The Fox and the Cat

The art "business" has been pretty slow lately. Part of the lack of foot traffic to my studio may be the economy, or the sad fact that two major "draws" moved to spaces in the main shopping building.

But once in a while, I get a visitor or so. A talkative man, named Joe, stopped by with his two granddaughters. While the granddaughters looked at my work, he told me an interesting story about his cat and a fox. His cat is a big, black hunter, and regularly kills small animals. They have a fox who frequents their yard, so there aren't many little critters running around.

One day recently, the fox and cat had an encounter. The fox walked confidently towards the cat. Instead of fleeing, the big feline started to charge the fox! The fox turned tail and ran.

The next night, Joe got up because he heard some noise outside. Looking outside he saw the fox and cat sitting near each other, looking in opposite directions. It seemed that they were hunting together! He could not believe his eyes, and woke up his girlfriend to take a look. I guess he wanted a witness, because it was such an unusual site. He watched for a while, and went back to bed.

He told the story much better than I ever could. But I thought it was worth sharing. I have the privilege of meeting a lot of interesting people. And Joe made my day.

Paralysis by Analysis

Every once in a while, I think too much. When I think too much, I cannot be fully present in the moment. And when an artist is not present in the moment, art just does not happen.

Lately I am suffering from paralysis by analysis. Before I start to paint, I find myself planning the painting, I envision how I want it to look, instead of just trusting that my brush will find its way. When I practice excessive planning in my art, nothing goes according to plan!

Part of the problem may be related to my recent bout with ADD. Not being able to concentrate, I find I actually overcompensate by thinking too much about painting.

So today, I plan to reverse that trend, and just endeavor to stay in the moment. Things happen in life moment by moment. And paintings happen in just this one little moment in the present.

Exposure

As an emerging artist, I feel a bit like a butterfly that can't quite get her wings to open. I know people like my artwork, because I sell quite a bit of it, and I have never had anything returned, which seems like a miracle to me. However, people can only buy what they see, and to see something, they have to be at a certain place and at a given time. Like real estate, it is all about location, location, location.

To gain a better location, and more exposure, I moved my studio to a better location at the Mill. I do a lot of inexpensive marketing - cards, brochures, signs for shows at my studio, even refrigerator magnets and bookmarks (which at a big hit!). I recently placed some prints in a local frame shop, and have already seen some action. Sales pros say it takes 5-7 "impressions" for people to buy. I think it varies greatly. I have had people literally rip things off the wall to purchase, while others come back several times before they pull the trigger.

Still, it is a big world, with lots of places to spend money, and thousands of artists vying for a piece of the pie. I think exposure is critical to success - shows, open studios, parties, art leagues, charity events,"pity paintings" - the list of exposure opportunities is endless. And while moving paintings all over the place to gain exposure is, at times, a nuisance, eventually, people will know who you are.

While I don't intentionally use gimmicks, I have inadvertently used them. I dyed my graying hair red, with blonde highlights, and subsequently, people remember me, especially if it comes out a bit magenta! I use lots of texture when I paint, and intense color. I am locally known for my unusual color choices (which don't seem so unusual to me). If I produce a work that is not wild with color, people are concerned. (I have been asked if I was depressed when I painted a painting in "normal" colors! I attached the painting, which is pretty tame, compared to what I normally do.)

The biggest barriers to exposure that I face, is not having gallery representation (which I admittedly, I have not sought out), and that I cannot keep my studio open every weekend and holidays for visitors to the Mill. Having said that, my short hours keep me sane, and not having to "produce" for a gallery frees me up to really experiment and have fun.

I like exposure in small doses. And I am very patient. I know someday, my wings will open, and I will take flight. It is only a matter of time.
Artfully yours,

Cathy Harville

www.harvilleart.com

Fixing Things

I am a very messy painter. Almost every piece of clothing I own has paint on it. My studio looks like it blew up. Even my "office" area is strewn with papers and handwritten notes.

