Month: December 2007

Journals

Pens

Shelly

Sun

The subject comes up periodically in just about every one of my art groups, of how to write on various media. Some pens just won’t write on some surfaces. One of the most difficult things to cover is watersoluble crayons. If you use them, and have tried to write over them, you know what I mean. A very thin application can usually be written on in pencil, Pitt pen, Prismacolor, oil pencils, etc. For thicker applications, about the only thing I’ve found that works consistently, without clogging, is an old fashioned dip pen and India ink.

Art, Collage, Journals

Harry and David Pears

Shelly

The problem with my scanner being recognized was due to Zone Alarm. All is now well!

Pears
acrylic, Portfolio watersoluble crayons, eraser stamp, RoseArt ColorSharp metallic marker, fruit wrapper, and ink in composition book
9 3/4 x 15 inches

I messed around with this last night, while watching The Amazing Race. I was annoyed to see Kynt and Vyxsin go. Even when they had a melt-down, they did so without being mean to each other. Not an easy task, I think, under the circumstances. They did well, and they ought to be proud of themselves for that. Not so much the team that came in ahead of them. Aieee! I hope they’re sufficiently embarrassed by their behavior, but somehow, I doubt it.

Altered Books, Art, Collage, Found Poems, Poetry

A Tiny Cell

Shelly

A Tiny Cell
A Tiny Cell
collage, Neocolors II, packing tape transfer, with found poetry in altered book
9 3/8 x 11 3/4 inches

A Tiny Cell

All that you have
they do not want.

Suspected
schemed
intended to renounce the world
to ask for protection,
Scattering on the earth
giving shelter
a tiny cell
a shrine to the martyrs,
Like others before and since,
Obligations
all the heavier
because they were so often denied.

This spread gave me all kinds of fits. It helped to put down a protective layer of acrylic matte medium before blocking out the text, but I didn’t apply it to the margins. Duh. So, of course, I got crayon everywhere. And then, I couldn’t find any imagery I liked with the text. I wasted a few hours last night, trying to put something together, before giving up. It wasn’t until this evening, while I was on the phone with my mom and rummaging through a drawer of old magazine clippings, that I found something I liked. When all else fails, go for the giant brain, right?

The transparent box is actually a tape transfer I did of another magazine clipping. I liked its dark, smoky, uncertain quality. It was the borders of the box, and the way they tied everything to the text, that sold me.

Uncategorized

Two for Joy

Shelly

The folks I was cat sitting for had, in addition to Harry and David apples and oranges, a box of pears. I picked them up this morning, and while I was there, I saw two crows in the front yard. In the UK they count magpies, but we don’t have those here, so crows will have to do.

One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret,
Never to be told.
Eight for a wish,
Nine for a kiss,
Ten for a bird,
You must not miss.

At the end of one year and the beginning of another, joy sounds like a good thing to have.

Uncategorized

Fa la la la laaaaa!

Shelly

I’m done cat-sitting (it was just a short stint). They’re wonderful cats (the tortie girl is a little shy, though plenty sweet, but the tuxedo boy is a giant mush), and I really like them, but it’ll be nice to sleep in tomorrow. And by sleeping in, I mean getting up at 4:30 instead of 4:00. Ugh.

And then, it’ll be the weekend! A nice, long one, too, so I’m hoping for lots of arting time.

Since I have bupkis today, I think I’ll just leave you with this. It’s as close to the holiday spirit as I’m likely to get this year.

possum-fa-la-la-la-la-la

True story: A neighbor of ours, years ago, raised a baby ‘possum. It lived in her shirt for several months, until it was old enough to be weaned.

Fa la la la laaaaa!

That is all. As you were, comrades!

Found Poems, News & Politics, Poetry

No God is He

Shelly

This another found poem, this time from the Iliad, Book X (steal from the best, right?). One year 24 days 16 hours 48 minutes 14 seconds to go.

No God is He
(a found poem)

In his soul he found best counsel,
to contrive some right device
for the warding off of evil.

Then, over wide waters come,
and raised his strong hand
and as a god was honored
and glad the loud war-cry.

Good counsel help and save.

But none should undertake this deed
The ships have turned
and turned again
The sacrifices set
in his heart,
not in ours.

One man devised terrible deeds
Wrought on sons and daughters
No god is he.

Uncategorized

Sweet

Shelly

When I left the house this morning, the air smelled sweet and wonderful. That would never happen in Muncie. I don’t know if it’s because there are so many trees here or because the wind patterns take Gary’s air to Muncie. Whatever the reason, it always seems to smell good here, especially in the early mornings. Muncie, not so much. I lived there for almost 20 years, and I don’t recall ever thinking the air smelled sweet.

Uncategorized

Stay Weird, Freecycle

Shelly

Someone posted to the local Freecycle group, offering a bag of table clothes. My table could use a sporty new pair of jeans, I think. Or maybe a hoodie.

There was a message to another group, in reply to a post containing a link, asking for the link to be reposted. The link, of course, was in the unsnipped portion to which the person was replying. And even if it weren’t, why can’t people just go to the group archives and look up the old post? What is wrong with people?!

Crankypantsing

Black Thumb of Doom

Shelly

Coworker 1 asked me to water her plants. I warned her about the Black Thumb of DQQM, but she was unimpressed. That’ll learn her.

Then, the next day, the uber-boss asked me to water her plants, and while I was explaining to her why that was a horrible plan, Coworker 2 walked up, butted in, and asked me to water his plants, too. What the hell is wrong with people? Can they not see that mine is the only cube unadorned by green, growing things? And it’s not like I’m the only person working this week.

I’m secretly hoping that Coworker 2’s plants do croak. I wouldn’t deliberately harm them, but if my Plantular Death Ray has to be focused somewhere, it may as well be on his plants as anyone else’s. It’d serve him right for being a buttinsky.

Coworker 1: She left specific instructions to water them on the 26th, and to give the first plant half the container of water, then to split the second half between the other two plants. I did as she said with the first two plants, but the third one is low enough for me to see the dirt. And it was wet. I have a feeling that someone–custodians, perhaps?–watered her plants before I did. I should have felt them first, to see if they were actually dry. Damn! So now, two of her plants are surely swimming in an ocean of water.

Uber-boss: One of her African violets is actually flowering. Please, if there is a God, it will not be dead when she returns.

Coworker 2: Three spider plants, which would be just about impossible for anyone else to kill. We’ll see. I have to water them again on Friday, so it’s early days yet.