Showing posts with label Hemingway. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hemingway. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Artistic Supporter

It has been awhile since I posted. When last I posted, Africa had only fallen partway into chaos...

I just spent DAYS helping to jury a studio tour. It is a really cool event, and I am serving my second year on the planning committee. This is one of my volunteer roles in the community. Today, I estimated my total hours spent on this committee, and I estimated around 110 hours over the course of the event. That is a lot of hours, for no pay.

My husband asked me this evening, as I prepared for an art modeling gig, why I enjoy doing it. I spent five minutes attempting to answer his question, and finally had to give up. I thought about it as I sat still and said nothing for twenty minute blocks tonight.

I think I like art modeling for the same reason I like the studio tour. I cannot be an artist, so I am an artistic supporter. Yes, I am an artist- in performing and literary arts. (Okay, maybe it is an arrogant stretch to claim literary artist yet.) But, that is not quite what I mean.

I have always loved visual art. I remember starving myself for a 24 hour period so I could go look at art the way Hemingway did in A Moveable Feast. Granted, he was starving for real when he went to the Louvre, and I was a silly 16 year old girl looking at a summer college art show. I spend birthday money on art, and acting money, and sometimes, the Husband's money.... I attend art show openings whenever I can, and freely admit to spending part of a girl's weekend away in DC... at the Freer Gallery.

I sketch. I took a costume design class in college, and learned most of the art techniques I possess in that class. I learned how to render a human figure, mix colors, and draw clothing. It was a good class. I sketch the clothing I try to describe in my writing, and I often sketch the costumes for my theatre classes. I spent a few years (pre-baby) carrying around a pad and pencils, sketching nature, people, and objects. I would love to take a drawing class.

I dabble, let's be honest. I like it, but there are only so many things a girl can tackle, and tackle well. The last several days, I spent time discussing various artists' work with two women who ARE artists. I can see a piece of pottery and know that I like it. These ladies can look at it, and understand the skill involved, the process used, how it was glazed, if mistakes were made, etc. I learned just from listening to their critiques. And I learn while art modeling for open sessions and classes. The artists discuss their work, both the artistic and the business aspects. The teachers discuss choices or mistakes their students make, and work with them to improve their craft.

I just sit there, quiet, not moving... but listening. And I love it. Even now, as I sit here with my neck stiff and sore, with cosmetics still on my face, I can honestly admit that I might do it for free. If the right artist asked, if the opportunity was interesting enough, I probably would...

...well, unless it was nude modeling. Yeah, I don't do that, even for a paycheck.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Writing and Sick

I didn't write today.

I did write for hours on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. It made me happy! It also created this weird alternate state of being, in which I kinda blinked when reality intruded.... like eating, or letting the dog out, or speaking to the Husband or the Boy. I may have been in the room with them, but I really was in the 30th year after the Apocalypse, somewhere in present day Kansas.

I stopped writing at a really exciting place yesterday. I am about to write a new scene into the first book, one that will finally create the climax I've been missing since I split the original work into two. I had to do some reading (and rereading) to find my zone (where I can effortlessly write that world instead of struggle to write the world), but I did, and got myself set up!

So, why did I stop? Well, I had to eat, and interact with the Husband and Boy... but mostly, because I knew what happened next. I had written my "one true sentence" and therefore could stop. (I am a devotee of Hemingway. Sorry.)

But today? I am sick. The scene is simmering, which is a great place for it to be, but it will have to simmer for at least another 24 hours... and maybe until Wednesday morning.