Ready to Shelve your Dreams and Give Up?

(Book cover illustration -- "Madison Morgan: When Dogs Blog, by Pam Torres)

Have you reached that point in your career where you're ready to put it all behind you? Perhaps your business hasn't taken off as you expected. You may be putting in the time without seeing results. The numbers may not be adding up. Your exposure hasn't brought the sales. It isn't that you're not working your tail off. It's that your emotional and physical stamina may be waning.

Don't give up just yet. This could be the lull before the storm when things begin to pick up. Or it may be that you have more to give than you think.

Examine your initial business plan. Is there something you can tweak? Are you putting in as much time to develop your business as you did in the beginning when you were full of enthusiasm? Is your lack of success a clue that your approach needs to be modified for a changing market?

(Illustration for "Madison Morgan")

Self-examination is imperative. Are you giving it all you've got or are you worn out? Do you simply need some motivation and inspiration? This is why sales conferences and group think were invented. Perhaps you need a "jolt out-of-the-blue" from an uninvolved mentor to take a look at what you can no longer see. Is there something you're missing? What could you do differently?

When we dig in our heels and refuse to seek help either from stubbornness or independence, we may lose the opportunity that could make all the difference. Even an honest appraisal, although brutal, may at least help us in the vital decision making.

There is no shame in defeat if you've done all you can to succeed. Chalk it up to experience and try again. Successful business owners fail many times before they finally succeed. A new product, a new partner, a new approach may provide the winning key that opens the door to success.

(Two mischievous boys get their comeuppance)

If you believe deeply in your own success, even discouragement will not deter your efforts. But if you're teetering on the brink of shelving everything you've worked for you definitely need an objective expert to either confirm or negate that opinion.

I heard the billionaire Mark Cuban say on Shark Tank that the most important component of a successful business was to love what you do. Without that driving force a business may crumble in on itself. But with a fiery passion eventually you're sure to succeed. Even if your first business fails, your vigorous efforts provide the needed steps for your next attempt. Effort and vision are never wasted.

(Back cover of "Madison Morgan")

Sensory Encounter -- Access to Museums and Galleries for the disabled

Every grade school usually has a time for experiencing the arts. Most of us can remember the fun of finger painting: how it felt, slimy and cool to the touch; how it smelled, and some of us even how it tasted. We learned the basics of creativity and how to cover the slick white paper with fingerprint smears in less than five seconds flat

Learning is always enhanced when we stimulate our five senses with color, sound, smell, taste and touch. For hundreds of years, the art experience has only been for the few.  It has only been in recent years that museums, art galleries and nature have been made available for the sensory impaired and the disabled.

My first exposure to a tactile garden prepared specifically for those who were blind was in Minnesota. Here the seeing impaired visitor was able to touch and smell the leaves, petals and stems without fear of being pricked by a thorn. Some plants were there specifically for the tasting. Walkways were kept unobstructed and safe so people could walk, use a wheelchair or sit down to rest.

Unfortunately, most museums don’t allow touching of sculptures and galleries discourage the touching of paintings because the oils from our skin may eventually leave a soiled mark that promotes disintegration. People are generally curious and want to touch areas of sheen and smoothness or patches that look rough even though it may be an illusion. Today more and more cities are opening sensory gardens and museum areas where disabled children and adults may enjoy acoustics, music, fragrance, light, and texture.

(Seeing impaired students are allowed to feel texture)

 From "Magical Gardens for the Blind, Deaf, and Disabled" The Daily Beast, by Elizabeth Piciuto

 “When I walk into the Stephen Knolls School’s greenhouse, cheerfully bright even on an overcast day, the humidity frizzes my hair into a delirious halo. The school’s principal, Kim Redgrave, is explaining the school’s gardening program to me when three boys who are maybe 10 to 12 years old join us. Two of them are in wheelchairs. The third walks unsteadily, led by a grown-up holding his hand. I try to catch the eye of this third boy, but he plops down onto a stool and avoids my gaze. I turn to one boy who rewards me with a giant, hammy smile.

“They are here to measure their plants,” explains their teacher. From the looks of the seedlings in their plastic pots, the boys have planted their seeds just a few weeks ago, and they are growing vigorously.

“Just a few years ago, I hate to admit that in my total ignorance of disability, I would have assumed that these boys were barely aware of their environments. More attuned, I now see how all three boys become absorbed in their plants’ progress.

“Reams of research demonstrate that gardens and plant care can help students with disabilities develop crucial knowledge, skills, emotional regulation, and self-reliance: those with less intensive disabilities, more intensive disabilities, cognitive disabilities, physical disabilities. Even children without disabilities, for that matter, experience the same benefits. 

“Spending time in gardens can reduce the need for medication in children with ADHD,” Sachs pointed out, even after walks that last just 20 minutes.

