Several years ago I painted two sisters on vacation. They were under the hot sun in summer dresses. There’s a whimsical feeling to it that makes me smile. But the painting / collage of the mother and two children in this entry, gives off an entirely different emotion for me.
When I look at the cropped painting below, I see a family that has traveled a very long distance. What drove her to walk across inhospitable terrain with children? What they are seeking must be worth the danger and inhospitable terrain. And then there’s still this question; Has the family successfully made the journey or do they have further to go?
The mother’s hair branches out like a tree while the hair of the children is circular. I see a difference in the expression of the children, too. The other thing I see is a family that’s held on to tradition for a long time.
I’d say the most striking part for me is the amount of movement, contrast and texture in the whole of the painting. The background itself could tell you it’s story, if only it knew where to start.
I really enjoy using parts of my own art as collage pieces. I use cut outs from art I did, but it didn’t work out. I keep a box of those art pieces so I can use it for something later. I’m working on two more collages in different stages of completion. I think collages speak to me right now, but that’s an entirely different blog entry 🙂
What should I name this piece? I have no idea at all. I’ll have to figure it out soon because this is a piece I don’t intend to keep.
About a year and a half ago, when the pandemic was raging, I set a goal for myself to give myself something to look forward to on the other side of the pandemic. The goal was to redue the home for my White’s Tree Frogs. I’m so happy to say that the goal will be realized.
Today I purchased a new home for my three frogs. 36 x 18 x 36 from Facebook Marketplace. It’s huge. I love it! My brother picked it up with a mutual friend. He’s a Schizophrenic young man who happens to be one of the sweetest, most spiritually faithful men I know. I think of him as a spiritual son. I was so happy to see him today.
This isn’t the final resting place for my frog paradise :-). It’s going to go where the other one is sitting. There’s lots of work to be done. I’m going to list what needs to be done and just go down the list. Fortunately I have a wonderful CNA (who shows up for work and doesn’t stress me). The CNA will assist with clean up, but I’ve got a few others helping with putting the door on and moving it to its new spot. Slow and steady is how I’m taking it. The CNA has been here for 3 months now and is quite helpful.
Thank you to everyone who helped make this happen. Everyone from the seller to those who helped me move it, and those who made small donations. I very much appreciate it.
Until soon,
Faith
Needed – There are 3 items remaining that are needed. I’m willing to trade art from both Available Art galleries for each of the 3 pet items at the top of my Amazon list. Mesh screen, clay balls and reptile water bowl. Please use my email address to contact me to arrange a barter situation. Contact info is on the sidebar. UPDATE – there’s one item remaining. It’s at the top of the list. Some have requested my PayPal addy. It’s on the sidebar under contact information.
Over a week ago I saw my nurse practitioner. We talked about the PTSD from the hospitalization in 2018. I told her that I just can’t paint anymore. I added, “When the legs failed and my foot was amputated, so too was the art in me.” Well, I’ve said that before. I’ve been saying it for nearly two years, but that time I truly heard myself say it and I knew I believe it. That’s a problem for me. Don’t tell me I can’t do this anymore. I was mad at myself. How dare I speak to myself that way?! I can’t be the person I was born as? I won’t accept that.
Point blank, I was born an artist. That art comes in many forms; culinary arts, painting, making dolls and creating terrariums. I’m driven to make things in an artistic way. The only way I stop being an artist is when I stop breathing. It was close back in 2018. Even still I want to be in an artsty urn. It’s already been chosen cause y’all can’t put me in any ol’ thing. I’m just happy I’m not in said artsy urn right now.
When I realized I actually believed that I can no longer paint, like I said, I was mad. Later that evening I got out my paints and started painting. While painting I remembered saying something very important to myself – It doesn’t matter if it’s good, just enjoy the process. That’s the moment things changed.
