Your “Holy Sh*t!” For the Day:

 

Some people use paper for scribbling notes.
Some, for wiping noses.

Isabella de Borchgrave uses paper to make these:

 

Based on a Pietro Facchetti portrait of Marie de’ Medici

 

Go here to learn more, because, DAMN.

Little Bits:

 

One of my favorite things about having time off is
getting enough thinkspace to paint again.

So I made these two darlings:

 

 

Penelope and Doris are going to be a part of a story.
I don’t know the plot,
or how they will meet,
but oh,
I am going to have such a good time making this little world!

*sigh*

I do love vacation.

Sigh No More:

 

I’m looking through Audrey Kawasaki’s blog,
and feeling very…left out.

The last month has been full of wedding,
family,
wedding,
family,
Roommates,
worry,
and more wedding.

I haven’t sat down in my room,
alone,
“Kind of Blue” playing,
and painted since …June?

Too long.

I miss it.
I miss the quietness.
I miss how painting makes me feel still.

I have another wedding coming up in eleven days,
but I think I might take a time out tonight,
and just paint for a little while.

Nudes:

 

My former and dear professor, Dr. Horner,
posted a painting on his Facebook homepage,
with this fascinating quote about reflection in art:

 

“I do not know why painted things have so much grace in the mirror. It is marvellous how every weakness in a painting is so manifestly deformed in a mirror…” Leon Battista Alberti, 1435, ‘Della Pittura’ (‘On Painting’)

 

"Woman Standing in Front of Mirror" - Christoffer Wilhem Eckerserg

 

And oh,
the sturm und drang that ensued over the nudity,
and how “I don’t want to see this on my Facebook feed!”
and “She’s not my wife! Therefore I cannot look upon her nakedness!”

It was all terribly overwrought,
and one person started making …nasty… cracks about the conservative protestors,
and the protestors got all self-righteous in response…
Just kinda…gross, all told.

 

And here is what I don’t understand about some of my fellow Christians:

If something bothers you,
or moves you towards temptation,
or leads your mind and body towards sin,
avoid it.
Don’t do it.
If it crops up on a friend’s blog, facebook page, or newsfeed,
remove yourself from the situation.

If you are in a close relationship with said friend,
talk to them about it.
Maybe they can censor their posts so that you will not see them
(I already do this for several of my more conservative friends).

But if you are in the position of being a “weaker brethren”,
understand that the onus is on YOU to take charge of your own weaknesses.
You cannot expect everyone around you–if they are not close to you–to know that drinking or nudity in art or yoga or strong language or or dancing or certain movies or amillenialism causes you to stumble.

If you need to,
remove yourself from the situation.

Be nice about it,
and you will find that most folks are far more willing to be sensitive to your needs.

 

On the converse side,
it is difficult to be understanding of a friend who isn’t
comfortable with something.
I am, frankly, terrible at this.

Partially,
it’s a push-back against the prudish behavior that I grew up with.
Partially,
it’s a push-back against my own uncomfortableness with my body.
Often,
I am just unaware that someone might be uncomfortable
with what I’m saying or doing
(Really! I’m usually oblivious! And I’m trying to be better with this, I promise).
It is my responsibility to pay attention to the people I love
and to respond to their needs,
regardless of my personal opinion or belief.

And?

That goes both ways.

As Christians,
we are called to have compassion on each other.
We are called to submit to each other in love.

Teetotalers need to play nice with Wine-drinkers.
Wine-drinkers need to play nice with Teetotalers.

Both ways.
Ambivalence.
Compassion.

 

But getting back to that particular painting…
I believe there is value in celebrating the human form–
even in this fallen, broken state.
I love beautiful nudity in art,
and I believe it is wonderful
(and this painting is absolutely breathtaking.
Look at the light, the shadow, how natural her gesture is,
how the painter let us see a tiny, sunlit moment…it is glorious).

I also believe that it can be abused–
that art can be titillating instead of sublime.
And that those lines are very, very fuzzy.

The intention of the artist matters–
the approach of the viewer matters.

But I do not believe that it is acceptable for a Christian
to blindly suppose that their own particular struggles
should be the burden of all Christians,
nor is it okay to make a sin where there is simply…
struggle.

