Monthly Archive

What a great time in Las Vegas (and at the Hoover Dam!). 

I took almost 200 photos in three days. 

Burn: I just don’t know enough other working artists, so I will never be networked enough to be taken seriously or to get my work seen.

New Statement:  I will stengthen the connections I already have and create opportunities to forge new connections.

I recently came across what is probably the oldest photograph I own of me and Sean together.  Fourteen years ago I was a junior in high school, and Sean was a senior.  We were in the same photography class taught by Mr. Coffee in the basement of the convent at St. Bernard’s.

April, did you take this picture? 

 Sometimes I feel so damn lucky that things have worked out so well for us. 

 Can you believe we’ve been married for twelve years already?  Where does the time go?

Do I really have something against rural landscapes?

I’ve heard people argue that photography as a medium rides the line between fine art and crap-that-anyone-could-do.  So to have me sitting here on my fine art high horse sighing at the local taste in photography just really makes me one of those judgmental folk I can’t stand.   

Crap-that-anyone-could-do.

But they DON’T.  They don’t get out there and DO IT. 

 ”I don’t do landscapes.”

There was a beautiful hayfield two years ago last fall that I passed a couple times a week for a month.  It just about tempted even me to pull over to snap a few shots of it.  It was gorgeous.  Giant cylinders of green hay.  Stripes of green and yellow carved into the rolling hillside.  I composed several shots in my mind.  But I never took a photo.  

I keep waiting for them to plant hay there again, but they haven’t for the past two years.  I didn’t take a picture when I had the chance.  And why the hell not?  Am I “too good” to make a picture of a hayfield? 

The element of being in the right place at the right time that applies to candid portraiture applies to landscape photography as well.  I guess I’ve got to have a little more respect.

There’s beauty in creation all around us, and whether I think it’s a challenging subject or not, it has undeniable universal appeal.  Pretty landscapes make us feel good. 

They make us feel grateful for our beautiful world. 

They won’t offend guests if they’re hanging in your living room. 

That’s why people buy them. 

Bob Wilde has been kind enough to put my artist reception at the height of cabin season out here.  All the lake people will drive out here in droves armed with their fat wallets. 

If I make them, they will sell.

————-   

Dear Rural Landscape Photograph:

I’ve been a bitch to you.  If you will give me another chance, I promise to be nicer to you.  In fact, I very recently made a picture of a straw bale in my garden.  I hope you will accept it as a peace offering.

I will try to get to know you a little better.  I will look at some of the great landscape photography in history and gain some respect for you.  I will try my hand at making you and find out for myself if you can be challenging and provocative. 

Love,

Sarah 

It’s funny that this all started when I finally gave myself permission to drag out a bunch of my old work, to see if the gallery in town might be interested in showing a few of them.  Well, I got a good response and tentative dates for a show and artist reception. 

That felt pretty darn good, so I decided to buy the digital SLR camera I’ve wanted for a couple of years.  And now I am so excited about my new camera I can’t wait to make new pictures.  I don’t know if I’ll end up showing any of my old work.  

Because I want to make new pictures for my show in July!

Here’s the deal.  I need deadlines. I know this about myself.  If I don’t have a deadline I’ll spend forever thinking about all the possibilites.  Or I’ll get so hung up in perfectionism that I’ll never declare it done. 

Here are my deadlines: 

March 23 - April 11.  Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. One photo a day minimum.  Experiment.  Shoot all sorts of things.  Post at least three photos here per week. 

April 11.  Decide which direction/s to pursue.  Limit: two subject areas

April 11-20.  Keep shooting and posting

April 20.  Order prints, round one.  Target number: 15-20

May 1-4 (TBD).  Meet with Bob to select work (and title) for show, start postcard design

May 5.  Order additional prints.  Finish any cyanotype printing at home by May 10.

May 15.  All framing materials ordered

May 18.  Postcard design to printer

June 1.  Address list ready

June 9-10. Postcards addressed 

June 11.  Postcards in mail

June 27.  Everything framed, ready to hang 

July 1. Drop off all work at studio

July 6. Bask in my accomplishment.

