The Story is on the Blog (53)

A new Monday, the start of a new week. I worried over this new blog all weekend. It was a joyous worry, not a heart-wrenching thing. I could spend hours tweaking a design on the computer with a contented smile and boundless curiosity, especially when it comes to changing the color or placement of a tiny element on the screen. But that's just me. The blog now contains all of my Penzu rants and the date of the posts are current as of today. I wonder if I will keep this up or if I will ever share my thoughts with the world. All I can be certain of is how grounded I feel from writing it all down. It helped. A lot.

We went to the beach yesterday and tried to cool off. What a hot, summer's day! It was hard to walk away from my Mac screen, but I really am trying to be a well rounded retired person. I could easily go into project hibernation, blindly following my creative urges at the exclusion of everyone and everything else. And here I was trying to be friendly and outgoing in my retired life! My blog project became my obsession for the weekend and I have to admit that it brought me so much joy. I love when something takes over all of me. The energy infuses new life into my body and sharpens my mind. For anyone feeling groggy, lazy or without any desire to live a full and vibrant life, just go start a project. Clean a closet, begin something crafty if that is your thing, research pickleball racquets as Norman does, or create a blog. My computer design challenge made me feel happy, productive, and young.

So it is a new Monday and a new week. I will make attempts to pull myself out of my creative cloud and be friendly today. I have a few plans for the week, including a gynecologist appointment (not my favorite thing to do, hoisting my legs up on a set of stirrups) and possibly meeting Lisa at the beach. The new art teacher, Caryn, sent me a message today. I will reach out to her and invite her along. There, that is being friendly! I am really curious about her new classroom and how it will look. It is hard for me to totally break free from my old life. I suppose that proves it was a good one. I loved my title of Art Teacher; I am just ready to live a more flexible life with my choice to spend a day on the computer, a day at the easel, a day on the beach, or a day in stirrups. Oy. The story is on my blog!

A Writer's Blog (52)

I spent a good deal of Saturday on this blog. I did not sit at the computer all day, but it felt as if I did and that was kind of wonderful. I could get lost in design work and the hours can fly by with ease. Yes, I got exercise and took Murray for a long walk in a park. Yes, I did a social thing and went to an estate sale with Joyce, even making a great purchase while we were there. But when Norman and the boys drove to Brooklyn to see a Cyclones minor league baseball game, I was left with the rest of the day to myself and my Mac computer screen.

Each day, I type my words on Penzu and think about my art, my writing, my life. Each day, I find it more and more difficult to keep it private. My art is in my words and I want to share that with the world. At least for someone to acknowledge me as a writer. It was scary posting my first blurb on Facebook. Actually, Norman took the plunge for me. I received many admirers from a post he shared about my pet portraits. After that deep dive into social media, I posted a few more of my Penzu stories, adding photos of my family and my art, and linking that to the FB world. My FB friends now know I write. I paint and I write.

My journal tells the story of me. I still don't understand why people would be interested in me. They might like something I post because I am the wife of their good friend. Norman has more loyal friends in more places than anyone I know. I might get likes on my painting because the subject of the canvas is an adorable dog. Or, I might get likes on a post about my mom because everyone has a mom. They can relate to that. But who really cares about me?

What I do know as I go through my journey is that retirement changes everything and that has to be a universal feeling. I imagine everyone has the same questions and goes through the same struggles as they face down days not defined by a time clock. And I imagine many people look for ways to be productive, even as happy as they are to say goodbye to their careers. I am not retiring from life, just from Ranney School. My words tell the story of discovery, not just my story of retirement.

Yesterday, I took a leap of faith in my words and designed this blog for my writing. I have over 50 entries in my private Penzu journal, and there were plenty of words to read, edit, and transfer to a new format. Artists don't retire and I don't plan on wasting away for the rest of my life, at least not most of the time. My day on the computer filled a creative void for me, fiddling around and designing a look for the blog, choosing fonts and colors, and coming up with a title that works. It was thrilling to preview and publish the first entry and that energy carried me all the way through the evening until the boys returned from Brooklyn. My writing is now public, not that I have shared it with anyone yet. I am not sure I will ever announce this to my friends and family, but my story is one step closer to being read and remarked on. This is all about my writing and I took my first step.

