Artist Date 26 April

There come times when you need to revisit an old friend. A conundrum has presented itself as spring unfolds its dampness around me: I have nothing but time to run my business...but creative blockage is preventing it. My head of late has been focusing on anything but creating and furthering my dream of LNF - money worries, ego trouble, mild depression, too much time alone to ruminate. All the spirals of life are dragging me down, and it has manifested in a profound sense of fear. So, like picking up the phone and dialing across the country to unload on a friend, I'm starting the process of Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way. Follow the link to familiarize if the curiousity is there, and I won't bore with the details (though I could - I'm like a groupie for this chick).

Morning pages are going well. Every morning I'm up at 6am. I make tea by whatever light is available through the clerestory windows of my loft, and sit down with...well, with myself. Three pages every day, written by hand, of anything and everything that is swirling around the drain in my head. Its an exorcism, really. Purging my psyche of bad dreams, fears, worries, insecurities; letting the Censor (read: ego) talk without interruption; scribbling down my goals for the day; or just writing grocery lists and writing "fear" over and over again. Amazing how cleansing it can be to pour it all onto a page you'll never see again and get the fuck on with it.

Second basic tool: the Artist Date. Julia describes this time weekly set aside to spend conscious time with onesself as an artist as "a block of time set aside and committed to nurturing the creative consciousness; a play date with your inner artist". I've been needing this - time out of my house in which I spend quality time WITH MYSELF. I have a lot of alone time, but I'm not consciously using it. Cabin fever be damned. No one else in invited on Artist Dates, and its to be defended bravely against interlopers. Play is at the heart of all good work, and let's face it: it can be fun to play with yourself (only without the hairy palms). Today, in spite of dark grey, glowering clouds and imminent rain, I set out with my camera and walked the few miles to the always beautiful Lincoln Park Conservatory.

No headphones. Smartphone turned off. Just me and whatever awaited. I photographed plants, raindrops, paving stones, flowers - anything that my inner artists pointed at to say "HEY LOOK!". Every time I found myself getting annoyed at stray drops of rainwater leaking through the conservatory roof to hit me in the head, I stopped and took it in. When kids screamed like bastards and I couldn't take it...I stopped and took it in. When I got caught in a sudden torrential Chicago downpour...I stopped and took it in. No annoyance, no predetermination. Just...listened and observed.

And a lesson about growth was right in front of me. All around me, really. Once I quieted the ego and told myself to just play...well, the photos speak for themselves. I'm not into churchy, preachy, hyper-inspirational tripe that greeting cards and "spiritual" people use like a sledgehammer, but I recognize when the Universe is speaking, and today's Artist Date was about listening to the message.

To see the whole set of photos, click here!

30DoP #2 - "Elevating"

Balloon Boy Print

"Some children are utterly charming, a joy to be around and many children are mostly tolerable, but Balfour Balon was neither of those. He was a brat, plain and simple, and you didn’t have to squint your eyes to see the colossal bully he was sure to become, it was right there in front of you. So perhaps it wasn’t as unfortunate as one might think that Balfour happened upon a slightly evil djinn when prying the cork out of what he thought was a bottle of treacle he found in his father’s study. After making a grand entrance in an enormous puff of lavender smoke, the djinn busied himself rummaging around office looking for items of value to pilfer. “Hey!” yelled Balfour, unnecessarily, “you’re supposed to give me everything I ask for, aren’t you?” The djinn yawned expansively and scratched his ear with a letter opener. “I suppose so. What do you want?” Balfour decided to start small. Out of the window, he could see his father returning from the doctor with Balfour’s detested baby sister, who was happily clutching a balloon in her dimpled little fist. He could pop hers and then taunt her with the one in his possession! “A balloon!” Balfour demanded. “Absolutely not,” drawled the djinn, now laconically cleaning his fingernails: “That is a stupid wish.” Well, as you might imagine, Balfour’s face became so red and swollen it looked as though it might pop and he had a seismic tantrum, which culminated in an earsplitting “YOU HAVE TO GIVE ME A BALLOON RIGHT NOW!!!” And so the djinn did, as you can see.