What steps did I miss?  I’ve never done this before! 

Four little letters that describe me to a T.

“Warmly enthusiastic and imaginative. See life as full of possibilities. Make connections between events and information very quickly, and confidently proceed based on the patterns they see. Want a lot of affirmation from others, and readily give appreciation and support. Spontaneous and flexible, often rely on their ability to improvise and their verbal fluency.”  Lifted from the Myers Briggs Foundation.

But in this affirming little summary, they didn’t mention one of the major pitfalls of this personality type: lack of organization.  No, here it’s described as “spontaneous” and “flexible.”  And yeah, it’s a good thing I can improvise because I certainly didn’t get organized enough to actually be prepared for whatever it is that I’m doing. 

When I interview for a regular working-in-an-office position I don’t get the job.  It’s because I can’t lie and tell them that I’m organized and detail-oriented.  It’s because my desk at home looks like this right now: 

Yes, that is a plastic fireman’s hat on the desk.  And a bath towel on the floor.

Oh I better find a statement to burn quick…  I can overcome this, right? 

And everyone remember that I’m an ENFP and I want lots of affirmation from others.  I promise I’ll readily give you appreciation and support.   

Burn: I will never be organized enough to ________ (fill in the blank).

New Statement: I am willing to work hard and build better habits to get organized.

Somehow this doesn’t feel like a strong enough statement…

After about three and half years of procrastinating, I finally contacted Bob Wilde of Robert Wilde Studios a couple of weeks ago.  I participated in Dassel’s Red Rooster Days Art Show there in 2003, and my photo ”Lauren, Two Years Old” earned second place. 

“Lauren, Two Years Old”

(Sorry, this is a really dusty scan of it…)

At that time, we had talked about the possibility of exhibiting some of my work in his gallery on a regular basis, but I didn’t follow through with that until now.  I had the mistaken (and now discarded) notion that I would have to produce all new work to even think about bringing photos in for him to look at. 

I loaded up a whole bunch of my student work and a few random things I’ve done over the past couple of years and brought it to the studio to spread out and examine. 

He didn’t say much, although he did say that the work that actually sells around here is mostly rural landscapes (sigh).  I guess my breast drawings combined with litho prints of my kids’ faces don’t have a chance at getting sold.  (I would post one here, but they are too huge to scan, and I don’t know anything about getting a good scan of a slide)

But we discussed some framing options for my series The Artistic Process of Parenting and he suggested a display of about 7-15 pieces and an artist reception, set tentatively for July 6, 2007.  I’ll be sure to send everyone I know a postcard!

The goal is to gain some exposure, connect with some other galleries, and put a line on my resume.  I can already feel the momentum starting. 

Burn: I need to have a complete, new body of work before I can let anyone see it who might want to display it. 

New Statement: I can use and show the strong work I have completed as a springboard for creating new work!

As the saying goes, we mothers wear many hats.  From doctor to barber, toy mechanic to massage therapist, I’ve worn my share of hats.  This week I can add canine mortician to the list.

Wednesday night as I went upstairs to go to bed, I found that our chocolate lab, Fran, had died. 

She has had these bouts where her belly gets bloated and she whines and generally acts uncomfortable for a few hours and then it goes away on its own (or after she finally lets herself puke).  It happened once or twice right after she came to live with us and has been happening with more frequency over the past couple of months, usually after a thaw in the weather. We figured that maybe she was getting into tainted “treats” down in the woods.

Of course, now I suspect that there was something else happening.  I feel terrible that I didn’t bring her to the vet.  She was due for a checkup in May and I was going to wait until then and ask about it. 

There was nothing different about Wednesday night’s round of belly bloat, except that she went to bed and then didn’t wake up again. 