A Polish American Dream (51)

August 4th
Everyone has their own dream of a better life. Mine is pretty simple. I love art and now I have all the time in the world to be an artist. It would be nice to earn money for my talent and live a comfortable life in retirement doing what I love. Secretly, I also dream of being a writer. I don’t think that is such a crazy, improbable dream, although my new app, Grammarly, has what to say about that. It angrily judges where I place my commas and wants me to hyphenate all-of-my-words.

I read my Amy "Useletter" this morning, which arrives in my inbox every Saturday, reminding me that it is Saturday because there is no other reason I should know that. My Saturdays look remarkably like my Wednesdays these days. Today, Amy offered links to free fonts that I greedily downloaded onto my computer and a link to Steve Dotto who makes a business out of tech videos. This week's Dottotech video was about Asana, a spreadsheet workbook that works great as an organizer. Immediately, I thought of all the dreams I have to paint, teach and write and how this application might help me organize my tasks. I forget my tasks are still dreams. They are in my head only. There would be no reason to add bullet points to a wish. Then I thought of school, as I normally would in August, and how Asana would help my fellow teachers organize their classroom tasks. I was all but ready to share this video with the teachers at school. I don't have fellow teachers anymore and I don't have classroom tasks to complete, but I do dream of having a full schedule again one day. I think I am still moving at the same speed as always and I do not know how to live as a retired old person. Amy, you gave me things to consider to make my life easier and more organized, however, I am still in between lives here.

Yesterday, I met with Dorothy Sobieski from Ranney. Her magnificent new home is in Ocean, close to the mansions of Deal and very close to the school. It is a fixer-upper, something I learned her husband now does. He works on two homes at a time, flips them for income and Dorothy helps him design the new look of each house. They renovate them, they stage them, they sell them, and they could very well be the next Chip and Joanna Gaines. Her house is beautiful, and if this is an example of what they can do, they could be just as successful. Her kitchen has such delightful features as a big open space, appliances for a real chef, gorgeous cabinetry, and a huge island. There is a lift for her Kitchen Aid stand mixer that I screamed I wanted. Beautiful walls, ceilings, doors, and floors. She explained how they moved walls or doorways for better flow and space. It was hard to picture it the way it looked before yesterday, and hard for me to imagine how anyone can walk through a room as Joanna and Dorothy do and know that the wall or the door should move. I guess that is their gift. I can paint a wall, I can't move it or imagine it anywhere else.

Our conversation over a colorful platter of fruit at a beautiful wooden table from Pottery Barn (that I also want) could have gone on for hours. Of all the faculty friends I had at Ranney, the performing arts people were among my favorite. Dorothy and I have a mutual respect for each other. I helped her set up her classroom as a new Lower School teacher and she wowed everyone with her ability to teach orchestra. A beautiful and talented friend, I hope we can remain friends. Out of respect and understanding, we discussed the school, the other people we connect with, my retirement, and how long she will continue there until her retirement. The conversation offered me closure, just as she is gearing up for another year as chairman of her department and a new September. Her kitchen set a lovely stage for our conversation and she is a lucky person to live this way. After starting her childhood in Poland in a cramped home and under strict government rule, she is now living her American dream. What I found most ironic was that after touring the beautifully renovated parts of her home, her unfinished basement brought out my envy. It was actually only partially unfinished. The finished parts will be soon be renovated for a nicer finish. But the way it looks now is perfect for Norman. It is a room for poker. This is a basement for Norman and he would like it just the way it is. That would be his Brooklyn American dream and he would never ask for it to look any better.

I like my house. I like our old looking stuff, our antiques and the art we surround ourselves with. I like that I have a studio and that I own a Kitchen Aid stand mixer even if it doesn't have an ergonomic lift. But I wish Norman had that unrenovated basement. Everyone's dream is so different.

