Raku pigeons by Glo Coalson look down on me from a bookshelf in my library.
I have not posted regularly in the past couple of weeks. To be honest, I haven't taken adulthood very seriously until recently, and I don't quite know how to deal with some of it. I've had anxiety issues for the past few weeks, which I cannot really explain. I think I was anemic for a while, and I'm probably still not 100% recovered from that. The anxiety seems to have started around the same time, so I think they're related. Also, I don't deal well with futility, which is what my daytime job is about, to a great extent. When true anxiety hits, I have zero creativity, and I've only recently learned this. I'm working toward straightening all that out, because life is too short.
Then, this week hit. My father was in the hospital, the election (which was a shocker, no matter which side one was on) and then the very next day I learned that somebody very close to me has been struggling with his own demons and I was unaware how big the problem was. My underlying anxiety + a rough week = not much writing.
So, maybe I'll play the game of counting my blessings. Rather than just counting all of the thousands of reasons I should be happy and feel blessed (we are truly living in a wealthy nation and I have it super easy compared to other places) I will pick one thing and contemplate that.
Art. I had the fortune of having an art teacher in high school who encouraged me. In college I didn't care enough about anything to finish the degree or pursue the career, but it laid a foundation of sorts for me. Then around 15 years ago I met Barry Perez, who has introduced me to an aspect of the art world that I would have otherwise not known. He has been a professional artist for 30 years and he ran a sort of circuit of art festivals around the country, getting to know other artists in the process. I have benefited from these years by getting to know some of those friends and I have collected a bit of their artwork along the way. Also, now that I live with him I have the benefit of all of the art he's collected. We eat every night on artisan-made ceramic plates and bowls. I have hand-blown glasses. Artwork is on every wall and in every corner. Now, I think about the people who made the things I see and use, rather than the department store they came from.
I'll post some images below of items that I've seen recently – not necessarily things that I own but things that I like. This will make for a happy post.
February 15, 2012
I received a valentine from a friend of mine in Dallas. She's an artist - an illustrator and a sculptor. She works in watercolor, ceramic and bronze. And, now in iPhone.
Frankly, I consider it an honor that she counts me as one of her friends. If you ever have a chance to see her series of field hands in bronze don't miss it. I would post some pictures, but I'm writing this in a moment of flattered inspiration and I haven't received permission.
I met Glo Coalson through a friend, who shall remain Nameless. This is the valentine that I received from her, via email. She created it on her iPhone, she says.
She called it in her email, "Redwing Blackbird Valentine". I printed it in color and hung it at my desk. It makes me happy to see it. Then, a coworker walked up and said, "Wow, it's a redwing blackbird." I had no idea it was a real bird. So, another coworker and I googled the term Redwing Blackbird (because apparently we had nothing better to do with our time while at work) and lo and behold there were hundreds of pictures of black birds with red spots on their wings and a yellow strip next to the red. I should have known, though. Glo is an avid birder (I say this on my own; I don't know if she would agree with me or not. From what I can see she's avid.) and an animal lover in general.
I am so touched by my valentine. Thank you!
I love you, Glo.