Being Creative

 

I’ve wanted to create my own artwork for RheumaBlog’s banner for a long time, now, but I just couldn’t seem to translate the vision in my mind to an image on paper.

So I used Wassily Kandinsky’s version of St. George and the Dragon for the banner instead. I adore this painting. I love its rawness, its blazing primitiveness, its perfect flow and constant movement. I love the artist’s magnificent use of contrasting and complimentary colors; combined, they pop the image right off the canvas and bring it alive. I love the dapple-gray warhorse and most especially I love the wry, knowing grin on the dragon’s face. Did Kandinsky put it there on purpose? I think he did. Everyone fights dragons of many kinds during the course of their lives, but only a very few actually slay them.

The only part of the painting I’ve never much cared for was the sacrificial maiden, set off to the right of the action as if she was an afterthought. In fact, she’s looking away from St. George and the dragon, a dreamy look on her moony face. Silly, overdressed twit.

You may have noticed that while I used Kandinsky’s wonderful art for my RheumaBlog banner, I usually cropped that brainless-looking girl right out. See, the brave knight attacking the dragon is me. And the dragon himself is my rheumatoid disease. In my ongoing battle with him, there’s simply no place for a helpless woman.

Still, as compelling as Kandinsky’s artwork is, I’ve long wished I could create some art of my own to use as RheumaBlog’s banner. And now, finally, I’ve done it! I had to crop it tightly to fit WordPress’s parameters, but I think it still works. The smirking rheuma-dragon is there–and so am I: small, chubby, but fierce and determined.

Here it is, uncropped:

I’d really like to know what you think of it. I realize it’s much less dramatic and more humorous than Kandinsky’s work (and jeez, he was an actual Famous Artist!), but I’ve used humor and whimsy as my armor against this disease from the start. Finally, my own art works best!

I’ve changed the page’s colors to match up with the new banner. I realize that some of you may have difficulty reading the type on a colored background. Please let me know if the pale yellow is a problem and I’ll be glad to change it back to white. I’m just playing around with the design elements right now, tweaking here and there for looks and readability. I want to hear from you so I can make sure it’s accessible for everyone.

I created this artwork with my imagination, my new Surface Pro tablet computer and stylus, and the wonderful illustration and manga program Clip Studio Paint.

And now, it’s late. The rheuma-dragon, that monster, is gnawing that tearing at my fingers, hands, and wrists. So I’m bugging out for the night, achy and weary, my dragon still un-slayed. But you know what? I’m also really happy.

 

Out of a Table-sized Box …

… comes an art-sized table.

When I started putting my new drawing table together on Saturday, I discovered that it would require screwing in about a thousand screws. My hands just aren’t up to that, unfortunately. So, after a bit of thought, I decided to head to the hardware store to buy myself (hopefully) an inexpensive electric screwdriver.

An hour or so later, I had one. Made by Black & Decker, and only $20! Yay! I headed home, opened the box my new tool was in, and came to yet another dead stop. It had to be charged for at least 16 hours before use. So, shaking my head, I plugged it in and put off building the new table until Sunday. Disappointing, really.

Sunday, mid-morning, arrived. After reading all the directions, it was clear I was going to need some help, even though I had a magic electric screwdriver. Along with screws, there were Alan wrenches involved, and of course, balancing one piece on or next to another other for joining by screws and Alan thingies. So I enlisted Mom. To my surprise, she was happy to help!

And so, two hours later, after much discussion, a little arguing, occasional grunting, much laughter, a few cries of dismay, and finally, an exhausted high-five, we were done. My drawing table was ready to use!

I cleaned up the construction mess, unboxed the task lamp, and attached it to the table. Both are “vintage” styles, and they look great together. Then I laid out my art things and a work-in-progress that I’d had to stop working on when we moved back in September, and as a final touch, put my Laughing Buddha at the top of the table, overlooking everything. Gazing at it made me smile. There were other chores to take care of Sunday, though, so no opportunity to use it all, yet. But Sunday night I went to bed a sore but happy camper.

Today, I had a writing assignment to complete, but tomorrow I’m planning to give the whole day over to art.

My hands are flaring painfully as I write this, and I’ve been alternately icing and heating a flared left shoulder. Still, I’m hoping for a restful night’s sleep tonight, and a mild-pain day tomorrow.

Here’s my already-beloved art-making place:

New Drawing Table

Dreaming …

kandinsky-stgeorge-RheumaBlog“Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?”

–George R.R. Martin

Today it rained a little …

… but I can hardly get myself to look out the window at it. It’s because I know this rain means nothing in this fourth (and now critical) year of drought. It can’t help us. It won’t fill the reservoirs to brimming again, even if it rains for days in the valley and snows in the mountains. It’s too little, too late. It’s a mean tease, like a couple of older kids who ask you to play ball with them, put you in the middle, then throw the ball to each other over your head, higher than you can reach even when you jump. You want to like playing with them, but they only frustrate you and make you feel inadequate and stupid, and in the end you just can’t.

That’s spring rain in California during a drought.

I’ll tell you about this stupid little rain. The parking lot pavement got wet and shiny black, and there are a few thin puddles. Water is beading on the metal hand-railings by the steps and on the on the leaves of the hedge gardenias outside the door. I don’t want to like this, because it’s too much like giving in, but the scent rising from the wadded-up little ivory flowers is sweet and heavy, but fresh, too. The beads of water form translucent pearls on the little dark green, blade-shaped leaves of the potted azalea on the back patio. The old fence is wet halfway down, contrasting dark above with light below. The traffic-y air smells washed and clean. There’s a sharp little breeze.

They say we’ll have some more rain tomorrow. It’s an awful tease, but I hope we do.


This is Day One of Writing 101: Building a Blogging Habit, WordPress’s free, 20-day writing course for bloggers. The assignment was simply to write for 20 minutes without preparing first, then posting it to my blog. I’ll be writing something new each day, following Writing 101’s prompts. I’m excited to see what shows up.