Favorite Places

My cat, Anastasia, has a new favorite place—on my lap when I'm sitting on my rocking chair. Not any other time, just on the rocking chair. I have a couple of back issues, so last year I got rid of one super soft chair, which my physical therapist told me I absolutely need to stay away from, and I replaced it with a wooden rocking chair. It's incredibly comfortable, even aside from the back issue. I don't know why I didn't consider it before. So, I sit down to read and Anastasia decides that she needs to be on my lap. She jumps up, fidgets, fusses, and goes in circles and eventually chills. It's cliche and the best.

For my part, aside from loving my new rocking chair, I have discovered what is probably my new favorite place—the front porch. It's been there all 15 years I've lived here, but I rarely use it. I don't know why that is. My partner used to tease me about it for one thing. I don't know why he teased me, and I don't know why I cared. It wasn't malicious, just in good fun. I'm just going to chalk it up to the fact that I've come a long way with my attitude and state of mind. The house itself is pier and beam, so the porch is raised. It's a fabulously old house in an old neighborhood and being there makes me indescribably happy. I just had a long weekend, and sitting our there in the cool mornings was about as close to heaven as I've come in a long time. And another of our cats, Clarice, enjoys exploring the area near the porch while I'm out there.

This makes me think of my favorite place in the world to write—the dining room table. It's only a dining room because we have a table in it. The original house basically has four rooms, one of which is the kitchen. They are all more or less the same size and just make a square. Anyway, we have a large dining room table that barely fits in its room, and it just has a good energy. I can write more here than any other place. For one thing there are no doors between the rooms (except for the bathroom, which sticks outside of the main square.) So, I can breathe and it feels so open. I have been trying to create another space for writing—one that feels the same—so that the dining room table can be a place where we actually eat, but I think that secretly this will always be my favorite space. (I'm sitting at the table as I write this.)

One thing that the other space I'm working on is missing is windows. The space is big enough, though not as open as my dining room office. It doesn't have decent windows, though, and I miss that. The windows that are in the building are all about 7 feet off the ground, so you can't gaze out at anything. When I moved into the room that is my bedroom, the first thing I asked for was for more and larger windows. I feel cramped without them. I only recently discovered this about myself, but knowing it I can't ignore it. So, while this is a beautiful old house sitting on two acres of mowed grass with a back yard partitioned off, when it comes to views it's sorely lacking. Or, so it seemed.

Then one day as I sat at my table working I looked around. The dining room has four good-sized windows and the living room next to me has the same. For the fifteen years that I've lived here every single one of these windows, plus those in the bedroom, have had blinds that have been permanently closed. Closed for probably 25 years, and my partner couldn't really explain why. So, I opened six of them, two in front of me and two to each side, and now the space feels even MORE open. I may never leave this table again.

Honestly, the dark bedroom where I sleep (in a building in back of the house so I can have personal space) would actually make an ideal library. Currently we have all of our books in the back room, one that was added on and is the width of the house. That room also has plenty of windows and they face east. The problem is that the light will not be good for my books. I'm torn, because I love seeing the books there, but they'd last better in the darker room. I would definitely visit that room often, but I don't know about Partner. He doesn't read; he just likes to see the bookshelves with books and artwork. Maybe some UV filters on those back windows? Nobody really looks out of them anyway.

I have to say, in these past few weeks I've learned a few things about myself and my life. I've rediscovered my passion for windows, and a minor case of claustrophobia maybe. I've learned that I love this house even more than I thought. You can discover a lot when you slow down, open your eyes and look around.

Tom Cat

Meet Tom Cat. He plays a rather important role in my novelette Carmela’s Outside, which is due to be published this year by Notebook Publishing.

Tom Cat has been nominated for Best Supporting Character in a Work of Fiction, and he is one of People Magazine’s 50 Most Beautiful Felines for 2018.*

I have lived with the cats Carmela, Anastasia, Raku, Tom Cat, Mozart, and Magritte—among other cats—for years. I watch them as they interact, and I can’t help but develop stories in my head about their lives. I hear their voices talking to each other in a Southern accent. At some point I began writing those stories down. Eventually they led to a short story that would not be content with that short-story status. So, I have a novelette. It will be the first of many works featuring the cats that I have known and loved.

