Today’s post is a re-do, updated from a piece written in the early days of this blog. It made sense then, and makes just as much sense now.
I’ve been in conversation with lots of people lately who are having a hard time getting started. Seems like there’s always something getting in the way.
I'd like to suggest that instead of waiting for a bolt of lightning, inspiration or some apparition of a green light; rather than waiting for laundry to get done, for dinner to heat, the kids to grow up, you just ... start.
(I have no idea if the punctuation in that sentence is correct. I could have researched punctuation or called a local punctuation expert, but that seemed somewhat contrary to the point of this post.)
Be like Nike and Just Do It.
Most courses can be corrected if you decide what you’ve started on is not working well. Unless you’re sky diving of course.
Like swimming across a lake, it doesn't hurt to pause occasionally, look up and consider where you are. If you’re heading in the wrong direction, make the adjustment. If you feel good about your progress, the short time you spend in consideration won't hurt anything.
To further the watery metaphor, consider taking action in the same way one dives off a diving board. Get into position. Check to see there’s water in the pool. Plan your steps (there's only room for a couple of them) take a breath and ... go.
It's part consideration, part preparation, a little practice and dash of daredevil.
There’s a flip side to this issue though.
Maybe you jump in too quickly. It's called being bizzy. When you're being bizzy dashing about multi-tasking, folding dinner while cooking laundry and then buzzing about your bizziness, what are you not committing to? What are you not starting?
For quite some time I’ve had ideas I’d like to explore. What am I waiting for?
What are you waiting for?
I'm gonna build me a boat.
My favorite piece from the exhibit, a sweet boat supported by delicate oars. Huge apologies for the awful pix, a lovelier version is here, on the Outside The Box website.
I had the absolute pleasure of travelling to Columbus Ohio last week to hang out with a Fine Young Man for a few days.
We took advantage of really lovely autumn weather to spend time at outdoorsy places, the first being the Franklin Park Botanical Gardens.
To be honest, the Franklin Park Botanical Gardens were on my list because during the summer they open a butterfly pavilion, and I’m a nut for butterflies. Unfortunately for me it was far too late in the season for butterflies – but not too late for flying geese, galloping horses, rabbits and doves caught in an updraft of awe.
Galloping origami horses cast in aluminum, 3 to 5 feet tall, dashing through the gardens.
The Gardens were inhabited by astonishing creations made by Kevin Box, in collaboration with his wife Jennifer and world-renowned origami artists Robert J. Lang, Te Jui Fu, Michael G. LaFosse and Richard L. Alexander.
Box unites a love for folded paper with metal casting skills and a passion for public art. Of course, the origami of my childhood came to mind; fist sized, crudely folded construction paper "frogs" or "birds". At least that's what we were told. I rumpled a lot of rocks. Never did I imagine paper could be flexed and pleated into such marvelous shapes.
And then – boom! – cast aluminum?! My eyebrows shot up and my chin dropped. These delicately creased pieces had been formed from paper, then, using the lost wax casting method, reborn into metal – delicately nuanced, permanently folded aluminum. Exquisite.
Again, a horrible picture. Honestly, go to Out of the Box Studio and take a look. It's just a m a z i n g.
Ever since, I've been drifting back to fourth grade, wondering if I could stir memories of the folds and creases needed to build my own origami figure. I'm starting with something simple.
I built me a boat. Probably next I'll make a hat. Or a "frog".
Firstly, thanks for playing along with me regarding my last post, I'm so Blue. Some of you are really quick witted.
As for today's post -
“You’re not the boss of me!”
I can’t say that. I am the boss of me.
Being my own boss means I have to be strict, gentle, prodding, serious, hopeful, guiding, fair, kind patient and stern. Sometimes all in the same day. Sometimes all at once.
To celebrate National Bosses Day on Monday, October 17th, I’m giving myself flowers.
2016 ©Patricia Scarborough Fresh Cut 14x18 pastel
Being a do-it-yourself-er, I made my own.
To those of you who guide yourselves, or others, kindly and thoughtfully, celebrate yourselves!
The original dollop of paint would not have filled a dried out pea shell. Really, it was just a few molecules laid out to help control an intense blue I was preparing to use.
Somehow I managed to get every single miniscule dot , plus a few more, into my palm. (What is equally amazing is that I took time to actually photograph this – left handed no less.)
In a few short moments, that tiny smidgeon turned into a sanguine smear of Shakespearean proportion. My palm, 2 brushes and a palette knife were caught up in the scuffle. A smear found its way onto my thigh. It took a roll of paper towels to staunch the flow.
Oh, the painting? It's quite well, thank you very much.
2016 Benediciton 36x48 oil
Do me a favor, would you? I'm conducting an experiment. If you've actually read the entire post, please respond on the FB feed by using the word "blue" in your remarks. Like, "Wow, all that red is making me blue!" Or, "You really blue it!" Let's have a little fun, shall we?
I've been sharing the odds and ends of my art life for the last 8 years.