where we will fit, what we can do with our passions. 

I often think about starting over. If had it to do all over again, or, if I was going to college now this is what I’d do. I saw a billboard the other day advertising degrees in IT security. I assume that’s the current fad career path. I have no criticism of it. I could probably get interested in it myself. But what if your passion isn’t the current fad? Or worse, what if your passion is the current three-legged dog people are kicking? Everyone’s got an opinion.

What is the role of my inner-guidance in my business? In my career? Am I listening? Consulting? Am I dismissing ideas I get because they seem too far-fetched or unrealistic? Do I believe in myself? Believe that I can have a life I love? It seems like it would be an easy question to answer, but is it? 

It’s hard when so much of what you hear is struggle. Everyone’s having a hard time. Life is tough. Many people are getting left behind. It’s not fair for certain people to toot their own horn because compared to someone else they’re privileged. But what if the news was about people getting breaks? About people finding success? Would I want to hear about it? Would I get discouraged if all society talked about was who’s fortunes are turning up?

I am new to being a full-time artist, and I don’t have a lot of financial success to share about, but it has been (one of) the best eight months of my life. I have grown so much. The fears and anxieties that have surfaced have gotten me in touch with things I need to face. There’s no reason why this can’t work, and eventually I will figure it out. Those things I know are true. I have found a great set of tools, a mentor, and a community of like-minded people working toward the same goals. And, I am learning to look within myself for the answers I truly need.

The Same Boat

I finished one of my urban landscapes today. I think I’ll call these Cincinnati Intersection 1&2. It always feels good to finish a painting, even if I feel slightly unsure about it. I don’t finish many paintings without some kind of doubt. I had a teacher one time tell me they could work on a painting forever, that sometimes you just have to call it. I feel that way a lot. How long is too long? And, how many times have I reworked something only to regret it?

I will make my way down to 1-10 and Fredericksburg and take some photos of that intersection too. I think these are all going to make a great series, if urban landscapes are your thing. I’m going Saturday to meet a group that calls themselves Urban Sketchers San Antonio. They work mostly with watercolor which will be cool. I haven’t worked with watercolor enough. Hopefully I’ll make some good contacts and find some camaraderie.

I listened to a podcast today, something I haven’t written about in a while. It was The Ezra Klein Show featuring the editor in chief of Christianity Today, Russell Moore. What I found the most confusing is how rational he sounded talking to this liberal host and presumably liberal audience. How can a leader in the Baptist church sound so even keel when white evangelicals always sound so… fundamentalist?

It sounds as if the church is in just as much conflict as everyone else. He talked about preachers wanting to quit and being exhausted because parishioners think their church is getting too liberal, or too Trumpy. I guess we’re all in the same boat these days. 

Is it really just the media? Is it the media that keeps us on edge, that’s got us anxious and frustrated? I feel like I’ve been waiting for Trump to go to jail for eight years. Is this what right-wingers felt about Hillary? Moore said he heard some evangelicals reacting to liberals saying “We can’t just turn the other cheek,” to which he replied, “That’s a direct quote from Jesus.” Apparently they didn’t care. They believe that these are times that call for different measures and that we can’t be weak. 

In a way it makes me feel a little better knowing that this time of unprecedented conflict has reached every corner of society. I feel less alone. I feel less anxious about it. A lot of people don’t like Trump. It still disappoints me that so many people do, that they want him to be President, but that’s life in a democracy. I’m glad to hear though that not all evangelicals like him, or even tolerate conversations about him in their presence. My family used to get together for holidays but now it’s Trump supporters at one house and non-Trump supporters at another house. Frankly, I think it’s better for everyone. 

The Brainwashing of My Dad was an incredible documentary about the media. It certainly wasn’t coming from a politically moderate perspective, but it did open my eyes to how many people out there had a loved one who started listening to right-wing talk-radio in the 80’s and became unreachable. Even before the entire country was at odds there have been friends and families at odds. People have been outraged for decades and there’s no end in sight.

ON a positive note, today’s podcast made me realize that there are people in all sorts of social circles who are intelligent and reasonable. Not everyone ‘on the other side’ is a raving lunatic. In fact, most of us are probably feeling the same things. We’re probably all feeling some sort of exhaustion, confusion, fear, and heartache. I wonder if and when we’ll return to happier times.

