Art Nesting

I’ve left several art housekeeping projects hanging for months and months, projects that take time and attention, projects that get tedious after a while.  But there’s something in my bipolar wind that wanted to tidy up and get ready for what’s next.

The first goal was to update my card caption list.  After I glean a goodly amount of captions for my cards from old magazines and books, I add them to my Gleans List on the computer and file the cut-out snips in my homemade Glean Rolodex.

A few years ago, I started adding little legends to the list to note which captions might be appropriate for birthdays, sympathy, and especially my zodiac cards.  When I need to make a Pisces card, it’s so much handier to flip through the list and look for the little legend instead of pulling out all my notes about Pisces and finding something that will match.

Either way, it’s time-intensive, and I’d given up on making the legends.  So for the past several months, I’ve taken my astrology notes and marked up a page or two from my list.  I finally finished last week and printed out a new, 38-page list.  Oh, that felt good.

My other housekeeping task is still in progress, but I can finally see a light at the end of this tunnel.

Along with captions, I also keep a file of gleaned letters of the alphabet.  I love to use miss-matched lettering in my journal.  It would be simpler and faster to just hand-letter captions and titles, but I love the psycho-killer look.  Go figure.

I recently cut apart three books on art journaling and harvested a ton of funky lettering.  Like captions, this is an ongoing project, but with so much to “process,” I knew I needed to devote some serious time to getting my letters organized.

Letters, especially the teeny ones, jump like fleas.  I know I’ll find them under the bed, under Emmett, and in my coffee no matter how careful I am.  I need lots of light and my best glasses to snip the letters apart.  Then, I sort them into four different sizes (which gets pretty random sometimes, especially if I’ve been at it a while).  Eventually, I have a dedicated bag in my traveling art studio of letters I can pull out and use quickly.

My last act of preparedness is something new.  Whenever I make zodiac cards, I make just enough background paper for the task at hand.  It’s another time-intensive creative process that I love, and I like making each batch a little unique.  But since my zodiac cards continue to be popular in my Etsy shop, I thought I’d try making more than I need and have some extra on hand.  I’ve made the papers for the Air, Water and Earth signs.  I’ll finish up with Fire today.

I’m not sure what all this tidying is about.  With the holidays behind me and over a month since Henry passed, maybe there’s room in my emotional carpet bag for other things.  Winter feels spacious here.  Knots and clots seem to be loosening.  Whatever it is, I’m thankful for it.  A Good Spell in Bipolarland is always a treasure.  And a little nesting always welcomes the next Adventure.

Big Penny Positive #41

*Click*Click*  I’m out of Positive Ammo.  I’ll make more once I get my 2019 calendar finished.

 

 

 

 

Here’s hoping we can all get it off our backs in 2019 — whatever it is.

Happy New Year.

Big Penny Positive #40

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Big Penny Positive #39

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Walk-About

Last Sunday, I took my first neighborhood walk.  I’ve wanted to get out there ever since summer went away, but the excuses… oh the excuses.  Somehow, last Sunday, the bright sun and mild temperatures snuck past all the barriers.  I laced up my purple tennies, stuffed a collection bag in my pocket and went.

My creaky knee complained, but it always complains, so I kept a slow pace.  I sorta had to—my exercise regimen since moving to Muskogee boils down to Old Lady Yoga once a week and maybe a few pool laps once or twice a month.  My old rhythm is gone and a new one hasn’t presented itself, so I’m pushing when I can.  I want to enjoy this place, and getting outside this winter will move my pendulum in that direction.

Leaving Edmond Street, I took Kimberlea Drive.  Traveling east from my duplex toward the country club, the neighborhood perked up—larger homes, sturdier fences, dogs with holiday attire.  I wondered if I’d find enough refuse and biologicals to revive my Walk-About Journal. Is street trash in moderately upscale Muskogee different from a park in Des Moines or the woods near Toledo? This was my mission.

The neighborhood felt familiar—with a few exceptions.  I get this a lot—a sort of Twilight Zone slippage of the space-time continuum—Braums instead of Dairy Queen, Sooners instead of Hawkeyes.  I wonder what cultural cues I’m missing.  My cousin in Tulsa kindly informed me of the real meaning of “bless your heart” (which conveys nothing beatific).  The part of my brain that wrestled with Russian and Vietnamese keeps lighting up.  No wonder I’m so tired.

Once I made it to the golf course, I hobbled to a bench, stretched my grumbling back, and turned my face to the sun.  A whiff of breeze on the waterway, a rustle of fallen leaves. Oh, yeah.  This was the Reason for the Season—to be in a quiet place smelling of sky.  This would be worth the body moans to come.

On my way back, I reminded myself to be present, to notice more detail—the wheat color of the grass, the young couple walking toward me in shorts and tee-shirts, the beauty of a lost Christmas ornament.

And then home again, to be greeted by my Gateway Guardians—Fu Dog, who came with me from Minnesota, and Guillermo the Goat, a recent hire.  I love the entrance to my home, tucked in the back corner of the complex.  My Guardians and a glass bowl full of crystals and stones I’ve managed to keep over the years welcome me with color and meaning.

Inside, I unloaded my foraging finds into soapy water and dug out the appropriate journals.  Some of the biologicals would make nice additions to my little Zen of Mental Illness journal.  The other refuse waited until after Christmas.

As always, Christmas triggered my bipolarness.  It is one thing about this unpredictable condition that I can count on.

I cared for myself the best I could, then tried not to take the whole weepy/distorted thinking/exhaustion personally.  Distraction is key, so before I visited my therapist on Wednesday, I camped at my favorite coffee shop and made trash art gleaned from my walk.  It tickled me, and that’s always the first step back.  One foot after the other, continuing on The Adventure.

Big Penny Positive #38

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Big Penny Positive #37

 

…And To All A Good-Night

Wishing You and Yours Very Merry.

 

Big Penny Positive #36

 

(Thanks to Tracy Moore for the googly eyes)

 

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