“As a result of this research, there has been a growing movement to include what are known as “sensory gardens” in many schools for children with disabilities, as well as many botanical gardens in children’s hospitals. Sensory gardens are gardens that are designed not only to be accessible to people with disabilities, such as having winding paths appropriate for wheelchairs, but to “systematically and sensitively nourish the five basic senses,” says Amy Wagenfeld, professor of occupational therapy at Rush University and one of the authors of the forthcoming bookTherapeutic Gardens: Design for Healing Spaces. Such gardens provide opportunities to see, smell, touch, listen to—and sometimes taste—plant life and garden fixtures, such as scented herbs, smooth river rocks, or velvety lamb’s ears.” 

“In a workshop using scent in art, I learned that the same scent can smell differently if given a different label, such as cheese or vomit; or by changing the color of lights in an olfactory art sculpture from red to blue. In the round table "Putting Theory into Practice," several museum curators and educators, spoke about personalizing the museum experience and creating multisensory exhibits. John Bramblitt, an artist who lost his sight, had to find new ways to do his art again by using other senses and art materials. He brought in some of his paintings, where I was able to feel the contrast of a smooth plastic background and the raised ridges of his acrylic paint.

“The last day of the conference, I went on a verbal description and touch tour at the Whitney Museum, led by Danielle Linzer, where we viewed an abstract painting, "The Magnificent," by Richard Pousette-Dart, which we were able to touch after donning silk gloves. I was amazed by the amount of texture I could feel on the painting, which I was unaware of when I just looked at the piece.” 

 Japanese sensory museum http://youtu.be/pCcIbL0AyCo 

Opening of the exhibition "Sensory Journey" , conception and paintings by Silvana Di Martino, photos by Michel Versepuy and music soundtrack by Denis Barbier. in Paris 2011 the 13th of October. at the space Altura near La Bastille.

The exhibition presents a new concept, "the synaesthetic exhibition". What is a synaesthetic exhibition, you might ask? Well, it is a physical experience of sensory signals interacting with each other (visual, auditory, olfactory, tactile and gustative). 

By simulating sensations, other senses are awakened and brought to life. The paintings were meant to be touched and observed.   http://youtu.be/5-f9m40qhlQ

 

Most museums and art galleries have “do not touch signs” everywhere. Try it and you’ll find a docent or guide looking over your shoulder “Do not touch the paintings,” they warn which is why these sensory gardens, galleries and museums are catching on everywhere.

You’ll enjoy this video. “Good Mythical Morning” “Don’t Touch the Art.” \Gotta’ love these guys! http://youtu.be/IbT7xNf9zXQ 

Beyond the Highways and Byways – a Journey of Heart and Soul

"Arabesque" oil on canvas

The above canvas was painted from a pond near my home. The birds were those I see fluttering in and out almost every day; the great egrets and the snowy egrets. Herons come frequently as do anhinga and the little blues (small herons); but I wanted white birds against the dark water.

When someone told me that my work reminded them of the Highwaymen of early Florida, I thought it was a backhanded insult. The Highwaymen were unschooled black people who taught themselves to paint and then sold their wares on the cheap to tourists driving along the roadways and trails.

 For the most part, I was a self-taught artist much like them. Finally, their work has gained the recognition it deserves. According to their web site, “The Florida Highwaymen Artists” were the start of Florida's contemporary art tradition, and are credited for the beginning of the "Indian River School" art movement.

“They developed their own individual techniques and captured waterscapes, back country marshes, and inlets the way they once were before recent tourism developments.

“From the beginning, there were people who collected Florida Highwaymen art and paintings. However only in recent years has the recognition of their skill and their story caused their paintings to skyrocket in value.  In 2004, twenty-six individuals were inducted into the Florida Artists Hall of Fame as "Florida Highwaymen."

To read their names go to this link:  http://www.floridahighwaymenpaintings.com/highwaymen_artists

Artists who work hard for their degrees and accolades often resent the success of those who are less educated than they . The work of self-taught artists as they struggle to improve their skill through error and practice is sometimes looked upon with a critical eye and disdain. Like the highwaymen of the past, these artists may not have the funds or wherewithal for supplies let alone education.

I became acquainted with an African artist who asked if I could purchase some brushes and send them to him. He had been painting on brown paper bags for lack of a canvas. Some use wood from nearby palm trees or they paint on shells or other natural surfaces from their environment.

Painters in Iraq and other war torn countries face the same difficulties. Yet their artwork is vibrant, sometimes shocking, and unquestionably moving. When will we mature enough as artists to recognize that art is communication? It represents who we are, what we feel and what we have experienced.

Art can teach us about other people in a way that words cannot. Whether it’s the beauty we see that we wish to share, or the pain and anguish of a broken world, or the loss of a loved one. 