It doesn’t matter if it’s good! I was willing to have the art piece fail and that is significant. Before getting new depression meds and having a little more clarity, I was too afraid to fail. It felt like I was a failure instead of the art piece not working out. But this time I didn’t internalize its possible outcome. That’s how I know I’m in a different space. I was able to separate the two. I’ve been painting for over a week now. I’m risking a bit more and it feels good.
I didn’t die in 2018. I’m still an artist through and through. Regardless of any amputation, there’s no way to amputate my art. I can’t tell you how relieved I am. I worked hard to get to this day. Oh my goodness I worked hard from the day they told me I wasn’t going to make it until this day. I’ve worked hard. It hasn’t been pretty, at all. Some things I messed up beyond fixing. I know I’ve hurt people by spilling anger or responding while unhealthy instead of just walking away. Why did this happen? Because I’m a speck of dust like everyone else and I do and say reckless things. But I am not a vicious person, just a profoundly imperfect one battling mental health and physical health.
I understand something now. You’d think I grasped this four years ago but I didn’t. I understand that I didn’t die in 2018.
My entire life changed. I can’t walk anymore but I’m alive. I’m extremely limited, but I’m alive! The person I knew myself to be left the hospital and the nursing home, then moved here. I don’t need to be afraid to live.
I was living this life of “why bother, I’m just going to fall over dead anyway. ” I was afraid to live, make attachments and risk a little because I just didn’t want to lose anything else. I feel like I lost so much in 2018 that the thought of losing anything else was unbearable. I was afraid to live. I’m in a better spot but I’m not OK. There’s so much more physical healing and emotional healing to do. I no longer worry I’ll have to endure it without my art.
What I’ve learned is that I believe the words I say to myself. I know you reap what you sew. If I plant tomatoes I get tomatoes. It works that way with words too. I was planting fear in my garden and that’s exactly what I got. Words matter. What I say to myself matters.
Art work – The painting changed quite a bit from when I started. It’s a collage now. And true to form, I’m working on multiple art pieces at once. My studio mascot Joe Schmoe is helping with quality control. He’s such a good studio cat and mascot.
I’ve been putting art in people’s homes since 2007. My 2023 art goal is to fill my own walls with my artwork. It’s time I did that. I’ll give an Etsy update soon.
I was searching through a catch-all art drawer. It’s got the stray button, string, cut paper, this, that and the other. Two days ago I was looking in that drawer, for who knows what, when I stumbled upon a split rock I’d written the word “hope” on. I put in on the table and kept looking. Then I stumbled on another split rock in a pear shape. When I put it next to the Hope rock my brain started ticking.
I am powerful – Hope
I abandoned the first search and concentrated on finishing the body to the figure. I used my own handmade beads for the hands. The 2 rocks are ones I picked up from the grounds of the nursing home back in 2018. I found 4 goose feathers I’ve had forever.
To top it all off I found a pop top that says, I am powerful.
Not for sale
I wrapped it with jute and glued it together with Mod Podge. I need to get a fine tooth comb so I can make the feathers neater.
This felt good especially since it was so spontaneous. I’m not the most spontaneous person in the world, I’m quite the opposite.
I hope I am regaining a little bit of trust. That’s the only thing that will allow art to flow from me again – trust. It never occurred to me to pray for trust but I have been recently.
Here’s what I was thinking – I firmly believe that when a person goes against nature that it hurts. At this point my lack of trust for anything at all prevents me from doing what is in my nature to do. I create stuff. I’m an artist from head to toe, however, I’ve not been able to do what comes naturally to me and it’s starting to hurt. I feel like a bird in a cage. Like the big cats at the zoo who pace back and forth at the bars. I feel that kind of anxiety since I’ve created so little.
Trust. I have to regain it. Courage is needed to trust. When it comes to art I need the courage to fail. I need self confidence so if an art piece doesn’t turn out I’ll keep it in perspective. The art piece didn’t turn out but it doesn’t mean I personally am a failure. All of those things changed during the hospitalization. The amputation is harder to accept and has affected my self esteem negatively.
