tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72484575989866828252024-03-13T10:06:29.741-07:00Heaven in a WildflowerMusings and adventures of a professional artist.Chellarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975156913808670409noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7248457598986682825.post-47512394171860456392016-02-29T00:16:00.000-08:002016-02-29T10:03:13.971-08:00Rubbermaid and Vegan Socks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-34HR0qBTS9g/VtP9ftnfPzI/AAAAAAAAGRo/RwgbWn0CY8A/s1600/12776690_10205608480603341_1934093336_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-34HR0qBTS9g/VtP9ftnfPzI/AAAAAAAAGRo/RwgbWn0CY8A/s320/12776690_10205608480603341_1934093336_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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It's several months after Christmas<br />
I'm finally far enough out<br />
to admit that<br />
this Christmas I cried in front of everyone<br />
not silent pretty tears<br />
but the awkward kind that makes your face contort<br />
and you just can't stop<br />
so you cover your face with your hands<br />
as your children present<br />
a gift purchased with their own money<br />
from their own personal view<br />
on their own time<br />
Maybe I'm getting more sentimental<br />
knowing they are on their way out into their own lives<br />
because no one cries over Rubbermaid Stacking Storage containers<br />
unless you know your child paid attention to you struggling to find the right lid for the right size<br />
so he bought a set that all the sizes use the same lid and are all the same color<br />
"So it would be easier mom, and you can get rid of all the rest"<br />
And you cry over socks that say Vegan because your child knows it was a big life change<br />
and that kindness and not harming others is everything you stand for<br />
and she says, "geez mom it's just socks, don't cry"<br />
But you can't stop crying because you realize in that moment<br />
that you did alright<br />
that your kids turned out beautiful and kind and caring<br />
that you didn't screw up all that bad<br />
And you can't stop crying because<br />
from now on you can't look at them the same<br />
because they aren't little kids anymore<br />
but young adults finding their way<br />
you realize all at once<br />
there will be struggles you can't fix<br />
or kiss away<br />
but you have also seen that they are strong and independent<br />
capable of looking outside of themselves<br />
So you just cry<br />
bitter sweet tears<br />
of rejoicing<br />
of letting go<br />
and everyone comes over and hugs you<br />
and tells you it's going to be alright<br />
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<br />Chellarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975156913808670409noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7248457598986682825.post-53380185686422489502014-05-30T13:39:00.001-07:002016-03-14T11:57:27.704-07:00What a Lovely Morning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">What a lovely morning. </span><br />
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<br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">The sound of a thousand crickets chirp as if saying hello to the sun.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> The air that wafts out of the Canyon is heavy with the sweet thick scent of Russian Olive trees, overwhelming my senses like ripe honeydew melon in an enclosed room. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">The creek babbles with stories of the eons, chortling with joyous remembrance, and quiet murmurs of changing times. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">My mind becomes still and the present envelopes me. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">It i</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">s a wonder I get anything done, ever.<br />I would much rather sit here surrounded by the blue sky, listen to crows mock, feel the breeze and sun on my skin, than enter the world of busyness and accumulation.<br /><br />The words of Mary Oliver come to mind, "It is what I was born for- to look, to listen, to lose myself inside this soft world- to instruct myself over and over in joy and acclamation."<br /><br />Ahhhh- it is a lovely morning!<br /><br />Wishing everyone "a peace in the moment" day <i class="_4-k1 img sp_Yu7FL4-TAPR sx_aae0f5" style="background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yw/r/eL3qDNkpYJw.png); background-position: -85px -885px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"></i></span></div>
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Chellarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975156913808670409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7248457598986682825.post-42307765610499544332014-05-01T08:39:00.001-07:002017-10-20T09:51:23.282-07:00Natural Respite<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1xP0iEUsFPw/U2JqgL8M73I/AAAAAAAAAVA/VmoGyOAqblU/s1600/IMG_1892+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1xP0iEUsFPw/U2JqgL8M73I/AAAAAAAAAVA/VmoGyOAqblU/s1600/IMG_1892+(2).JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span class="userContent">Nature is respite.</span></div>
