My Fantastical Imagination

Purposeful studio chaos.

I threatened to someone that I would post a picture of my work table. Now I'm getting around to it.

Along with it, some background. It's been an interesting time. I have a show coming up next year, and need to be productive in the studio. I also have been dealing with health matters that make that difficult. I used to spend a lot of time cutting paper and creating intricate collages. Over the last decade or so, it became impossible to continue doing that.

Getting a diagnosis has been a long struggle. One neurologist years ago told me that my problem was that I was an artist. He informed me that the same "fantastical imagination" that allowed me to create my artwork would lead me to have "a fantastical interpretation of my bodily sensations." This neurologist also, by way of emphasizing how funny and crazy we artistic types are, told me that one of his patients was the musician and painter Don Van Vliet, popularly known as Captain Beefheart, who, incidentally, lived in my small town and died just a few days ago at the local hospital. To emphasize his point, the neurologist, while laughing, impersonated Captain Beefheart's distinctive Multiple Sclerosis-related movement difficulties with what I'm sure he thought was a comic flourish. I didn't know Don, but had heard that he had a reputation for fiercely defending his privacy. We wild and funny artistic types.

I was also told that I'd caused my painful problems myself through my artwork (too much fine hand motion, even though I had other symptoms that clearly had nothing to do with my arm pain). I am now careful to avoid mentioning art to medical people, lest it bias my care.

I could spend several web pages detailing cruelties from doctors and others. A friend once laughed at me and made it clear she thought I was a contemptible hypochondriac. Others haven't said it to my face, but I suspect they've thought it.

This past week has been bittersweet. I finally found a decent specialist out of town. I now have a name to put to this (it's basically M.S.). It's degenerative, but the decline won't be all that quick. But I can shelve any fantasies I might've still been harboring that things will get better.

I recently started a new medication that has helped with some of the more distressingly mind-numbing symptoms. A few days after starting it, I had a sudden urge to pull out some of my old collage things, including a little 4 x 6" picture I hadn't worked on in almost 6 years. The picture above is my chaotic worktable when I had it out. It was wonderful to be immersed in my old work again. My recent trip put a damper on my stamina, but I'm hoping to get back to it. I've also been working on some book-related projects (pictures to come).

I'm always torn over how much I should post about medical things. There is a sense that one should maintain one's privacy, and other people's medical problems are boring. On the other hand, I don't like that vague feeling of stigma. Being ill or having a disease isn't a source of shame. I've also long been using my experiences with the medical establishment as creative fodder. I can't pretend this aspect of my life doesn't exist.

Product of creative fodder?

(As I wrote out those last few lines there was a sudden massive flash of lightning and a thunderclap outside the window. A sign?)

Books as Comfort Food

I've been rereading one of my favorite art books, Drawing the Landscape by Chip Sullivan. Its intended audience, I believe, is aspiring landscape designers and architects who want to learn to draw, which wouldn't include me. But I love street views and maps, and this book is so quirky and full of good advice. It's hard not to like an art book—one meant to be used as a textbook, no less—that tells you that a proper art studio needs to include a comfortable place for reading and napping. "Perhaps a couch with a bookshelf nearby." He then goes on to describe napping and reading as essential parts of the creative process. I hadn't looked at it in a long while, and was surprised to realize it even included a few examples of book art at the end. He cites his earliest artistic influence as Mad Magazine.

I've been going through one of those physical periods of frustration where I haven't been able to do much. Rereading a favorite old book like this has been like comfort food.

From the section on the creative process:

"There is a certain degree of magic and mystery to creativity, but if you understand the process, it may come easier. First, you must be open and receptive to your imagination. Creativity is not one of those things that comes effortlessly; it is not instantaneous. It takes a lot of work, and artists strive for it constantly. Creativity is 90 percent hard work and intense preparation. Ideas implanted in your mind linger for a long time; they're nurtured, then explode into a burst of creative energy. . . The creative flow is very much intertwined with perseverance." (My artist friend Joan also blogged about this very thing a while back.)

A practical consideration is how does an artist persevere to create when lacking in physical stamina and fighting off other forms of physical limitation? But I keep trying to actively feed my head with ideas. Favorite books are good nourishment.

