In an idyllic world, I have equal time and attention to give to all friends. But reality is not so gracious.

This morning, an unexpected message on our answering machine left me emotionally gasping for air. In order to respond to it effectively would mean cancelling a prior commitment with a friend. I called her at the very last minute to cancel. Ouch.

Did I feel terrible about cancelling? Yes. Was that friend gracious and understanding? Yes. Was I available for everyone today? No.

Momentum and emotion propelled me further into the day; that and a quick prayer. One thing led to another, and another, and it ended up that people and situations just fell into the hours — in a good way. Inch by inch, row by row, everything was truly coming up roses.

The timing for all of these little details to fall into place moment after moment was nothing short of mind blowing to be a part of — it felt like I was a bystander in my own life. I couldn’t have possibly planned it. I’m not that organized.

It’s hard to write a good beginning, especially when the one doing the writing doesn’t really have anything of value to say. It doesn’t seem to stop some people, though. They keep writing and writing. And me? I keep reading and reading….hoping, just hoping that something important will be said; something inspiring or challenging or intellectually stimulating. Alas, there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. The supposed charmed life one is attempting to read about is both full and vacuously empty at the same time.

Some writings I devour, being fed morsel after tasty morsel, a carefully selected turn of phrase here and there like the the meal I occasionally dream about from Brennan’s — turtle soup spiked with sherry, pecan crusted trout, maque choux, and green beans, finished with a handful of pralines stuffed in my pocket on the way out the door as, by then, I’m usually too full to eat another bite. The authors who offer a full course meal like that — those are the authors I want to read.

Other writings taste like a mouthful of dry plaster, not that I’m speaking from experience or anything. I’m just imagining. Because try as I might, there are just some writings that I can’t even chew, much less swallow. Self centered self righteous whiny writers are the worst sort — and they are everywhere these days. In fact, the very nature of keeping a blog, regardless of content, lends itself to self introspection with a glass of whine. And though this is designed to be a blog about the artistic process with regards to my life, and a seemingly innocuous way to promote myself, that’s just it. I am promoting myself. Which hopefully, if anyone is still reading by this point, doesn’t ALWAYS taste like a mouthful of plaster, though I really don’t know what that tastes like. Honest.

This precious little girl is as delightful and effervescent as she is beautiful. This is the (almost) final rendition of her portrait which her grandmother commissioned me to paint four months ago.

Regular readers know that this portrait commission has been quite a struggle over these last few months. Hours and hours have gone into this commission — too many to count. But with determination, and armed with a preponderance of time and quiet this past week, I spent several more full days working and re-working this portrait. It’s basically done, but at this point, I’ll let it dry for several weeks and tweak small things here and there. (The red paints always take longer to fully dry.) After the surface is dry, I’ll sign it.

It’s with a grateful and contented heart that I’m happy to report being very pleased with the mostly finished result. The Amazing Reese likes it, too.

Last night, after a full day of focused work, I took time out to go to the opening of Patrick Palmer‘s Works on Paper exhibit at Houston Community College. Patrick taught the one class I’ve ever taken at Glassell, a life drawing class. Patrick patiently and graciously explained, for a whole semester, things about art I had never before heard.

The earrings and necklace I’m wearing in the photo were designed by Karen Olds, who donated them to a fundraiser for a mutual friend of ours, Sam VanBibber, who has breast cancer. Sam can’t work for a while, so a bunch of her friends got together to raise money for her living expenses.

The pearls in the necklace and earrings set are spaced such that when wearing them, it feels like I’m wearing a constellation.

So I meet this guy at the opening reception, who did a double take on my name, and said, “Sarah Hazel? Like the color of my eyes – hazel?” (while pulling down his lower eyelid and leaning in so that I could see.) “How’d you get a name like that?” “Well,” I said, “I married into it.” At which point he reaches down and holds up my left hand to survey that yes, indeed, my ring finger is occupied. He then asks, “Are ya happy with him?” At my “Yes, very happy. You would like him, too” answer, he kicks an imaginary rock and asks, “Are ya sure?”

Later in our conversation, when I found out that he teaches art appreciation at HCC, I immediately said, “Oh! You taught my daughter, Hilary Hazel, last semester.” He then pauses, and takes a long, studied look from the top of my gray head to the tip of cowboy boots and back, and then says, “It figures. You would be Red’s mom.” Then, bless his heart, he tried one more time, “Are ya sure you’re happy with this fella?” (while pointing at my ring finger.) To which I replied, “Yes, and once you meet him you’ll understand why. Everybody loves the Amazing Reese.”

Though there are no photos of my recent portrait commission painting flops for you, the gentle reader to see, they stare at me every time I go in the studio. It’s been so frustrating to not be able to figure out how to make the “flops” right — even to the point of wondering if I even know how to paint AT ALL. I’m this close to apologising profusely and giving the patron back her down payment. Only a huge chunk of it has already been spent on supplies for the flops so I would have to come up with some cash to make up the difference. Not cool.

But today….today Hilary agreed to pose for me, God bless her. Not quite remembering how to begin, it was a shaky start. Hilary was patient, even encouraging.

