Wednesday, July 16, 2008
I've mentioned that I'm working on my business, but I don't think I've written about what I'm doing. My hope is to develop a business doing commissioned portraits. You give me a photograph, and I draw it, essentially. It's something I've always been good at and something I've always been passionate about. It's pretty wild to think that in high school I spent an unsettling majority of my time drawing, and now people would pay me money (real money!) for my work.
My first step is to build my portfolio, partly to have something to show off to potential customers, and partly to figure out how long it takes me to complete a piece. As I'm working on my portfolio, I'm realizing I need to challenge myself to do much more detailed work than I have before. My audience is no longer myself and whoever I might show my sketchbook to. Now I'm drawing for people who know the subject intimately- a mother, a husband, whatever. In other words, I'm going to be doing work that will be subject to a much more critical and discerning eye. Right now, my drawing is probably good enough to impress most people. But is it good enough that a mother will look at it and see her child? Or will she see a face that looks nice but just isn't quite right?
Honestly, I have doubts from time to time if I'm good enough to produce art for that audience. And it's scary to put so much of yourself on a piece of paper and then "put it out there" to be criticized and possibly rejected. This is so new for me and I just don't know what to expect. But the more time I spend on a piece, the better it gets. The more hours I spend working every week, the better my work gets. I'm looking at this as an opportunity to develop my skills and bring them to a new level of maturity.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Wow. I haven't posted anything since February. That is ridiculous. Probably most of the people who used to read my blog stopped hoping for a new post a long time ago.
We've been in South Carolina since September of 2007, and I finally feel settled in. Getting involved with some groups and finally making some real friends has been the major factor in making this a home, but it was my new desk that made me realize it.
When we first saw the house, before we moved in, I was all excited about having my own room. It has a built-in bookshelf, lots of space for an easel and a desk and my art supplies, and great natural light during the whole day. When we moved in and Stephen began to work from home, the little studio we had envisioned for me became his office. Theoretically I could have used the space as well, but I'd have to do it around his schedule and share his space, and his desk is always covered with financial pamphlets and sticky notes. It was the most sensible place for Stephen's office, but I felt let down nonetheless. So if I want to sketch, I've been having to go sit at Starbucks to do it.
Recently the Lord spoke to us about my business and challenged me to devote myself more seriously to it. Stephen suggested getting a desk and setting it up in our "music room" (read: guest room with a drumset in the corner), so off we went to Office Depot. Now my desk is set up my office and it rocks. I didn't realize how badly I needed my OWN space- somewhere I could go and shut the door and keep it organized however I want and not worry if someone else is in there using the computer. Suddenly- I mean the second I sat down at my new desk- I realized I'm at home. Something in my soul just settled.
The other day I was reading a post from last July I had written about having to move down here. I wrote, "I believe intellectually in the joy I'll experience eventually, but I feel nothing but sorrow. I'm confused like I've been adrift at sea for weeks and I can't tell what's right or left or up or down anymore." I gave up so much to leave Denver and come here. The Lord directed us, and I was obedient, but I sacrificed a lot and went through a lot of pain. Having my studio turn into an office was an event that told me: "Living here is going to be even more complicated and disappointing than you thought." I eventually got over that feeling but a little tinge of disappointment remained. Getting my own desk in my own space ameliorated that disappointment and lifted a weight off my shoulders that I didn't entirely realize was there. Stephen even caught me using the h-word this morning: "I'm happy."
Upon reading that post from a year ago, I realized that the impossible has happened. God turned my ashes into gold. He took what seemed to me like death, and He made life out of it.
Friday, February 15, 2008
If the Pastor isn't here with his kids and his bad attitude, I'm usually all alone, which is fine with me. Every so often, though, one of the church members will stop by for one reason or another and our conversations are always so special (like, short-bus-special).
This church has been here for almost a century, and most of its members live on land that's been passed down through generations and only recently has been engulfed by the expansion of the city. Many of them live on streets that were named after their families, next to their brothers and sisters and parents and whoever. Apparently there's another Lutheran church here on land that the King of England once gave them, and they've been there longer than we've had a country. This isn't really important to my point, I just think it's just amazing.
Anyway, most of the people I've met are very nice, very Southern, and very slightly awkward. But there's one couple who are SUPER awkward. On the first day I met them, the wife introduced herself and explained that they were there to clean the church. I said, "Ok, great. I'm Rachel, it's nice to meet you." She responded, "I know who you are!" (like a teenage girl that's telling her parents something so obvious) and turned and walked away. Her husband just grinned, waved at me, and followed her. So. Wierd.
The husband has a strange quality that I can't describe. He has the unfortunate habit of standing and waiting for you to address him first, even if all he's saying is "I'm leaving now." I'm thinking of testing this out by not saying ANYTHING to him next time i see him, and timing how long it takes him to speak. He'll just stand there and grin until I ask him what he needs. This drives me crazy because I have a polite but very no-nonsense, right-to-the-point style of conversation while multi-tasking. His wife is exactly the opposite. She'll offer up all manner of information without so much as a word on my part.
