It was 1992. There was a boy. And a breakup. And a college classmate from Hood River whose name I cannot remember, who lived in a rented room on Clinton Street. We decided to get tattoos together (she had a car, I didn’t) so we took off after Spanish class one day and did it. We ended up at some place in Portland with a nondescript name like Deluxe Tattoo. We both got the popular (still popular) shoulder-blade tatt – her, a sunshine; me, a Chinese symbol for long life and happiness.

I had gone to the library to look up symbols that were Meaningful and Artful, and threw myself into the task in the way only an angsty and heartbroken teenager can do. It was probably the only time in my brief tenure at PSU that I actually entered the library and it was for tattoo research. That pretty much sums me up at 19.

Due to the fact that my lily-white skin rarely sees the light of day, the tattoo has remained in pretty good shape, although I look at people with younger ink and am exceedingly jealous of the brighter colors and crisper lines. I’d like to get another one, but due to my low pain tolerance and my husband’s preference for skin over ink, I never have.

It’s become a tradition for me to half-heartedly request a detour to the tattoo parlor on the way home from every anniversary dinner for the last five years or so. Ironically, we ended up at Tattoo Asylum last year, but it was my husband who was under the, um, needle – not me. (He has a wedding band tattooed on his ring finger and was getting it spruced up.)

I love words so much that I’m pretty sure if I ever do get another tattoo it will be a phrase of some sort. I am often reading something and find a string of words or a turn of phrase and think, “Yes. THIS I need to have tattooed on myself so I can read it every day.” I really do. I’m reading Oscar Wilde right now and it has come up a lot.

Top contenders:

• Dream. Believe. Dare. Do. (Walt Disney)
• I hope the leaving is joyful, and I hope never to return. (Frida Kahlo)
• The attention just encourages her. (The Dresden Dolls)
• Loving you is cherry pie. (Lady Gaga)

As you can see, there is no rhyme or reason.

One of my favorite parts of a painting is at the point when the the image first starts to take shape. It might be early on when I’m masking off the white areas with masque pen; (my daughter calls it mas-KWAH pen, and now, so do I.) It might be when I’m dredging color through the background wash and see a particularly cool bloom.

It’s the point of every new painting that holds such possibility I feel I might explode.

I had a teacher tell me once that it’s not the destination, it’s the journey. In my painting, that is certainly the case.

I capture most of my progress photos with my phone, which in turn show up on instagram. But if you’re not an IG’er, you can now find them on Flickr as well where I’ve started a new set called Works In Progress.

My sister arrived from Arizona this weekend, bearing the gift of Gaga.

I was singing along with Hair in the car yesterday and thought about all the characteristics that my personality does, in fact, share with my hair.

• beige
• unruly
• mousy
• wild
• conditioned
• tangled
• dull
• tempermental
• stubborn
• dark
• frantic
• splintered
• just as likely to be up, as to be down

Damn it, I AM my hair.

So, how ’bout it? Are YOU your hair? Or NOT? Blog about it and link back or comment below. I wanna know.

Despite a headache that’s lasted for a million years, I awoke on Monday with a radically heightened sense of possibility.

And sure enough, good things started happening.

First,  it was announced that my painting, Naughty had been included in the Top 10 finalists for the Mutt Lynch wine label contest. We find out today if I win the case of wine, bragging rights and a trip to Healdsburg, California. Fingers crossed.

Second, author Neil Gaiman posted some photos of my paintings living in his house. In his entry hall, specifically. I am over the moon about this.

Look, Cabal's in the photo, too!

 Third, I finished an enormous painting of 21 dogs and two people and got an order for two more giant paintings. The first enormous painting required a trip to Home Depot and construction of a hoopty workbench.

I’m outgrowing my workspace and LOVING IT.

My studio cat Ron Weasley usually spends his days lounging in his bed/nest/cave perched atop a table in my art room. A couple of days ago though, I found him lounging in my daughter’s room like he owned the place.  He’s a photogenic little bugger, isn’t he? Maybe “Sundays with Ron” will become a regular feature on the blog…his posts always get the most comments anyway.

Last year sometime, I was approached by the awesome blogger Amanda at Kevin and Amanda, who makes fonts from people’s handwriting. (How does she DO that?!) She noted that my awesome designer friend Nikki had used one of her fonts on my new website design and would I like to have a font made from my handwriting?

