I've been reading a book.

The book* itself doesn't matter, but one of the characters is a 1500-year-old vampire—give or take a few.

No, it's not Twilight, give me some credit.

And while I was supposed to be fantasizing about this vampire's vintage car with kid leather cream interior, chiseled chest, ripped abs, and cashmere* sweater collection, I found myself fantasizing about all that TIME.

Can you imagine dedicating 100 years to learning a subject, learning all the languages, or honing a skill set?

- A recap of my private workshop with master encaustic painter Emma Ashby.

In early March, I traveled to Portsmouth, NH, to take a private workshop from an encaustic painter I have long admired. 

And by long admired, I mean I have been to the bottom of her Instagram page. I have spent hours on her website looking at her paintings, attempted to recreate some of them as a master study exercise, and really done everything this side of out-and-out stalking. 

My drive to learn (ahem, stalk all of her socials) from her process was that she achieved a quality in her paintings that felt so far beyond my reach that even Frodo would not have been able to find it.

Something in the way she wields her paintbrushes gives her paintings a glowing urethral quality that I could not recreate or even get close to, no matter what I did.  

I had to know HOW??!!! 

A Plane, A Train, Two Rental Cars, A Lost Dog, an ER Visit or Two, A Delay, the Resurrection of a Scheme, An Airport, An Artist, and an Old Friend

To tell the full story of the last seven days would require a 700-page novel with small type and long chapters.

Since we don’t have that kind of time, I shall do my utmost to surmise how my most anticipated trip of the year was delayed in the most preposterous ways.

In the last few weeks and blog posts, I've been exploring how to bring joy back into my artistic practice after allowing the need to sell my art to kill my creative vibe.

I'm excited to declare from the top of a tall building, hands on hips, cape billowing out behind me - that I've found a path forward, AND my mother is horrified.

Two birds, one stone.

#winning

I know what you are thinking.

You are thinking, "Jill, we live in 'Merica.

Crippling health care costs and doing what we want is the most American thing ever," And you aren't wrong, but the thing is, I haven't been doing whatever I wanted.

(Yes, yes, I hear it) … In art.

I haven’t been doing whatever I wanted in art.

In other areas of life, haha yes, I do what I want.

Because I want to walk Roxy, read books, make art, and drink tea.

*I’m a simple lady.

Back to art - I've discovered I’ve been adhering to a random set of rules I apparently set out for myself that, best as I can tell, are not based on anything remotely having to do with reality.

Let's go back. I'll explain.

Doodeleedo

Doodeleedoo

In the last Nibbler banged out on a chilly, power-insecure evening, I mentioned two blog posts that had been simmering on the back burner of my brain, but they can be combined into one extra-long bloviated post. So. Buckle up. Here we go!

We will be here for a moment - yes, another cup of tea is in order.

I was asking myself, and as an extension (you), why my sales in the gallery had slumped, and then I was going to explain why I went out and got a job. But at the end of the day, the two are interwoven and interconnected.

Ever since I posed the questions to you, my Snacky, Nibbly readers, I’ve been rolling them around in my head because, as of two weeks ago, I didn’t know what had changed…

WELCOME 2024!

I relish the rituals around the new year. Do you?

I love finding a new planner, setting it up, and writing all the birthdays and anniversaries of my favorite people and events. (Okay, yes, I’ve had a new planner since September 20033, but now I get to USE it, and that excites me so much!)

Creating a new journal, in which the first page is a letter to my future self about my hopes, dreams, goals, and wishes for the next 365 days.

Cleaning the house, making donation piles, loading up the car, and making the donation. Which is, in reality, making space in our life to breathe and not be so hemmed in by stuff.

How do we accumulate so much random stuff?

I swear I didn’t buy any of it; it just appeared.

There is value in stepping away.

Value in shifting out of daily routines and habits.

It is worthwhile to exchange stories with new people

and to attempt (to the amusement and giggles of all) to speak a foreign language in a foreign country.

There is substance in trying new-to-you foods in new-to-you places, smelling unfamiliar smells, finding treasures, and breathing in the wind from a different direction.

I say all of the above, not necessarily for you, dear reader, unless you need to hear it, but more for me.

Masking fluid is a glue-like substance that you apply to your paper. Once it dries, you can paint your picture.

Then, a special rubber cement erasure removes the solid masking “fluid” that has become rubbery and goober-y.

It’s a brilliant concept!

Life has never been easier!

Especially with newer bottle designs that allow the artist to draw feather-weight lines rather than globbing it on with a toothpick or the dried-up husk of an old paintbrush.

So, what was my main takeaway from the 20-day challenge?

The fact that it took me so many days to come up with the idea of utilizing hiking boots for day-to-day wear strikes me as so comical. In my mind, the boots had a SINGULAR valiant purpose, which was so deeply entrenched in my brain that I was about to retire two pairs of footwear.

So there we were, Roxy and I, on our own for three solid weeks. I can’t recall a time that I’ve had more than a few days to myself in a long time, so three weeks felt substantial. And I was ready to steep in some alone time like a gas station tea bag stays in the bottom of a 20oz paper cut for the entire day.

The following is what I learned during this time.

September is and was adventurous and fun, and I can’t wait to show you all the photos!!

As any hobbyist knows, buying, researching, and planning for the supplies for one's hobby, passion project, or recreational pastime is a hobby in itself.

A sub-hobby.

A line of work with it's own W2 tax forms.

I had some downtime this last weekend, and while I had set out to tidy up my studio space, I didn't.

Instead, I did an art supply/audit/experiment.

A little sketch in the rain, join me for some of my favorite beach weather!

Summer wrap-up of watercolor adventures VLOG

Envy is a funny little beast.
I imagine Envy as a bug-eyed pug dressed in a pug tuxedo at a fancy party, trying to appear taller and more classy by standing on his hind legs, but his little wiener is hanging out, so that’s awkward. He’s attempting to balance a plate of hors d’oeuvres and a glass of wine in one paw while gesturing, making a point with the other, and attempting to breathe.

I feel like a metaphor for life lies in the thin spiderweb-like molds sprouting in the bottom left corner of the green pressed paper strawberry carton.

I've noticed that I do the same thing with other things, BUT there is sincerely NO good reason for it.

Maybe you do it too?

July 2023 photos

There were notebooks, backup pens, snacks, stretchy pants, and a C4 explosive device rigged to blow if anyone so much as thought about disturbing me.

I watched. I took notes. And then I scream-cried!
I watched in horror as the answer to my burning question was answered.
…