Patti Gibbons Art

I recently gave an artist talk. One of the questions that I had been given in preparation was  “what inspires you to create? “ It  not a simple answer. Or maybe it is.  Everything inspires me.  I told that to my accountant, said that an artist should be able to deduct all life expenses on their taxes.  He looked at me a little oddly and laughed - while shaking is head “no”.  I was serious. Most of my life is run at breakneck speed. I want to do all and feel all and cram all into my reservoir of life experiences.   I  race through the day to get to the next thing, my life scheduled into 30 minute segments.  And then I freak out and scream STOP....  put the brakes on and  S L O W  DOWN,  BE IN THE M O M E N T.    FEEL.     SMELL.     HEAR .  TOUCH.    TASTE. And when I do that, the inspiration reveals itself.  Stories  resonate in between the folds of the cloth, or the slide of an iron. Stories bought to life by little mundane objects that we give no thought to in our busy lives, st

Summer flew by. School started. My days are now fast paced and crammed with so much work. Teaching in NY has changed and all I do it work from dawn till dusk doing stupid paperwork, some of which is a waste of time and proves NOTHING save for the state can make teachers do more.  When will the state start making parents do more? I am still drawing every week in my Abstract Drawing class with Meredith Rosier , producing a body of what some are calling"new surreal colorist art".  I have worked in a surreal manner ever since I was a child, and especially seen in my collage work.  Now it is creeping into my drawings, and  I am  finding my voice in my art making.  It is the most original work that I have made -  most drawings are automatic drawings (meaning they are begun with my eyes closed) and it is created out of a well of lifetime experiences, and sometimes I think the human race's collective experiences; there are times when I feel that the whispers of the an

I have been gone much of July, starting with a trip to Barcelona, Spain, then to Nashville to visit my daughter and grandchildren, finally to paint with Woodstock artist Christie Scheele for four days in Provincetown at the end of Cape Cod. I am home now...but not sure for how long.... It has been a summer where I have had little time to think about my travel phobias; I just put on my big girl panties and did it.  Don't know if it is was the EMDR, getting older and braver, or help from GPS, but I had little if any anxiety about traveling - save for a few instances in Barcelona when 1) I got lost in an immense building and forgot where my friends were sitting in the outside cafes and 2) when I stopped to take a few photos on the street and my friends disappeared around the corner in what was only a few seconds.  I don't speak Spanish, many there did not speak English, and it put me into instant anxiety mode.  I lived through it and eventually found them, and quickly got over

I spent most of Saturday doing chores. 9 am killates, followed by breakfast,  the farmer's market,  dry cleaners,  drug store,  art supply store. By 2 pm I was done. Done from the running around, done from the 96 degree heat. At my last stop my cell phone rings. It is my friend telling me she is at my house and can I meet her  at Michaels. Seems she bought 150.00 worth of canvases, LARGE ONES, at 60% off, and decided that she did not need them.  They were holding them for her there and she needed to either sell them to me, or else return them. Did I want them? HOW BIG? The convertible would not hold the canvases, so I used the CRV, Larry's car, the one WITHOUT A/C (and it isn't that we don't have the money to fix it, it is just that he never has bothered to get it fixed...) and crankily headed over to Michaels, an arts/crafts "box store" that I try to avoid. In the end, it was well worth it.  Six 24" x 36", and two 36" x 48" heav

I felt like I was giving birth, digging up the garlic with my little spade this morning before the heat of the day hit.  I pushed away the fall leaves, dug carefully around the head, making sure I did not dig into the head. I then lifted under the roots, breaking them up a bit,  and lifted the entire head out of the ground, gently knocking excess dirt off, without disturbing the head. The garlic is of the hard neck variety, and is called "Music". Planted late last fall, this was my first garlic crop.  The cloves came courtesy of a good friend - Woodstock Occupy Congress Ross -  who had the cloves and  nowhere to plant them..so they he made a special ride up from NJ to  plant them in one of my raised beds while the light was fading one cold autumn day. He left them to my care, and I felt like a mother hen, mulching them for the long cold winter, and then fretting in the spring when the greens were up and we had multiple frosts.  Somehow it all worked out, and according t

