Eventful weekend

First of all, see? See?

I went for my run yesterday. That's me putting on my shoes. My mommy took that picture. Thank you, mommy. And I didn't get wet, as it stopped raining for my run. But my cool new Garmin Forerunner 205 decided that .3 miles in was a good time to be the first time to crap out. Damn it. So I sprinted the hill but probably only ran 2 miles. Oh well, I ran it fast because I was mad.

Secondly, I found out this morning that the half marathon I was supposed to run on Oct. 30th in Bend was cancelled!! Oh no! They gave me the option of running the weekend before (the 24th) in Portland or just refunding my money. Convenience has now been eliminated, what to do? Double damn. I have to make a decision soon, but we'll see. My parents will be in Portland that weekend, so maybe it's just worth it to run that weekend.

I hate change! Especially when it's a deviation from the original plan. Ugh. I don't adjust well. It's not one of my better traits. I'm working on it.

This past weekend, my boyfriend and I house and dog- and kitty-sat. Technically, it was his job, but as I was there, I get credit too. In middle school and in high school at sleepovers, my girlfriends and I always just fell asleep in whatever positions we watched movies and gossiped in: usually one big puppy pile. Or so I thought that was what it was called.

I got to see the true definition of a puppy pile this weekend. Two of the four dogs we sat were puppies.

I don't know what kind of dog they are, but Otis and his sister are pretty stinkin' cute. The first night, Lucy (Otis' sister) didn't snuggle with us, but Otis stretched out quite comfortably on the other side of my boyfriend under the covers. They spooned most of the night and puppy spooning jokes/comments ensued with some hilarity and faux-pouting the next morning. The second night, Lucy joined us for Monsters, Inc. and then at the end of the movie, we decided it was time for the people to have the majority of the bed and threw the pair of them off it. Otis promptly jumped back up and gave me that (see photo) face.

Puppy faces are irresistable. Especially sad, "please?" puppy faces.

I sighed and let him snuggle. Boyfriend grumbled about not getting his fall-asleep cuddle, but we managed with Otis sandwiched between us.

At some point in the night, I woke up to find two balled puppy bodies between me and boyfriend. I woke boyfriend up and we threw the puppies off the bed so we could have some cuddle time. Again, I woke up later to find myself sandwiched between puppies. I threw them off.

In the morning, boyfriend was diagonal trying to find some space on the already smaller-than-we're-used-to bed, I was on my side curled around Lucy and Otis was sandwiched between my shinbones and boyfriend's legs. When I cracked my eyes open and groaned, lots of puppy tongues ensued.

Boyfriend decided it was time to get up and feed the puppies and their older counterparts and at last, I had some space.

Other than those shenanigans, we had a productive weekend.

At the massive garage sale last weekend, I picked up a "lovely" bench for $1.50. Actually, it was kind of a scungy bench, but the woodwork was nice and "Oh, you could just re-cover it" fell from my mommy's lips and I was sold. Plus, it was a $1.50! Actually, it was two, but I offered $1.50 and the nice man didn't seem inclined to argue.

Sunday morning (after the puppy pile night), boyfriend and I tripped off to the fabric store where we spent a mildly-funny hour picking out fabric.

He wanted fish.

I said no.

He wanted sailboats.

I said no.

He wanted birds.

I said, "Where do you think we're going to be living? The beach? We're moving to a cabin!"

He wanted camo.

I said, "Oh, hell no."

We settled on a lovely, not-too-masculine-not-too-feminine stripe in pale blue, cream and brown. That being the only one we truly agreed upon that would work. And then spent the better part of an hour pulling out the thousands of staples holding on the original upholstery. Dad foolishly offered to help, and mommy got suckered in too.

It was family bonding at its finest.

There were a lot of staples.

Then, after a second trip to the store for a new pad, we re-covered the bench. $50 later, it looks pretty good, eh?

Sorry the color is sort of washed out, but it looks really really good. I'm excited to put it in our new home.

Ciao,
kc

Please Try Again

There's nothing quite like being completely humbled in the face of what you have chosen to do for a living by someone who has done it so much longer than you have. I don't get humbled by artwork done by artists still living very often. It's a vanity to say so, but I'd be lying if it wasn't true. It's not very often that I see a piece and am completely unable to say, "With a little work and effort, I could do that."

A lot of people cannot do what I do. I know this. Again, it's a vain statement, but it's true. Everyone could learn to do what I do and become moderately adept at the least, but most choose not to. It's time consuming, passionate, and frustrating.

Art is like the best and worst relationship you have ever had rolled into one without the perks of getting laid.

It makes you scream, it makes you cry, it makes you laugh, it makes you glow — and you can never ever walk away once you're hooked.

It's kind of like running in that way. Although with running, you don't walk just based upon the mere concept. After all, it's running.

I work with Robbie Jarvis, the artist Jarvis Lamoreux, building his website. To my recollection, I've never seen his work in person until today. While he is mildly eccentric, and 100% enthusiastic about the wonders of web work, I found it difficult to get really attached to any of his work — it's all abstract (not so much my thing), and via digital photo simply abstract.

Don't get me wrong, abstract — true abstract, that is, not the crap where someone's painted a canvas blue and called it "art" — is hard and I have a great deal of respect for people who can do abstract.

Robbie's work is simply abstract, that is until you are with the piece in person standing four feet away and breathtaken by the sheer intricacies involved with the medium, stroke, and tiny tiny detail of these huge works of art that a camera simply cannot begin to capture.

When building his website, this piece was my favorite, hands down.

Nobody Nose
122cm x 122cm, ©1974, oil on canvas

Do the math, this piece is roughly 60 inches by 60 inches, or 5 feet by 5 feet. Overwhelming, but in real life this piece is probably the least impressive piece. Its almost a WYSIWYG (what you see is what you get) piece when translated into a digital photo. Still incredible, but nothing overly spectacular in the way of detail.

This piece, however, takes on a whole new world of being in person.

Clown Mine
132cm x 147cm, ©1993, acrylic on canvas

There is an iridescence in the paint, minute detail behind the stripes on the left (which are shimmery and pearlescent), a crispness in the hand-blocked lines that only a true master could hope to accomplish.

This piece (below) looks harsh and rather garish — and not to my liking — digitally.

 New York Vibes In The Lower East Brain
168cm x 203cm, ©1971, oil on canvas

It's huge in reality, and the contrast between the true blue and bright red is phenomenal. I cannot even begin to describe the impact it had on me when I was standing not ten feet away.

Actually, I can.

I backed into a glass side table decorated with a few potted cactuses and knocked it over — riddling my thumb with cactus spines when I attempted to clean it up without taking my eyes off the painting. Rather embarrassing, really.

In comparison, my artwork is paltry, amateurish, and infantile. The work of Jarvis Lamoreux simply breathes "master" when you see it. That is the entire focus of my mind today, and I cannot begin to imagine being able to do that.

Here I was thinking I was a good artist. I'll let you know in thirty years.

TODAY: 5 miles