by Susan Lobb Porter | Country Living, Gardening, Porterosa |
Ah my sweetums, it’ SUMMERTIME!!!
Melons! Flipflops! Corn on da cobb!!!
Now if I was a little kid I’d be whining right about now how bored I was with vacation.
And my mother would be telling me there was laundry to fold, dishes to wash, furniture to polish. Then off she’d go to work, leaving me with a couple of older siblings calling the shots. Or she’d pack us off to Nana and the family summer place on the Long Island Sound where the beach was a one minute walk. And the hammock under the oaks was the best place to read Nancy Drew.
And the front porch was perfect for lobing water balloons at passing teenagers, the BIG kids, y’know..
All theses years later (and no, I’m not going to tell you how many) my summer vacay consisted of jumping out of bed early, what FirstBorn calls the butt crack of dawn, to be showered and dressed and semi-coherent before a herd of pickup trucks and landscapers descended on the property like a colony of worker bees in Levis.
Because after nearly twenty years of living here, Mr. Spouse and I decided it was time, way past time, to pretty up the property. To define a little patch of civilized garden between the house and the forest that surrounds us. For years we’ve been building rock walls and terraces because we’re good at making things. But since neither one of us had a clue what to do about plants, we hired a designer. And a contractor. Got the soil prepped and the irrigation in.
And then the plants came. I took a week off from work to greet them.
Heat
from the Shadows and Reflection Series
©2013 Susan Lobb Porter
Did I mention this is summer? That it’s hot?
Watering
from the Shadows and Reflections Series’
@2013 Susan Lobb Porter
I spent most of the week running around with the hose. Hand watering precious little green things still in the can. Or newly planted but not quite in the irrigation system yet. Telling them this was their forever home and they would be very happy here. Please don’t die!
Mmmmm…Roses!
We’re still not finished. The next wave of plants comes this week. The icing on the cake according to the designer. And after that there will be more as I grow into this. Already I know that the three old fashioned English roses, the ones that smell divine, will not be enough. I can move this and that and have room for a couple more.
And I see spots for bulbs. For Day Lillies and Daffodils. And those whatchamacallems with the big poofy flowers. And up in the little orchard I’ve been assured there’s room for two more fruit trees. I’m thinking Nectarine and French Plum will go nicely with the Apples and Pear. With native wildflowers growing between them.
I suspect that this garden will further blur the lines between LIFE and ART. Plans are growing in my head for sculptures. For wild haired crazy women spirits among the trees. Assemblage! Mosaic! Whatever…they will evolve as the garden evolves.
One Step at a Time
from the Shadows and Reflections Series
©2013 Susan Lobb Porter
But for now there’s more work to do. And I have to keep at it, one step at a time.
xoxo
Are you a gardener? I’d love to hear about your favorite plants and adventures in the comments below, especially if you know anything about zone 9. I think it’s 9. Snows some in winter, hot in summer. That sound like zone 9 to you?
And remember, if you share this on FaceBook I will eat chocolate for you! What’s not to like about that???
by Susan Lobb Porter | Life, Photography |
It’s hot. Too hot to write without whining. So I’m going to take a break from blogging for a few days.
Meanwhile, here’s a peek at my new digital series, The Bottom of the Bowl.
Bottom of the Bowl # 5
Susan Lobb Porter
I’ll tell you more about it next week.
When it cools down.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Kids, Life |
This is not the post I thought I was going to write tonight. That one was about art. Imagine that! This being an art blog and all.
And then I saw something FirstBorn posted on FaceBook.
Himself, my handsome brave crazy-ass son, legs dangling from an amusement park ride, the sole purpose of which is to go straight up. And then…STRAIGHT DOWNNNNNNNNNNNN. As fast fast FAST as possible.
The kind of ride you do not go on immediately after lunch.
The kind of ride I do not go on EVER. Ever ever ever NEVER.
The kind of ride my adrenalin junkie son has loved since he was tall enough for The. Sign.
I looked at the photo and saw his legs hanging down. Yep, I’d recognize them anywhere. Then I saw a pair of legs next to his. Teeny tiny little legs that didn’t hang down so much as stuck out. And I realized holy effing crap! That’s my GRANDAUGHTER on the ride with him. My too-young-for-kindergarden-for-at-least-another-year granddaughter.
Who apparently has her Daddy’s gravity defying fearlessness. Because she likes it so much they went back the next weekend and rode it at least 10 more times.
Are you dizzy yet?
There’s a piece of me, the grandma part, that screams nooooooooooooo! It’s dangerous. Someone could get hurt. She should stick to the Merry-Go-Round. Or better yet, stay home and color. Something safe.
But there’s another piece of me, another grandma part, that is jumping up and down whistling and clapping and doing hand springs and back flips because I’m thrilled, positively absolutely thrilled that this girl-child is being allowed, encouraged, to be FEARLESS.
It’s easy to raise a fearful child. Just tell them they’re too young, too small, not ready yet. Tell them they can do something later, when they’re older. I was raised that way. I was the youngest, the baby of the family. Never able to do what the big kids did because, well, they were bigger. Older. More capable.
And so I grew up never believing I was ready for anything. Other people published novels, wrote the screenplay, started the company. Other people who were more…grown up.
I’m finally figuring out how wrong that inner programming was. Finally. And it’s about time.
Does this mean there’s a totally insanely scary amusement park ride in my future? Hell no. But I will gladly wave to my granddaughter from down below. Will take photographs and blow kisses and never, ever let her know that it scares the shit out of me.
I will never hold her back from being fearless.
And I WILL finish that novel. Count on it.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art, Life |
This week I went waaaay beyond my creative comfort zone. To the place that has rulz.
Rulz? Really??? Mwahahahahaha…YES!!!
I kid you not!
