Where I'm At

For years now, I've been getting older.

We're all going through it, right? Though before I turned 40, I didn't give it much thought. Now I get out my mirror for a self-portrait and have to decide how many wrinkles to include. How dark to make the darkness under my eyes.

Include it all, I say! Because aging is what I plan to keep doing, as long as possible.

Acceptance is one thing. But how can I embrace the fact of getting older? Well, one way is to look at this drawing I just did, look beyond the wrinkles and see an accomplished artist with a strong line and a strong sense of rendering. There's real feeling here, the result of years of honing my skill, through many hundreds of drawings. And I can only get better, as I continue to work on my art (and my writing.)

So is it aging or is in improving?
I guess it's all in how you decide to look at it.

It's Been Awhile....

...since I made some art for art's sake... or for my own sake... or for, dare I say it, FUN! I've been so caught up in trying to get published, finish another portfolio piece, working on my latest PB dummy, etc, I almost forgot.

I forgot that I love to draw and paint and sometimes it has to be:

FOR NO PURPOSE WHATSOEVER!

So when I was deciding what to do with my daughter today- thinking we should go on some meaningful memorable mother/daughter hike or something- I instead said, "How about we take some watercolors outside and paint in the yard?"

It was a beautiful day. I wanted to do a self-portrait (for fun!) When she saw me get out the mirror, she said, "What? You're not painting something in the backyard? Then I won't either." So she painted a dinosaur, asking alot of questions, such as 'how do they know what color dinosaurs were?' They probably guessed, I said. Then she asked why I put blue in my face, when there isn't any blue there. I see every color in my face, I said. (she'll understand when she studies the Impressionists)

Her painting time was much shorter than mine, so I had some guilty feelings when she was running around trying to get my attention and my attention was elsewhere. But that's okay! I don't feel guilty anymore. I did this painting (this is the part I could fit on my scanner) and I'm happy.

Next time I might paint dots, or swirls, or get really wild and do a totally blue self-portrait.
The important thing is: I'll have fun doing it.

Self-Portrait as a Wicked Witch

Well, maybe not a self-portrait in the strictest sense, but I think it captures my essence.

Because sometimes I feel like flying off on my broomstick beneath a crescent moon. Feeling the wind rushing through my hair. Turning people into toads.

So I guess I could call this a self-portrait of my alter ego. Because, when I'm not busy being a wicked witch, I'm an illustrator. Or a writer. A mom, of course. Sometimes I'm even a good witch.

Self-Portrait #572

I admit it. Snow days have got me down. Feels like I should love nothing better than more time to hang out with my beautiful daughter.

Well, yes, we've had some fun. But mommy's getting antsy. And what I realize is, I Need My Alone-Time. I'm feeling transported to when she was a baby- which I loved so much, of course, cuddling that little bundle of sweet-smelling sweetness. But it also brought out a restlessness in me that made me wish I was a seahorse or a penguin, and the guy was in charge.

Then we scored a playdate at a friend's house. I thought I should write, but I felt so emotionally discombobulated. So I did this self-portrait.

Centering, that's what it is. Art that nobody's going to buy. Because it's just between me and my sketchbook, myself and I.

When she came back from the playdate, we had a good, long cuddle session on the comfy chair. Because she was back. And so was I. Know what I mean?

Self-Portrait As A New Mom

How dishevelled I look! How worn out! Almost fading away, like the wicked witch at the end of the W of Oz. This drawing is dated April 2004. Madeline was one year and two months old.

When I was pregnant, so many parents said, "You'll never sleep again." Of course I thought they were exaggerating. Well, my daughter is now seven and she still often wakes me up at 6:25 with a loud, "There were aliens in my dream, mom!"
At least she's no longer nursing. And she's almost sleeping through the night.

I miss sleeping until 9 or even later sometimes. Such a foggy happy memory from the distant past.

So should I look forward to the teenage years when she'll sleep more? Or will I be lying in bed awake with other worries?

Parenting is quite an adventure, isn't it? What are you struggling with? How do you express your creativity around those issues?

Locating Myself In Art History

Okay, these artists are all much better than me, but it's still fun to blogxhibit myself among the greats!

Self-Portraits, Then and Now

The first one is from 1996. The second one is from today. So what's changed since 1996?

I cut my hair (and dye it now.) I got married. My mother died (in 2000.) The twin towers. I had a baby (in 2003.)

I stopped drawing for awhile there, though I was doing some wild abstract paintings. A few months after Madeline was born, I wrote a picture book. A few years ago, I bought myself a new set of rapidographs. And a bunch of woodless pencils (my favorite kind of pencil!) and a few china markers (hard to unravel.) So I'm drawing again.

But what else is different? I feel like I hardly know that bold, confident young woman from 1996. Before all that crap happened. Before I spent so much time worrying about my parenting skills, or lack of. She looks so carefree.

I am not carefree. But I do have my set of rapidographs and a brand new bottle of ink.

And I've written a bunch more books. And I am more likely now to go to conferences and talk to people I don't know. I am more able now to send my stories and drawings out into the world and greet rejection letters with a 'that's okay; I'll just keep trying." I am more able to say "I'm an artist." Because I really am. So maybe this is the new, bolder Constance, after all. The one who is writing a blog in 2010. Which is something I never would have done (technology notwithstanding) in 1996!

Self-Portrait #3

This one doesn't look like me.

I did it without a mirror at my desk on the piece of cardboard at the end of the memo pad with magic marker and white-out. That's right. Office art.

How I used to make that white-out and those bright pink post-it notes work for me! I made tiny flip books. I photo-copied my face repeatedly. So did a friend of mine, and she faxed one to me with the words, "Help, I'm trapped in the copier!"

Not very funny, I know. We should have been doing our jobs. Answering phones. Filing. Even filing our nails. But we just couldn't resist the lure of too many notepads, staplers, markers, date stamps and paper clips.

I'm sure some of you have used your valuable work hours to make art (and you know who you are!) You could call it a shameful indulgence on someone else's dime.

Or you could call it an act of rebellion.

So how 'bout we have an online exhibition. Of all the ways you let your creativity burst out while trapped in the copier.

I'll start with this piece.