Category Archives: Personal Stories

Happy New Year! What Are Your Art Resolutions?

I hope you had a lovely holiday season! Greg and I are fortunate to live close to both of our families so we had plenty of family events as well as some much-needed rest after working 24/7 on house and yard projects. We even took off an entire day to watch movies – we managed to fit in five – for my birthday.

But, its January 2nd and time to get back to the real world. I’ve been thinking a lot about my New Year’s resolutions and, more importantly, how to make realistic ones given that we are packing, getting a house ready to sell, and moving – only to start unpacking and decorating a new house and, even more fun – setting up a new studio. Is it realistic to do all that and create art, too?

After hemming and hawing and making ambitious lists and crossing everything out again, I’ve decided to commit to the following New Year’s Art Resolutions:

1. I will spend at least 2 hours almost every day making art. Whether it is working on a new artists’ book, taking photographs, doing post-production work, producing an edition or just playing with materials. Sure, once the move is over it will be a lot more than 2 hours, but if I can just keep that window open for creativity almost every day – despite packing up my studio, I’ll call that a win.

2. I’ll keep a daily journal to jot down thoughts for my art – even if I don’t have time to work on it right now – I don’t want to lose the ideas! More importantly the journal doesn’t have to be fancy, artistic or, even worse, perfect. It just needs to keep ideas in one (findable) place.

3. I will not stash everything in my studio in boxes just to get it packed and done. I will clean it out as I go and find homes for items that I don’t love any more. I’ll offer supplies to my artist friends, the kid’s schools and Freecycle. Only supplies I love and find inspiring will go with me to my new studio. By investing this time now, I’ll have freedom to create later.

4. I will make new mid-year resolutions once the move is over. Yes, right now moving to a new house and a new studio feels all-consuming, but this too will pass. There needs to be a point where I get back to my regular art-making practices. The sooner the better.

Are you making Art Resolutions for the New Year? I’d love to see them. Please share yours in the comments.

Happy New Year to you and your family.

~Ginger

www.gingerburrell.com

One Step Forward, One Step Back – Wasn’t there just a studio there?

So it turns out that Morgan Hill has one of the more, um, careful, planning departments and even though the location of my studio had been approved, it has now been unapproved, moved and re-approved. Hence the pile of dirt  five feet farther away from where there used to be a framed foundation. Hmm.

(That’s Greg on the left, and our construction superintendent, Jon, on the right. That pile of dirt in the back, the beginning of the new, new studio.)

Apparently now the studio has to be five feet further from the fence on one side and raised up a foot more which means starting all over. Jon was worried I’d be upset, but really, how upset could I be? A studio of any kind, any where. It works for me. After talking with several friends who’ve built studios, or remodeled houses to make space for art, we’ll be lucky if this is the biggest hassle we have. On a positive note the “secret” garden behind the studio will now have more room for papermaking and other messy but wonderful art making techniques.

~Ginger

www.gingerburrell.com

In Loving Memory of the Very Best Studio Cat: Dickens

Art is impossible today. In fact doing anything other than wandering aimlessly through the house seems impossible. The pieces of my broken heart are rattling around in my chest. I had to say goodbye to my beloved kitty after almost 20 years.

I found this adorable little white kitten in the bushes under the stairs of my old apartment. He was pure white with the bluest eyes you can imagine. He was one of the prettiest kittens I’ve ever seen and his fur, the softest of any cat I’ve ever had. As he grew up he began to get orange striped bits on his beautiful white fur. I named him Dickens because he got into everything. He pestered the other cats, he got into the cupboards, he attacked anything that went by.

At the beginning of his life he disliked being held and hated being kissed on the head. I used to tell him that he just had to deal with it since he was so cute. For the last few years he let me kiss his head endlessly and purred and curled around me when I picked him up. He had a warm, rich purr that vibrated through both of us, I already miss it so much.

He was my best friend. He followed me from room to room. In the bedroom he slept on my shoulder or on my feet. In the office he lay near me on a couch. In my studio he insisted that the spot on the table by the window was his, whether there was artwork there or not. He’d lay right on it. He liked it best when I put a towel on that table.

As he got older his eyes faded to gray and his vibrant orange fur became tan. His kidneys were trying to shut down and, through the miracle of IV fluids lovingly administered by my husband, Greg, Dickens had almost three extra years of laying in the sun, purring in my ear and eating handfuls of cat treats and ham. Oh, how he loved cat treats!

Every evening we’d cuddle on the couch and, when he stopped climbing the stairs four weeks ago, I’d sleep downstairs on the couch with him until I woke up with a crook in my neck. We knew his body was changing again, but we were so glad to see him still doing the things he enjoyed. He had a terrific weekend. He’d go out front and watch the world go by, come in and roll in some cat nip, bop one of the other cats for good measure (he was the alpha cat, without question), and then settle in his nest on the couch for a good brushing.

Our goal was an excellent quality of life with no pain or suffering and I’m so glad we were able to honor him with such. He gave us an excellent quality of life, too.  He soothed us when we were sad and stayed by our sides when we were ill.  He always seemed to understand when we needed him. He was funny and sincere and feisty in a way that belied his age. He had such a presence about him. Today our home feels so empty. I’m terribly sad that he couldn’t live as long as we will. But I am so grateful for every day of those nearly 20 years. 

Perhaps when I move on from tears to happy memories I can create art in celebration of such a special soul.

~Ginger

www.gingerburrell.com