I stayed within the lines. Gasp! Did not drip on the floor. Ohhhhhhhh… No Springsteen, no air guitar, no jumping around with fully charged brush in my hands. WHAT??? And no scribbling. Oh nooooo, say it ain’t sooooo!!!
I was BORED out of my ever lovin’ mind. It was torture. Every minute of it was nothing less than fingernails on the chalkboard painful. It was the ultimate stick-a-fork-in-the–eye experience.
But…and this is a BIG but, a HUGE but…the walls of my bedroom are now painted. YAY!!! They’re clean. And fresh. And some flavor of khaki. Yes, I think you could call it khaki. Sort of.
Even tho the photo looks yellow. Trust me, it’s a more earthy color with a slight gray note. Khaki. Definitely.
Which brings me to my next point…picking the color was whack me upside the head crazy making H.A.R.D. After hours of swatches and samples and indecisive color wheel impotence, I took three paint chips up to the counter and asked the kid behind the register which one he liked best. He looked at them for–oh hell, I don’t think he even looked at them at all, he just pointed to one.
And I said great, I’ll take a couple gallons of that. Even tho it was my LEAST FAVORITE of the three. I took his advice because I went to art school and I can’t pick WALL paint to save my ass.
And I like it just fine. Because now it’s all done I can crank up the music, bounce around the studio and and go back to painting like this.
And make things like this.
Ahhhh…. And I know the perfect wall to hang this on, until the next show, that is.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art, Dogs |
Sophie is a monkey butt.
Don’t be fooled by that cute little face. Because behind it, somewhere in the ATTITUDE section of her little canine head, is a monkey butt. MONKEY BUTTTTTTTT……
I came in from the studio and caught her on the table today. The dining room table. Like a cat. But she’s not a cat, she’s a D.O.G.
It wasn’t the first time.
Disclaimer: The cat does NOT get on the table. Mostly never. Oh no, she gets on my shoulders while I’m sitting at the table. Like she’s auditioning for a future role as a fur wrap. Which she might be.
I just thought you should know.
And now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s talk about ART!
This week was all about exhaling. About breathing deep and letting go of expectations. And commitments. About taking time for me.
I came home early from work one day, like 10 AM early. Wasn’t feeling well. I stretched out on the sofa and crashed for a couple of hours. When I woke up I put my feet on the coffee table, grabbed a notebook and started sketching.
And yes, the notebook already had notes in it but they were so…yesterday. Or maybe last year. Whatever. They had served their purpose and were talking up paper. So I drew right over them.
From the very first sketch, the one up above, I realized I had NO idea where I was going. I just began making marks. Anatomically incorrect marks involving women with interesting parts.
I’m quite fond of lady parts, especially my own. So I just let it happen as I sketched merrily along.
A day or two later I picked up the notebook again (hereafter referred to as the Art Journal because it sounds so…arty) and decided to take the little sketches further. Thought charcoal for be nice for depth. And then fixative to keep the charcoal from breeding with the other pages. Spray Fix is something I recently discovered that I have cans and cans of, proving it pays to organize the supplies once in awhile.
Well, the charcoal was fun but blah. These suckers needed some punch. So I added pastels. And more fix. And then acrylic markers because they make everything pop. And some collage because why not?
Gaia
Susan Lobb-Porter
Before I knew it these journal entries turned into mini-paintings. Or studies for future paintings that can be developed further, like maybe next week.
Surrender to Love
Susan Lobb-Porter
Oh, my best, best, BEST beloveds…I can see you scratching your heads (heads, yes, you have at least two in my world) scratching your heads and saying but Susan, this is soooo not what you usually do.
And you would be right.
So check back next week and see what happens. You might be surprised.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Life, Studio |
Scary photo alert: If you have an aversion to other people’s messes go get a cuppa something and skip over the first few photos with your eyes closed.
For the past six weeks or so I’ve been playing this little game called moving stuff. What began as clearing Mama’s house out for the renter became just dump everything from the old studio into the new studio and it will sort itself out. Eventually. In due time.
Mwhahahahaha. Oh, excuse me while I wipe the tears from my eyes. Silly me, the Clutter Fairy must’ve lost my address. If you see her, snip off her wings, take away the crown (it’s from Burger King anyway) and tell her she’s been a baaaaaad fairy.
Tell her Susan says she sucks. Not personally sucks, because I don’t want to damage her tender little ego because I’m much too nice a person to do that, but her job performance is wanting.
Wanting. With a capital W.
Look at this. Just look at this. SEE WHAT I MEAN??? That sparkly little glitter-dusted effing fairy flew away and left me with this!
And this!
And one more because I want to burn it into your eyes. Imprint it on your brain–
So that THIS will make you weep with joy. This working, functional ORGANIZED studio space will make you sigh with relief.
SENSITIVE SOULS…You can come back and look at the pictures now.
Because everything that stayed, that didn’t go away, has a place. A place that is logical to me. A place where I can find it. I know where everything is. And yes, I do have about eight cans of spray mount, six cans of varnish and enough canvases to keep me busy for a long time.
I also have a useable desk. Ignore the blue cord. It’s a power thing for some tool Mr. Spouse was using outside. It’s not really there.
And the comfy corner is once again a place to breathe. To be. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh….
It took a few weeks to get to this point, mostly because I was simultaneously doing the same thing to my house, another place the Clutter Fairy bailed on me. But it’s okay. The house is, oh my god, it’s wonderful!!! It’s like…do I even live here? Oh, I DO! Lucky me!!!
But the studio…having a functioning studio that wants me to be there, wants me to make art… That is the BEST thing of all!
I even painted today, yes I did. But that’s another post, a come back tomorrow post. Or maybe later in the week post. Because I might be too busy painting to blog.
We’ll see.