Right Brain

I did some more work on Pan American Branch Library this morning. I focused on the reflections in the front doors. The front of the building has a glass wall with a double door entrance. I wanted to capture the reflections in the glass without taking away from the rest of the image. Many of the libraries I’ve painted so far have double glass entries and with each one I’ve realized how important the reflections are to the overall image. The trick has been getting the right value. Too bright and it draws the eye to it, too dark it looks like a black hole when you look at it. These are some of the things I’ve been learning on this journey.

Yesterday I had an exciting experience drawing. I’m reading Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain and the exercise I did yesterday was a profile portrait. Since I was home alone I took a photo of my own profile and drew it. I have to admit that through all these years I’ve done very little portrait painting because I felt it was just too difficult. I was embarrassed and unsure if that was something I could actually learn. When I would attempt it I wound up getting upset because I wanted to capture a likeness and never felt that I could.

But through these exercises I feel like I’ve turned a corner. I can’t say my drawing was perfect, but it was pretty darn close. Close enough that it finally made me inspired to draw more portraits. She explained that there are ways to measure the head and scull so that the features are life-like. The distance from eye to chin is relatively the same as from the eye to the top of the head. And on a profile, the distance from the eye to the chin is relatively the same from eye to ear. Just these little nuggets of information made a huge difference. I’ve taken so many life drawing and painting class and never learned that.

I’ve never been that interested in the human figure, or portraits for that matter, but knowing that I was avoiding them because I couldn’t do them has been affecting me deeply. It’s been a strain on my self-esteem and I never realized it until yesterday. I have made a concerted effort to work on my drawing skills ever since I started working as an artist full-time, but now I’m getting really inspired by it. I don’t know that I want to be a graphite or charcoal artist, but I feel the need to incorporate them into my work day because they are part of being a painter. They’re right-brain exercises that make a big difference.

My goal is to be a good realist painter. I want to be able to capture images that look almost life-like. My goal isn’t photo-realism, but Alston-realism. I want to be like Edward Hopper or Andrew Wyeth where a viewer would know it’s my work from across the room. I know I’ve missed a lot of years where I could have been learning all the things I’m learning now. I know that I’m not going to be Edward Hopper or Andrew Wyeth, they are great American artists, but I want to be great in my own way. I want to continue pushing myself and feeling uplifted by my own progress.

Seeking

I started a larger painting of Pan American Branch Library. It’s a midcentury modern building so I wanted to give it length. I set it back and gave it a lot of sky and foreground. I may have given it a little too much, but It’s just the beginning. It’s too early to tell. There are a few trees out front and one, a large oak, that sits off to the side. I included them because I wanted to give it some color. Otherwise it’s all parking lot and dirt for grass. I cut out a large billboard that looms over the building. I’m pretty sure I don’t want it in the image but we’ll see. I may change my mind. 

When I was a teenager and young adult I used to spend hours listening to music and reading cassette and CD inserts. I was looking for something. I was seeking, and I was doing it with a mixture of angst and love. I was doing it with passion. I wasn’t reading ancient, biblical texts, but I was still seeking. I was studying the lyrics of my favorite musicians. Concerts were like going to mass, to church. They were huge cathedral stadiums full of worshippers and I was moved.

As I got older I used mushrooms and pot and alcohol to enhance the experience. One of my favorite memories is when I was in college and a group of friends piled into a kid’s dorm room to smoke pot. After we’d all gotten high he turned the stereo on and played “Into the Mystic” by Van  Morrison. I don’t know why, but hearing that song, at that moment, under those circumstances, was so deeply moving that I’ve never forgotten it to this day. It seemed to make everyone in that room beyond happy. We were sitting in an emotional pool of bliss, and it was awesome.

I think of those days, and of the friends who were there, as the early days of my spiritual life. That was the beginning of wanting to know more, to deepen my life experience. Although back then I had no idea what I was looking for, and I wouldn’t have called it a spiritual quest, I knew I was looking for something.

I haven’t had a drink in almost 20 years. I haven’t smoked pot or done any other drugs since April 1, 1997. But I don’t regret my years of indulgence. I had a lot of fun. I had some bad trips, and some regretful things happened that probably wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been intoxicated, but it was what I did at that time in my life. It was the best I could do with what I had. I created a lot of joy where there wasn’t any.

