cue Simon and Garfunkel: Slow down, you move too fast

If you've been reading this blog for awhile, you know that I used to work on an 18th century farm doing 18th century labor, where doing things the old-fashioned way takes time.  But there were 21st century time constraints, like each class having to finish their activity in 30 minutes.  For eight years, I have been trained to do slow things fast.

I'm relearning now.  I'm taking classes in classical drawing and painting.  My teacher's beautiful accent comes over my shoulder as she examines my work.  "Slow down, Jodi.  Slow down."  These instructions are good for me.  There are no shortcuts, no techniques allowed--just the fruit of repetition and the discipline of learning to render what you see.  She's an amazing teacher, and I'm learning to tell myself it's okay to take three hours to draw a simple egg. 

The first hour of class is excruciating.  It takes that long for me to warm up, to find my groove.  I love the analogy my instructor used:  "I would never hand you a violin and tell you to play me something.  I would teach to to play and make you practice, practice, practice.  Your pencil and your paintbrush are your violin."

She continues, "You must draw and paint every day, everything you see.  If you are drinking a glass of milk, paint it."  

homework

more homework

learning to conquer the palette

work in progress

first stage - blocking in - still life study

* * *

So that's where I'm at.  S-l-o-w-l-y, exercising lazy muscles, trying to squeeze every bit of goodness from this opportunity I've dreamed about.  Feeling blessed.

"Life I love you, all is groovy

ba da ba da da, da da da da..."

That revolutionary morning

When we were much younger and more energetic, my husband and I would wake before dawn.  I'd make coffee, and he would pop on the album Songs of the Father.  We's sit together on the dining room floor, mugs in hand, and pray in Easter morning.  I'll never forget the sense of peace that would fill the room, and how it made you feel like a sponge, absorbing every bit of it.  It was changing us.  We could feel it.  

This is how we did Easter morning for a few years while the kids were babies. And then like most things, life changes, and our little pre-dawn ritual fell away.  

This morning I remembered that we had a box of albums from long ago stashed away in our garage.  I asked  Mike if he thought there was any chance that we still had the one we used to play on Easter morning twenty-some years ago.  Sure enough, we did!  We've been playing it all morning for our youngest daughter to hear.

It all came flooding back--memories of our budding faith.  It all came back, except the peace.  That has never left.    

Listening to the album, I wondered if my daughter would cringe at the kind of folksy, kum-by-ya sound of the recording that emanated from the record player.  So different from the slick, high-tech recording of today.  "Praise be to God for His blessings and His gifts, and the table that He sets with His hands".  "Oh, I like that," she said, humming along.  Times change, yet the truth and power of the words still carry through, still carry us.

"You have made us for Yourself, O Lord,

and our hearts are restless still,

Until they rest in You, O Lord,

Until they rest in You."

St. Augustine

Adventure Update

"But why do we have color? It seems to serve no practical purpose--at least none that scientists can discern. And why are there photoreceptors in our eyes that enable us to see it?

I believe that God's goodness is the point of His creation. He is 'good to all, and His tender mercies are over all His works' (Psalm 145:9). He colored the world for our childlike delight. He's like that, you know." ~David Roper 

Hi, guys. I just finished up a pre-semester workshop called "Views of Vincent". The idea of the class was to learn to apply paint in the manner of Van Gough, and to learn to see beauty in ordinary objects.  

Since the weather outside was not favorable, we were given photographs of landscapes to work on. We had to work quickly--"in one go," as the instructor told us. So this is my landscape of somewhere in France...or New Hampshire, I can't remember. I think it came out well, but it bores me a wee bit. I like parts of it...I might like the whole of it later.

Next, we had to quickly paint our shoes. These are my Vincent-esque mules. It has some glaring issues, but it's far more interesting to me than the landscape. I'm being stretched and pushed and loving every minute. It's good. Next week, spring semester starts. One class is called "Conquering the Palate." With God's help, I intend to. *Cheesy grin*    

A decidedly American tea party (just a title...no politics)

As promised, here's another book from my pantry closet book shelf--The Tasha Tudor Cookbook.  There's some marvelous recipes inside, like the one for Baked Beans, and another for Yorkshire Pudding.  Scrummy!  