Belonging to a Group (50)

August 3rd
Just as you might find your sea legs on a boat (not that I understand much of anything related to the sea), I am in the process of finding my retirement legs. My legs are currently itchy after stupidly spraying bug spray on them with Deet, but they are fairly steady now and are carrying me with confidence. I even woke today feeling refreshed, something that never happened during a school year. Ten months out of every year, I was sleep deprived, falling asleep too early each night out of sheer exhaustion, then waking for no reason during the night and climbing out bed at a ridiculous five o'clock hour. I am now able to sleep later. My body is healing and thanks me every day. My paintings are taking a direction I love, my friendships in retirement are filling a need for companionship, my goals for making money are all things I can see myself doing and doing well. I am fully immersed in my retirement and it feels right to belong to this group of retired old people. I feel excited, creative, healthy and revitalized... definitely not old.

As I always do, I began this day skimming through my emails, stopping to read what looks interesting. I received a reply from Abby Glassenberg and from Becka Rahn, both internet gurus I sent a nod of recognition to in my latest blog post. That was very thoughtful of these ladies to write back to me. My blog entry was more about art than sewing, but with these ladies who are writers of all things needle and thread, their messages resonated with me perfectly. It felt nice to have personal comments waiting for me. And it was really nice to believe that I could be accepted as a member of their select clubs.

I do enjoy the quiet act of sewing and the Gees Bends exhibit at the Met reminded me that quilting is a part of my life description. Out of a self-proclaimed necessity, I am rushing through my summer searching for profitable ways to live in retirement and ignoring a pastime that seems too selfish and perhaps too wasteful in my unemployed life. I pray for balance in all things and to feel deserving of a quiet time without guilt.

Excitement to sew again touched my creative yearning just this morning. The Quilt Show newsletter is one that I always read even if I am not currently stitching a project. A link in today's newsletter took me to a website for cross stitching a Torah panel that will be joined with other panels to complete a full Torah. The completed project will tour the world with recognition given to the stitchers through their website. I could do this! I spent my pregnancy with Sam stitching a sampler and it kept me occupied all the way to his delivery. After my nine months of cross stitch training, I could cross stitch anything, whether it is an alphabet I do know or Hebrew letters I cannot read. Sam will help me if I have any trouble improvising a stitch. How perfect this would it be to do this together, 30 years after his birth? I quickly filled out the registration form and it quickly filled me with joy.

One box in my vitamin week checklist reminds me to do volunteer work, to help others. The Torah panel is a quiet activity (my favorite kind) and it will help others complete a project for an international touring exhibition. It will be a Mitzvah. I am very excited. I hope I receive news that I can participate and that I can eventually see the final project if it tours near me. Perhaps we can plan a destination vacation to see it somewhere else. I would be a very proud member of this group.

A Day at the Met (49)

August 2nd
Yesterday I was inspired in ways I did not expect. We boarded an express train in New Brunswick, making a speedy trip into the city and to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Entering the building as members, Katie and I bypassed lines, received discounts in the Met Shop and felt very entitled. We met up with our camp friends and spent most of the time in the galleries catching up with each other. The rooms created a beautiful backdrop for our conversations and I glossed over many works of art, making a second trip or possibly even a third trip, now necessary. I am a member after all. That will not be a hardship. On this day, even as I was often tempted to run over to every framed masterpiece dancing in my peripheral view, I was even more excited to talk with Vicki and Ruth.

My favorite painting of the day was a pair of shoes by Vincent van Gogh. Worn-out shoes that cradled his feet sat on the floor of this painting, more touching than any other self-portrait in the room. This was Vincent. He wore those shoes. He was in that room painting those shoes and those were the brushstrokes he used to immortalize his existence. I did approach this canvas. I did stand mesmerized in front of it (and a few others) to breathe in his talent. Beautiful Vincent.

