And no one is more amazed than I am!
Except perhaps my daughter, Mattie, who is regularly called upon to assist me with cell phones and other gadgets and technologies.
She is amazed and genuinely impressed.
Technologically speaking, I am still in the “cave painting” days.
At least that’s my artistic comparison.
But look out, world! I am chiseling my way to modern living!
Just have to replace the battery in my sundial first…..
The Latest art news to share:
I am especially honored to have received a Merit Award recently for my colored pencil painting, “The Apology”
Yes, there is a story behind this piece. What did Puppy do?
Well, it started with an irresistible urge to run. And run. And run. And Puppy ran far and ran fast through tall, wet grass.
The consequence was banishment to the back porch. But. . . who could withhold forgiveness from a puppy with those eyes?
For a close up look at the original (Painting, not Puppy) stop in at the Bush Barn Art Center during the months of July and August where it will be on display for the Salem Salon Exhibit, hosted by the Salem, Oregon Art Association. And if you time things right you can attend the annual Salem Art Fair with about 30,000 other art enthusiasts!
I am finally coming out of my shell!
This blog is evidence of my transformation! Read on to understand my earlier awkward shy stage:
Years ago I was invited to attend the New York Stationery Show and Surtex Surface and Textile Show as the guest of a licensee; an established craft manufacturing company that was producing products using my artwork and designs. They had graciously included me as a guest in their booth and as the featured artist of their latest product line.
While I loved my working relationship with this company and was honored and delighted to join them for the tradeshow, I was intimidated about facing crowds of strangers and doing any kind of self-promotion. I set up my space for the duration of the show, a fortress behind a tabletop easel, with a defensive wall of art supplies. I planned to work on new illustrations in the back corner of the booth, and I prayed that I might be granted a temporary power of invisibility.
And here’s the funny story about how that plan went completely sideways: (like “skidding across the ice on your ear” kind of sideways.)
My two siblings, sister, Carol, and brother, Aaron, had joined me in New York for this adventure, and we had all offered to help with the set up for the show, as the company was exhibiting simultaneously with multiple booths and needed additional staff. We were excited about the opportunity to be together in New York City, and happy to help with booth preparation in exchange for lodging and meals.
During the process of setting up the tradeshow booth, Mike, the CEO and owner of the craft company, began to complain of stomach pains, and worried that he might be coming down with the flu, or perhaps food poisoning. While Mike directed and supervised between groans and feverish flushing, we went to work unloading, unpacking and assembling the tradeshow booth.
In between his supervisory directions, Mike wondered aloud about his condition and commented that he had never experienced this type of abdominal pain before. He recounted his recent dietary intake and pondered the possibility of food poisoning. He inventoried his internal organs aloud and worried that perhaps it might be related to his appendix. It was at that point that I inquired about the precise location of his pain.
“Well, it was basically all over in my midsection here, but now it’s kind of moved to a ball of pain on my right side.” Mike responded. (And he was close to actual writhing in pain.)
“Don’t worry,” I spouted off, as if I was an experienced health practitioner, “The appendix are on the left side.”
So, believing that he was merely dealing with the onset of a flu virus, or the lingering effects of bacteria-laced restaurant food, Mike soldiered on through the completion of the booth installation, continuing to advise, direct and encourage, first from his chair, and then later from the floor, when the booth carpet was unrolled. He did not join us for dinner when the job was completed, but retired early to the hotel suite he was sharing with my brother.
When we three siblings returned later that evening to our hotel, Aaron related that Mike was sleeping peacefully in their shared room. I thought all was well, and soon I dissolved into peaceful sleep.
But, when I awoke early the next morning, jittery and excited about opening day of the show, a red light was flashing on the nightstand telephone. I felt the first hint of impending doom.
My sister quickly pushed the message retrieval button and we listened aghast to the strained breathy message Mike had left at around 2:00 a.m.. He explained that he was not going to make it to the show for opening day and he did not have time to arrange for anyone else to “man the booth” until day two. The responsibility was in our hands. Mike had taken a middle of the night taxi ride to a nearby Catholic hospital for emergency surgery. “ I’m heading into the Operating Room, “ his message declared. And then, “Oh, tell Janis that the appendix are on the RIGHT side.”
I pictured poor Mike strapped to a gurney, racing down the hall to the Operating Room at “Our Sister of Mercy for Those Who Consult Artists about Medical Conditions.” I felt terrible. And stupid.
Note: I have studied anatomy for drawing purposes, but I don’t apparently know the exact location of internal organs.
So. . . Fate did not allow me to retreat to the back corner of the booth and sit comfortably in my bubble of shyness. I got to experience the marketing and sales aspect of the manufacturing industry on an international level, and be front and center. Thank goodness for my brother and sister and their support that day!
And, I did get to sit in my fortress part of the time and I discovered it actually brought me more attention, but in a good and supportive way. Some conversations I had from my perch behind my tabletop easel grew into lasting connections and opened doors for me in artistic licensing ventures.
Epitaph: (not like the tombstone kind)
Mike’s surgery was successful. He had a few days of recovery, so he never made it back to the show. When we visited him after that first day of the show, we laughed until we cried as Mike told us that when he left the hotel in the middle of the night, he had dressed in the dark and been very quiet, so he wouldn’t disturb my brother, Aaron. Mike had accidentally taken Aaron’s dress shirt from the closet, mistaking it for his own. When he tried to put on the shirt that was three sizes too small, he could not get it buttoned and thought he had become seriously bloated. This further alarmed him, and it was in a state of panic that he raced away to the hospital. He was admitted to the emergency room with “serious sudden bloating” as one of his symptoms, and never noticed that he had also suddenly outgrown the length of his shirt sleeves!