With cats, just as with people, if I sit and watch I don’t know what is truly going on between them, so I take the body language and facial expressions and create lives for them myself. People watching isn’t just for people, and it’s the only way I can imagine writing fiction.

Stay tuned for more details about Carmela’s Outside. In the meantime, you can check out my Society 6 page for related artwork.

Thank you for stopping by.

*The second sentence is a work of fiction, in and of itself.

Social Distancing

Sunday during a pandemic. I slept. This was not my finest moment, I'll be the first to admit that. It has been a little stressful, so lying for hours with cats next to me felt really good.

I rarely stay home. That has been my way of life since I graduated high school. I go out; I roam streets and stores and hang out in coffee shops watching people. I had a stint in which I hung out in bars far more than I should. Even if I'm not with anybody, I'm usually out and about.

A logical person would be writing more, since I'm stuck home anyway. I could be painting. Or, I could spend the day in my bed trying to be unconscious until this passes. I still go into the office to work, though, so even that is not an option. But still I sleep.

On Saturday I had gone into the office for a bit. When I left, I stopped by the grocery store to pick up vitamins that I had run out of. As I walked up to the building I saw a sign indicating that the line to enter the store started over to the left. Fortunately there wasn't actually a line and I was able to walk right in. An employee was stationed by the door wiping down carts for people. The lady in front of me was wearing a mask that covered most of her face. As I walked around the store I felt the weight of the situation. Everybody looking at each other, everybody knowing that there is a pandemic going on. I posted on Twitter earlier this week.

We're all just sitting around, not going out, looking at seemingly healthy people try to go about their lives, waiting for the virus to hit. Looking at news from Italy. Looking at each other in the stores. Waiting. Waiting for it to hit, or to end.

— 𝓡𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓔𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻 (@RatherEarnest) March 19, 2020

I could barely keep from crying while I was in the store. Then I told myself to snap out of it, because if I cried my nose would start running and that's the last thing I needed. I got to the register with my blood builder supplements and saw signs on the floor requesting that people respect social distancing. Pictures of footprints on the sign indicate where we stand, one away from the register, one right at the edge, where the conveyor belt starts. The cashiers had clear plastic between them and the customers, just a square of plastic propped up between their faces. When the cashier was ringing up my purchases I could feel tears coming in spite of my better judgement. They were cheerful enough, though. She smiled and told me to have a great afternoon. God bless these people. Imagine the food shortage and riots if the grocery stores couldn't open because the employees wouldn't go in. They are some of the most exposed people in society right now. I haven't seen even one of them use a face mask.

Leaving the store I stopped by Brentwood Social House for a cup of coffee. There is very little I love more than sitting in a coffee shop, sipping coffee and watching people. Of course I wasn't able to do that, but I did want to support them. So I got a latte to go. Again, as I was waiting I couldn't stop the tears, and they didn't have any napkins out for me to wipe my nose with. They were as laid back as they could be and cheerful. I seemed to be the only one affected.

I suppose at work I'm like them. We are considered essential, so we still have to go in. I encourage people at work. I try to calm my coworkers' nerves. We're going to be fine. We'll get through this. We work, we chat with each other, we walk around the building to get exercise. I do everything I can to make it a pleasant experience. And then I walk out into the world and I can't stop crying.

A young lady I follow on Twitter revealed a few weeks ago that she lives in Northern Italy. They have been on lock-down since February 21. (On March 10 the entire country of Italy came under lock-down.) This young lady has been giving updates fairly regularly. When she first mentioned that she was part of it, she mentioned that it was surprisingly boring. It's international news, but for the people affected who were just hanging out at home, it was not particularly exciting. In time she began to give details of what was happening outside her home. Police would stop people to ask if they really needed to be out. Then, police began giving fines to people outside without a valid reason. Then the quarantine was extended indefinitely and the military was being called in to enforce it. She told us about a man who was running for exercise and he sprained his ankle. He waited in the ER to be seen, only to test positive for COVID-19, meaning that everybody in the waiting room was exposed. She was angry that all of those people were exposed simply because that man couldn't exercise at home. She's frustrated that the quarantine was extended seemingly because people wouldn't abide by the rules.

