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Yay! It selected this one, which is done on Arches 140 # cold pressed paper. Inks/paints used are my homemade ones, including stains of blueberry, saffron, blackberry, chamomile and walnut. It’s made archival by a coat of mat medium on front and back. Now to mat, frame, present it and at the opening, enjoy it among the field of work by other artists from 11 states who submitted to this show.>
The top painting is on Arches 140 lb. watercolor paper and the paints really did beautifully – especially the walnut one I made which was smooth like butter and very, very rich which is why I used it alone in the very zen-like second painting. Done in the Sumi-e style, it is simply walnut paint on the handcrafted pampas grass paper I made.
Hope you enjoyed todays lesson. = )
I avoided the news about the Arizona massacre, just did not want to go there, let the news in. After 9/11 (like the rest of America) and later with my sons serving and losing “brothers” in Iraq and later, at home, I became shell-shocked and found the best coping mechanism was to avoid, deny, and refuse to go to that dark, mournful place. So I made art…
But … I touched my toe into the water today, listening to Obama’s speech replayed on YouTube since I conveniently missed it last night. (There’s a very stark contrast between the woman I am today and who I was just two years ago)… I did not watch the funeral for young Christina, and avoided the news stories for the most part too.
But now, after listening to his speech last night … well, lets just say the floodgates are open, let the mourning begin. I don’t have words now, only tears. For the little innocent Christina Green who never got to experience that first kiss, have a teenage fight with her mom and dad, walk down the aisle, suffer through childbirth, feel the tickle of her own child’s breath on her neck.
I told my youngest son after a brother-in-arms’ suicide some time ago: “You need to live a life that validates him.” Well, this incident, Obama’s words, that little girl’s death makes me want to validate her life, all their lives, too.
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OK, to be fair, he’s not entirely off base.
I mean, on the front door, we have this smartass window sticker we bought when in Glastonbury (UK) this past fall that’s a spin on the Neighborhood Watch signs that every good whitebread neighborhood posts. Ours reads “Neighborhood Witch.”
Then, there’s the pot of pampas grass boiling in the big corn pot on the stove. You can’t smell it, but there’s a definite scent of Fels Naptha Brown Soap wafting in the air.
And finally, there’s these glass jars of liquid on the dining room table, shown above. To the uninitiated, they COULD resemble witches tinctures and such. If you look closer, though, and are familiar with the color chart below, you’ll figure out that they are artists paints. Mine though are non-toxic, environmentally pure as the driven snow, and all natural. Really.
You see, I’m entering a juried art show this coming weekend where the emphasis is on “green” – the movement not the color. So… I figured what better way to “represent” than to create works using all-green materials, right? And as you can see from the chart, I do have an array of colors to work with, though, ironically, there’s a dearth of green in these…
Oh, and the pampas grass boiling on the stove? It’s for the paper to paint on, silly!
Just finished watching the 2010 PBS Documentary and so glad I TIVO’d it. What a glorious, wonderful doc it was.
Unfortunately, the NY Times panned the special as in:
“This film, which has its premiere on PBS on Wednesday, looks at the city that seduced the likes of Picasso, Chagall, Apollinaire, Diaghilev and of course, Hemingway and Gertrude Stein. It pays homage, though, not in the seditious, inventive spirit of the avant-garde that Paris once nurtured, but in the time-tested, didactic and dutiful tone of a typical PBS documentary.
Paris is still a wonderful city, but it no longer draws the world’s most innovative artists and thinkers. PBS is still a serious, responsible institution that shows good work, but creativity and élan have migrated to other networks and cable channels.”
I’ll leave it for you to decide, but know that while sorting my receipts from 2010, it made for great time-passing and entralling watching.
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I gotta say, this was an excellent year for me personally and professionally!
I dove headfirst into art this year, reorganized and formalized my studio, and by chance scored my first solo show at an upscale restaurant in Nashville for six weeks from late June to Father’s Day. Great timing except Nashville’s millenial flood took place the weekend of my scheduled reception. Most I knew were fortunate and suffered no or minimal losses but many areas were devastated. My reception ended up closing the show, more or less, but still a nice crowd and healthy sales meant I could claim professional artist status!  At year end, my art is
hanging in several venues in Middle Tennessee and a few more people are puzzled by the name “Moesse.”