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<span class="userContent"> Where else can you exist without judgement?<br /><br />Nature does not weigh in on whether you are attractive, overweight or underweight. Nature cares nothing about what you have, if your clothes are in style, who you are sleeping<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"> with, your race, your religion, your sexuality, your past, or your future.<br /><br />Nature goes about its business. Once you melt into the landscape you merely exist. No name, no story. </span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent">How refreshing!<br /><br />When you are feeling beaten down and worn out, tired of your story or what other's think, or have forgotten how to just be, it's time to check out of the rat race and get back to your roots.<br /><br />What are you waiting for?</span></div>
Chellarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975156913808670409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7248457598986682825.post-29463731764988223032014-04-08T10:03:00.000-07:002015-11-30T10:43:41.869-08:00Preview To A Kiss<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I had the most wonderful, art filled, inspiring day. It was the first really warm 50 degree sun filled morning without wind, and the thought of sitting at my desk sending out bids and billing clients was reviling.<br />
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Reading a few of my last posts I realized that part of my unease is that I enjoy the "artful living" aspect of art; being out in the natural world, taking notes, photographing and collecting items for my art, not necessarily the making of the art.<span style="font-family: inherit;"> So, I decided it was a day to do whatever I would do if I quit my regular job of custom art and faux finishes, and held the current "dream" job of being a fine artist, blogger, and naturalist.</span><br />
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I didn't even open email. I slurped two espressos down and felt a twinge of guilt as I left breakfast dishes on the counter, grabbed my camera and walked out the door.</div>
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I drove a mile up the road and pulled over at the Zintel Canyon Greenway. I have been working on a painting of a Red-Winged Blackbird nest nestled in cattails and needed a few cattails to paint from. I ended up spending a couple of hours taking photos, sitting by the pond edge observing and immersing my self into the natural world. Time seemed to completely stop.</div>
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Somehow I pulled myself away and went back home for a little brunch, blogging and painting. I felt so inspired I wrote a poem (<a href="http://chelldesign.blogspot.com/2014/04/the-short-walk.html" target="_blank">see "The Short Walk"</a>), edited photos, Facebooked, and then painted for about an hour.</div>
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The dogs were becoming restless so I said, "What the heck, let's go on another walk". We drove a couple miles out and took our regular walking route through sagebrush trails. The wild flowers are just starting and I spent my time taking photos and creating a wildflower a guide book in my head. After an hour and a half the dogs were hot and ready to head back. </div>
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I spent a little more time painting and editing photos before the kids came home from school. After a trip to the grocery store I made dinner and decided to continue my "free day" into the eve. I edited a few more photos before and after dinner and researched a few native plants. </div>
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I'm now in bed feeling very blissful and calm. I'm dreaming and planning for my new job...and dreading tomorrow as now I have twice as much to do! But today was a much needed peek into where my heart is calling me to go. It made my heart happy and my soul feels fulfilled. Yes, artful living is my compulsion, my passion. I just have to make it fit into what feels right for me, not just doing the art part without the living part.</div>
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Chellarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975156913808670409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7248457598986682825.post-85881829325608468172014-04-07T11:39:00.000-07:002017-10-20T09:55:44.915-07:00The Short Walk<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DHDMyGi7zeI/U0LujGNlYWI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/xxv_TgcDI9Y/s1600/IMG_2530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DHDMyGi7zeI/U0LujGNlYWI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/xxv_TgcDI9Y/s1600/IMG_2530.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The Short Walk<br />
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I only meant to go for a short walk<br />
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but the trees beckoned me to go a little deeper<br />
the red-winged blackbird clicked at me to follow.<br />
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The wet smells of earth and compost wafted by<br />
as dried stalks of last years cattails crunched under my feet.<br />
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The bullfrog tempted me over to the pond to find him<br />
while I was waiting<br />
a quail couple came for a drink.<br />
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As the veil of my own mind fell<br />
reflections of trees opened to me<br />
silky sunlit spider webs drifted by.<br />
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A robin took a bath in front of me<br />
honeybees flitted across the mud bank<br />
while invisible creatures underwater rippled the surface.<br />
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Small birds darted in and out<br />
of the blackberry bushes taking sips of water<br />