How we experience art tells us a lot about ourselves. Do we recognize beauty for what it is or does our critical eye keep us from hearing the message? Are we able to see beyond cultural barriers into the soul of another? Do our prejudices produce a wall instead of a door? Do we see the “thorn on the rose” rather than the bloom?

"Window on Pine Island" Oil on wrapped canvas.

Those Inevitable Signs of Aging: Cellulite, Age Spots, and Wrinkles!

"Emma" a drawing I did for her 93rd birthday

The ugly truth is out! Unless you have a bank account like Jane Fonda or Cher, eventually you’re going to fade, rumple and sag. The time will come when you can’t hide your age behind a Mu Mu or a Caftan. Bye and bye gravity takes its toll.

The idea for this article came to me while I was ironing. It’s a chore I hate and one I do as little of as possible; but, hey, the fashions of spring and summer seem to require a good press in spite of the “no fuss” labels.

If there's any compensation for pressing out those wrinkles, it has to be the upper arm exercise required to push my outdated steel steam iron across my tottering ironing board. They’re both almost as old as I am.

"A Joyful Heart" 9 x 12 pastel drawing

When elephants get wrinkled and leathery it’s quite fashionable. Their tough skinned outer wrapping protects them from assault and predators. Unlike human beings, the oldest elephants in the herd are given respect and power. They’re not ignored or put out to pasture just because their old.

Older people are difficult to draw or paint. Some artists use lines for wrinkles which makes them harsher and more unattractive than they need to be. Shading will produce a more subtle result. By highlighting the highest skin areas on either side of the shading, you get a softer wrinkle.

"Pansy's Pride" 9 x 12 pastel drawing

My husband and I recently had our photograph taken. The photographer asked us if we’d like a “touch up.”

“How much?” I asked him.

“$60,” he quipped; “but it will remove spots, wrinkles, and even the sag under your chin.

Humph, I thought to myself. The proofs looked pretty good to me. 

“I want my children and grandchildren to recognize me,” I said as I added a disgusted “No, thanks!”

Why are we so afraid of aging? Why do we treat our seniors and middle-aged population as if they were no longer worthy? No longer capable of holding a job?  

We should equate aging with wisdom. Knowledge and experience are nothing to sneeze at.

I’m saddened by our youth obsessed culture. The young and the beautiful seem to live from one high to the next either drug induced or through exaggerated self adulation. The newspapers record their escapades and their fall as if none of it really matters, but it does.

We only have one life to live. I for one am trying to make the most of it – wrinkles, sags and all!

(My sweetie and I "warts and all!)

Thiis Artist’s Heart is at one with the Earth

"Sand Crane Dreams" acrylic on canvas

I was a tomboy growing up. I preferred monkey bars or playing cowboys and Indians to playing with dolls. When my mother couldn’t find me, I was usually up a tree, literally. I viewed every tree as a challenge that must be conquered.

My favorites were the mulberry trees that grew near our street. I’d straddle a branch and stuff my face with unwashed mulberries until their semi-tart taste had satisfied my sweet tooth. When someone walked beneath me, unaware of my presence, I felt all knowing and powerful.

From up here, I could see into adjoining yards. I knew who was home and who wasn’t. It was a hiding place where childish secrets could be discovered and shared later when the time was right. It also gave me space and time to ponder the wonders of the world and my place in it.

"Beach Buddies" mixed media on canvas

In those days I often ran around in my underpants, especially on hot summer days. Once while helping my mother with the ironing, I burned an elongated triangle on my mid-section. That was the last time I ironed without being fully clothed.

The next day, dressed in a sun top and a pair of shorts, the burn now covered with a still-wet scab, I climbed a wide-spreading oak tree. By this time my legs were so long it was easy to step from one branch to another and scale to the highest gnarled branches.

In the process of climbing, I scraped my midriff against the rough bark peeling back the scab and revealing a seeping red sore. The pain was excruciating. I scrambled down so fast I turned my ankle when I hit the ground running for comfort and a bandage.

(My daughter, Paula's, poster she created for her art classes)

I once scaled a tree so high I was afraid to come down. My mother’s younger sister scolded me at the foot of the tree and demanded I come down the same way I went up. Although we were close in age, she was my aunt, and she loved to Lord that over me. If I didn’t do what she said, she was sure to tattle to my mother.

I don’t know what happened to the girl I once was? Later in life, I was afraid of heights. I wonder now if the scolding’s and threats I received put a fear in me that I later associated with heights?

At any rate, as a teen I climbed to the top of a water tank and then was afraid to descend the ladder and come down. This was the first time in my life I’d been afraid of heights. Later, I cured my fears by rock climbing, repelling and experiencing a zip line. I discovered that as long as I focused on the cliff (or my goal), I was unafraid.