When I paint from a photograph, my technique is different. It’s easier to take more time sketching and measuring to make sure that the proportions are correct, and noses, lips and eyes are in the right place. So far, when painting people from life, I have to find the person’s space first. And then sketch a loose outline.

And when that’s mostly well adjusted, start adding color and re-define the outline, shadows, highlights over and over and over.

Without a doubt, the portrait commission has been whipping my tail – very discouraging, but painting today was a different story.

It was at about this point in the painting process this afternoon, that I thanked Hilary for the 45th time, and realized that TODAY – RIGHT NOW – was a wonderful, even fantastic experience. With a heart full of emotion, I burst into tears right in the middle of painting.

Hilary tried hard not to laugh, but I didn’t care. My whole mind, body, soul, and spirit was filled to the brim with gratitude.

And this is it. This is beyond my understanding. Painting today was a true gift from the Creator. There’s no other way to explain it.

I’ll adjust some things over the next few days. The background is still in an incomplete state. Her nose and skin tones here and there might need some re-adjustment, but for the most part, this is it.

Though no longer in my custody, the new owners have graciously allowed me to maintain visiting rights to this painting, Harmony in Flesh Tones and Pink – Astrid….which will be slightly difficult, since this painting now lives in Paris, France.

Au revoir, until we meet again….some day.

¿Cuánto cuesta? means “how much does it cost” in Spanish.

If it hasn’t been said before, it should have been — I love win wins. Right now, a friend and I are bartering services. She gets child care from me on Wednesdays for her precious five year old twins, and I get some light carpentry work (provided through her) done on the house. It’s a win win for us both. In fact, because her kiddos are so sweet, I’m probably getting more out of it than she is….(but don’t tell her that.)

Some of the carpentry work is being done in the art studio. In what I consider the highest of compliments, one of the Spanish speaking workers loves my art and wants his portrait painted by yours truly. It’s perfect timing because I’ve postponed getting serious about starting a portrait series as previously mentioned here and here. It’s past time to get busy.

In a different time space continuum, I’m independently wealthy and can give give give to my heart’s content. But in this life, right now, I can’t; to paint is costly, and so I was trying to come up with a creative barter so that we could create a win win for him to get his portrait painted and for me to get something out of the deal, too. Such as, we work together to paint the living room and dining room walls in exchange for the portrait (which he would keep) — or something like that. Only he didn’t like that idea. OK, so what does he think is a fair exchange? How much should it cost him? And how much should it cost me? What is fair for us both? Ideas anyone?

This is Francoise. She is my dear friend from France. Until this week, I hadn’t seen her in over two years. I love her. Her daughter is the subject of one of my most commented on paintings which has also one won a first place and peoples choice award in two separate art shows.

This morning, we went to the Menil Collection, a vast array of art gathered largely by the late French American philanthropist, Dominique de Menil. The Menil has an impressive collection of surrealist paintings, of whom Rene Magritte is my favorite. Neither of us remember the name of the painting in the photo….

….which we snapped just before the guard told us that no photos were allowed. Oops.

For a semi relaxing weekend get-away, Reese and I drove up to east Texas to his mom’s side of the family’s lake house. It’s not so much of a lake house as it is a lake cabin. The most accurate description of the cabin is that it’s VERY rustic…rustic and charming.

Honestly, we don’t go up there enough. Life, especially weekends, get so full, and before we know it, it’s been a whole year or more between visits.

In spite or perhaps because of the rusticness, I love cooking in this kitchen. For this meal, we had black bean chicken simmered in rum and salsa, mexican calabasita squash cooked in butter and onions, sweet potato slices coated with olive oil, salt, and pepper, thin tortilla chips, served with Saint Arnold Elissa IPA and Monte Oton Garnacha red wine, AND home made (from scratch — the best kind) brownies for dessert…..

….which we ate on the screened porch while enjoying this view of the lake.

Yes, it was hot, especially when the wind stopped. No, I did not take my paints or canvases. Yes, we took the ukulele and guitar but sadly, no, we did not play them. Yes, we sailed on the lake. Well, Reese sailed. I was tethered to the sailboat and floated along behind the Amazing Reese on a chair raft type thing — super fun. No, we did not take Skipper the dog, poor thing. Yes-can-you-believe-it, we slept for 11 hours one night! Yes, as often happens after a “vacation,” I’m still tired. Yes-thank-you, Reese and I both enjoyed it.

The beauty of this painting? Reuben will never see it. Because of the enormous amount of trouble I’m having with my newest latest portrait commission, I painted Reuben as a confidence builder.

As mentioned before, portrait commissions are difficult for several reasons….the artist, first and foremost, has to please the person who commissioned the painting, the artist has to please the subject of the painting, and the artist has to please, in my case, herself.

Reuben did not commission me to paint this. Reuben will never see this painting. And, even in this state, (not sure what to do about the background,) I like it.

The portrait commission? It has hit another snag. I’m getting ready to start a third version and see how that goes. Oh, well.