preening their wings.<br />
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Mating rituals and shrills of spring delight<br />
surrounded me in stereophonic cacophony.<br />
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Eventually the shadows of morning grew short<br />
the air became dry and dusty.<br />
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The hours had passed so quickly.<br />
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A touch of melancholy caused my heart to skip a beat<br />
when the bullfrog teased me to stay longer and find him.<br />
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"Another day!" I said to no one.<br />
With gratitude and renewed spirit<br />
I took the short walk home.<br />
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<br />Chellarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975156913808670409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7248457598986682825.post-45521169025912323022014-04-06T11:43:00.000-07:002017-10-20T09:56:13.762-07:009 Years and New Beginnings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DgwSlNfu7VA/U0LxO7Uf9wI/AAAAAAAAAUc/seW4ym0zfkk/s1600/IMG_1437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DgwSlNfu7VA/U0LxO7Uf9wI/AAAAAAAAAUc/seW4ym0zfkk/s1600/IMG_1437.JPG" width="298" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>The last few months have been nothing short of transformative. It's as though I've finally given myself permission to develop the fullness of who I am as an artist. Relinquishing the comfort of playing it safe with my creativity, letting go of expressing what is sanitized and commercially viable. Throughout my life I've dabbled in so many areas of art; photography, book arts, mixed media, poetry, prose, essays, acrylic painting, watercolor, graphite, but it's always been one thing at a time. I've never allowed myself the freedom until lately to bring any or all of these things together. I suppose like many other artists, the mental scars of childhood mockery and ridicule for attempting to stand out still serve as reminders when one dares to express who they are. Or sharing your most private poetry with those who just didn't get it or didn't recognize your soul on paper. Maybe part of it was growing up in a community with very little art and art direction. The voices of expressed opinion were not often educated nor kind when it came to critiquing work. The reward of doing something technically "perfect" fed the ego often enough to make a habit of pleasing other's tastes.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i> It's not that what I've been doing is not of merit or value. I am celebrating nine years of being trusted to be the creative medium between people and their desires. I feel honored to leave my energy fingerprint in their lives. Of course I will continue with that work as well. This change is something for me and for those who also have struggled to share their voice. It is to finally realize that I have nothing to hide or fear.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i> I hope you come along with me and share my ride. Please share with me your stories, your fears and successes as we all try to make sense of creative source that is innate within us. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span>Chellarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975156913808670409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7248457598986682825.post-57236668480860848232014-01-10T10:23:00.000-08:002015-11-30T15:12:14.254-08:00Artist's Rant<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Winter Walk Inspiration</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Art has been my main vocation for around 15 years. But art has been a part of my entire life, as least as far back as I can remember. I'm nearly 44 now, so that's a long time as far as I'm concerned.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">I've tried to be lots of things beside being an artist. In fact, at times I'd rather be anything than be an artist. It's not that it hasn't been a great gig. It's not that it hasn't put food on my table, paid my mortgage, and paid for a vacation or two. It's allowed me a flexible schedule and to raise kids first and foremost, and keep most of my sanity by only working part time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">But I'm going to spill a secret, and I'm hoping, just hoping, there may be others that feel the same....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">I don't make art because it's fun. I don't make art because it is always relaxing. I make art because I <b>HAVE</b> to- no, I don't mean just to earn a living, because there are many other career paths I could have taken. When people say they love making art, I do get it. I remember when I was a kid I loved making art. It was and still can be meditation, but attaching the word fun and love to it now isn't quite the right definition. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Being creative is a compulsion for me. It's serious. It's left and right brained work. Maybe that's why I don't mass produce art. It's not about me being perfect...it's about capturing a perfect moment or a message or bringing an idea alive. I create constantly. If I'm not physically creating something, I'm creating in my mind. It is like trying to ignore a perpetual mosquito bite.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">The need to create "beauty" as it is seen through my eyes in that moment is overwhelmingly important. I'm not frenetic about it, I'm actually pretty calm and centered about it. But it has to be done in some manner, in some medium. Like breathing, I just can't not do it. I have a hard time explaining it, even to myself. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why do I do it then? What do I get out of it? </i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I do love being in the present. I love walking, gathering inspiration, seeing the perfection of the natural world. I am in love with that feeling of being in the moment- actually the feeling of after the moment, because when you are in the moment you don't recognize</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> it until you are out of it. The hard part is bringing back that moment and creating something tangible that will invite another to see something maybe they've never REALLY seen before. To help them put on artist eyes for a second and invite them in, and hopefully let them experience a moment of their own.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>What is this desire to capture a moment, a piece of earthly perfection, a lens into my world....which at times doesn't feel like "my" world? </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">When I'm fully immersed I feel like I'm just an instrument sharing a piece of the bigger picture.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm getting pretty deep now. If it's not my world, my work...</span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Whose is it? What is the purpose?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">As an artist I search for answers to these and other questions. I have internal struggles, an internal rebellion, at times feel those "tortured soul" attributes of being an artist. Well, those are my thoughts today.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Rant over...back to creating. </span></div>
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Chellarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975156913808670409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7248457598986682825.post-39196190550437395252014-01-02T21:00:00.001-08:002014-05-30T22:17:04.901-07:00Art-a- Day Challenge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Source: favimages.net<br />
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Today was the 2nd day of the <a href="http://art-a-day.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Art-a-Day</a> challenge. There are numerous versions of this, our local version was started 6 years ago by Bobi Wilson, a Tri-Cities artist.The rules are loose. Create art in your own way every day for the month of January. I missed last years event due to some life challenges but this year am ready to give it a go.<br />
I'm not one to create art without an incentive, challenge or goal. It's difficult sometimes to create art for fun when it's what you do for a living. I could use the art from my regular job but forcing myself to do art for me is a real challenge.<br />
Here are the first my posts for art-a-day:<br />
<a href="http://art-a-day.blogspot.com/2014/01/art-day-let-challenge-begin.html">http://art-a-day.blogspot.com/2014/01/art-day-let-challenge-begin.html</a><br />
<a href="http://art-a-day.blogspot.com/2014/01/textured-canvases.html">http://art-a-day.blogspot.com/2014/01/textured-canvases.html</a><br />
<a href="http://art-a-day.blogspot.com/2014/01/canvases-contd-1032014.html">http://art-a-day.blogspot.com/2014/01/canvases-contd-1032014.html</a><br />
<a href="http://art-a-day.blogspot.com/2014/01/bits-and-pieces-1042013.html">http://art-a-day.blogspot.com/2014/01/bits-and-pieces-1042013.html</a><br />
http://art-a-day.blogspot.com/2014/01/death-art-and-being.html<br />
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<br />Chellarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975156913808670409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7248457598986682825.post-5577583048466295432014-01-02T13:47:00.003-08:002014-05-04T07:45:44.534-07:00Winter Walk Book Art Album<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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I am intrigued by frost. I love the quiet on a cold frosty day. It seems as if nature goes completely silent. There is an eerie, solemn, and desolate feel walking amidst the frost laden landscape. </div>
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On this particular day two years ago, walking through the vineyard of Hedges Estate on Red Mountain, it was 19 degrees and the only sounds were the crunching of my footsteps and gentle breathing. </div>
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It wasn't until this fall that I was inspired to use my pictures. They were beautiful on their own, I needn't paint a picture from them. Sitting in my digital files did not do them justice nor a store bought album. I decided a handmade book would be so much more interesting, maybe an heirloom my family would hold onto.</div>
<img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-GtpDpgjzDuA/UsXFkPis4_I/AAAAAAAAAPE/XemdMOdZcK0/s640/blogger-image--104738752.jpg" width="427"><br>
I started out with store bought handmade paper with unfinished edges. I tore each 13" X 13" sheet into two pieces.<br>
Using black tea, I stained the edges by rubbing the tea bag over the edges. I'm an impatient artist so I used a blow dryer to dry the pages.<br>
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The pages were a bit too antiqued for the pictures. What I was after was a worn feel and something that reflected the colors of dried grass and snow. I covered the pages with gesso leaving some of the tea stained edges untouched.<br>