I wrote this story in a curriculum training yesterday.  It was a story that I would not have remembered if it were not for the fact that I had to write a prompt, and being my smart-ass self, I wrote down the word bra.  I ended up using my own prompt to write, and this is what happened.  Oh, and I made the card last week. So apropos for the blog! I think that every little girl dreams about their first bra.  I dreamed about it for years. As I entered fifth grade, there were girls who started “developing” and their mothers bought them their first bras, which were proudly seen through their white Catholic School peter-pan collared shirts. I, on the other hand, still wore undershirts. When I moved up into Jr. High, into a new school in the Catskills, I looked forward to wearing my first bra. But my mother took one look at me and said: “you don’t need one yet”  I was forced to keep wearing undershirts.  And frustrated with my body that seemed to be permanently in the pubescant stag

Tonight's photo was shot while I was riding down Broadway at sunset.  Taken with my Droid, cropped in Photoshop, and special sepia effects in Vintage Scene, one of my fave iMac photo apps.  I love how the car looks like it is flying through the air. You can get some pretty interesting shots while shooting from a moving car.  And ahem, I was a passenger...though I have been known to do a few drive-by shootings, lol. 

Seven years ago I had an accident that changed my life forever. And my body.  And it's shape. Summer vacation, the year of Katrina.  Had an appointment with the mechanic, the skin doctor, and  something else.  Cup of coffee in hand, wearing a perky blue skirt, and those oh-so-pretty new leather Gap sandals.  Down the stairs I flew, clack clack clack of the leather on the wood. At the bottom stair I went flying though the air, landed on my ankle, and when all was said and done, my ankle was at a very odd angle and turning blue.  And pain that made childbirth look like a head cold. The doctor said:  "Tri-malleolar fracture. Too swollen to operate. Will do surgery in three days." Which later I was told equated: "you have the worst bone breaks a person can have."   I ended up with two plates and a dozen screws patching up my leg and ankle bones. It took 6 months to walk again and a few years to get rid of the limp.  And the pain...... Since then I can no

It has been a long time since I have taken up writing on a regular basis. I have come to accept that I can't do it all, but with school having let out, I have more time to do that which I had given up, and then some. Tonight's photos are a newly published group from a mini-series I did called "Tears Along the Hudson".  Let me start out by stating I AM NOT A PHOTOGRAPHER.  It is my husband's medium, and he has taught me much about seeing, shooting, and expressing myself through that medium.  I use it for documentation and as reference for my art, or to post my art on various social media sites.  But once in a while, the magic happens. And I can shoot hundreds of photos before I get "the one".  The five shown here were culled from 40 shots. I guess one out of 8 ain't bad...but good thing this is not film...at the cost of developing these days! The story: I had just gotten my new Droid prior to a trip I was making to NYC to visit som

I went to my local bi-annual postcard show Sunday morning, where three hours melted away as I poured through stacks of papers, photographs, and cards in search of affordable images that I use in my card designs. One of my favorite postcards is this one from the early 1900's....and is the epitome of spring. I need to have new ephemera to design with. I get tired looking over what I already have, and need new blood. Plus, it feeds my secret ephemera obsession, and the hunt is a hoot.  This weekend I am going to be partaking in the NYFA (New York Foundation of the Arts) Mark '12 program, which is a boot camp for artists, writiers, musicians, etc.  to help set goals for the professional and marketing side of our art professions.  I was one of 40 accepted participants in the program; the universe knows I am ready to plan my future and I look forward to the hard but necessary work that I have to do.  The first night is at the Hudson Opera House, Saturday's event is held a