I’ve commented that art was amputated too, but that’s not possible. But trust got shattered. I was walking my dog when my life forever changed without warning. How am I to trust “the moment” now? I don’t, not much.
I’ve been able to find relief from physical pain but my very core needs relief. The best way to sooth it is to create, trust and create. What is special about this sculpture is that its made from items I had before the hospitalization, during and after. The only part from this side of the hospitalization is the cap that says hope.
There’s so much work to do to regain my equilibrium. One step at a time, they say.
It’s been a year since I finished a painting or started on a new doll but I feel like I’m at a place in my physical and emotional health to get to sewing again.
I look tired and I’ve got dark circles under my eyes but today was still a good day. This is the feeling that I lost with CNAs. Peace. I feel a measure of peace in my home again. I’m not emotionally healthy but I’ve still regained the peaceful, welcoming feeling in my home.
It’s been a good day
I believe one of the major blocks I had that kept me from creating much was the way I began to view the apartment. It started to feel more felt like a hospital than my home. Instead of feeling able and capable, I ended up in patient mode like in the hospital when I had no control over anything.
Another issue that I’m correcting is my lack of privacy. This efficiency apartment displays everything I own. I don’t like that so I made some changes to my furniture to gain more privacy. I honestly think when I’m better able to feel less on display and gain more peace at home that I’ll have taken a big step towards trusting my environment. When I feel I can trust again that is when some sort of painting will take place. Who knows what style of painting I’ll have. One should not have any expectations as to style.
Several times this week I came close to grabbing my sketch book but I couldn’t do it. The wall separating me from painting is weaker but still stands. Well, between surviving 2018 followed by Trumpism, Coronavirus, the recession, war and monkeypox, my ability to trust the moment got shattered. I’m happy to say it feels like I’m close to rebuilding an atmosphere conducive to creativity which includes sewing and painting. I’ve been working hard on building blocks so art can feel safe enough to happen.
I plan to be full swing into sewing even before the next ten days of bedrest ends. This will total 30 days on bed rest which has been torture.
In-home care is going very well. I feel secure with it. I know I’ll be able to have reliable help when I make messes. I also have two people to assist with getting items mailed out on time. I feel like I’ve done a lot of preparation….. and procrastination. lol
I’ve even narrowed down which days of the week I’m going to concentrate on sewing and days I’ll use for writing letters to elderly people. Basically I’m making sure I have what I need to succeed.
I refuse to make dolls in bed. I won’t lie, I’m up all the time. I’m going to steal an hour or so a few days a week and just return to bed after I’m done.
I’ve got back issues and a muscle spasm that stretches from the middle of my back all the way around to my navel. It feels like a belt. It’s stressing the bowel and bladder.
I’m on some strong meds and muscle relaxers 3x a day which means I’ll be sewing by hand at first. I don’t want a OUI – operating machinery under the influence of meds. lol Really though, I could get hurt so I’ll sew by hand until it’s safe enough to get on the machine.
You know what? My memory foam mattress remembers too much 🙂 Bed rest and memory foam are not friends. I’ve put an outline of my body in my memory foam mattress because of staying in it so long. lol…. I had to have my friend I call Mary Poppins aka Mary to turn my mattress around so I can put a body outline in the other side. lol Thank goodness it’s just a twin bed. It’s not terribly heavy to turn to the other side.
Anyway… as far as the type of dolls I’ll create, I’ve already got an idea in mind that I’d like to develop. The dolls will be sad dolls and some others will have body irregularities. One should not expect happy, wide eyed little girls, cause I don’t do those. I could only paint what was in my heart, it’s the same with sewing. I can’t relate to a grinning, happy, bubbly doll, but I can relate to and create dolls like Shiloh. She is a little soulful girl, full of emotion in her big brown eyes.
Shiloh by Sundrip
I’m nervous about sewing “sad dolls” because I’m not certain how they’ll go over in my Etsy shop. I made 3 a year ago or so. I sold one and kept two for myself.
