Today

Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe.

Today I spent my morning at Fini's school.  For the second day in a row.  As much as I love those little guys, it's exhausting.  I'm up and moving, watching everything they do.  Yesterday's project involved hot wax and tiny hands.  Today's project involved glitter and tiny hands.  Adorable?  Yes.  Messy?  Yes.  Exhausting?  Absolutely.

I came home to a super dirty chicken coop that needed attention immediately.  Our coop is sized for six chickens, and we only have four, but all the rain has really made it difficult to keep up with.

When I finally got inside, the dog had made a mess.  I mean, really, what. is. up?!  I cannot catch a break.  So I cleaned some more.  Then did the dishes from last night and this morning.  And folded some laundry.  And thought about two conversations from earlier today.  Initially, I was angry.  The people didn't mean to piss me off.  Or even to be mean or hurtful.  It was the truth.  I'm hurt.  I'll pull up my big girl panties and get over it.

I've had some ideas in my mind for awhile.  Sometimes I feel like if I don't throw some paint on a canvas I'm going to go crazy.  I spend so much of my time taking care of others that sometimes I forget who I am.  But in a couple of hours in the studio I'm able to turn it all around.  Bright paints, my favorite brushes, my paint-stained apron, and a few no longer blank canvases and I'm feeling alright again.  Breathe.

Tonight is zumba for the first time in two months after a doctor-induced break.  Everything is fine.  Except that I couldn't breathe.  But I've been itching to get back to one of the things I love the most.  I'm nervous that I'll go right back to where I was weeks ago.  I'm going to go slow, and take breaks when I need them.  Because I need this.  The rest of the world can wait; I need to breathe.

What Lies Beneath

What Lies Beneath
Acrylic on canvas.  20" x 24"

Copyright 2015, Jessie Keating

I finished this painting recently.  It took awhile, even though I've had the idea for months (what started as a game between my eight year-old and I: he described some scenes that I sketched in my sketchbook.  Sometimes that's the best inspiration!)

I actually hate deep water.  I'm terrified of fish, and drowning.  I have incredible motion sickness.  Once, we went on a seven day cruise to Mexico.  We woke up to the sirens blaring and announcements that our last port call wasn't happening since we were in a hurricane and the captain was rushing us out of danger.  So.  Not planning on any cruises anytime soon.  Someday maybe.  But for now, I'm content to paint my nightmares.

Finding Inner Peace

Buddha and Naga
Acrylic on canvas.  12" x 9"

Copyright 2015, Jessie Keating

Buddha.  He was a struggle.  He's gone through many phases and colors, and ultimately I've decided he's complete.  I find it funny that a figure that promotes inner peace has caused me so much inner turmoil and creative blockage.  Either way, this is a companion piece to Ganesha.  I'm excited to get him home so I can put them side by side!

I'm having a flare up of my Epstein-Barr Virus right now, which is either causing or exacerbated by my depression, as well as all the stress I've been under lately (it's not all roses around here, but I'm working through it and putting my faith in systems and advocating my heart out for my child.  Good thoughts would be so appreciated.)  So I'm surrounding myself with things I love, forcing myself through the motions.  I'm pulling out the brightest paints and fabrics, and playing cheerful music, taking peaceful walks, and eating healthy foods.  (Sometimes I want to give depression (and EBV) a big, fat, "F- You."  I suppose in a way--albeit a very peaceful way--I am.)

Also, tomorrow is The Semicolon Project's annual day to raise awareness for mental health issues, and as a suicide survivor I plan to wear my semicolon in support of anyone who needs it.  

Renton Art Walk

My paintings are up.  In public.  They have prices connected to them.  And it's a strange feeling.

They're not here, holed up in my studio.  They are in a different (nearby) city and people can see them if they happen to look in the window.  It feels like a part of myself is not at home.

We went to the art walk with some friends.  It was VERY WEIRD to have my friends looking at my paintings, and sharing their thoughts.  Reminiscent of art school, except without the giant class staring back as your art is torn apart by the teacher and your fellow classmates.  Build you up, tear you down, over and over again.  (Also, I think I may have PTSD from those few years of my life.  This is a major part of why it's taken me so long to feel comfortable enough sharing a tiny bit of my work.  Or to even feel comfortable enough to continue painting.  Art school is hard, yo.)

I had some prints made of The Kraken.  As soon as I'm satisfied with the quality from the printer, I'll put them in my Etsy shop.

Also, this is quite a process.  I don't have a good enough scanner to scan in the smaller paintings (and of course the larger one requires a drum scanner or digital photograph at the printer's shop.)  Each one has to be color corrected, and then test prints are printed, and then I have to approve them or send them back.  I can fully appreciate why artists price their prints the way they do!

I'm not 100% satisfied with the paper choices from the local printer, so I'm going to research a few more until I find what I want.  Does anyone have any suggestions?  I'm open to sending in digital photos to a printer, as well as taking the paintings in locally to have them scanned and color corrected.

The Kraken

The Kraken

Acrylic on canvas. 20" x 24"

Copyright 2015, Jessie Keating

The Kraken

Acrylic on canvas. 8" x 8"

Copyright 2015, Jessie Keating

I've been on a bit of a painting streak (ha!  see what I did there?) lately.  These are my two latest acrylics (and after a third--in progress--Kraken, I may be able to stop painting him.  Maybe.)

I really love texture in paintings.  Some of my favorite artists are Van Gogh and Pollock, because you can see the paint: the way the light hits the mountains and valleys created by thick and thin layers.  I am really enamored with layering paint on in the background, using the brush, my fingers, bubble wrap pressing.  I'm equally excited about scraping shapes into the thick paint, so you can see the layers through the lines, sort of like pictures of the strata of the earth, only teeny tiny.

I'm having fun with these techniques, learning to listen to my instincts for what looks right to me.

Just for fun, here is an in process shot of the large canvas, as well as the original sketches.