by Susan Lobb Porter | Art |
Today I’d like to share more art with you, pieces created at the same time as the two previous ones featured in Flying. These two are what would’ve been the dip in the diptych of those others had I not let nature take its course and…distract me.
The palettes are similar because I tend to mix too much paint, especially when using the cold wax. And since I can’t see wasting it…TaTa! A series is born!
And now, without further ado….
Free Flight, oil and cold wax. 12″x24″
This one is special for me. I look at it and see a soul breaking free from its earthly ties. I see Mama just drifting away. Floating.
Grounded. Oil, cold wax and plaster. 12″x24″
This is the opposite. Weighty. Solid. Like a rock, or the earth. The plaster underneath adds to the texture.
I really enjoy working this way. With brayers and squeegies and bare hands steeped in the buttery oils stiffened with wax. Pushing and pulling the paint along in layers upon layers. Scraping it back. Scribbling with pencil. With pigment sticks. Losing myself in the process until the muse whispers…it’s done.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Food, Life |
I started writing this post in a rant. A foaming at the mouth fingers burning up the keyboard RANT.
And I had good reason…I had been taunted–positively taunted–by my jeans.
Stupid jeans. Stupid size 8 skinny jeans. The ones I haven’t worn in over a year. Had the NERVE to jump out from wherever they were hiding and remind me neener neener neener…we are skinny. And YOU. Are. Not.
Effing jeans.
Then I pulled out the size NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS fat jeans. The ones that ride low enough on the hips to diffuse the muffin top. Maybe. A little. If I suck in my gut ALL the time. And throw back my shoulders like a Marine on parade. Which I don’t. But I pretend no one else can see it. And then I spend the day pulling up the jeans that are sagging on my butt while tugging down the shirt that’s riding up.
Last year at this time I was in the size 8s. And then I took care of Mama while she died and then–
Oh hell, who am I kidding. Yes, I was in the 8s last year. Maybe even the year before that. But honestly? The entire last DECADE has been up and down with the emotions, up and down on the scale. Because when stressed…I eat. No, no–I inhale anything remotely edible. And with a kid in Iraq three times, an aging mother and just life, you know, I did a lot of inhaling.
And then I’d exhale. Gain. Lose. Gain again. Lose a little. And on and on and on. I have EVERY diet book to prove it. And after reading them I have concluded the only safe food to eat is air. Because everything else packs on the pounds, is bad for the environment and KILLS YOU DEAD.
And calories? They good. They’re bad. They don’t mean a damn thing.
Awww geeze…. I just wanted to run in circles and scream because it shouldn’t be this crazy making difficult.
As it so often happens, the beginnings of the answer hit me when I was with the horses this evening. They are wise creatures indeed…because they keep their mouths shut and let me ramble on. And somewhere in the ramblings the AHA! glimmer began…I need to forget about the books and listen. to. my. body.
I was so excited I hurried back to the studio and began rewriting the post. Which was stressful. Which meant a diversion. No food in Studio Grande so I turned to the next best thing…FaceBook.
And that’s where the glimmer of AHA! became a full-on moment. It was a comment in a thread from Liv Lane’s Build a Better Blog e-class. A closed group where the students share all manner of information about growing our blogs. The comment was by fellow student AnaLisa Rutstein, MA CHHC. As I remember it, she mentioned the pleasure of savoring dark chocolate in the morning. My kind of woman. And then she mentioned being a health coach.
Well, that sounded interesting. A health coach who savors dark chocolate. Definitely my kind of woman. I decided to check out her site. The first thing that hit me was her tag line. “Helping women LOSE WEIGHT, MAXIMIZE their METABOLISM and REDUCE cravings, without deprivation, so they can gain the life they are truly hungry for.”
Hello? Wasn’t that what the ponies and I had just discussed??? Was this synchronicity in action or what?
I delved deeper into her site. Checked out her credentials. And I was impressed. Even more impressed with her philosophy of weight loss, so much so I asked for an interview.
We spoke on the phone tonight. She looks so young in the pictures but her voice sounds so wise. We spoke about life and stress. About the answer being within. About your body KNOWING what it needs. About allowing yourself to FEEL the feelings. About having compassion for yourself.
FEEL my feelings??? Might as well surf in a tsunami. My kid was in a war. My mother died. Job. Family. Money. And on and on and on… FEELINGS? I’ve been putting those suckers on hold for a long time. And compassion for myself…Whoosh. Now that’s a big exhale…. Huge.
This was an interview, not a therapy session. But as AnaLisa discussed her program I felt walls that I didn’t know I had begin to crack. And I knew the most compassionate thing I could do for myself was enlist her help.