Later that day, before they left, they came in to get a photocopy of something.
Her: So, are you from around here, Rachel?
Me: No, actually, I'm a Denver native. My husband's family is here.
Her: Where do you live?
Me: Oh, off of XXXXXXXX street.
Her: What developement?
Me: (why is she asking me this?) Honestly, I can't remember the name.
Her: My son lives in a different developement. On XXXXX street. You know, it's in between this developement and... no, what's the other one called? You know, it's accross from another developement... (she rattled on for at least a minute as if this was a matter of life and death if she doens't tell me what developement her son and his family live in.)
Me: (totally bored with the conversation) Yeah, um, I think I've driven past it.
Her: Of course, him and his wife, now, they've been there for XX years, and they like it, you know. Ok. You have a nice day, now. (she walks away)
A different day, she stopped by for some reason and popped into my office. No "beautiful day, isn't it?", no "good morning". She begins as if we're already in the midst of a verbal exchange, and ends it as abruptly as she began it.
Her: Now, name and name -well, that's my daughter, of course, and her husband. Have you met daughter yet?
Me: No, I haven't. (so confused)
Her: Well, her and her husband have child and other child. Have you met them?
Me: No, but I've seen the names.
Her: I'm going to take daughter to a concert. You know, I think it would just be real nice for her to go out. Kenny... Kenny... What's his last name?
Me: ... uhh... (shrugs shoulders)
Her: Anyway, he's playing with another guy, and that girl, you know her? And Kenny... Chesney. Kenny Chesney, you know him?
Me: Actually, I hate country music. (I do not mince words.)
Her: Oh, well I'm not such a big fan myself, but it's so nice to get out of the house from time to time, you know, but he's pretty good, and I can really get into the music, you know. I really think you would like him! And...
Me: No, I mean I really, really can't tolerate country music at all.
Her: Well, I just think it's real nice just to get out the house sometimes, you know, and she really likes Kenny Chesney, and this other girl... now what is her name? You know her, the blond girl. Real cute.
Me: .... (at a total loss) That sounds nice.
Awkward silence. She absentmindedly runs her hand through her sensible, short gray hair.
Her: Yeah, I didn't do much with my hair today, I just ran a brush through it...... alright, then, Rachel, I suppose I may be speakin' to you later. (and she's gone)
Later that day, before they left, they came in to get a photocopy of something.
Her: So, are you from around here, Rachel?
Me: No, actually, I'm a Denver native. My husband's family is here.
Her: Where do you live?
Me: Oh, off of XXXXXXXX street.
Her: What developement?
Me: (why is she asking me this?) Honestly, I can't remember the name.
Her: My son lives in a different developement. On XXXXX street. You know, it's in between this developement and... no, what's the other one called? You know, it's accross from another developement... (she rattled on for at least a minute as if this was a matter of life and death if she doens't tell me what developement her son and his family live in.)
Me: (totally bored with the conversation) Yeah, um, I think I've driven past it.
Her: Of course, him and his wife, now, they've been there for XX years, and they like it, you know. Ok. You have a nice day, now. (she walks away)
A different day, she stopped by for some reason and popped into my office. No "beautiful day, isn't it?", no "good morning". She begins as if we're already in the midst of a verbal exchange, and ends it as abruptly as she began it.
Her: Now, name and name -well, that's my daughter, of course, and her husband. Have you met daughter yet?
Me: No, I haven't. (so confused)
Her: Well, her and her husband have child and other child. Have you met them?
Me: No, but I've seen the names.
Her: I'm going to take daughter to a concert. You know, I think it would just be real nice for her to go out. Kenny... Kenny... What's his last name?
Me: ... uhh... (shrugs shoulders)
Her: Anyway, he's playing with another guy, and that girl, you know her? And Kenny... Chesney. Kenny Chesney, you know him?
Me: Actually, I hate country music. (I do not mince words.)
Her: Oh, well I'm not such a big fan myself, but it's so nice to get out of the house from time to time, you know, but he's pretty good, and I can really get into the music, you know. I really think you would like him! And...
Me: No, I mean I really, really can't tolerate country music at all.
Her: Well, I just think it's real nice just to get out the house sometimes, you know, and she really likes Kenny Chesney, and this other girl... now what is her name? You know her, the blond girl. Real cute.
Me: .... (at a total loss) That sounds nice.
Awkward silence. She absentmindedly runs her hand through her sensible, short gray hair.
Her: Yeah, I didn't do much with my hair today, I just ran a brush through it...... alright, then, Rachel, I suppose I may be speakin' to you later. (and she's gone)
I sat in stunned silence for a few moments. I wasn't sure what had just happened. I'm still not sure.
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