My favorite exhibit of the day featured the Gee's Bends Quilts. In this gallery, I was able to find much inspiration. I've seen many photographs of these quilts online, but never actually saw one up close. I have not mentioned much about quilting in my journaling; this hobby is neither a summer hobby nor an obsession of late. Except for placing one of my quilts on the back of a chair in my studio or napping under another quilt in my air-conditioned house, I have not thought much about them at all. In my creative floundering, I always go back to sewing because I love textiles. And I will most likely return to sewing as soon as I find my balance as a retired person. I love fabrics and I fell hard and fast with quilting. The Gee's Bends exhibit at the Met reminded me of that.

The women from Alabama who created the quilts on exhibit in the Met never saw abstract paintings in a museum. People have mistakingly commented that the influences of abstract art permeate these patched quilts. Are folks trying to validate these quilts as art simply by comparing them to trends of male artists in the art world? The designs we admired in the gallery were traditional designs passed down through generations of women. They were not born out of the work of abstract painters, but out of a quilting tradition. These women did not have a membership to a museum, they did not have access to a fabric store, a rotary cutter, or possibly even a sewing machine. The hands that pieced bits of fabric left over from their family's working clothes into remarkably beautiful designs are visible in every stitch. Their quilts were never expected to be the inspiration for anyone in a museum. They totally wowed me and my gallery mates and successfully directed our conversations to the art on the wall.

This morning, I read a blog post by Becka Rahn, called, "You're Not Doing Art Wrong." 

   For me, great art is the kind that makes you have a reaction... you looked at it, listened to it, or read it and it caused a reaction. The piece that I make a connection to, isn’t going to be the same one that you make a connection to and it won’t be in the same way. Because connections take two people: the artist and the viewer. 

    ... Sometimes you just need to hear someone else say it. You aren’t doing it wrong... You don’t need someone to tell you that you are making great art for it to be great. It’s going to connect in amazing ways with some people and fizzle with others. That’s what great art does.

Her words hit home today. The day after my day at the Met. Thank you Abby Glassenberg for your link to a new blog. My direction with my art and with my choices for retirement aren't wrong, they are just mine. Becka's written pep talk connected with me in a very right way. Just as my conversations that may have had little to do with the art in the museum connected with me in a very right way. It was a perfect day to be inspired. Thank you, Katie, Vicki, and Ruthie.

Rushing to the Met (48)

August 1st
I am in a rush this morning to dress, walk Murray, and get to Katie by 8:30. I am usually just finishing up my first draft of Penzu around 8:30 and then I head over to the kitchen to assemble a hearty bowl of steel cut oatmeal and watch Kelly and Ryan entertain their audience (me). Yes, I can imagine Kelly Ripa as my friend, because she makes me laugh over relatable tales of motherhood, rushing through life in a fast-paced city and using public toilets. I can imagine having those same conversations. My morning is a block of time I have cultivated. I feel creative in my writing, entertained with pop culture news and stories, and nourished with a bowl of deliciousness. All without being rushed. Today was the disruptor in my routine. I was rushed.

Katie and I are taking the train into NYC and meeting Vicki and Ruth for a day at the Met. I have been excited about this day since I was paid for my painting and quickly turned the $100 into an elite membership. Yesterday was a groggy day, without much energy to walk or do much of anything. But somewhere in the delirium of my grogginess, I researched the exhibits at the Met and listed (of course I did) the artwork I wanted to see and the galleries they will be found in. I am ready for my day!! A day with Katie, my friends, and art. A good reason to rush.

What I hope to get out of today, beyond a lovely day and a proud entrance into a museum I am now a member of, is inspiration for my art. When I sit at my canvas and paint the colors of a scene, I feel a strong connection to many artists who came before me. When I stand in front of a painting in a museum, I can imagine the artist creating that scene, discovering new brush strokes and colors. I am inspired to go home and use the knowledge I absorbed by admiring the art of another.