She usually sleeps at the foot of our bed.  When I turned on the light and entered the bedroom, I didn’t hear the ‘whap, whap’ of her tail wagging and hitting the carpet.  She didn’t move at all.  Lying on her side and halfway off her dog bed, her eyes were wide open, her ear was flopped back, and her teeth were bared.  No breathing movements.  Then I had a classic moment of denial.  I thought, “I can just call her name and scratch her belly, and she will wag her tail and start breathing again.”

I called her name, and when I scratched her belly I could feel that she was still warm.

I didn’t know what to do.  Sean was at work, and I tried calling his cell phone, hoping that he would have some idea about what to do.  At the very least, I needed to say the words out loud that she was dead and no longer be the only one who knew it.  But there was no answer.

I called my mom and asked, “What do you do when your dog dies?” 

And she said, “Well, I guess you call your mom.”

She helped me come up with a plan.  I was going to move her into the living room and get her presentable for the kids in the morning, rather than hiding the news until after school.  We would figure out all the burial details later.

I hung up, found an old yellow blanket, and gathered my courage.  I circled her a couple of times, trying to figure out the best angle for getting the blanket underneath her so that I could move her.  I was stalling. I don’t know about you, but moving a dead animal is not an appealing (or comfortable) activity to me.

To get myself comfortable with touching her, I started by petting her head gently and flopping her ear right.  Not too scary.  She still felt like Fran.  Still smelled like dog. 

I could tell that her lip had just flopped into her mouth, so next I reached over and pulled it down to cover her teeth.  Wow, that sure made a difference.  She no longer looked poised for an attack.  It was going well.  I was feeling proud of myself for making progess.

Next it was time to get her eyes closed.  I debated about what angle my hand should be and what direction I should move as I pressed them closed.  I decided to start with the eye that was showing. 

Holding my breath, I carefully pressed her eyelid down.  I was aware of the muscles in her forehead and thought about all the times she used them to lift her ‘eyebrows’ at us.  Her eye closed easily.  And I started to breathe again. 

I let go, however, and her eyelid drew slowly back to where it had been. 

Open. 

Believe it or not, I didn’t run away shrieking.  I’d be willing to bet that my blood pressure went up a bit, but by that point I was so engrossed in my work that it just didn’t occur to me to be afraid or freaked out.   

I tried again.  This time I held her eyelid in place for a few more moments, and used a little more pressure.

Again.  Open.

Well, I would simply have to figure that out later.

I changed gears and decided to get her on the blanket so that she could be pulled down the hall to the living room.  But should I lay out the blanket and roll her onto it?  Should I lift her up onto it?  I tried moving her legs, and they were already pretty stiff.  Tucking the blanket under her belly and legs, I pushed her the rest of the way onto the blanket and carefully smoothed out her fur once she was situated. She was ready for transport. 

As I began to pull her around the first corner, I heard movement in the bedroom belonging to my ten-year-old and four-year-old daughters. L. was climbing down from the top bunk and heading for the door where she would encounter her mother dragging her dead dog down the hallway.  I was not ready to break this news yet.  My heart was racing. 

I quickly stepped into L.’s bedroom and closed the door behind me.  Sleepwalking, L. was easily persuaded back into bed.  I told her, “Everything’s fine.  Go back to bed, Sweetie.”  I watched to make sure that she got herself back underneath the covers and slipped back out into the hallway.

I resumed pulling Fran down the hall and put her next to the piano in the living room, evening out the blanket underneath her and unfolding it a bit so that I could cover her up.  I didn’t cover her, though.  I sat next to her, smoothing her fur down and holding her head, trying to get her eyes to stay closed.  I held her and I closed my own eyes and started to feel the loss. 

Thank you for being a good dog

Such a good dog 

I hope we loved you enough

I hope that I can get your eyes to stay closed

Each time I took my hand away from her eyes, they stayed closed a little longer.  I had hope that if I could keep them closed long enough, they might just stay that way.  But I wasn’t going to sit there all night. 

Fashioning a mask of rolled gauze,  I carefully tucked and wrapped her face with her eyelids pulled closed.  I gave her belly another pat and sat with her for a few minutes, thinking about what it means to be a caregiver.  