I like Tasha Tudor.  We used to share the same fashion sensibilities

In honor of Presidents' Day, I baked her Washington's pie.    

 It's a simple sponge cake, or "delicate", as Tasha would say.  Its main flavors are the raspberry jam mixed with kirschwasser spread between the layers.

  

 What do you think of the cunning little hatchet design?

And as promised, I'm inviting you to tea.  You don't mind the mismatched china, do you?  Speaking of china, I saw a 1930's tea set from England in the local thrift shop, missing only a saucer or two.

   It was under twenty dollars.  It was charming.  I decided not to pounce but to think about it.  I was a fool.  Went back a few days later.  Let's just say that she who hesitates is lost.  Especially in the world of thrifting. 

But never mind that.  I'm glad you're here.  One lump or two?

The Month that needs Lipstick

Making red things in February is like putting lipstick on an endless gray day.  Here's a cheery "red thing": strawberry and blood orange marmalade from the "Blue Chair Jam Cookbook". Cookbooks are a bit of a weakness of mine--can you tell? My husband once asked the question, "How many cookbooks does one woman need?" I proceeded to make him an "epic meal" (she said modestly) from one of the books.  After practically licking the plate clean, he said, "Let's forget about that silly question I asked earlier." What's that, dear? I didn't hear you. HA.  

  

Anyways, I thought it would be fun to show you some of the books I've collected over nearly thirty-two years of domesticity and we can pretend to make some things together. 

This cookbook is visually gorgeous, unlike my own pix--sorry, my camera has died and I'm using my phone.  The directions are somewhat fiddle-y in my opinion, but if you relax and take your time, it's not so bad.

Not only do I like the recipes, but I try not to covet the clothing the author wears.  All the photographs in the book are inspiring and pret-tay. 

*photo from Blue Chair Jam Cookbook via Pinterest

Okay, back to the marmalade.

It tastes delicious, but I have to be honest and tell you, the outcome wasn't so "epic."  I forgot to relax and rushed the end a bit.  Since it didn't cook it long enough, it never quite jelled properly.  My mistake.

This didn't affect the flavor, though. I'm still spooning it on toast. Yum! And I'm thinking it might make a tasty marinade for meat. 

 Soon, I hope to pull another book from the stack, and invite you to a virtual tea party.

Wanna come?  

"I think I'm quite ready for another adventure." ~Bilbo Baggins

So this is it, folks.  I've made the decision quit my job and say farewell to eighteenth century living.  I can't believe how quickly eight years of pretend indentured servitude have flown by.  I'll miss it all--the labor, the clothes, the smell of wood smoke in my hair (not), and most of all, the excellent people I've had the pleasure to work with and learn from.  And then, there's the kids; I'll miss them, too *sniffle.* But it's time to move on and devote more time to something that's always been a dream and a passion. 

I love creating; I love paint, pencils, and paper (alliteration much?) I love the smell of them. I get ideas in my head, you know? I see pictures, especially during worship at church. I talked about it once here: http://curiousacorn.blogspot.com/2011/02/as-we-sing.html 

Does that sound lofty? Because I don't mean it to. It's just what happens in me head. :) It's how I'm wired. I believe God has given me a gift. I also know there are areas where the tools of that gift need sharpening. So, I'll be taking some intense study classes in the art of drawing and color, in the hopes that I'll be able to render those pictures and dreams to the best of my ability. I'm at a point in my life now where I can devote the time, and I don't want to waste it. It won't be easy, but things worthwhile usually aren't, right?

 So it's goodbye petticoats, and hello art world. 

Wish me luck.

When a Tea Towel Says, "I love you."

I'm gaga about this tea towel, which was given to me by Joy and Rhys for Christmas. I want to have it framed, it means that much to me. Here's why:

 http://curiousacorn.blogspot.com/2012/03/dad-see-how-i-run.html

I was hoping to have a whole new post to share with you, so I feel like a repost is a bit of a cheat. But some new and exciting things are happening for the ever-curious acorn, so I've been busy. Eeep! Can't wait to share it with you in the future.    

Love you, friends!