A mid-year turning point meant transitioning from Hazel King’s tutelage to more independent study, and the formation of Collaborative Artists Network (Nashville) – http://www.thecann.org – with fellow painters and dear, dear friends. A more personal turning point came when I took a stand against a loved one, ending a pattern of enabling. By year end, I’m glad to say, it was proven to be a good decision for all involved and things are looking up on that front.
A wedding in October was special partly because I got to talk to Canadian superstar Bryan Adams and tell him David and I were married to one of his songs (which I’m sure he hears ALL the time). What made it stellarly special (my phrase in case ya couldn’t tell), was that my dear, great and wonderful brother Barry married the love of his lifetime(s), Gretchen. I used the plural because, yeah, their spirits have been dancing this love tune for centuries.
Another wedding in November, this time in England, meant a stellar trip across the pond, celebrating the union of two young people, spending great time with David’s family, touring the southwest region, and freezing our butts off. All before jetting back home just in time to beat the U.K. version of Snowpocalypse! While there, I discovered snoods, Primark’s cheap but cozy for a season offerings, and an Indian import store offering huge zippered bags on the cheap to lug home our dirty laundry.
December was a blur with unpacking, preparing and mailing out more than a dozen Christmas parcels to friends and family from afar, a few parties, and yes, prepping for and pulling off a New Year’s Day open house. I did little painting, but put at the top of the blog two abstracts that I did that I’m very pleased with.
In closing, know that I’m eagerly anticipating great things for 2011, for two reasons. First, I have this weird thing for prime numbers (I think because I was born on the 13th in 1959) and 2011 is about as prime as you can get, baby! Second, my dark-haired brother was the first newcomer to step foot through the door that day, followed by his male black lab, Nigel. I’m told Scottish tradition says that if a dark-haired male is the first to cross the threshold New Year’s Day, it bodes well for the year. I’ll take all this as a good, hopeful sign for more good things to come.
Here’s hoping you experience all good things for 2011.
MWS
So, it’s been a lovely holiday season so far and we’ve got an open house planned for New Year’s Day. One nearly major problem last night turned out to be less traumatic than it could have been, thanks to my beloved GeekHusband, David. We had a network crash, lost internet connection and then, when we got that up and running, it appears our primary network external hard drive lost everything. I store all my artwork files – photos, communications, administrative records, etc. etc., as well as our family photo archive (thousands of photos going back a couple of generations at least).
Fortunately, I’d made a backup of the “Moesse” files last month when we went to England and we found another external archival hard drive (yeah, geekspouse has a few), had most of the family photos too. And my Whitehall stuff is on another hard drive that didn’t die at all. So, with the exception of a few things, I think we are ok. Still, it was scary enough in the time it took us to locate lost files that we decided to set up a Carbonite account for mirroring ALL of our stuff off site. The $59 a year is well worth the peace of mind. In addition, you can be damn sure we’ll be burning old school DVD’s of all the pics and other data files to store offline too — just in case a cyber attack crushes the internet someday…
On another subject, my eyes are going wonky again and I don’t think I’ve had time to breathe let along be on the IPhone or use my eyes for fine detail work lately and yet, the eyes are losing focus again. Agh! In addition, I feel a huge amount of pressure because of sinus problems and wonder if that could be the cause of some of the eye problems?
Well, if that’s the worst of my problems, I should / do consider myself lucky…
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Long before it was a catchphrase in politics, Elizabeth Edwards gave meaning to the term “Military Families.” The daughter of a Naval Admiral, she moved with her family to U.S. naval bases around the globe. And so it was, during the height of my political awakening that our paths crossed in the fall of 2004 when I was named part of a small group of women called “Military Moms with a Mission.” My eldest had already been through one tour in Iraq, my baby was graduating from Army basic training as the group was forming, and I had the attitude of a Mother bear (a full four years before “Mamma Grizzlies” became the fashion) watching out for her son’s best interests.
I’d just received my B.S. in Journalism and had all those college resources at my disposal when the war started. I arm myself with the facts of the Iraq War, Bush Administration Military and Foreign Policy, and from Senate and House testimony transcripts, the discussions in those bodies that explored the pros and cons of various actions by the administration. After my “education,” I lent my considerably informed and confident voice to the Kerry/Edwards campaign, knowing that the way forward for our country was by employing all of the tools of foreign policy — military being only the last resort after such things as economic, diplomatic, educational and cultural tools are employed.