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I painted on Porcelain Crackle Paint by Perfetto. It has to be used thickly for a deep crackled affect.<br>
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I folded each paper in half and used a dull knife edge to make a crisp fold. I then used a thin jewelry twine to sew each of the folded pages together.<br>
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I used stick flat glue to attach the pictures, finding pictures that complemented each other. I left a page blank to insert an original poem on a future date as I'm trying my hand at calligraphy this winter. My last step was to print a small title onto a piece of vellum and attach to the cover.<br>
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I am so thrilled by the finished product. I'm going to create more book albums like this and maybe expand the idea onto canvases for wall art.</div>
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Chellarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975156913808670409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7248457598986682825.post-78492947088801722372012-03-26T20:04:00.001-07:002012-03-26T20:05:43.578-07:00Latest Works- Go Cougs!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k2qX3PBtMiY/T3Ep2Sa8XHI/AAAAAAAAADI/jK-jm3rc_20/s1600/Cougs+logo+at+Beasley+Coliseum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k2qX3PBtMiY/T3Ep2Sa8XHI/AAAAAAAAADI/jK-jm3rc_20/s320/Cougs+logo+at+Beasley+Coliseum.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EcjgsZKCKR4/T3Ep7zoZk_I/AAAAAAAAADQ/Ty8YLxKialw/s1600/Coliseum+Lettering.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EcjgsZKCKR4/T3Ep7zoZk_I/AAAAAAAAADQ/Ty8YLxKialw/s320/Coliseum+Lettering.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VMWHvuePrGU/T3EqRJ3IWGI/AAAAAAAAADY/3s3WzGe6WMM/s1600/WSU+Lettering.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VMWHvuePrGU/T3EqRJ3IWGI/AAAAAAAAADY/3s3WzGe6WMM/s320/WSU+Lettering.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Last month I was lucky to land a lettering and logo project at <a href="http://www.wsu.edu/" target="_blank">Washington State University</a> in Pullman, Washington in the Beasley Coliseum. Lettering and large logos are hard work but the pay is decent and the reward of creating a large work, although simple in design, is very satisfying.Chellarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975156913808670409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7248457598986682825.post-37013429235672937352012-03-26T19:24:00.001-07:002012-03-26T19:38:54.082-07:007 Year Anniversary!<h3 style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-size: small; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FJmmyAXqNzM/T3Ej_Zs_TXI/AAAAAAAAADA/b2MBbK3bOM0/s1600/Calypso.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FJmmyAXqNzM/T3Ej_Zs_TXI/AAAAAAAAADA/b2MBbK3bOM0/s320/Calypso.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calypso, an early mural, 2005 </td></tr>
</tbody></table><h4><span style="font-size: small;">It's hard to believe it's been 7 years since <a href="http://www.chelldesign.com/" target="_blank">Chell Design </a>(formerly Art by Chell) was launched. It was one of those leaps born out of necessity. Newly separated without a means of support and three kids to raise I had no idea how I was going to do it. I owned <a href="http://www.theyogacommunity.com/" target="_blank">The Yoga Community</a>, but teaching almost every evening and making a profit of $300 a month just wasn't going to work. I had been dabbling in art; painting furniture, drawing and had completed few murals. Art was something I had always done but I always heard the voice in my head, "It's not a real job". One evening I lay in bed pondering what I was going to do and a different voice came booming through loud and clear, "You're an artist...if not now, when?" </span></h4><span style="font-size: small;">Within the next month I sold the yoga studio and opened my art business. It wasn't easy to get a consistent paycheck but I loved having a flexible schedule and the pay was decent when the phone rang. I did any kind of work I could, from painting windows for the holidays in 17 degree weather to painting faces at kids parties. I think my first year I grossed a whole $12,000 and ended up in the red. Today Chell Design offers high end murals and faux finishes, natural science illustration for government projects, large scale handpainted lettering for universities and schools, painted furniture and many other custom works. I can't say there isn't lean times but it's definitely a lot less sketchy! </span></div></h3>Chellarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975156913808670409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7248457598986682825.post-3237671361497337652012-03-14T15:14:00.000-07:002012-03-14T15:14:07.960-07:00The blog challenge...It's always a challenge as an artist to use a new medium or technique and there is none as challenging to me as a new web challenge. Every email campaign, website change, online store set up, etc., just exhausts my left brain. If I can get this blog up and running just the way I like it I'll have won the first battle. The 2nd will be to make the commitment to sharing frequently.<br />
Just changing the colors and and text...phew....I'm sweaty. Enough for day one.Chellarthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02975156913808670409noreply@blogger.com0Kennewick, WA, USA46.2112458 -119.1372337999999946.1731243 -119.2268733 46.2493673 -119.04759429999999