I hear a lot of people talking about using psychedelics to help with depression and other mental health issues. I’ve had people swear to me that using drugs is a legitimate way to heal from psychic pain. I wouldn’t argue with that. I mean, I wouldn’t deny anyone those beliefs. But what I would argue is that drugs will always be drugs. They will always be the quick fix that addicts want.

To me, using drugs for mental health issues is like going to McDonalds. If you’re starving and you need food, go. I would even take you. Fast food is quick and easy and cheap. But if you really want to nourish yourself, find a creative outlet or a spiritual practice. Better yet, find both. If you want something that lasts, make a commitment to something that will reap rewards. A spiritual practice is like learning to till the soil and plant the seed. It’s experiencing the blood, sweat, and tears of leaning to grow food (it’s not easy). And once you get the hang of it, once you hit your stride, you’re harvesting a bounty that’s enough to nourish not only yourself, but those you love too. 

It’s great that there are people out there arguing for psychedelics. It’s great that there’s a push for something that people are experiencing success with. But it saddens me that they’re leaving it at that. No one whose done both is being consulted. Where are the voices of those who spent years self-medicating and now find alternative ways to deal with their emotions? I feel like the hype is just leading to a belief in drugs that’s unhealthy, like religious fundamentalism. 

Public Art

Things are going well with the urban landscape. I worked on cooling off the shaded parts and I think it’s coming along. Next time I will focus on the sky and the pillars and see how that makes me feel about the shaded underside of the freeway. It’s hard to judge a section of a painting you’ve worked on when the surrounding sections are still in the beginning stages. 

Yesterday I was at an intersection by my house and realized it would make a great painting. It’s near the intersection that I’m painting now but has more businesses around it. Eventually that area is going to get gentrified and I want to capture it before it changes. It looks like the current freeway itself has been around for a while too, so that may change as well. Right now it has a cool feel I want to capture.

Yesterday I was reading an article in Texas Highways Magazine about artwork in the state of Texas. The author asked his readers for their opinion on what the best piece of artwork in the state is and they gave him a multitude of answers. He started the article off with a visit to Arbol de la Vida: Memorias y Voces de la Tierra (Tree of Life: Memories and Voices of the Land), an art installation here in San Antonio. It’s down on the river walk extension by Mission Espada. I haven’t been there yet but they mention it several times in the latest issue of the magazine. 

He also mentions that Michelangelo’s first painting, The Torment of Saint Anthony is in Fort Worth at the Kimball Art Museum. Pretty impressive. There’s also a life-size sculpture made of Cheez Doodles called The Cocktail Party at the McNay which is a must see for me.

Last night I met some friends at the San Antonio Museum of Art for free Tuesday. One of my friends is a docent there and gave us a great tour. I didn’t realize how big that place is. We didn’t even cover the whole place and we were there for an hour and a half. My favorite piece is done by local San Antonio painter Jesse Trevino. It’s a painting of his mother holding a basket of laundry. To me it just looks like San Antonio. That inspires me. I’d like to capture my environment in my work too.

I don’t think about it until I take the time to do it but seeing other artist’s work makes me want to work harder on my paintings. It inspires me and helps rekindle my passion. I have been making more trips to museums lately and it always leaves me feeling uplifted. There’s a lot of great stuff at SAMA. Sometimes I blow off going to local museums because I think I’ve seen it all. But depending on my mood, what’s going on in my life at the the time, I usually see something different than I saw before. Or I see it in a different way.

Sometimes it’s hard to look at other artist’s work, especially when I’m not being very productive. When I go look at public art, I feel like I’m not doing enough. Other times I feel jealous and envious, and other times I feel like I don’t measure up as an artist. These are all things that I constantly have to work through and be vigilant of. My negativity can creep in at any time and capture my attention. It can take me hostage. 

I think part of why I’ve been visiting art museums lately is because I’m productive these days. It’s easier to feel impressed or inspired rather than envious when I’m feeling good about myself. That may sound childish or temperamental, but I have to be honest. When I like myself, I like others. When I’m working hard, even if I’m struggling, I feel good about myself. When I’m investing time and energy into my work, I appreciate the time and energy others put into their work.

I’ve been thinking it’s time to read The Artist’s Way again. Julia Cameron has created so many ways to nurture our creativity and I think it’s because she encourages us to nurture ourselves first. An ‘artist’s date’ is self-care. It’s a way to treat yourself like you matter. The more nurturing and care I experience the more nurturing and care I have to give. In the past I always waited for others to come and nurture me so I could feel cared for, but people like Julia Cameron and others have taught me that I need to nurture myself rather than expect someone else to do it. Wisdom.