 

Life is hard enough.
Vive l’Grace of Christ,
and also:

Don’t fight with strangers.
It’s bad form.

Because We Have Forgotten How to Play:

 

Cute, non?

 

See that sweet little thing?
I’ve been wanting to make it since I saw it on Pinterest about,
oh,
two months ago.

I’ve had plenty of time to swing by a store for supplies.
Plenty of time to sit at home and cut out leaves and stitch them together.

But I haven’t.

Because?

Here’s my great big theory:

Adults aren’t “supposed” to play.
We have other things that are “important” to do.

And this makes me so, so sad.

I don’t want to turn fifty and realize that I haven’t made anything in years.
I don’t want to lose the dexterity of my fingers or my mind.
I don’t want to lose my creativity, my ability to say, “Hey, I could make that!”
and actually do it.

Consequently,
I’m starting a Third Thursday Craft Night.

For whatever–
sewing, painting, needlefelt, needlepoint,
making shoe clips, hair flowers, leatherwork;
hell,
if I had a forge,
ironwork.

We all need a time to be creative.

Sometimes,
we have to make appointments with ourselves in order to make that happen.

 

Consider your own bad self invited.

Come make things.

 

(and? if you email me pictures of what you made, and a little blurb about it,
I’ll post them all here!)

A Lovely for the Day:

 

In Honor of Women’s Day:

 

(and, well, in honor of everyone, really.)

 

(I love you, Amanda Palmer.)

 

In my mind
In a future five years from now
I’m a hundred and twenty pounds
And I never get hungover
Because I
Will be the picture of discipline
Never minding what state I’m in
And I will be someone I admire
And it’s funny how I imagined
That I would be that person now
But it does not seem to have happened
Maybe I’ve just forgotten how
To see
That I’m not exactly the person that I thought I’d be.

And in my mind
In the far-away here-and-now
I’ve become in-control somehow
And I never lose my wallet
Because I
Will be the picture of discipline
Never fucking-up anything
And I’ll be a good defensive driver…

 

(Thanks to The Bloggess for the link)

I Made a Pretty:

 

“…Freedom tasted like seawater and oranges.”
-Tana French, ‘The Likeness’

That quote ran through my head the entire time I was painting this:

I’m particularly fond of the shading I got on her jawline.

Man, I need a better camera.

 
I painted a great deal of this while talking to close friends on the phone…
which is rather unusual for me.

Normally,
I hole up in my room and shut everything else out and off when I paint.

It was kind of a welcome change,
but not something I’m likely to do on a more complex
(or frustrating)
painting.

This one treated me pretty well,
for which I am grateful.

 

©Rebecca S Rea, 2011

Watercolor on cold-press paper

Also!

A fantastic quote from Marina Bychkova of Enchanted Doll:

“I believe that all those universally preconceived notions of artists
being an emotional, sentimental mess of feelings are kind of insulting.
It implies that creative people are not in control of themselves.
Art may be art, but at the end of the day it is also a job. It has to be done well.”

Well said, lady.
Well said.

So I Promised these Pictures in October:

And…um…here they are?

This was my crazy project of hot glue and leaves and the staying up all night:

Baba Yaga‘s Hut

I made a 2D model of Baba Yaga and placed it so you could see her silhouette through this window. Creepy.

Do you know how hard it is to find branches that bend the same way???

The roof lifts up so I can replace the battery-powered flickering lights inside.

See the Chicken Feet?

 

There’s a funny story behind those Chicken Feet.

First,
they’re real.

Cooked for six hours in the oven and coated in decoupage,
but very real.

I walked into an Asian Market and asked if they carried chicken feet.
(you know, like you do)
The gentlemen looked at me, and said, “Shikahn Fee? Wha ah Shikahn Fee?”

I kinda made motions with my hands to indicate scratching,
“Um. They’re. You know. Chicken? Feet?”
*scratch scratch*

“You draw for me.”

“OH! You mean Shikahn PAW!”

And apparently I did, because they sent me home with a dozen of them.

ps (for a sense of scale, Baba’s Hut is about two feet high by three feet wide.)

pps (In my head, it was only a couple of inches tall.)

ppps (I have no sense of proportion, people.)