So, the DNC and the Kerry/Edwards campaign called upon Nita Martin, Pat Heineman, Lisa Leitz, Lara Bertsch and myself to tour the country on behalf of military mothers and spouses, publicly calling for a new commander in chief during wartime. We were coached and spoiled by some great young folks, including Tara McGuinness, Mike Lake, Marshall Hevron, Melissa Wideman, and others who I know will save our world in years to come, each of them! At times we were joined by fellow wives, especially the stellar Gwen Walz, wife of the great young Minnesota Congressman Tim Walz. Our original group of five first met Elizabeth at a Senior Citizens Center in Ohio. Before the public event, she whirred into a private anteroom where we were waiting and posed for a few photos, spoke with us about our loved ones, and then went off to host the planned town hall meeting, setting a positive tone but putting forth facts and information that countered what the Bush Administration was proposing. She was a brilliant advocate for the Kerry Edwards campaign and a voice that was respected. Her words carried the gravitas of one who would never choose political expediency over the truth.
After our brief encounter, we exchanged hugs with the savvy woman and hopped into our minivans in order to make Columbus by nightfall. Or some such. And our one week tour rolled on to its inevitable conclusion.
Or so we thought. Over the weekend, we each got calls to see if we could fly up to West Virginia for a CSpan televised Town Hall with … Elizabeth Edwards! Doh! It was scheduled for Tuesday and we were flown up Monday afternoon and those of us who needed it (me!) had our hair cut, colored and styled (on our own dime). That evening we shared a private dinner with Elizabeth who showed us that her private self was identical to that which she portrayed in public. Warm, genuine, without any veneer or bullshit. Knowing we’d have this opportunity, I printed up enough copies of the digital photo we’d taken during our first meeting and like in high school yearbooks, all signed one another’s photos. Mine is dear to me, framed and on my desk. Elizabeth included a copy of that image in her first book Saving Graces.
The town hall was preceeded by a few live televised interviews for cable shows, the first of which was CNN. I was to sit next to the great lady and speak live via satellite to the anchors back in Atlanta. We’d been up since 5 a.m. for hair and makeup and I was confident that I looked as attractive as I ever would for this nationally televised feed. But I was still nervous and Elizabeth squeezed my hand and whispered I’d do fine. The interview was so quick and thankfully, most of the Anchor’s interest was focused on Elizabeth. The interviewer asked me about our group’s call for a change in leadership during wartime and I felt it important to establish our credentials as very intelligent, well-informed women. That’s as far as I got before getting cut off. I never got to explain what we’d learned and discovered and felt important to share with the voting public and I was very disappointed. Still, I think the message got across that we weren’t ill-informed women just whining about our sons and husbands having to serve. I was also called upon to represent our group during a live Fox and Friends Morning feed too and I’d been so nervous about this interview, expecting the worst, but it went very well. My dad, recuperating from a stroke in a nursing home had seen it and that’s all I cared about. The other girls had been standing behind us during the interview and other national news crews interviewed Elizabeth and one of them as representative of our group as each network saw fit, based on our bios.
After the excitement of these live national interviews, the town hall forum was a breeze. We all sat in captains chairs onstage in front of an audience of probably 300 or so folks from the Westover, West Virginia area. The one hour program went off beautifully, and of course, Elizabeth made brilliant points I’d never even given thought to before. Including this strong one as to why we needed to extricate ourselves from Iraq as soon as possible and allow the country to self-govern.
“Nobody washes a rental car,” she said simply and then related an incident where the U.S. government had contracted to construct some vital public works facility and it had taken more than 18 months and millions and it was still not completed. They turned over management of this and an identical project to the Iraqis who completed the project in a few short months and on the second effort, well under budget.
My strongest memory of the forum though, occurred near the end, when an aging veteran — in uniform — came and stood directly in front of us onstage. He began talking, and kept talking. And talking. And talking to the point I started to worry we were losing the audience. At that point, Elizabeth graciously got up from her chair, walked over to the man, gave him a gentle hug, and managed to escort him to his seat all while keeping the conversation going and flowing.