While going through and sorting doll clothes I found a doll I thought I’d sold. This is Sweet Pea hanging out in a tree.
Sweet Pea by Sundrip
I don’t know what I originally named her but she has a new name since she’s staying with me.
Sweet Pea by Sundrip
She makes me smile with her rosy cheeks and her little shoes. I just adore her. She and Shiloh are part of my private collection.
I will have another doll update soon. Hopefully I can report that I’ve got everything cut out and that I’m started on sewing.
My Etsy shop is still closed for the time being, but you can visit the galleries here on Sundrip and you can purchase prints from my Redbubble shop.
While learning to live in a COVID world, I’ve begun to venture out and meet new people. I met a woman who was in the segregated south and was living in the thick of historic moments many only read about.
I’m grateful for the loyal love and patience shown to me at this pivotal moment in my life.
My friends love me enough to want to rescue me. They love me enough not to, but to instead walk with me or offer guidance.
I’m grateful for personal acupuncture and vagus nerve therapies. Some of the therapies associated with my ears have stopped panic attacks within one minute. I wear an adjustable helix or daith cuff (ear cuff) to assist with pain management.
I purchased a Trigger Point Stimulator Tool which I highly recommend. It’s been helpful in relaxing neck and side muscles. Sciatica be gone! The one I purchased explains that there are “two crystals inside will create a small electrical stimulus that mimics acupuncture and helps release trapped energy.”
I have enjoyed more peace of mind as of late than I have in a long time. Peace of mind and happiness are not a constant state of being, instead an accumulation of moments.
I’m grateful for plants. I so love plants! They help me focus my thoughts and do something positive with my anxious energy.
Joe has turned out to be a wonderful service animal. I had to look it up if cats can detect and alert illness because it sounds so strange but, three times Joe has loudly demanded that I wake up.
The other day was the 3rd time he insisted loudly, with screeching, that I wake up. I knew what he was doing so I sat on the edge of the bed. I used my rescue inhaler then took all my vitals.
From Senior Cat Wellness
Long story short, he woke me while I was having an asthma attack with terribly low blood pressure and very fast heart rate. When my sitting heart rate went above 106, Joe began to alert me with that horrible screech.
To prevent me from going anywhere, Joe parked himself behind the wheel of the wheelchair and refused to move. He was clearly focused on me with huge, huge pupils.
Begging for ice-cream
When I had to use the restroom I carefully got in the chair. Joe walked beside the chair all the way to the restroom as if he was escorting me. Maybe an hour later I was so tired that I had to sleep. I felt comfortable sleeping bc Joe was watching over me.
Joe with a paw on my leg
How on earth did I score a senior cat who can naturally detect pulmonary issues? I couldn’t be more grateful.
Its been trying around here. First one of my frogs passed away then the tank itself got broken by a friend.
It feels silly to feel so sad over the death of a frog but this really hurt.
I especially liked Clyde because he was named after the dog I had before the hospitalization. Clyde the frog was a bit of a character. He made me laugh. If there was a bunch of commotion in the terrarium I knew he was in the middle of it. He was my ADHD frog.
Clyde as a baby
I believe it was Wednesday just before talking to my therapist that Clyde’s issue went from bad to terminal. He went from a beautiful color of turquoise to dark emerald green with lime green spots all over. That’s a bad thing. Then he stopped eating or soaking. He started looking for places to hide under. He tucked his head and he sat there.
He ended up with a bacterial infection because the temperature and humidity went haywire. These frogs will be 5 in October. I did everything the same for close to 5 years but suddenly, out of nowhere, the temps wouldn’t stabilize. The temperature was too low and the humidity was way too high, which is what facilitated the infection.
I went to my frog group but they were so unfeeling that I left the group. However, several people messaged me to assist. Long story short, the tank stayed at low temp high humidity for 7 days before the fix came along. That was too much for Clyde and he passed away. His brother Sam is now struggling but the other two are just fine.
