This last week was the worst week – somehow nothing went right, and everything I did was the wrong thing.  So this journal page is sloppy and not well planned – I stuck everything everywhere because that is how I felt.  I am supposed to be cleaning house today (and yesterday) for Thanksgiving, but I have been reading and “arting” in stead. 

I came across this photo today of myself (seated) with my sister.  I remember the day my mother snapped this picture.  I was in quite a self-righteous mood because the chair I am sitting in had belonged to my grandmother.  It was given to me in my baby years — obviously, it was my chair.  On this particular day my mother decided to take some photos of my sister, sitting in the family “heirloom” chair, which by the look of it had seen better days.  I wasn’t the least concerned whether it was a family heirloom or not — all I knew is that it was my chair and I should be the one sitting in it.  Finally after hours of posing my sister, who by the way, is wearing my grandmother’s baby cap, which I was quite sure was also mine, my mother agreed that I might sit in the chair a moment to have my photo snapped.  It is apparent by my expression that this isn’t nearly enough to soothe my wounded ego.  I am ashamed to admit that my sister and I never really got along.  I always felt eclipsed by her.  I believe part of my resentment may have stemmed from my mother’s decision that each of her children, there were eventually 5 of us, have a label.  She designated one of my brother’s as the singer and musician.  My younger brother became the fixer of broken things.  My second sister, the lovable doll, and we all did love her and none of us minded this label for her.  The little beauty standing by the chair, was given the label of the ARTIST!  (Both of my parents were untrained artists.) Even when my teachers at school suggested I possessed a certain talent for art, my mother would deny it and present the talent of my sister in exchange.  So, what thing did my mother envision for me?  I was known as the “finder of lost things.”  I always knew where anything and everything was.  I was an observer with a keen eye for detail, and not much escaped me.  I don’t remember when I began to like being a finder of lost things.  I do know that as I matured it seemed a natural progression from finder, to seeker, and so partly my mother’s prediction has come true.   She probably would not be very surprised at all to know that I have also returned to art as a finder and a seeker.

My daughter bought these stamps for me in an antique store.  She knows I love all things children, and I do like them a lot, however, I cannot make them “stamp.”  They are not rubber stamps – they are made of metal.  I can see the detail is very fine, and looks like it would make lovely impressions, but they don’t. I’ve tried inking them by hand, and I’ve tried just stamping them into an ink pad, but neither technique works.  Does anyone out there know how to make an impression from a metal stamp plate?  They are attached to a block of wood, and there is no writing or other insignia on them.  They are very nice little works of art all by themselves, but it would be fun to actually make an impression from them!  They are about 1.5 inches tall by 1 inch wide and about 1.5 inches deep. 

I got back from my trip to Montana to see my newly born grandson on Tuesday evening.  Tired and glad to be home.  I used to know an older lady who always said when she returned home after a trip, “East, west, home is best.”  I really felt that sentiment on Tuesday night. 

So glad I got to go and hold him, and love him.  I probably won’t see him again until the spring.

This is something I have been working on for a couple of months.  It was a sketch in my art journal that I thought might make an interesting painting.  It is a long way from being finished, but thought I would share it anyway.  Its quite a large canvas for me – 48″ x 36″.  I don’t usually like to use this size canvas, but it was all I had when I decided to start painting – so here it is.  I need help on balancing the subject between the sides of the canvas which are now just blank sky and a little water down at the bottom.  I was thinking of calling it “Nyx” after the greek goddess of the night.  Of course I can see many things that need to be worked on. 

I am traveling to Montana on Thursday of this week to see my new grandson.  A long awaited event!  When I return perhaps someone will give me some pointers on where to go with this painting — I do feel a little bit stuck with it and can’t seem to get going, mainly because I don’t know what to do next, except maybe give her some hair!