Me and My Brain
- At August 08, 2011
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Roxanne Writes On
- 0
Me and my brain…
All limbs present, most of my organs hanging in there, an immune system well-toned by dust and pet dander. I eat spinach. I floss daily. Plus, don’t forget, I’m an Iron Gardener, and I do yoga. Bikram yoga, the tough one.
Okay, fine, full disclosure:
While my body might be solid, my mind… well it’s doing the best it can under the circumstances. Quadruple-Scorpio, introvert, right-brained, intuitive, aesthetic, INFJ, however you want to categorize my inner self, it skews well off the centre line. I might look fairly contained, but it’s a cover. I over-think, over-feel, over-react, over-suffer.
As an aside to this aside, this is apparently a common thing among writers. Jenny Crusie refers to it as the “broken filter” syndrome. Life comes at us hard and fast, and we feel it all. Deeply. If we can stand it, it’s what makes us good writers, painters, dancers, actors, musicians, etc.
Aaaaaanyway…
So yes, I have moments of wild despair, weighed down by the futility of existential solitude. But since I haven’t cut off an ear, or drunk hemlock or gone swimming with rocks in my pockets, I consider myself a functional sensitive-artist type.
So, as I was saying: healthy – check.
First of all, I’d like to say up-front that I’m married and determined to stay that way. And not just in a “you’ve made your bed, you’ll lie in it” kind of way.
But I don’t take either condition for granted. In fact, I will admit to being a little… high-maintenance… at times.
My husband calls it hypochondria. He prefers to either suffer in silence – ha! – or tell me, but with that martyred air that implies he never gets any sympathy around here.
I say, if you’ve got a headache, tell somebody, so that when you drop dead of an aneurysm, they’ve got a clue.
The “Anyone Can Paint” Art Project
- At August 07, 2011
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Life, Roxanne Writes On
- 0
This is my latest project, for my friend Elizabeth, of Elizabeth’s Wildlife Center.
I always drew and painted as a child, but it wasn’t until after my own daughters had been taking art classes for years, that it occurred to me that I might enjoy taking it up again, myself.
So, a few years ago, I started taking a water-colour class with local artist Donna Senft. And what do you know, I love it!
Recently, I got adventurous with some enormous mixed-media projects. Well, the real reason is the two enormous blank walls in my husband’s new animal hospital, just crying out for some colour. I figured, I might as well take a stab at some BIG decorative canvases. My idea was a little vague, but I thought it could come together into something amazing. Donna always says the great thing about me is that I’m not afraid of the paint. I’ll slap it on any which way, figuring I can always change it later if I don’t like it.
A good thing, as it turned out.
Curious about my process? Here’s a step-by-step, following the progress of three new pictures I did over about a weekend, last month.
I bought three big canvases from Michael’s store, two 24×48, one 24×36.
Before anything else, attach your hangers. You don’t want to do this once the picture’s finished – you might ruin the surface. Tip: unless you have a very brave and trusting toddler, hold those teeny-tiny nails with needle-nosed pliers.
Next, I roughed out the stencil placement.
Then, I prepped each canvas with texture. On a smaller picture I’d use proper artist’s gesso, but at about 10 times the cost, for these big surfaces? Home Depot Polystipple. This is fun. You slop it on any old way, so it creates interesting cracks and crevices for the paint to collect. (Hm. That reminds me, I’m out of lipstick.) But make sure to leave a fairly flat space for the stencil.
Once the texture is dry, cover the surface with a base coat of colour. I used the same paint we used for the walls as my base. I mean the same paint, as in the half-empty cans of latex the painters left for touch-ups. Really, this isn’t fancy.
Then I started adding colour. I’ve got a checker-board theme going, so I continued it here.
I liked how these were coming together. So naturally, I went the next step.
Q: Why wouldn’t you add a crooked swath of blood?
A: Because that’s not the desired ambiance for a veterinary hospital. Duh.
Fortunately, latex is pretty forgiving while it’s wet. I just washed it off, then painted over it.
Once I got the base more or less how I wanted it, I added some droplets, drips and splotches. Acrylic latex is wonderful for this kind of treatment.
Then I got going on the stencils. These are custom designed by The Mad Stencilist, ordered online, shipped to my door. Super convenient.
I had to do a few touch ups around the edges of the letters on this one, but that’s basically it. Voila!
The Mother-in-Law of Deaf
For most people, summertime means enjoying time outside, in the sunshine. Well, maybe not this year so much … but usually.
Some people like to do things like hike the West Coast Trail, or go para-sailing, or bungee-jumping. Others, like me, prefer to pick berries. Perhaps swim in calm water, and then dry off in the sun, with a book. And possibly a glass of wine.
But I’ve taken my share of risks. Glad I did ’em, even gladder I’m done ’em.
For example: Many, many years ago, my husband and I took our staff on a white-water rafting expedition, a team-building/summer party sort of idea. Unfortunately, none of us had ever done this before, and we had no idea what those numbers – Class 1, Class 5 – meant, in terms of danger. For the record, the higher the number, the greater the likelihood of violent death.
Ours was a Class 4-5.
We didn’t figure this out until we’d already driven the three hours it took to get there, undressed in front of a group of hippies, squirmed into our wet suits, signed the waiver stating that we understood any mishap would render our life insurance null and void, leaving our children impoverished orphans, and then listened to the instructions on what to do when – not IF but WHEN! – we got thrown out of the raft, dragged underwater and lodged behind a snag.
Oh well, in for a penny and all that.
The very first thing they did was dump each of us into the lake, so we’d be wet before hitting the river. Now, it was probably around 30 degrees C in the valley, but this is a glacier-fed lake, high up in the mountains. The water was the kind of cold that makes your innards shrivel, your lungs contract, your entire body seize. And this wearing a wet suit. Then, once you’re good and wet, muscles frozen, they tell you to climb back in the raft.
Right. I can’t move enough to stay afloat but I’m going to haul myself up and into a raft.
So, they grabbed me by my wet suit and dragged me back in, like a wounded manatee. The humiliation. Once we were all sufficiently drenched, quaking and aware of our own human frailty, it was time for the fun to begin!
The guide on our raft was an Aussie (aren’t they all??) with a delicious accent, who kept yelling at us whenever we weren’t paddling hard enough. I was having enough trouble hanging on, let alone paddling, so I got yelled at a lot.
Being a good guide and understanding the relationship of entertainment value to his tip, he’d named all the various rapids. The Roller Coaster. The Dragon. The Swirly Whirly. As we came up to each one, he’d call out the name, and then add “OF DEATH.” As in, “Alrighty mates, paddle harder, here comes… THE MOTHER-IN-LAW … OF DEATH!
But, with his accent, it sounded like he was saying DEAF instead of DEATH. And despite the likelihood of our own imminent DEAF, we kept laughing at him. And maybe because of the laughter, we ended up enjoying the day, even THE MOTHER-IN-LAW OF DEAF!!
I can say with certainty that I will never go on such a trip again, but I’m awfully glad I did it.
Mostly, I’m glad we all survived.