‘Caregiver’ sums up my role.  Whether I am planning meals and shopping, or singing someone to sleep, or picking up dog poop in the yard, I am caring for my family.  It’s a huge piece of my identity that took me a long time to accept and to let flourish.  I remember when my oldest daughter turned one year old.  I felt like everyone should be marveling at my accomplishment. I did it!  I kept her alive for one whole year! 

To lose Fran, someone in my care, threatens me with the loss of everyone else in my care.  How can I possibly be qualified to keep my children alive if I couldn’t even keep this dog alive?  Am I a total failure as a caregiver? 

On a daily basis, caregiving means getting off my butt to make sure that the diapers are changed and food is made, but during the significant, memory-making times caregiving challenges us to to work outside our comfort zone, at times even detaching ourselves from the intense emotions of a moment to put someone else’s needs first.  Having a weak stomach, I never thought I’d be able to wipe up puke.  However, the first time a child puked on me, I rose to the challenge of not only wiping it up off the floor and off of myself, but I also managed to be calm and reassuring to my sick little girl. 

Pulling out teeth or helping a daughter get through a first crush, bringing a child to ER for stitches in her elbow–these are moments I look forward to with trepidation.  As I navigate through them and arrive at the other side where I can tell the stories, the experiences bring a sense of pride and competence. 

As I sat with Fran on the floor, I felt proud of myself for transforming the way she looked so that my kids could see her and touch her in the morning without fear, to help them begin their process of grief and loss in a healthy and meaningful way. It was important for them to see her looking peaceful.  On Friday, we had a short ceremony and laid her to rest in our backyard garden, where we will cover her with wildflower seed this spring and place a set of garden stones to mark her grave.

I am incredibly grateful that I was the one to discover that she had died, and that the kids were asleep as I prepared her body for viewing.  How sweet of her to time it just right.

I will never forget my one last night of caring for Fran.  She was a good dog and our family misses her.  I feel almost silly admitting how sad I am that she is gone.  I felt like a failure as a caregiver for letting Fran die, but the act of moving and fashioning her body and closing her eyes was ultimately a wonderful moment of realizing how capable I am at giving care, going outside the comfort zone to put someone else’s needs first.

And it was just another reminder that motherhood is not for the squeamish.    

Please remember that I write all this in a spirit of gratitude, not conceit.  I am just as God made me.  I am humbled that God has given me such incredible gifts.  

He made me curious, optimistic, and enthusiastic.  He has given me abundant love to share. He made me intelligent, strong, and capable, flexible, spontaneous, and intuitive.  He has made me compassionate and idealistic.  He has given me good physical and emotional health.

He blessed me with creative talents and has lit a fire in me to share them with the world:

MUSIC

Where do I begin?  I am so grateful that the bulk of my music formation happened in the context of praise and worship.  Stewardship of my gifts is important to me.  Music is one area of my life that I have continued to develop and pursue consistently.  My desire to learn new things manifests in music as I learn to play new instruments or flex my musical muscles in new ways: writing original songs, performing at the coffee shop and at school, teaching piano, directing a choir.  I marvel at the skills I have gained in organization and leadership through my pursuit of musical excellence.

Music is something I pursue with confidence, natural ability, and enthusiasm.  Music touches my soul and God uses music through me to touch other souls.  What a beautiful thing.

ART

When I was in college, I truly felt like I could label myself an artist.  My open mind and a safe, supportive environment mixed and amazing things happened.  I thought creative original thoughts and manifested them through artwork.  I am still capable of doing that.  I found the discipline then and I still have it in me.  I know how to work hard and can create honest art that makes people think.  I can speak intelligently about art. 

WRITING

Speaking of an intelligent voice, I have stuff to say about life!  About parenting!  Marriage!  School lunch!  Writing makes sense to me.  My curiosity about the world makes me a keen observer, and I have a rich desire to make sense of it all. 

