Sunday down home in the Bluegrass

Good Sunday to you all.

Isn't that vintage image just...cute?

It's from my Davis sampler last week.

Anyhoo...I do have a reason for writing this morning.

Here it goes,

Last we saw of BAD! Kitty she was in her studio, swearing at the gods...and committing acts of focus and resolve. Shortly there after followed by the dreaded death of all creative thought...what-so-ever.

We will now find out what happens when you try to put a kitty in a cage and then throw her in the river.

She will drown...come on...let's be real here.

I was talking to Mate Man this morning while we were drinking coffee, listening to the birds wake up, and watching the sun rise. Sans kids...equals a little bit of heaven on earth.

I was trying to ask him meaningful questions about this "focus group" thing. I don't like having to do something. I don't want to do as I "should". I hate rules.

Does that make me a limited or bad person?

Mate Man: Honey, I don't know. All I do know is that it's more complicated than that. You don't like rules, but you have a lot of rules you live by. They are Heather's rules. No one can govern the world of Heather but Heather. In that world there are three, no maybe four rules that you must live by.

1. Heather makes the rules.

2. Heather makes the rules.

3. We don't talk about the rules.

4. If in doubt refer to rule # 1.

Then he sits back and takes a drink of coffee.

That's my Man.

Ok so if I make the rules, and I have faith that I am not an evil monster that is secretly eating live children or something....then Ok, I make the rules.

First rule with my work right now.

I don't want to focus. Period.

I want to do my thing and try to be mindful about my form, technique. I want to pay attention to what feels good. I want to feel good when I work. I want to feel sexy, alive and slightly naughty. I want to have a sense of humor. I want to laugh and dance while I paint in my pj's. I want to keep finding out what I like and what I am drawn to learning and exploring. I want to only focus on my technique. I want to do what I want to do. I am not making art to make a living. I work a hard ass day job for that money. My art is all about having the freedom to do whatever I want to do. Will that hurt me professionally? Maybe...maybe not. Depends on if my consistency shows through...depends on the economy, depends on what breaks I get, what breaks I make and or take advantage of. It means living with my intuition and not against it. It's having faith that no matter what happens or does not happen...I will have laughed and loved and played and been responsible, if only in this one area of my human life, to just myself. My sacred playground and place of learning.

I create my own world. It's a good thing. I like it.

So, no more with the rules and so on. I'm done with that. I will just be mindful of what I do, and work with my gut feelings about what form that creation will take and just let it freaking be...for pities sake.

Ok, spewing over.

Ahhhh, that feels better.

Back to regular life...the one that has never been in a box and isn't going to start now. Can't that act of committing to not living the status quo be an act of commitment too? I don't want to retreat from reality or society at all...I just don't want to live a life where you do things because that's the way it has been done for the last forever. I didn't go to art school, I didn't pick art as my life passion, it picked me up along the way. I am really the muse to it's own life force. I didn't get into this business to make me rich and famous...hell I started selling art because it was taking up room...to make space. I offered art door to door, because I had no idea that you couldn't do that and be a real artist. I enjoy being a business person, I enjoy making money, spending money, using money. So I will continue to sell work in my time...no doubt. I don't create for the sale. Even thinking about it ( creating art for the sale) makes my ass twitch. I want to live within this world and all it has to offer but not become a slave to it. Maybe I like it that way...yes in fact that suits me just fine.

OK, now I really am done spewing...whew.

Back to regular programming.

Enjoy your day.

Heather

with a whole heart and doing it my way.

www.badkittyartstudio.com

Wait...do you smell that?

BAD! Kitty Art Studio

***

I get up this morning, cranky and stumbling down the hall,

carefully trying not to spill my coffee and drink it at the same time.

Super pooch is wiggling and blocking the hallway with his furry and very large self, very excited that his people are awake and... in his mind ready to lavish the dog with kisses and well deserved attention.

I sit down at the computer without wearing any of said coffee.

Meanwhile big furry beast is trying on his "I really am a lap dog" act and trying to talk me into letting his 100 pound self into my chair.

I sit down and ignore the dog.

Then the smell hits me...

"What the holy hell is that smell?!"

Mate man: "what smell?"

The kids come running from their rooms: "What smell?"

Me: "I smell poop! Can't you smell it?"

Others in the house: "No...wait...yes!"

The search for the smell starts.

The whole population of the house fans out into

every corner looking for the pile that

the horrible smell is coming from.

The dog follows me from room to room,

obediently sniffing for said smell.

He is very helpful my dog.

No one can find the source of the smell.

The kids: "We can't smell it anymore so it must have been a fart."

Mate Man:" I don't smell it anymore either."

Me: "I am swimming in it ovaah here, what the bloody hell do you mean you can't smell it? I can't get away from it, it's everywhere!"

The dog sits at my feet looking at my free hand waving around in the air...waiting for it to come into pet the dog range.

We all look at the dog.

He stands up.

The smell hits us like a hammer.

My dog never, ever has accidents in the house.

Ever.

His very furry back end is wiggling like mad.

It is also covered in the smell.

Me: "O.M.G.!!!"

The kids: "EEEWWW!"

Mate Man: "Shit!"

Everyone starts running in different directions, suddenly remembering a very important task somewhere far away from the dogs ass.

Thus starts the Sunday morning.

Memo now on fridge...

shave the dog, save the world.

Heather

www.badkittyartstudio.com