(The mountains where I grew up)

I continue to love nature in all of its splendor. There’s nothing like the freshness of pine mingled with the smells of frying bacon and potatoes or fresh caught fish on a crisp morning in the mountains. I celebrate still the wonder of God’s glory in every sunrise and sunset. I rejoice as an artist in the finite beauty and detail that I’m privileged to paint.

Gum Shoeing Your Way to Success – Rules of Engagement

In years gone by, detectives were referred to as “gum shoes.” The nickname stuck because they wore rubber or crepe soled shoes as they stealthily crept into dark shadows to pursue a suspect.

Gum shoe cops were thorough and diligent. Their persistence didn’t let up until “they had their man.” Failure was not an option. Their stick-to-itiveness led to their success.

When I first stumbled onto the term “gum shoe,” I thought of the time I’d stepped on a glob of bubble gum in a parking lot. Try as I may, that hunk of pink refused to come off of my shoe and followed me in florescent strings across the hot asphalt.

Much like a trail of toilet paper that sticks to your shoe and betrays where you’ve been, the things we do in life, the places we go and the choices we make leave a trail of evidence behind us. Some might call that trail character; others may refer to it as reputation. Our chances for success get better and better as our trail of credits and experience become stronger and more reliable.

Sometimes even with our best efforts we “stick our foot in it.” After all, we’re only human. When I was a kid, I remember how smart and independent I felt at times. A real “know it all,” my mom would say.

One summer I was playing with my older cousins in my aunt’s pasture. They were showing off, stomping on crusty cow pies. They were fearless daredevils, or so I thought. Their secret was to choose only those pies that were “seasoned” or dry.

Well, I wasn’t going to let them out do me. Although I was only five, I began stomping with the best of them. Unfortunately, I was wearing a shiny pair of black patent leather shoes with white stockings and lace cuffs.

My first cow pie, crumbled successfully so I tried another. On the second thrust, my foot sank into warm, mushy green poop right up to and over my pristine lace stockings. Shock and awe crushed my confidence and sent me running to mother for help.

"Puppy Mill discovered" (illustration from Madison Morgan, when Dog's Blog

We all get in over our heads (or our socks) at times. Here’s how to avoid it:

• Don’t promise what you can’t deliver
• Know beforehand what your client expects
• Never assume anything; be specific, and ask questions
• Plot realistic deadlines and timelines
• Keep your client updated on progress
• Evaluate your time and money expenditures carefully
• Make your aim “customer satisfaction,” your target “repeat business”

Experience is the Best Teacher; Failure paves the way to Success

Instructors and teachers are wonderful. I have fond memories of my favorites, and can’t even remember the names of the ones who weren’t. But over time, we forget. Unless we put into practice what we’ve learned, the lessons fade; the voices become less audible.

Let’s face it. As miserable as failure is, it’s the hard knocks of experience that teach us the painful life lessons we need to learn. Most of them come when we’re children. I remember well my favorite pair of shoes. They were shiny black patent leather that I wore only to church and on special occasions.

Never put your coffee next to your turp!

One spring we were celebrating Easter at my aunt’s farm. All the cousins were there; the girls dressed up in ruffles and sashes, and the boys in white shirts and dark trousers. While dinner was cooking in the kitchen, the children were sent outdoors for an Easter egg hunt. My uncle had hidden the eggs in an adjacent pasture.

We carried our baskets into the field with our eyes peeled for color. My cousin, Dale, found the first egg and cracked it on his head to show off. He peeled it on the spot and swallowed it whole. My older sister shouted a warning to us about cow pies. Dale blew her off as he proceeded to stomp on a crusty pie.

I followed his lead. It was great fun hearing a cow pie crunch and collapse beneath my feet. My sister’s warning was forgotten as my confidence and power grew. I found another pie that looked ripe for the crunching. I lifted my patent leather shoe and slammed down in the middle of it. Shock and awe left me speechless. My shiny patent leather shoe and white ruffled stocking were covered with warm, steamy cow dung.

Don't "touch up" a painting before going out!

Bawling and blubbering, I ran across the field, not caring whether I found any Easter eggs or not. My mother pulled back as she pushed my reeking shoe and stocking from my foot. The smell was overwhelming. My new shoes were ruined.

 Did I ever step in a cow pie again? Never! Did I have new found respect for my older sister’s advice? Yes! Did I ever make the same mistake again? No!

Why is it when we grow into adults we forget these lessons of the past? Why do we get so discouraged and think the world is coming to an end when we fail? It is not! Like children, we must pick ourselves up, clean off our shoes, and begin again.

Life is all about starting over. It’s about new beginnings. Every day we wake up to a fresh start and new opportunities. Life is never over “’til the fat lady sings,” and none of us knows when that moment will come. Make the most of each day!