HOME HANDY WOMAN

Okay, actually, Sean and I are both home improvement junkies.  Always looking for a fix.  Our idea of a good time is tearing out the carpet, replacing the rotted subfloor and installing hardwood flooring.  I am confident using tools and I love learning new things.  I also have an enormous amount of respect for houses and how they function and become a member of the family.

So many blessings!  Do you see how much work there is for me to do?

Jewelry shop endeavor with my mom

Cyanotype prints or drawings of houses to realtors as closing gifts

Portrait photography, wedding photography

Selling prints through galleries

Sell them myself online

Sell stock photography through sites that specialize

Graphic designer for hire

Cady Home Inspection–get some momentum going!

Write and illustrate children’s books

Write and sell articles to magazines

Buy, fix, and flip houses

Be a landlord

Become a rock star

Sean has accepted a new job at Nahan Printing in St. Cloud, and while it wasn’t the dramatic pay increase we were hoping for, it is certainly a step up with lots of room to grow.  Anyway, Sean and I had a heartfelt conversation today about what we need to support our family emotionally, physically, and financially. 

Right now we are able to get away with two jobs and no daycare because of working opposite hours.  His new job is a rotating night shift 7 p.m. to 7 a.m., seven shifts for each 2-week period.  The only way I can keep my job is to either make Sean stay up and watch the kids (after staying up and working 12 hours) or to put them in daycare.    

We’ve made a night shift job work for years, but it always worked best when I was at home full time. I’m having a real hard time in my mind justifying daycare for C. and J. everyday so that I can wash dishes and serve sloppy joes at the local grade school for $9 an hour. 

So I told him some of my ideas about making money using my creative talents, and he asked me if I was ready to fly. 

Tears started forming immediately at the mere reminder that he believes in me and I’m thinking that my lunch lady era is coming to a close so I better get busy writing about it before all the juicy stuff fades.

This was taken more than a year ago.  It’s one of my favorite ‘classic’ shots of the four kids.  There’s really no reason to post this other than that I’m figuring out how resize and upload photo files… and of course, I want to show off my beautiful children.

What about feeling thankful for the crappy times? 

I suppose it’s worth asking:  if this law of attraction stuff means anything, will I attract more negative experiences by feeling grateful for hard times in my life?

Think of the immense value of facing and overcoming challenges.  One of the “worst” times in my life happened over a period of about five years as I hurled into parenthood at age seventeen, I became a wife at eighteen, and then became a stressed-out, college-student mother of two by age nineteen.  Over the next couple of years, my marriage held on by a thread. We paid for groceries and rent with proceeds from student loans.  Weekends were all about the escape that the chemistry of a party provided, not to mention the opportunity to attract lots of attention from the men in my life at that time.

I resented being a wife and was a physically and emotionally violent mother at times.  Sheer determination to break every stereotype of “teen mom” and “teen marriage” flung us clumsily and unhappily forward.  Of course, we only managed to make it appear to others that we were breaking the stereotypes. Success at that point meant staying together no matter how miserable. 

Getting to the other side took time.  Thank God I decided to major in art and writing, requiring intense introspection and risk-taking expression.   And thank God for ECFE (Early Childhood Family Education), which somehow magically combined child development education, stress management and psychotherapy.

I wouldn’t wish teen pregnancy at a Catholic high school on my worst enemy, but I’m thankful that I went through it. I’m glad for the students and teachers in my high school that looked down on me and even openly ridiculed and punished me.  I thank them for it, because it made me stronger and more determined.  They wanted me to disappear, and it made me want to be in their face even more.  Thank God for my friends, family, and the support of a couple key adults in my life at that time.

Thank God that I’ve emerged into a place where I celebrate my marriage and my motherhood. By some miracle, I didn’t damage my kids beyond repair during an impressionable time in their lives.  I thank God that my support net was wide and strong and capable (the main reason my kids aren’t damaged).  I thank God for Sean’s forgiveness during my brush with infidelity.  I thank God for resilience.  For conversations with my mom who understood and encouraged me.  For love. 