In the Zone

I worked on my grandmother’s portrait this morning. She’s wearing a dress that looks to be a bluish, grey taffeta. I decided it was time to tackle that. I had put down some dark shades the other day in blue so I already had the outline. I think it’s coming along. It’s a reproduction and my dress is a little darker in value than the original. I will play with it a bit and see if I can lighten it up a bit.

I’ve been having one of those mornings where you find yourself in the zone no matter what you’re doing. I got up a little after 5am. My throat has been sore and after my covid PCR test was negative yesterday I decided not to worry about it. It’s like, if it’s not covid I don’t care what’s wrong with me anymore. Not covid? No worries. I’m good, even if I feel like shit. 

I did some yin yoga and then sat for an hour. At 7am I went to work on my novel. I’ve been reworking my second manuscript, trying to get it finished. After that I made some non-dairy milk, filled up my new Lomi, and started making some dirt. I made a latte with my fresh cashew/almond/coconut milk and peeled a mango for breakfast (mango peels also went in the Lomi).

I was going to listen to a podcast while I worked but didn’t think about it until I was thirty minutes in. By that time I was too focused on what I was doing to change gears. I don’t know if I’m just zoned out because I don’t feel well or if I’m actually in the zone.

So, a weird thing just happened. I stopped to eat lunch and as I was sitting here eating I thought, I wonder if there’s anything in these magazines I could read to inspire my blog. I randomly picked up Unity Magazine and turned to an article called, “How to Stretch Time”, by Lisa Broderick. She immediately starts talking about being in the zone, beta vs theta brain waves, and how we can play with our perception of time. Trip.

So, today has been one of those days when you’re in the zone no matter what you’re doing, and I’m on time. It’s not even 1:00 and I’m already done with lunch. This afternoon I’ll do some drawing exercises before I go meet some friends at the San Antonio Museum of Art (Tuesday is their free day). Lisa Broderick says that if you get yourself into a meditative state of mind you can stretch time, meaning you can get places in less time than if you’re stressed. The more I think of that the more I realize that when I’m not rushed and not fearful of being late I usually get places on time, even when I thought I’d be a little late. But it seems as if when I’m stressed and worried, it takes forever to get places. 

She goes into a theory of physics and Einstein and whatnot, which I’m not going to pretend to understand, but it seems like a fun thing to play with. I can say that pretty amazing things happen at a meditation course when you’re in a meditative state of mind. it’s hard to describe, it except that it feels like you’ve taken psychedelics. There was a day at my 30-day when I was going to walk back to my room, which normally would take 10 minutes, but because I was so aware of everything going on around me it took me thirty minutes. I just couldn’t move faster. At one point I thought that it might be a good idea to get back to the room because it was 100 degrees out, but that thought came and went and made no difference. I was on a different frequency.

I’m hoping the rest of the day continues to feel ‘in the zone’ and I’ll take some added synchronicity too. Love that.

Still Learning and Growing

I worked again on my urban landscape painting this morning. I’m struggling with getting the shaded areas cool and the lit areas warm. But it feels good to know what the painting needs. The worst part is looking at a painting and not knowing where to go with it and only knowing that it needs more work. I think when I’m done these could be strong paintings and I don’t want to give up until I get there.

I found an Urban Sketching group on Facebook and joined. It will be cool to get together with them and do some sketching. I was scrolling Instagram and a painter I follow posted about their get-together last week and I realized that’s something I could use in my life. The next meet up is in September so I’ll see if I can make it. I usually have things to do Saturday mornings but if I end up liking the group I think I’ll make arrangements to be meet up regularly. 

Yesterday I walked down to Woodlawn Lake with my new viewfinder to do some sketching. I’m reading Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain and she suggests using a glass or plexiglass viewfinder. You hold it up to a subject and draw the imagine in marker on the glass. That way you get a sense of the proportions before attempting to draw it on paper. I toned the paper before I started drawing and used darker pencils and an eraser to make the images. I think I need to do that more often so I can get a better sense of values. It’s hard to draw different shades of green without color.