Yesterday, Daisy came by for lesson #3. Daisy painted her background for her dog canvas. We went into my studio at the end of the hour lesson to see my Murray canvas. Just like hers, mine shows a drawn dog with a completed background. I always said that I made it as a teacher because I teach what I know. Daisy was impressed and pleased to see my work at the same stage as her work. I was able to teach her, just as artists taught me through the fine examples of their work. Thank you, Anthony, for my gift of a membership and a chance to be inspired today. A trip to a museum is a good reason to rush.

Reflecting on Murray's Background (47)

July 31st
Yesterday was a day of reflections and revelations. I have been taking in the advice of many; I am an excited bunny racing for a carrot in all different places. Yesterday I started to see a few clear paths, a few good directions to go in.

My art has taken me in many directions over the years. I do love to draw with a number 2 pencil. I love human faces to be precise, and have filled sketch pads with them. I do love to shade and doodle with all kinds of pens and markers. I am not a creator of cartoons, watercolor scenes or pastel drawings, but I love to paint. I love to paint big. Murals are fun, so are back walls of a stage. I am clearly most in the zone when I paint realistically. I get the most joy out of finding life in my brush strokes. When I captured Hannah's soft body in her portrait, I started to cry over the knowledge that she did not have much longer to live. Her painted image was so real to me, that it became a celebration her life. That is art.

Sitting at my easel in my own art studio is priceless. Murray's portrait began as a painting yesterday. I am trying to figure out background styles these days. The wicker chair of Dave and the wooden deck of Hannah took longer to paint than the actual portraits of the dogs. Yes, I am proud of those background images, but to paint for others, I need to focus my time on the portrait they asked for. With Zoe, my favorite dog portrait, time was of the essence. Not only was I still teaching when I created Zoe, but it had to be completed quickly for Katie's birthday. There was a background I could have painted, but I chose to work with just color. I painted visible brushstrokes blending the shades of color around the dog. It looked nice and a much better direction to go in. I was able to better focus on Zoe with a subtle background framing her face. I continued to do this for Princess, Harley, and Maggie. With Murray, I am not in such a rush and I have the chance to experiment. Murray is sitting on Zach's bed in the photo. Not counting the many bobblehead dolls with their tiny sports logos, or the library of books in the wall unit behind Murray's head, the wall is a quiet shade of green. So a quiet shade of green was painted around the head of Murray. In the photo, Murray is sitting on a dark blue comforter on the bed. There are ripples in the comforter that catch the light. I love to paint fabric and make it look like real fabric, but I was experimenting here. The blue paint I squeezed on the palette was dark but turned into a bright turquoise when mixed with white. I went with it. Instead of getting each fold of the fabric with highlights and shadows, my brush strokes hinted at the ripples. Murray is now posed for the viewer on a bed, a dark blue bed. Sort of. And I love it.

I have always gotten a creative kick out of hinting at things. An old friend of mine, Jane, once remarked to me on the bus home from Bayside High School, as she looked at my painting of Zeyde, that she was able to see his ear in the strokes of my brush. My high school artist self never actually painted the ear, but there it was. That comment stayed with me for almost 50 years. I love being surprised by an image I create. I feel like a true artist when that happens. With Murray's background, it does represent Zach's bedroom without me laboring over tiny sports logos on the tiny shirts of his dolls. I felt a kinship with Georgia O'Keeffe. She enlarged her images to capture the details but became enthralled in the colors and the blending in the process.  This is what happened to me with Murray's background. And I love it.

Two other reflections came to mind yesterday, and one had to do with friendships. Andrea is Norman's friend's wife. We do things with Andrea and Teddy as a couple. They are my husband's friends. Why did it take me 35 years to also say they are my friends? Yesterday, coming off the crushed feelings I had the night before when Andrea made plans to meet Donna without me, I took the hurt bull by the horn and called her myself. We took a walk in Manalapan Rec together. Just Andrea and me. We had a good time. She is my very good friend. Mine.

And finally, I can and will teach art. Evan came by yesterday for a short tour of my house and my paintings. He is excited to work with me and will come on Thursday. He says that wants to paint a president. All I could think of was my year long portrait of Dr. Sykoff. Oh boy. Start slowly Art Teacher. You can make that happen. Start slowly.