Retirement

"Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up". -Pablo Picasso

You got that right, Picasso. This is a picture of me, taken in the 70's, lost in a creative project. As of today, "Anne Woods' Daily Art Works" becomes, "Anne Woods' Occasional and Who-knows-when Art Works", until life shifts and changes again.

Last summer, at Studio Incamminati, I chatted during a break with a classmate named Sharon. She told me it was her dream to do the full time program at the Studio. I asked her what was holding her back.

"Well, I'm 60", she said.

"But you would only be 64 by the time you finished!" I exclaimed. And then when I'm 60, and have the same fear, I can think to myself, well, Sharon did it, so can I.

How do artists do it? How do they make it happen in the years between childhood and retirement, without marrying a software engineer or having to live on a scrap of bread?

I made a promise to myself to make a piece of art every day for one full year. I did it. I now make a promise that I will be a full time, highly successful artist, making things I love to make, before my retirement years. I will do it. I WILL.

Thank you all SO much for reading my blog, and for all the comments, feedback and encouragement you've given me throughout this year. I truly appreciate it and I will be back!

Brain infection

I went looking for something else, but stumbled upon this oldie. I hadn't realized that I started my brain studies so long ago! Rediscovering this drawing made my day.

One peach

Aagh, it's day one of school, let the overload begin. I'm going to miss my blog and sketching so much. I have a lovely walk to school now, about 15 minutes, where I find myself noticing all kinds of details. Is that tree a blue green or yellow green? If I were to remodel that house would I choose red trim or turquoise? I never knew cactus could come in so many shapes and colors.

It reminds me of the story of a disciple who mentioned to a monk that she had studied Japanese tea ceremony. The monk asked her to share tea with him but she said she hadn't brought any tea tools. The monk replied that they should share tea whether they had the tools or not. They sat at the edge of a dock and enjoyed a beautiful tea ceremony using nothing, not even tea.

So, I'll continue to make art on my walk to school, using nothing. It's what I have to work with right now. I really enjoy what I'm learning at school, it's not that I don't want to be doing it. The frustration comes in feeling that I'm artistically on the cusp of something, and I want so much to give it my full attention. It doesn't even feel as if I'm trying to juggle different aspects of my personality, but as if I'm being pulled between the desire to live two very full lives.

This peach comes with a promise. That one day it will be art making that gets the majority of my day. It has waited so patiently.

Two peaches

Hyder Park

Drawn on a receipt during lunch break.

Diane's bird

I noticed this bird right away, just moments after entering my grandmother's house. I knew the exact shop it came from in Takayama, Japan. It's where I bought the monkey I drew in September. Did I send it to her? I didn't remember doing that, I was sure I didn't.

We realized that my Aunt Diane must have bought it for her during her own travels to Japan. My aunt, Diane Itter, was a very talented and prolific textile artist. I remember hearing how she loved Japan, and had won grants to study fabric dying techniques there.

I love the thought that we both found our way to Takayama, high in the mountains, both wandered down the narrow streets filled with dark wooden storefronts. The patterns on these animals caught our eye, drew us into the same store, where we both bought one to send home to our mother.

Horned One

Louie and I felt that the kachina should have a name. We decided on "Horned One"

I have a difficult announcement to make. One that I've been procrastinating about in hopes that something would change. Something like suddenly being able to thrive on two hours of sleep, or winning Powerball. Soon, I will no longer be able to offer daily art works. I'm starting school again on Monday, but I'll be taking double the credits that I've taken in previous semesters. It was already a struggle to try to do it all. It is my last year of school, I simply have to get through this.

I've thought of all kinds of options. I now know for certain, after hearing it for years, that the most important key to growth as an artist is to do a little something every day. I thought, maybe I could just scribble on the busiest days? But I've come to a place where I want show pieces that I feel are well done. I want to put in the time a good drawing deserves, and I don't have it.

When I started this blog I wanted to see if I could make art every day for a year. I did it! I'm incredibly proud of that. I posted every day, more than 90% of the time I made a drawing or painting. Originally, I wanted to learn how to oil paint. That never happened. It makes me sad to think my life is so busy it was impossible for that to happen. The oil paints are still lined up on my shelf. I know that I'll get to them someday.

I want to spend entire days painting and drawing. I have so many images flash through my mind, so many mediums I want to experiment with. Sometimes it was hard to post the one piece I had time for. Often it felt like I was showing a warm up, and had to stop because of time constraints, just as I was tuning into the enormity of the iceberg that lie beneath.

Over 365 seeds have been planted. I know what I've done here will grow, even if I can't tend the garden every day right now. My long term goal was to become an OT so I could support myself as an artist. It hurts that I still have so many hoops to jump through, and I can't spend more time making art right now.

I've decided to keep the blog up and running, and will post when I can. Still daily, for a little while, and then I'll see how it goes from there.