As Napoleon Dynamite says, “Heck yes, I would!’

Today, Amanda posted a bunch of handwriting fonts from some of her favorite bloggers (me included, I’m honored to say!) and is posting them as a fundraiser for victims of the recent tornadoes in Alabama. Check it out. It’s for a good cause and you can download some very cool fonts.

Last night, as I was driving my tax return to the post office (at 10:30 p.m.) I drove around for an extra 30 minutes trying to find a good place from which to photograph the full moon.

Two mornings last week, I turned off the route to work and drove farther out into the country, just because the fog was cool.

Another afternoon, I came to a complete stop in the middle of the road because I liked the way the rows of nursery plants looked.

On my home, I took a detour because I thought I’d spotted a perfectly symmetrical oak tree.

I don’t have a fancy camera but I think that if I did I would never get to where I need to go.

Really, it’s amazing that I get anywhere or accomplish anything.

I have a confession to make. Right here, right now.

It may completely change everything you ever thought you knew about me.

It may change the way you feel about me in the future.

…

I don’t have a cell phone.

…

How is this possible, you say!

It’s 2011, you say!

The fact is, my last cell phone was a hot pink flip phone I bought in 2000. It arrived via FedEx on my last day on the job when I was working at a private club in Portland. I was leaving the next day to drive – on my own – from Oregon to Montana where we’d just rented a house. I thought a phone might be a nice thing to have all those lonely miles across the Rockies.

I carried it for awhile but finances were tight and I gave up the phone, along with cable television and gym memberships. I became a stay at home mom and with a little baby, was never really that far from my land line anyway so I didn’t miss it. That was almost ten years ago.

When I went back to job outside the house I decided it demanded enough of my time during office hours and I wasn’t keen on having another method for “them” to get ahold of me. Like so many things you give up for one reason or another, I found that I really could live without it.

But Oh How I Love Technology.

I am addicted to Twitter. I refresh my email inbox incessantly. My whole business is run on the internet. And darn it, I want to snap photos with INTSTAGRAM.

So the other day I ordered an iPhone and I am waiting patiently for it to arrive so I can join the 21st century again.  Maybe then I can start working toward that iPad.

*Other confessions, while we’re at it: I didn’t get my drivers license until I was nearly 20. And I swear like a sailor.*

Several weeks ago I was painting for a client and it just wasn’t turning out the way I wanted. This happens every now and then. I mean, it’s natural to like how some paintings turned out more than others but THIS ONE. JUST. WASN’T. WORKING.

On any level.

Granted, it was in a category of subject that I don’t often paint – botanicals – but I could not seem to wrap my head around it.

It looked like a mud puddle.

Usually when I’m around 90% done with a painting I’ll hold it up for my husband, who’s a good judge of these things, and say, “What’s wrong with it?” He’s not an artist, but I would call him an aesthete. And he has a good eye. He’ll usually look up from his book or his chess game, glance at the painting and say something like, “needs more contrast” or “don’t touch it, it’s done.” He’s usually spot on, pin-pointing exactly what my eye was seeing but my brain could not formulate.

In the case of this troublesome painting he said, “You’re going to have to forget everything you know about painting for this one.”

I let that idea kick around in my head for awhile before attempting the painting again, this time with wider eyes and no game plan.

And darn it, he was right.

Turns out, the formula to paint GRAPES is very different than painting faces, or buildings, or dogs. I left a little more to the imagination in some areas, and added a bit more detail in others.

These grapes are starting to look like…well, grapes.

Grapes in Progress

The kids and I made a list of all the things we want to accomplish over Spring Break, and it looks like I’m already setting them up for disappointment. It’s Day 3 and we’ve only marked one thing off the list. I’ve done a lot of painting and they’ve done a lot of going over to friends’ houses…so maybe it’s just that our goals have changed.

We do have a few things to add:

• Son: make a scroll theater for a book report
• Me: make a chair for a Chair-ity Auction (get it?)
• Daughter: No, she is resolute. Her list remains the same.

Tomorrow we are determined to make a sizable dent in the list. There will probably be a movie, a trip to the library and possibly a  museum-type visit of some kind.

Also, just a reminder that there are just 13 days left to support my Kickstarter Calendar Project. Your portrait can be included in the calendar! Author Neil Gaiman is even on board as a backer which which makes me a little faint-y.

Pappy

Lilly

Tiki

Mija

Rueben