There’s still so much to learn. I’ve been studying drawing and painting for so long, I even remember doing one of the Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain exercises in college 25 years ago, but I still want to improve. I want to find ways to be the best artist I can be. I studied photography in school. Back then it was film photography. We shot film and developed it in the darkroom. That’s really what I loved. I think I would still love it. When everything went digital I felt brokenhearted. It was a painful loss and I often wonder where I would be if things hadn’t changed.

In studying photography you study composition and light, so I had a lot of years learning about composition. In painting we talk about values instead of contrast, but it’s the same thing. In photography the trick was to capture contrast and to play with it in the darkroom until it was just right, until it made the image you were going for. In painting the goal is to mix the values in paint which I still struggle with. First you have to see contrast, then you have to figure out how to mix those colors. It’s tricky sometimes. 

I’m also learning by studying other painters. Right now I’m reading a biography about Thomas Eakins. Some of his paintings are mind-blowing. It’s helpful to learn about great artists lives. Thomas Eakins was not only a great artist but spoke several languages fluently (and apparently without accents), and knew a great deal about science and anatomy. It sounds like he could have studied any subject he wanted and been successful. But he chose art, which I find inspiring. Right now I’m enamored with his painting The Artist’s Wife and His Setter Dog. The expression on her face and the detail of her dress and the rug are amazing. 

Earlier in the summer I read a biography about Andrew Wyeth. I tried to find one about Edward Hopper but the library didn’t have any, so I moved on the Thomas Eakins. John Singer Sargent is next. I love realism but I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a realist painter. I feel like it’s just where I am today. Who knows where my journey will take me, but for now I’m focused on painting realistic images. It’s probably what’s pushing me to get batter at drawing and seeing/mixing values.

Ancestors

I started a new urban landscape painting this morning. The canvas had an outline on it that I made several months ago and I was tired of looking at it sit there, undone. Now I have two semi-finished paintings of an intersection I ride my bike through a lot. It’s Cincinnati at I-10, where the freeway is two story. I was driving on the upper deck the other day and for the first time was aware of when I crossed Cincinnati Avenue.

When I was researching my family history I found that my great-grandfather spent his high school years on Cincinnati and Elmendorf, just down the street from the freeway. Their house has since been demolished, which breaks my heart when I think about it. My grandmother had an old pillar that sat in her dining room. She had a cool, wooden statue of Jesus and a large rosary wrapped around him that sat on top. She’d had it for years and when I was telling her about the old house she turned and pointed to the pillar.

“That was from the front porch,” she said.

Man, those moments, when things come together and you realize, they really did live here, make my head swoon. There’s a photo of the house, and old victorian, with pillars that ran around the front porch. It’s true. They really lived. They existed once. It gets emotional, genealogy work. I know why people get passionate about it. I’ve read stories that have left me weeping.

They say that trauma can be multigenerational. Is it possible that I’m carrying grief, or emotions, that they originally felt? I feel like I loved that house even though it was demolished before I was even born. And what brought me here? I currently live a few blocks from there. I wasn’t even born in Texas, but here I am, blocks away from my great-grandparent’s childhood homes (my great-grandmother lived across the street on Elmendorf).

When my grandmother died I found a photo that had been cut out of the newspaper. There were three women around a tree that had just been planted in honor of my second great-grandmother (the mother of my great-grandfather who lived in the house with the pillars). At the bottom of the photo it said the tree was planted in her honor, for all the Woodlawn Lake beautification projects she’d helped with. I can’t help wondering if that tree is still there, on the island at Woodlawn Lake Park (mere blocks from my house). It’s weird how we get drawn to places.

I want to bring something to my Cincinnati and I-10 paintings, something personal. I want to capture all the emotions I feel about my ancestors. I think about them a lot when I walk or ride my bike around the neighborhood. What was it like for them? They moved to that house from Stockdale where my second great-grandfather was a pharmacist. Maybe I’ll take some time to think about them and their lives before I work on them again.

Virtual Town Square

I worked on my grandmothers portrait again. I think it’s going to take me a lot longer than I originally expected. Maybe I’m being perfectionistic, I don’t know, but since I myself have been looking at this portrait all my life, I’d like it to be the way I remember it. For now I’ll work on it until I’m happy with it.

I went to the Central Branch Library a few weeks ago to see if they would let me hang my paintings in their gallery. I got an email a few days later letting me know that I could fill out an application. So, I will do that soon. In a way it kind of relieves me to get back to doing other kinds of paintings instead of always being focused on library paintings. I’ve got two urban landscapes I started a few months ago that I’d like to finish. 