So I did. I signed for her Jumpstart. Six 45 minute one on one coaching sessions. Handouts and experiential exercises. E-mail support.
Afterwards, as I was kicking myself for spending the money, because really, there are other things in this world to invest in…I stopped and thought, whoa…how could I NOT invest in myself. Because this is my life we’re talking about.
As I work with AnaLisa I’ll be sharing this journey with you. Not the gory parts, but the illuminations.
Because it’s all part of living the Arty Life.
.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art |
Spent the morning with my nose buried in a book. An e-book to be exact. One I bought from Kelly Rae Roberts a while back and promptly stuck in the virtual I’ll get to this later pile, AKA downloads. It’s called Flying Lessons . I’m only on part 1 but I’m flying. Already.
It’s about goals and blogging and selling your creative work online. Imagine that... It’s about knowing your passion, facing your fears and going for it. And it’s written by a woman whose done ALL that and more.
And then it’s about the nitty gritty DETAILS. But I’m not there yet. I’m only on page 33 after spending half the day on it. Because it’s the sort of thing you have to think about. Ponder upon. I can tell you one thing…I’m very excited by what I’ve read so far.
I’ll let you know how it goes.
Meanwhile, I finally photographed a few more of the oil and cold wax pieces I made for the show in November. These aren’t the final photos but are good enough to post here.
Beneath the Surface. Oil and cold wax on cradled board. 2’x2′
Crop Circles, oil, cold wax and plaster on cradled board, 2’x2′
I can’t remember the name of this one. Calling it Crop Circles for now. Because it’s late and I’m tired. The right name will come.
More tomorrow.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Dogs, Life, Mr. Spouse |
There is only so much HGTV a body can stand before they willingly–willingly, I say–turn over the TV to the Super Bowl half of the family.
And I reached that point. I believe it was after the ‘is-there-really-any-chicken-in-here’ soup. The stuff that comes in the red and white cans. The stuff no adult eats and I never have in the house. The stuff I CRAVED after a night of violently purging from my system EVERYTHING that was not tied down by ligaments. I swear, even my EARS were puking. And when I came to, when I was remotely conscious, all I wanted was Campbell’s.
And a shock collar for the dogs. I wanted to send them flipping over backwards every time they barked. Which was every three minutes seconds. Because Mom was in bed and they had to guard her. From everything. And my little darlin’s have fierce imaginations when it comes to danger. Squirrels! BARK! BARK! Trees! BARK! BARK! BARK! Mr. Spouse checking to see if I’m still alive! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK!!!
I sent Mr. Spouse on a mercy run. He came home with the soup. Two cans. WHAT was he thinking??? Really, I’ve got a LOT of empty inside me, more than two cans’ worth. And he ignored my suggestion for the dogs. Totally. Like he thought I was kidding or something.
Awww geeze…
But while my day was spent snoozing on the sofa, drifting in and out as people bought apartments in Sweden and Scotland and directing BAD thoughts at my best beloved puppies, Mr. Spouse was outside working on the new studio.
I need to come up with a name for this new studio, by the way. Or I can transfer Studio Grande. I’m open to suggestions.
Look at that. Got some plywood up. And it’s starting to look real. The little puddle on the concrete lower right? Sophie and Bean saying hello. They don’t realize this is almost an indoor place now. And they sure don’t know that this will be Studio Quat’s domain.
Now that will piss ’em off.
This is the hobbit door. Mr. Spouse REALLY wanted this. And since his labor is free, I agreed. But I’m going to paint it RED.
So that was the weekend around here. Me? Not so much. Mr. Spouse? Good Job!
by Susan Lobb Porter | Life |
Sophie does. not. care. She is licking my lower leg…exfoliating it…as I wallow on the comfy chair. I cannot muster a firm enough MOM voice to convince her this is not a good idea.
I am coming back from the dead. From the land where fever and chills and teeth rattling shakes go hand in hand with THE PURGE. Twenty four hours of eternal gratefulness for indoor plumbing. Because without the modern marvels of fresh running water and the flushable loo there would’ve been no reason to go on. No reason to LIVE if I knew I was going to have to clean up after myself.
I believe the worst is past, KNOCK ON WOOD, despite the relocation of the Superbowl from Indiannopolis to the interior regions of my head. Grown men, BOTH TEAMS, are tossing themselves around between my ears. Large men, HUGE men running jumping smashing, crashing without ANY regard to my feeling on the matter.
All this whining has made me tired. Off to bed with me now. Tomorrow is another day.