Chaos leads to mistakes - and accidents. While preparing the ground for one piece, I get the gesso on another piece. Paint flies, drips, and smears. All of this leads to all kinds of chalenges - and adventures in fixing mistakes.

The worst "mistake" I ever had was when I had run out of horizontal space to put a painting covered in acrylic gel to dry. So, I sat it on the rug on the floor. I went out to the restroom, came back, and stepped right in the wet goo! Not only did I step in it, I slid several feet, so prussian blue was everywhere. I spent the next hour cleaning off paint off the floor, and my shoe. I gave up on my clothes and the floor!

Determined to save the art, I pushed the wet gel back into place, added some more, and giggled the whole time. It really was a mess, and it is such a shame no one else got to see the event! After several more "surgeries", I completed the piece, called "Layers of Sunlight". It was the first piece I got accepted into a show at the Art League in Alexandria!! The jurors were quite baffled as to how I created the piece. I told them everything, even the accident part, and they got a good laugh.

If it wasn't for mistakes, my growth would have stopped sometime as a toddler. Mistakes are learning moments, rich with "I will never do that again", or "this looks better than what I planned"! Not many people understand the chaos that surrounds my creative space - except for other artists, of course!

Artfully yours,

Cathy Harville

Messiness

I have been a physically challenged, cluttered person my whole life. Even if I manage to spruce up a room, you can rest assured the drawers and storage areas will be a living nightmare.

Yesterday, my clutter gave me an awakening jolt of reality. I had glazed a painting with a thick layer of "self-leveling" gel (which, BTW, did not really level out). I sat it on a rug on the floor in my studio. I left to get a cup of coffee. When I came back, I stepped on the painting, resulting in a mess of gel and paint of epic proportions.

After a slew of quiet curse words, I spent the next hour cleaning the floor and my shoe, and cursing myself for being such a slob. But in the end, fate might have done me a favor - the mixed media piece was an experiment from the very beginning, so I did learn what not to do on the next piece. And I also realized that I had not really wasted several hours working on it - that I learned a great deal, and the next effort would be better, and even more creative.

I also realized that no matter how much space I have, it will never be enough. The world tends towards chaos, and I do my fair share to make sure that happens. Pieces of me can be found everywhere I go. My mess will be my legacy - and I think how exciting it will be for a future descendant to "discover" all my hidden and lost treasures.

In life, one has to spend the time to put a positive spin on things. I seem to do a lot of that these days!

Hoping for more order,

Cathy

Rain, rain, go away....

Remember the little rhyme we used to say as kids? "Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day".  

We have had 19 million days of continuous rain, sometimes accompanied by falling trees, wind damage, and lightning zaps. While everything is green, I think even the plants want to see the sun.

All this rain makes for achy joints, depressed moods, and cabin fever. And lots of jokes - about arks, webbed feet, and people mildewing. Even our boat was full of water - the poor bilge pumps just couldn't handle it anymore, and blew a fuse.

Since we have been indoors for so long, I am working from photos of a year ago, when we actually saw the sun. I find that people in my studio just love to look at the sunny skies, and sunsets, and blue skies. I am starting to run out of photos!

I have a 24X36 painting that is near completion. It is called "After the Rain". I cannot finish it, because I need to see the world after the rain. 

Okay, perhaps I have employed a bit of exaggeration. It really hasn't been 19 million days. But I know it has been at least enough to alter the sanity of really stable and intelligent people. Come August, we will probably have our usual late summer drought. And as our grass dies (which, by the way, has to be cut constantly), I don't think I will be complaining. Perhaps that is the lesson.

Stay dry,

cathy

Lucy

Our wheaton terrorist, I mean terrier, is now one year old, and still very much a puppy.  We took her on a cruise with some friends, and their aging lab, Belle. Poor Belle! Lucy is a non-stop play toy, and Belle was worn out by the end of the day.

We can learn a lot from dogs.  Dogs live in the moment. None of this worrying about the future! They play when they want to, eat when they need to, and love you unconditionally. Lucy is always happy to see me, even if I have only been gone an hour. She tries so hard to be good, and not jump, but she has this bouncing, springing action that she just can't seem to get under control.

