What Audrey Niffenegger and I Have in Common

We both write? True. We both draw? True, but that's not what I'm talking about. We both wrote runaway bestsellers that were made into major motion pictures? Well, one of us did. Not me unfortunately. We both were presenters at the Carolina Mountains Literary Festival in Burnsville, NC last weekend? Yes!

Of course, I was there with my FABULOUS critique group, The Secret Gardeners. Our panel was called What Makes A Successful Critique Group. Which was about how, for example, two members of the SGs recently secured wonderful agents. And how we all inspire, cojole and urge each other on to be the best we can be. And how we use incentives for success, such as champagne and chocolate. My stomach was all jumbly on the ride there while practicing speaking Slowly and Clearly, which is not my forte. I am LEARNING to be more comfortable with public speaking, but I am still in the uncomfortable stage. I was hoping less than 3 people would show up, so as not to be overwhelmed by a huge audience. Was Audrey Niffenegger experiencing these same emotions? We arrived in the Courtroom which was our venue in the small, adorable town of Burnsville and sat in what I suppose might be called the Lawyer Table. We did not want to be in the jury box, as one early-arrival audience member suggested. We're not that kind of critique group. About 15 people showed up. And they all looked nice. I read my intro about our group. People laughed at the appropriate times. We had a lively discussion. Everyone seemed interested. I spoke slowly. Afterwards, many people told us how much they enjoyed it. And then we all went to hear the brilliant Audrey Niffenegger. And she really is brilliant, her artwork is amazing, her novels are amazing, she read us some wonderful, funny stories. But I noticed one other thing about her.

(This doesn't look like her either. If her presentation had gone on for another two hours, I might have gotten it right) She is just a person. A sweet, down-to-earth person, from what I could tell after hearing her and seeing her for 45 miniutes, but also just a person. Sometimes her hair escapes from her hair band. Maybe she even sometimes feels nervous. And once upon a time, she was trying to get published and not wildly famous. She might have once been in a critique group, sharing her work and dreaming of the day when her work would be out in the world for everyone to see. So, if I could be a time-travelling writer and could go back to that time when she was working and hoping and not knowing if one day....Well, then maybe we actually have two things in common.

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.

Endless Drawing

I've drawn a multitude of self-portraits. Many portraits. Some street scenes. Millions of cats. But there's another kind of drawing I want to do more of.

End-less drawing. Not sketching from life. Not attempting to be an illustration. Not even a brainstorm for an idea for an illustration. Nothing to sell.

There's a great song called Doodlin' with the line:
Cause when you doodle, then your noodle's flying blind....

But I think it's more than that. Sometimes I have to draw without a goal, maybe for fun, maybe to access the strangeness in my mind. So I can see what's happening up there. Clear out the junk. Bring the real stuff out into the light.

I love the interaction between my brain and my hand which comes out through my pencil, pen or brush. Which I don't know what it will be until it's there in black and white. Surprise!

Can we ourselves surprise ourselves? I like to try.

Because it feels awesome when my noodle's flying blind. I need more of that freedom. Stream of consciousness. That's what Jackson Pollock was doing, right? I need to let my pen play. Just go. Just do it. Endlessly.....

From the Mixed-Up Files of my Mind

From The Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E. L. Konigsburg is one of those hugely important, unforgettable books from my childhood. Two smart, funny kids run away to live for a week at the Metropolitan Museum of Art- what could be better?

Now one of my happy mommy moments is sharing favorite childhood books with my daughter, and did we have a great time listening to the audio book of The Mixed-Up Files! (yes, we did)

So when planning a trip to NYC, of course the Metropolitan Museum was part of the plan. I knew the fountain described in the book was no longer there- was it ever? I didn't think Michelangelo's Angel was real- was there a similar statue?

The first person at the Information Desk didn't know anything about the book. The second person smiled and handed us a pamphlet called "The Mixed-Up Files" Issue." We found out there's no statue such as described in the book. "The Fountain of the Muses" was once on display, but now you have to imagine it while looking at other museum fountains. The bed they slept on isn't on display, but similar ones are. We went into the Annie Laurie Aitken Galleries looking for a similar bed. We found a guard. "We read 'The Mixed-Up Files...' I said." She smiled and said, "That is a work of fiction, you know."

Says who?!!

The Fancy beds and writing desks were fabulous. "Let's run away," I said to Madeline. "No," she said, "but if you do, I'll know where to find you."

We had a wonderful time walking around the museum (and especially the Egyptian wing) thinking about Claudia and Jamie's adventure. We had our own adventure. We went to the cafeteria, of course. Madeline had a kids meal in a cardboard taxi cab.
"This is silly," she said. "I'm a little old for this kind of thing." Sounds like something Claudia would say. I only wish we could've ordered a sandwich from the Automat.

Looking over the pamphlet, we saw an insert: draw the room you would run away to and write a few lines about it, turn it in to the information desk and get a 'museum goodie.' Madeline drew and wrote about a room with a comfy bed and a cat. We went to turn it in.

The first person at the information desk didn't know what we were talking about, but she spoke to her supervisor. Now Madeline is looking forward to receiving her 'goodie' in the mail.

I spent a day with my daughter in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, reliving one of my favorite books. I guess I already got my goodie.

Cats and Balloons

Because life is so precarious... like a birthday balloon about to get popped by a cat's claw.

Because balloons are so colorful... reminding us to take joy in the everyday.

Because cats are so in the moment... reminding us to live in the present (and maybe you'll get a present.)

Because balloons are transparent... letting light in is how they shine.

Because cats are silly!

Because I like cats.

What's your favorite reason for balloons and/or cats?

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.

Last Minute Poetry Month Offering

This is the illustration that's in the May/June issue of New Moon Girls, a very cool magazine that's all about empowering girls.
Yea!

And, in honor of poetry month, which is almost over but we've enjoyed you and look forward to having you back next year, here's a post-Easter Egg poem.

Enjoy!

THE BAD EGG

Something’s rotten at my house,
I mean, it really stinks,
a tell-tale and unwelcome smell:
an egg’s gone bad, methinks!
We search throughout the kitchen,
desperate to locate it,
I find a mushy chocolate bar,
(my little brother ate it.)
Our quest continued through the house,
it lead us to the den
the smell got even smellier,
My father found it then.
And yet, my mother wondered,
how did it rot so fast?
That egg took time to fester,
but Easter had just passed.
We saw the egg so moldy,
twas then the truth came clear,
this was the one stayed hidden,
from our Easter egg hunt-last year!