I just finished my vacation book "Fifty Shades of Grey".  My friend had suggested that it was a good trashy vacation type read, and I have to say I totally agree.  For those of you whom know nothing about the book, don't read it if you are squeamish about sex.   I do have to say, I prefer the writings of Miller, Nin, and Lawrence to this novel, but it was a mindless read that was like reading the romance novels of my youth: Georgette Heyer fused with The Story of O. Which is why this card that I made cracks me up, because I made it before I read the book...and like ALL of my work, has multiple meanings.  You never knew a card could be so deep! This card will be featured in my Nursery Crimes Etsy  shop, where all my cards with an edge go.... And before I forget and get into the story behind the card, my narrative collages and encaustic/oil landscapes and my handmade cards are now being carried by Bumble and Hive in Rhinebeck, NY.   (it is a Facebook page link as thei

I miss writing. It's been over a month since I wrote last, probably the longest period of time I have ignored this blog since I started it some 5 or so years ago. But you can't be a full time teacher, a full time artist, a wife, a mother/grandmother/friend without giving something up. And it has been writing and....uh, exercising. So today is sort of MY "New Year".  I went to the gym is my slightly over tight gym clothes to work out, wondering if there is ANY hope of getting this doughy body into some sort of shape before bathing suit season, which even though we have had a hot spell, is some three months away.  I am going to be putting on a suit next week in Louisiana, but there no one will see me or know me, so I am safe.   I hit the tanning salon too because I have this fantasy that a tan doughy body is sexier than a pale white one. The only problem is that the tanning leads to more wrinkles, which just makes me shake my head and say, "how did this happe

Two of my abstract pencil/pastel drawings can be found at the Woodstock Artists Asso. and Museum, in Woodstock NY.  In the small works show is the blog photo depicting my drawing "The Intruders"  which hangs below artist  Elin Menzes' dragonfly painting.  I love her work and bought a monoprint of a bat for Larry at one of the WAAM shows. I love abstract drawing, as I feel it is the most "authentic" art that comes out of me. Though it isn't a portrayal of a "real" landscape, it is a landscape of my mind, as my teacher reminds us. I am still painting landscapes/trompe l'oeil, but I like exploring non objective/abstract art, learning the vocabulary involved in making it, and seeing what lies within me.   I don't know where it will take me, but that's part of the fun of the journey....just going with the flow... Off to finish my school work. Though I rarely watch TV, I am going to watch the Grammys while I finish off some work.  I l

I went on a 2.5 mile hike on the rail trail, which is an old railroad track bed that runs between Kingston and New Paltz and perhaps even beyond.  I have never walked the path in the winter, nevermind the end of January, but with the temps near 50, and the sun shining through a thin blanket of spotty clouds, I donned my waterproof muck boots and a few layers of fleece and headed out with my best friend.    The ground was not frozen, and only small patches of snow dotted the woods. In the cooler shady parts  there were patches of ice, but a majority of the trail was mushy and muddy.  The little streams that run along side the trail were full, and the ice on the areas that pooled and on the beaver pond were thin and you could see where an animal had nearly gone in.  It was very odd, and though the effects of global warming are not good, such as the release of methane through the thinning artic ice, and endangering species of animals, etc., we looked on the brighter side of a

I have a page on Facebook, called Art for the 99%.  I also have a page for Patti Gibbons Art, and then my own Facebook page, each one serving a slightly different purpose.  I also have three stores on Etsy, because they consist of three different facets of my art.  1) the art  2) the stuff the art is made with 3) the naughty left of center art/cards. I can't just stick with one thing in my art or my life because I have some many things that I do and   love.  It's just all so EXCITING. Of course, it does make for a complicated life at time. But back to the Art for the 99% .  It is a page that is primarily used for  feng shui-ing out  art so that I can make room to make new pieces AND to be able to keep income rolling in so that the studio propane bill can be paid.  So far I have moved a few paintings this way, and their owners are delighted . I am happy that they are happy and I go back to the studio to make more more more.  The painting of the month, which is posted a