Pictured: The couch in my studio, which is actually a covered plastic love seat. The framed print above the road sign pillows is an example of Joan's artwork. The deer crossing sign next to them is papier maché.

Arachnid Visitors

This doesn't have anything to do with paper or art. But since I started this blog nearly a year ago mentioning the black widows in my studio, I thought I'd kick off the new year with another black widow in the studio story. Yesterday afternoon I reached behind my cutting table to grab a piece of cardboard. Suddenly, a you-know-what was scurrying toward my hand.

Mercifully, she then turned and ran like hell in the other direction. Still, one does not want to be holding a piece of cardboard with a startled black widow running around on it. I caught her and put her outside.  I imagine she's left some cousins and sisters and maybe an egg sack or two behind. They hide well.

So I was amused to run across this old story on the BBC today. They're so common around here. Apparently, they are quite a rare sensation when they show up in Wales.

700 eggs in the egg sack?

At Last, a Little Bit of Studio Stuff

Finally, I've been able to spend a little bit of time here and there in the studio. After a longish period of not being able to do much, I'm trying to get caught up on some projects. For one, I'm completing a couple more copies of the Literary Cure (pictured at right). This particular small edition seems to be developing a following. I hadn't realized that the concept of literature as pharmaceutical would resonate so well with others.

Here are some mini book blocks drying while clamped in small clothespins. They will be trimmed down and have covers added later.

Then they will eventually be put in capsules. Here's another example of what the finished encapsulated books  look like.

There are also little book-like items with printing on them that are clamped and drying with the others (in the picture before last). They are miniature prescription pads for a pharmaceutical shrine I'm finishing up.

This is a sneak peek through one open side. Better pics of this will appear in a few days, hopefully photographed well enough so that you'll be able to appreciate the gold-leafed interior and offerings.

And while I'm at my messy worktable, I'll show a couple of my favorite tools that are sitting here. Top left is an ergonomically shaped teflon folder. It makes folding papers so much easier. The blue item is my British scalpel handle, which makes grasping the scalpel easier. In general, I prefer working with scalpels rather than craft knives.

More soon as things progress . . .

Sticks and Chains and Waxed Paper in the Studio

One night as I was flailing with gunk-covered hands for some freezer paper or waxed paper or some such, inspiration struck. The resulting roll holder has worked so well, I thought I'd post pictures. The whole thing hangs down from underneath the side of a table, so it doesn't take up any space.

There was also already a nail above, and that turned out to be perfect for holding a letter-opener type cutting implement, which is great for slicing off pieces of freezer paper.

The green stuff on the tabletop in the first picture is some used stencil material. It doesn't have anything to do with storing rolls of waxed paper. As I say to every visitor, don't mind the mess!

Cleaning and Organizing

Much to my amazement, we didn't find many black widows in the studio the other day, but instead found all kinds of other things that had fallen behind furniture and storage boxes.

Cleaning my work space feels as futile as going down to the beach and attempting to bail and organize the Pacific, but I guess one has to start somewhere. Part of the problem is that I sometimes do use things like leftover packaging and scraps of paper, so I can rationalize having things like that around. But one needs limits.      

I discovered a while ago that those 3-tiered plastic bin organizing things designed for kids' bedrooms are useful for messy, visually-minded artists. I've had one for a while and have grown fond of it. I keep rulers, inks, glues, small toys (for assemblages, of course), etc in it, and it works great. I like having things out in the open where I can grab at them.

                      

Spider Abatement Day in the Studio

Several of these ladies share my studio (which is a converted garage) with me.  I have nothing against them. They don't actually bother me much (I like spiders). However, given that black widows like to live and hide behind boxes, and that my studio is filled with...er, boxes, I've decided it's time for the arachnid equivalent of U-Haul (well, that and the fact that one was running past my toes when I looked down the other day). So, tomorrow I'm hiring somebody to come over to help with black widow removal (nobody wanted to volunteer—go figure).

The last time I cleaned the studio and evicted spiders, I fell so ill afterward that I wound up at the hospital the next day. My husband, aided with a home health manual and the Internet, came to the conclusion that I must've been bitten by a black widow. (More likely, it was food poisoning.)

I'll let you know how it goes.