For me, the worst came when I had to talk to my mother about her upcoming surgery. Normally I would go stay with her for a few days while she recovered. This time it would be a very bad idea for me to go. That's a hard pill to swallow. I never thought I'd have to face a reality in which I am a physical danger to my mother. I mean, I'm not. We don't know. But it is the most basic of caution to not go there. My sisters are already there with her and they can take care of her. But, it's also the most basic of part of human nature, to want to take care of your mother. All the logic and caution in the world won't lessen the hurt.

On March 16, Bastrop County, where I live, issued a disaster declaration. On Tuesday, March 17 the City of Austin banned gathering and dine-in restaurants. (Take out was still permitted.) On Thursday, March 19 Dr. Hellerstedt, the Commissioner of the Department of State Health Services, issued a Declaration of a Public Health Disaster in the State of Texas. At the same time Governor Abbott issued and Executive Order banning  gatherings, shutting down restaurants, bars, schools across Texas. Today Travis County issued a Shelter in Place Order. (No longer just a suggestion.) It's changing daily.

And still we go on. I feel horrible at a store or drive-through because it seems callous of me to breathe on them, even though I'm standing at a reasonable distance and this behavior has been okayed by all of the declarations and orders. I've never been so conscious of my breath, and it's not in a good way. It feels like it should hurt to breathe, like there's a disease in the air and we're breathing it in and there's nothing we can do about it. We're just waiting for the disease to hit our communities and for all of us to be morbidly sick.

Looking at China, Italy and New York City makes me think of a line in a book by Zora Neale Hurston. Toward the end of the novel a hurricane comes and tosses the people about. They take shelter in fear; they wonder if God is angry at them. Their eyes strain to see in the storm. "They seemed to be staring at the dark, but their eyes were watching God."

Back to Find That Drawing Board

We are now in March, three months into the new year. I am working on ramping up my writing and painting output. Yesterday I went into the office I have at home... finally. I've been afraid to go in there for weeks, afraid of dealing with what was in there. In December we had an art show in the studio where my office is located, so stuff just kind of got pushed to the back and ProPanels were thrown up to hang art. The office was a mess to begin with, but shoving stuff out of the way kind of pushed the mess over the edge, and I'm still trying to recover. The goal is to put my office, not only back in order, but to make it more organized and a more pleasant place to be. I began by pulling everything out of the bookcase. The bookcase, you see, has been in the corner. I had a desk against the wall next to it and another computer desk on the opposite wall. The writing desk was moved from one wall to another so that I could be at the computer and swivel to the right to be at the writing desk. So, suddenly my bookcase was 6 inches from the side of my writing desk, which is not an ideal location.

Having pulled everything out, I was able to consider what was what. I have a lot of material related to genealogy—books that my ancestors are mentioned in, for example. I have books about politics, fiction I need to read, books that have been signed and some that are old and delicate. Some of these were not actually on the bookcase; they were lying around because the bookcase was full of unrelated stuff.

Books my family are in

I pulled the bookcase over to the edge of my space, closer to the front door of the studio. Now, it has more space to breathe. I have tentatively put things into it. I love books and I collect them, but I want this to have more than books on it, I want to display other things as well. So, I'm considering what sort of reading/written material needs to be in this space particular where I write and paint. Unread fiction doesn't seem to be what is called for in this office. Art technique and political intrigue are much more fitting. Old books and books that are signed and or inscribed need a safer place to be than a studio that shape-shifts for different events.

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Beautiful Old Books and Signed Books

Artwork definitely needs to be around. While I'm trying to be creative I need to be surrounded by ceramic pottery and woodwork that I love. I also need other interesting things... an old decorative doorknob or an interesting bottle. There is a fine line between hoarding and collecting, and I haven't seen that line in quite a long time. It's been buried under stuff. Now my cleaning ideas seem to be growing outside of my bookcase, which is good because that was just a starting place.

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Woodworking Art by Thomas irven

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Decorated Gourd by Vally Napier

I dedicate the month of March to Finding my Office. My first novelette is being reviewed by an editor at my publisher and I need to be working on my next novel. I need to create more paintings to go along with my novels, because... well because I like the idea and I want that to be a part of my art. So, my first right step this month is to organize my space.