Just like I’d do with any other animal, I sat there with him for a minute. I went from shock and disbelief straight to guilt and sadness. I apologized to him. I wanted so much to provide a full, happy lifespan of about fifteen years. He was in my care. It was a hard day.
The tank was the next thing to manage. I ended up purchasing $70 worth of equipment for the tank to stabilize the environment, but I first had to tear down the entire terrarium, disinfect it and put it back together. Well, my friend and I decided to put it back vertically instead of horizontally. We completely rebuilt it and turned on the heat. Well, guess where the heat bulb was placed? On the top panel directly touching the glass.
It sound like a gunshot when it cracked. Honestly, I was in too much physical pain, too physically tired, too emotionally spent to invest any emotional energy in the situation. It was as if I saw a wall come up and place a boundary between me and anything emotional the situation might require.
As I sat there with little expression, she looked at like, “OMG I broke her tank. Should I run?” My calm response was, “Don’t worry about it.” I’m still not angry. I’m overwhelmed.
One of the small side panels now has a large crack / shattered area in the center. While that panel of glass was still too hot to the touch, I had her semi-seal the “crack”. She put clear 3M packing tape on the inside of the panel, with a spatula. It melted. I had her do the same thing on the outside. As it cooled we added more clear tape in rows- neatly! We then stood the tank up and kept going. I need a new tank ASAP.
While the tank was being handled by morons, the 3 remaining frogs were treated with a topical antibiotic and placed in a sterile environment. The recommended medication was $90 but I paid $0 because I already had some. Dodged an expensive bullet!
After the tank was functional and all the frogs were put in, I noticed Sam was more than stressed. He’s stressed when handled. He doesn’t like it at all. Then I put meds on him and crammed him in with the other two frogs. Hours later I put him in a completely different temperature and set up. He doesn’t look good and I’m really worried.
I hope with everything Sam pulls through
When I told Snow that the tank is broken she asked if the friend was going to pay for it. I said no. I told her that sadly, I was going to do the same stupid, ignorant, common sense defying thing she did. I was going to hook it up the exact way she did. So it was six of one, half dozen of another. Either way, that tank was getting broken by one of us lobotomy victims.
It was so dumb. When I sit and think of it now it’s so obvious. LOL I wonder how many people just lost respect for me now that you know I seriously was going to put a heat source directly on glass. LOL. I may need her to contribute to the cost of a suitable vertical terrarium.
Marketplace may be a good option for me at the beginning of August.
I know how it feels to be so broken that it felt as if I’d die where I lay. But it’s true, if you hang on for one more day the urge to act in a permanent way will not be as strong.
When I couldn’t pick myself up, even after the wait, I reached out and my friends reached back. I’m grateful for that.
As Joe Schmoe recovers he’s getting away with murder. LOL This furry, green eyed boy seriously rules me.
Joe prefers the right side of the bed, well that’s also the side I want to sleep on. If he’s already sleeping there I won’t move him I’ll just sigh and grumble as I sleep on the left. If he’s sleeping comfortably on the blanket I’ll wait for him to get up.
When I was making all sorts of concessions and adjustments for the boy I knew then I’m wrapped around his paw, tightly.
I can get wrapped up in the blankets like a burrito hugging a pillow, but my zen moment will be interrupt by his paws walking across my back and over my head. He’ll ignore 3 other pillows just to try to fit himself in the crook of my arm hugging the pillow. Several times I’ve given him that pillow and hugged another only to have him find a way to be part of the moment. Lol
Joe, the Sundrip studio cat, is definitely improving since his stroke. He was so…. absent for awhile….. physically alive yet absent. It’s a relief to see his personality come out.
Joe is back to
thinking his food bowl is empty bc he ate a hole in the middle and he can now see the bottom of the bowl.
to standing half hidden behind a curtain in some creepy stalker way, observing me from a far, as I use the restroom.
Resumed his hobby of bombing Zoom meetings
and critiquing my art. He takes his job as studio cat very seriously.