Someday, maybe Lucy will be calm enough to be a good studio dog. Although she has confiscated a few tubes of paint, and has sported various garish colors in her fur, she is still much too active to watch me paint. I have been thinking of creating a piece with her paw prints in it, but the concern over the chemicals in paint have held me back.  

This past weekend, Lucy helped me realize, for the zillionth time, that life consists of moments. Most of the things that worry us are trivial, and unimportant.  She also shows us how easy it is to unconditionally love one another. If only people could be like dogs - minus the butt sniffing!

Artfully yours,

Cathy

Autumn and Older

Okay. "I am the worst blogger on the planet".

There, now let's move on. It's autumn. It's rainy, and it's cold. It seems to happen every year. But this year, it seems different. I am 50 years old. I get the AARP magazine. I take vitamins for 50+. I am going through menopause. I am officially all gray.

But wow, life seems so fresh and new. I realize I don't have to impress anyone. I don't have to settle for bad service. I know who my friends are. I like my fingernails naked.

And the colors of fall seem more amazing, magical. Everything does. My puppy is getting big girl teeth. It is like magic. Life seems to be one, big, magical mystery.

No, I am not stoned, I am stone sober. But happy. Happy that I have a lot of experience to pull me through the inevitable irritations of life. Happy that I have seen so much change in the world. Amazed, in fact. But also saddened that so many things haven't changed.

My paintings are entering a new phase. I don't know what it is, but I'll get back to you when I figure it out.

And I will try to make it soon.

Peace,
Cathy

Getting Things Done....or not

I have two receptions coming up in a few weeks, to introduce my friends and clients to my new studio space. And while I have new work, the reality of operating a studio, shop, a home, taking care of a puppy, making prints and cards, and the sheer fact that a million things always need to be done, and everything is happening at once, means that very little "making art" is getting done.

Or is it? I mentioned last time about filling my well. Now my well runneth over. I am realizing that there will never be enough cards made, that clients can order prints, that I don't have to sweep the floor every time leaves are tracked in, and I don't have to cook all that much. But, I need to paint before I lose my mind!

While I can search for creative ways to do the laundry, the fact remains that I must paint to stay sane. Brushes full of paint seem to have a magical healing power, and the very act of making strokes on the paper, canvas, or anything seems to calm my frazzled nerves. It is an addiction. I can go several days after creating something, but then I start to lose it. Tonight will be a painting night. The puppy is exhausted from walking, digging, getting a bath, training, playing, and acting like a little terrorist. Once the laundry comes out of the drier, it is my time.

Must be boring reading this. Just ordinary stuff. Life is pretty much ordinary stuff. That is a good thing. I think it is important to find meaning in the ordinary stuff. Then, when really extraordinary things happen to us, we don't expect them, and they mean a lot more. So, in the course of an ordinary day, I make time to find meaning in all the little occurrences. After all, every load of laundry is different - I am always amused by what I find that comes out of the pockets! Peace and cheers, keep the faith.

Lucy

Dick and I got a new puppy this past weekend. We needed a canine friend after Dakota departed this earth. Lucy is quite a handful! She is a wheaten terrier, and right now, a furball baby.

Lucy has taught me many things in the past 36 hours - that I can get by with a lot less sleep; that my eyeglasses are tougher than I thought; that puppies are eating/sleeping/pooping machines! I never meant for "Lucy" to rhyme with "poopy", but there you have it.

She is also helping me to fill my well. The grass in our yard has come to life. Lucy lives so "in the moment" that it is teaching me to do the same. I have to! Ironically, I couldn't keep up with her if I didn't live in the moment!

Soon (hopefully), Lucy will be a great studio mate. But for now, she is like a little duck, following me around, crying when I disappear, and hopping all over the place when I magically return. As soon as she stays still for more than a millisecond, I will include a photo. May take a while! Cathy

Being Humble and Eating Dirt

It has been very hot here lately, the kind of heat that makes one a little bit on the edgy side, and lowers your electrolyte levels to "dumbness". Of course, the A/C always goes out when it is at least 95F, and 95 per cent humidity. And, it happens during a big event - with me, it is moving on to my new studio.