How is your 2020 going?

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Why is this even here?

Looking Forward to 2020

As I've written here before, I, along with a small group of friends, have been pushing each other to expand creatively. Most recently we tasked each other with coming up with five paintings for a studio show in December. I, personally, managed three... well, two and a half. One wasn't quite done, but the day and hour had arrived so I hung it up. It felt good to have work hanging and shown.

All three pictures I painted were of cats. One was Carmela, whom I've written about here in Bemol Ardiente. The second painting, the one that wasn't quite finished, was of PumKin, a beautiful orange cat that lives in the back yard. (The Cat in the Grass from a few posts ago.) But, the real star of the show was Clarice. Clarice is a black cat who is getting up there in age and who has a lot more white in her fur than she used to. The most prominent examples are two white whiskers that stand out on her face. In the painting (and the picture that I used as a guide) she is looking at the person who is holding the camera and letting them know that taking a picture is not an acceptable alternative to actually giving her attention.

A lot of people, as it turns out, have needy black cats. I knew that people would relate to cats, and I've always been fond of the picture that I used as a model. (Have you ever tried to get a cat to sit for a painting? Just save yourself the tears and trouble and use a picture.) But, I was a little blown away by the response to this particular painting. Looking back, I shouldn't have been surprised. In Carmela's painting, she's sitting on a quilt, in profile with the sunlight gently falling on her face. I find it lovely, and people told me that as well. But Clarice is facing the camera, her body language and facial expression clearly say, "Give me attention.” It’s a much stronger image.

People actually requested to be able to buy prints of the Clarice painting. This is new for me, and I don't quite know what to do with it. Of course I want to sell prints; that's why I painted it. But, that part of me who's not used to selling his artwork is screaming that my art isn't worth it yet, that I should be giving it away until I have developed more of a style, a following and a body of work. I gently shut that part of my mind up by putting a chocolate chip cookie in its mouth. That done, I began to make plans on how to sell prints of Clarice, and create a system that can be used for future paintings as well.

Carmela the cat, who is featured in the second painting, is the main character of a novelette that I wrote, "Carmela's Outside", which is due to be published this year. I've mentioned to the publisher that I have a painting, and they are interested. That is doubly exciting for me, and makes me think that I should focus my attention on painting the cats that are in the novelette. Mozart, Tom Cat, Anastasia and Raku are all quite beautiful, each in their own way. I'm working on finishing up the PumKin painting and starting one on Anastasia.

At the moment I'm having the Clarice and Carmela paintings professionally imaged. That is a logical next step. People have also asked me about buying the original of Clarice, but I’m not willing to part with it for a small amount. I can use the digital image to make limited edition giclée prints, which could be sold for a reasonable price. And, I can send a digital image of Carmela to the publisher for their consideration for use on the cover of the novelette. To get the digital images I am using a photography service here in Austin. I had considered taking the picture myself, but there are other people with years of experience and studios set up specifically for that, so I decided that my time would be better spent painting and I'll let the professionals do a better job at photographing the art than I could possibly do on my own.

Now I'm preparing for the May studio tour. And I'm writing on a mystery novel, until I begin working with an editor on Carmela's book. 2020 is stacking up to be a very successful year. I like to think that I laid a good foundation for it during the atrocity that was 2019. As I fought to retain my life and my sanity, I also made plans for what to do once the storm had passed and I found myself still alive. I don't know how I had the presence of mind during all of that, but I'm thankful that I did.

Check out a few related websites: davincibox.com is Tamara Talamantes' page. She is a graphic designer, among other things, and she is one of the friends who painted and showed work. barryperez.com is, not surprisingly, Barry Perez's page. He's the other friend in the group. Barry is a master jeweler who has been making hand-fabricated jewelry for over 30 years. Lastly, a work-in-progress page is elginstudio621.com. This is the studio where it all happens, a place with great energy and where we plan to have many more events—not just visual arts but yoga and writing and ceramics. Keep an eye on it.

Let's here it for new years, new decades, and new beginnings. Make 2020 a great year.