We were all sickened at the election results and then downright crushed when we learned of her cancer and sent her flowers as a group. When she was publishing Saving Graces, she asked me to send her the original jpg file. I didn’t think anything more of it until getting a signed copy in the mail months later. Our photo is included, along with a cutline, and her impression of each of us in the copy of the book itself.
Pat, Nita and I met up with Elizabeth at the February 2007 DNC Winter Meeting. Our first ever, we didn’t no what to make of what seemed to me a trade show for the presidential candidates. Each had a hospitality room and after the day’s general sessions, would host specially designated attendees in their rooms. We were not such specially designated attendees although one gentleman I serve with on a couple of vet/milfam advocacy boards is, so he went into the Edwards (he was still a candidate at that time) hospitality suite while we waited by the security area. A moment later, who comes energetically bounding out but Elizabeth, all smiles and hugs. None of us gave a hoot about status and were just so excited and happy to catch up with one another. She escorted us through the security gate and seemed as genuinely happy to see us as we were to see her. We expressed our concern about her health, but she brushed it aside and glowed, as we did, rekindling our connection after three long years.
I can’t believe she is gone, but I choose not to grieve her passing. I do mourn for her lovely children, that they will be deprived of her in their lives as they grow up. But I hope they can always keep her memory close, incorporate her influence, her values and her wisdom. I just discovered this lovely Native American poem that I will now share which may help them and others missing this great, great woman.
“Don’t stand by my grave and weep, for I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow. I’m the diamond’s glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
Don’t stand by my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die.”
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It was 4 a.m. and a call came in from “Private Caller” so of course I didn’t answer, but I never went back to sleep. So after glancing through Stephen Quiller’s Water Media Painting book, I sunk back into the pillows and tried my hand at meditating after finally finishing and being extraordinarily moved by Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat Pray Love. After a battle with “Monkey Mind,” I gave up in exasperation, but sent up one request to the vast universe before I did.
“Let me have a productive day” I urged, thinking of the laundry list of things I had on my plate on this seemingly regular Friday morning such as finish Whitehall consulting work for one client, meet my fellow painters at Jerry’s to purchase some needed supplies and drop off materials for the swag bags going to the first 20 customers at next week’s PAW Fundraiser. Oh, and complete the commission painting for my eye doctor. His staff got me to do an eight canvas eye to present him as a gift and it’s due next Friday. It’s nearly done and only needs finishing touches. And looks fab, if I may say so myself. So, when I sent up that request, I had this kinda stuff in mind.
Not having to call my ex-husband, a jail, a college Dean and others: A loved one has gotten into a serious jam and I’m not sure what it will mean down the road, but it could be a long, hard journey for this person. He’s been doing beautifully since I made a stance earlier this year, and comments from those who work with him say he’s a really wonderful person. I hope this slip up was a minor blip on the radar, but am fearful it could be more.
I hope and pray that my loved one clings to something positive and moves past this to find and fulfill his potential. Keep us in your prayers. I gotta go. There’s work to be done…
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Or, if you are not Catholic, my last blog posting. Mea Culpa but you’ll understand when I tell you it’s been crazy busy. Here’s what’s been going on:
Hung the Paige Simmons Salon and Gallery show November 2. Here’s what it looks like in the gorgeous renovated former Tennessee Art League building. Can you say beautiful light?
Hung the Smyrna show with assistance from my brother on November 18 but was really rushed and too busy to take pictures of the paintings hanging so in today’s blog post are a few photos of the paintings hanging there.
The very next day, we boarded a 6 a.m. flight to the UK and made it safely to London at 10:45 p.m. local time. For the next 11 days, we drove, and shot photos, and visited family and friends, and ate, drank, danced and really enjoyed ourselves. 
We returned home safely two nights ago and now, bags unpacked, laundry washed, bills paid, I can put down a few words.
I can’t wait to paint that which I photographed. I did paint one day in the hotel room when David was spending quality time alone with his dad, but the lighting was poor, the room was cold, and it was just a study of something I’ll do in acrylics later on, I think.
We had a wonderful, if freezing time, and have mixed feelings about being back. I’m glad, for my studio, friends and family here, but am already profoundly missing all those friends and family we love across the pond.