I’m feeling inspired to inspired to write more about this period of learning in greater depth.  Yes,  essays are a-brewin’. 

As far as the law of attraction goes, I’ve decided that I will not attract more negative experiences by feeling grateful for the rough times in my past.  The things I’m grateful for are the lessons learned, the love I received, and the strength I drew upon to overcome struggles.  Those are positive things. 

Bring ‘em on.

I am incredibly grateful for my family.

A. is my thirteen year old daughter.  Kind and sensitive, she is musically talented and gifted with enthusiasm. She truly enjoys helping others and is a shining star of positive attitude.  She is creative and smart.  She is unafraid of trying something new and to follow her own path. Her unique ideas and ways of thinking blow me away.  She has been given the gift of intuition. She trusts me and talks to me when something is wrong or when she has a serious question about growing up.  I am happy for the warm relationship we have.  She is beautiful and healthy and strong.

L. is my ten year old daughter.  She has a gift for writing and drawing.  I appreciate her passion for books.  She has a wonderful way of respecting younger kids and playing with them on their level.  She is strong-willed and holds deep convictions.  Her caring nature is apparent in her love of animals.  She is beautiful and healthy, and she knows what she wants.  She is incredibly affectionate has been given the gift to touch others in a healing way.

C. is my four year old daughter.  She has a strong spirit.  She knows what she wants and she knows how to express it.  Her wild imagination and flair for the dramatic makes her a joy to watch.  She is solemn and grateful in prayer, and I believe that she hears God speaking to her.  Wildly affectionate and incredibly intelligent, she is a keen observer and looks up to her sisters a great deal.  She is healthy, beautiful, and special.

J. is my two year old son.  When he joined our family, our life barely skipped a beat because of his flexibility and charm.  He is confident and caring and smart.  He has a wonderful sense of humor and is a voracious eater, enjoying new tastes.  He takes in new experiences in small, manageable bites.  He trusts his feelings.  He is healthy and beautiful and loving and imaginative.

S. is my husband of twelve years.  He is a wonderful provider, an excellent and fun friend, a considerate lover and a creative, intelligent thinker.  He has an amazing ability to read people.  I respect his ability to dream big.  The only thing bigger than his dreams is his heart.  What a capacity to love.  I feel adored and revered by him.  He believes in me. 

Our marriage is strong. We make a dynamic team, fueled by our passion for a satisfying life together.  We make things happen.  We both have interests we pursue outside of our marriage that energize us.  We are deeply committed to our relationship and to our family.  We act with intention in our lives.  We have overcome many obstacles together.  We trust each other.  We love each other.  Our marriage kicks ass.

A parenting philosophy I have adopted and used with variable amounts of success for many years is “put it in a positive statement instead of negative” when crafting rules and limits.  Obviously, the idea behind it involves being clear about what behavior is expected and desired, instead of dwelling on the behavior I want to prevent.

EXAMPLES

‘No jumping on the top bunk’ versus ‘walk on your knees and sit down on the top bunk.’

‘No running into the street’ versus ‘hold hands with Mama when you cross the street.’

‘Stop screaming and whining and driving me crazy’ versus, ‘go outside and run around the house ten times.’

Anyway, I guess this is really what’s behind discarding notions.  I have some desired behavior for myself…

Here’s a bunch to get started, and I encourage visitors to leave comments to burn and replace:

Burn: There’s not enough time in the day.

Replace with:  There is time for getting everything done that needs to be done today.

Burn: My ideas can’t possibly compete with elite, successful artists and writers.

Replace with:  I have abundant, high-quality ideas and the ability and discipline to bring them to fruition.

Burn: I haven’t looked at enough art or heard enough music or read enough books to possibly fit in with the well-connected creative arts world.

Replace with:  I can speak intelligently about what I have seen and heard and read, and I have the ability to look critically and intelligently at new pieces I encounter.

Burn: I will never make any money making art.

Replace with:  My money is out there, I just need to go get it.  (Thanks for that one, Laurie)