My project isn’t just libraries. I’m interested in historical churches, courthouses, and universities. I’m fascinated with these buildings but also the institutions themselves. Life is changing so much, and brick and mortar buildings are increasingly becoming less and less central to our lives. We are doing everything online. I checked the status of my voter registration online the other day and cringed at the thought of having to go to a courthouse. 

With the pandemic we do even more online than we used to. When I was looking for a podcast to listen to this morning I noticed both Ten Percent Happier and The Ezra Klein Show had episodes about working remotely. One guest was in favor of it, the other wasn’t. Zoom has made staying connected so convenient. I’d still be having my groceries delivered if they didn’t charge so much.

But in the past, before the internet, before the pandemic, libraries, churches, courthouses, and universities were where we went to ask the big questions in life. They were where we congregated. Where we met people. Where we discussed the issues that deeply effected our lives. We put time into their design and how that design would effect people emotionally and psychologically. How is all that going to change as we move forward?

What I’ve discovered as a painter is that people (for the most part) buy original art they can physically stand in front of. Most of the artists I’ve spoken to say that they have not had success selling art online. There will continue to be things that people do out of the house. I ordered my groceries online when COVID was bad but I’ve heard so many people say that they can’t stand the thought of someone else picking out their produce. But much of our lives happen more and more on the phone or some kind of device.

I still want to acknowledge these buildings. My hope is that as the dust settles we find ways to be together that make up for the things technology is taking away. Cell phones and computer screens make things more convenient, but where do we meet? Where do we congregate? Where is the space in which we come together to be a connected society or community? Social media? That can’t be the answer.

Mental Health Hope

I’m doing a reproduction of a portrait of my grandmother. It was painted in the 50’s and it’s quite big. When she died in January she left it to my uncle and my cousin asked if I could do a copy of it. I decided to trace it on the canvas so that I didn’t have to worry about getting the drawing right. I worked on the face today, especially the mouth. I don’t do many portraits, but I do know that getting the likeness is tough. Hopefully this will work out. I’ll post a photo of it when I’m done.

As I worked I listened to a podcast about mental illness. Or, rather, the mental health industry. Should it be called an industry? I don’t know. The guy being interviewed said he’s been working in the profession since 1972 and that when he started there was much more support for the mentally ill, for those struggling with things like eating disorders, schizophrenia, and bipolar disease. Ezra Klein was a tough interviewer, asking him repeatedly why he wasn’t able to fix the mental health issue in California. It was uncomfortable at times to listen to but I also wanted to hear the answer.

He (Thomas Insel) said the problem stems from the fact that on the state level there’s no oversight. There’s no one body overseeing the state, cities, and counties, no way for them to all agree upon a set of goals or how they’re reaching those goals. He did say that things that are working in California are day centers, places where people can go and get care, get counseling or medication, or just find a safe space to relax. He says that help comes in the from of social, environmental, and political support.

I grew up with mental illness. I had a parent who had a nervous breakdown when I was nine and I can say that when you’re in need like that you’re pretty much on your own. I saw my parent reaching out to trusted family and friends and trying to find therapists and medication without being ‘found out’. Back then there was a lot of stigma. Being depressed or too overwhelmed to deal with one’s life was seen as weak. There was a constant, mostly unspoken question that always loomed, Why can’t you just get it together?

When I started to experience depression in my teens I dealt with it by drinking. That helped until it didn’t. But in my 20’s I believed that depression was something that I grew into, something that developed over time. I saw it as a combination of trauma, a difficult home-life, and learning unhelpful ways of dealing with feelings. I grew up with the unspoken rule, don’t talk, don’t trust, don’t feel, and in a home where there was mental illness, addiction, and abuse, that makes sense. Why would we open up and acknowledge the things we can’t bear? It’s seems easier if everyone pretends we’re all ok.

But somehow I viewed mental illness as an issue of development: I grew to be someone with depression, but I could grow to be someone without it. I spent a lot of years looking for tools to help me with life, and I’ve found some great ones. Today I feel that I have a rich life. It may not be the life ‘I could have had’, but it’s a good life. I think the takeaway from the podcast is that mental illness is a medical problem, but the solutions are social, environmental, and political. We need families, whether they’re our biological families or communities we discover and build for ourselves. We need to feel connected, known, and accepted.