Yesterday, my Mom and I tackled the task of putting two chairs together, "Relaxing" chairs, they are ironically called. After two hours of struggling with the first chair, we agreed to put the unfinished wreckage into a corner, and pretend it never happened.

Then, Julian showed up - a bright eyed, gregarious young fellow, who just turned the ripe old age of eleven. He asked eagerly if we were moving in, and I blurted out", yeah, would you like to help?" (It just came out.) Julian said "Sure, I will ask my mom", and before I knew it, he was eagerly looking to us to give him something to do.

I felt bad about asking him to put the chairs together, so I made a deal with him, that if he was successful, I would pay him, and if he wasn't successful, but tried really hard, I would still pay him a modest sum. Wow, the kid was really excited. So I gave him our abandoned effort, and the unopened box with the second chair, some tools, and let him have at it.

Julian put both chairs together in less than an hour. The whole time, he cheerfully made comments, offered ideas, asked questions, and gave advice. Not once did he get frustrated, question his own abilities, or even get close to giving up.

When he finished the chairs, we sat in them, and relaxed. Julian helped me take out trash, and asked if he could do anything else, and we wouldn't have to pay him, because it was so much fun. Wow. A fresh outlook, positivity, smiles, and agreeableness go a long way. At some point, we were discussing getting sick, and Julian said he never got sick. I asked him if he ate a lot of dirt when he was "little". He said, "Yes, and I still do. Boosts the immune system."

Julian may not realize it, but today I feel more capable, competent, and I will take things, and myself, a lot less seriously. I may even eat some dirt, just for good measure. Thank you, Julian!

Cathy

Moving On and More Money

From time to time, we all have to move - to a new house, to a new job, or perhaps onto new relationships.

Currently, I am moving into a new art studio at Savage Mill. (Of course, the rent is higher.) More money. I tend to have high expectations, but I have quickly learned that high expectations cannot be applied to moving. One would think this is obvious, given the fact that I have completed all sorts of moves, but with each new situation, hope springs eternal - until the inevitable problems crop up.

The first step is getting maintenance work done to the space. Usually, the last tenant seems to always have strange taste in wall colors, so painting is required. Since my studio does double duty as a gallery, I bought paint in a color I liked for the maintenance crew to use. More money. After a week, the remaining blood red wall is staring at me defiantly. Work was delayed because the HVAC system wasn't working, so everyone's space was like a sauna, and the maintenance crew was feverishly working to help the merchants and customers cool, in more ways than one.

Until the walls are complete, the floor cannot be cleaned. Until the floors are cleaned, furniture and art supplies cannot be moved in. Then there is the old carpet my husband and I managed to roll up to be removed, which I keep tripping over. And the wall sized mirror, just an accident waiting to happen.

Then there is the lighting situation. The space has great ceiling lights, but no wall switches. A step ladder is needed to turn them on and off, so an electrician has to be hired to put in wall switches. More money. (The tenant in the space next door just ran extension cords to the wall outlets, but the look is not what I am going after.)

Since there were no wall switches, the prior tenant left the lights on continuously, and all of the bulbs are dead. More money. (I found this out the hard way, but I did get a free electroshock treatment.) Some of the dead bulbs are actually fused into the fixtures, so the lighting fixtures may be ruined, which means new lights will need to be installed. More money.

After cleaning up broken light bulbs, I left. It is Friday. My husband and I are taking a long weekend on our boat, and I can paint, and put all this on the back burner for three days. Some say I set my expectations too high. But how can great things be achieved without great expectations? Life is full of mediocrity. Every once in a while, it is nice to see high expectations realized - but not when moving!

Lesson learned. Actually four lessons - one (1) needs to be patient, or (2) just do it yourself, and (3) plan to throw a lot of money at whatever you are trying to do. Kind of like owning a boat. And last but not least, (4) expect the best, but prepare for the worst!

To all those who are moving on, good luck!

Cathy