Nowadays, Balfour tends to keep to himself in the town cemetery, his only companion a stuttering raven named Neville who says only “N-n-n-n-n…never mind.”

This original artwork and story are copyright Ramona Szczerba 2009.

What's 30 Days of Play?

30DoP #1 - "To Sir With Love"

Sir Odobenus Rosmarus - Altered Antique Plate

Try not to love this. TRY IT. Not only is Odobenus rosmarus the scientific name for your neighbor Ron the walrus, but it's cunningly steampunk, it's frilly enough to be considered "kitsch", AND it's a cheeky collector's plate that has been heat-fused so you can EAT OFF IT. Functional decor is where it's at, yo.

What's 30 Days of Play?

30 Days of Play

It’s no secret amongst those in the know that Etsy is a bitch**.

If you weren’t formerly in the know, welcome to the know.

However, until I locate that special leprechaun that will design a shiny new website from scratch for Lad Named Felix (that I’m actually able to freely update myself), Etsy is the bitch I have to work for, and work for her I shall. Think of Etsy as a cluelessly privileged hipster/hippie fence-sitter who thinks she knows fashion because her TV gets E!, introduces you as her “gay friend”, smells like menthols and Juniper Breeze, wears all of her jewelry every day, loves caftans constructed from discarded feed bags, builds diaper cakes for all her non-barren friends’ baby showers, collects thimbles from all 50 states, wants to know about your cat’s feelings, names her fuzzy pens, won’t shut up about the shelves she picked up half price at Pottery Barn, has inspirational plaques in her cube with quotes about sisters and footprints, keeps all her (and your) Altoids tins, keeps a sparse blog with the word “musings” in the title…but is still your boss. And the bitch keeps your commission. She shares it with her friend in the Wednesday night drum circle, PayPal.

Regardless of how I feel about working for that salt-water hoor as a seller, Etsy is still a fantastic place to be a BUYER. Where else can you peruse alpaca balaclavas, hand-embroidered vulvas, jewelry made from cat hair, 9/11 refrigerator magnets, and sculptures made of human fingernail clippings (while searching for things you’ll actually, yanno, buy)? Artfire could work, but did you know they restrict words like “champagne”, “bitch”, and “whiskey” in their item listings? You could try eBay, but if you’re like me, shopping at eBay feels like being stranded in your sex offender uncle’s garage while he goes to the kitchen to fetch you both a sweet snack. Etsy is where it’s at if you’re able to lick at the candy shell long enough to get to the Tootsie Roll in the middle.

I’ll give you a minute with that.

Okay, feel better? Good. ONTO THE POINT. I’m a big proponent of creative play. Books like Julia Cameron’s The Artists’ Way hooked me on finding ways to just stop all the mind chatter and play. The benefits are two-fold: I get to take a deliberate break from the busy, hectic life I lead, and it frees up ideas and inspiration that can then be applied to my focused creative work. How have I done it in the past? I have an extensive (read: ridiculous) collection of Bratz - see below for an example of play; I play with Legos; The Sims cower at the mention of my very name. I PLAY WITH DOLLS, OKAY? Jealous? Taking photos around the city is play, as well. So is singing karaoke in front of strangers (it is, you bitch).

I was inspired by a post at the Artist in the Arctic’s blog regarding a scavenger hunt through Etsy. I’ve been dry with ideas since my last Handmade Market show, and I’m looking for ways to fill the well. This sounded like so much fun (like a Regretsy outing) and a delicious chance to PLAY. So play I will…maybe I can find something about Etsy that isn’t so off-putting. Through the magic of Facebook, I’ve collected some awesome words and phrases. I plan to use Etsy to find one item for each scavenger hunt “clue”, then post my play here. One a day, for 30 days or until my inner child passes out from too many mini-marshmallows and Sunny Delight. Whatevs. It’s my blog.

**Let it be known that without Etsy, LNF would not have enjoyed the success it has so far achieved; however, Etsy is still a total closed-door mystery as a company, and there are manifold reasons to be suspicious of their track record and their practices. Be informed.