Tonight Larry and I stripped the Christmas tree of its tin and glass icicles and  ornaments. I am always sad to put them away.  I find delight and comfort in the twinkle of the white lights, the glow from the tree topper that dances across the ceiling, sips of glugg, and nibbles of cookies and chocolate on long cold winter nights.  Tonight was the end of the glugg, and the end of the tree. I am already planning on what to put up next to help get us through another cold month.  Perhaps a valentine tree made from a branch from a fallen tree in the woods, decked with lights and handmade valentines.  Maybe candles, and flowers in bud vases along the mantle.  Maybe I will leave up some garland to decorate......and make some raspberry Linzer Tarts. Something, oh something to bring charm, delight, surprise and some magic to the last few months of winter.  Oh where oh where are those valentines......... (top photo by Moi, and the bottom by Larry)

I was heading out to meet a friend for happy hour at a local bar after a very long week for both of us. The wind had kicked up, and the temps were dropping below freezing.  What was once the norm,was an unusually cool evening this winter.  I sported a knit vest, an extra layer of warmth (which I can ditch when I have a hot flash), and it needed that "something extra" to keep it closed for insulation.  I scurried to my bedroom to scour my pin collection for one that fit my mood and my outfit. As I gazed at my pins which were scattered upon my dresser, pinned to an antique piece of lace, and to a hat I made for High Falls Crazy Bingo night, I waxed nostalgic on the stories that each one held. There lay the 40th birthday gift from my dear friend Denise, a faux ivory etching, showing a Renaissance-style hand of an artist drawing a beautiful sun.  Pinned to the band of my Bingo hat, front and center, was the pin from my girl friend who died of cervical cancer when sh

I have been very happy where I have lived for the past 20 years, in a simple, 1600+ sq ft. colonial revival home nestled in a fabulous neighborhood located in a small city a few miles from the Hudson River.  It is amply decorated with family heirlooms and garage sale finds, and lots of  art. I have a lovely studio in half of my garage,  a decent yard with 7 raised beds where we attempt to grow as much as we can on our little piece of earth.  It is enhanced by cottage style gardens with flowers and veggies mixed in.  But lately Larry and I have been toying with the idea of moving further north, to the area where Thomas Cole and Frederick Church spent their life painting the majesty of the Hudson Valley and Catskill Mountains.  Larry's family is up there, and we are very close.  The area is beautiful, nostalgic, and inspirational.  And it is filled with lovely historic homes. We have to be able to trade the value of our house for another home, preferably a house with

Yesterday's reading boiled down to: Get Rid of the Baggage so that you can be peaceful, and get to the next level in life. It is a lesson I have to frequently learn. I think it is part of the human condition, to carry around baggage, whether it is emotional or physical.  There is an odd comfort in that baggage, even if it keeps us back from what we want or need to do, or to be happy. I had to examine my life for a few moments, to see where I am most jammed up.  Right now,  it is  my career.  I am at a major turning point, whether by fate or by decision.  For certain I know it  involves change - and I have to keep in mind that change is not always bad.  Fear needs to be left outside the door so that I can go forward with grace, trust in myself, and that all will be well. I also have a cluttered and disorganized house.  Job clutter, art clutter, bills and paperwork clutter.  After a crazy day at work, I want to come home to visual tranquility.    It isn't always there. 

After my sister and her family left following our Christmas/New Year celebration,  I took a few moments to reflect upon the first day of the New Year.  I spent a few moments to read first installment of The Book of Awakening. Day #1:  rejoice in being a unique and special human being, and be aware - of the magic/joy/mystery/beauty of it all. I sat and reminisced about the day that I had just experienced with my family, a dopey grin spread across my face.   It was a day of Santa coming, opening presents, playing with presents, , having a snack-fest, more play, more food.  The children were deeply integrated into the fun and the house was filled with noise and laughter. We  played like the children did, silly in our antics and trickery. I walked away from my day, elated with the joy of play and laughter.  It was contagious.  A houseful of happy laughing people is a wonderful event, it is true celebration of the human spirit at its best.  And what makes it even more precious, is t