Jerry Fenter

  The watercolor workshop at Maryhill Museum would have done the Queen of Romania proud. I’m sure even Queen Marie would have loved to have been there. We had     lots of energy and creativity in the air and the two days were perfect for painting outside…en plein aire.  The weather was warm and beautiful.  Oh, just a passing word about painting outside.  It’s very different from painting inside.  The hotter temperatures really change the drying time of the paints.  The wind can be a bit of a problem until you get used to it and know what to expect.  Dragging all the painting supplies around, especially for the first time (before you learn to streamline what you bring) can be a real pain.  Finding the right place to paint, in the sun, out of the sun, in a chair, at a picnic table or our on the ground atop a blanket are all decisions that have to be made before you even think about painting.  In addition, Maryhill has one thing other places don’t…that is lots and lots of peacocks.  At first they’re cute and brightly colored and beautiful, then as the time passes and they see you will pay attention to them or make eye contact with them or that you have anything resembling food they will pester you, steal your erasers and make the loud crazy sounds they are so fond of.  I found out a lot about peacocks this weekend.  They can sound like a baby crying loud, a cat caught in a tree, someone calling for help or just a creepy loud sound that just makes the most fearless of us jump.  They don’t like silver cars…who knew?  The sound of car alarms or honking drives them crazy and little children (or adults for that matter) shouldn’t feed them.  They can be very aggressive when they encounter food especially at their level.  One poor little toddler was bitten while we were there.  Her parents packed up their lunch fast and headed toward the doctor.  We figured at least five stitches. The peacocks have been around since the seventies I think.  No, I don’t think Queen Marie had to deal with them.  They are a source of controversy but I have to say their colors are beautiful.  They are beautiful aggressive creatures.  Their legs have sharp talons on the back of them sort of like emus. (Those people that read my posts know how I feel about emus.)  But let me tell you when the males are illuminated with direct sunlight the colors are indescribable and unforgettable.

On Sunday everyone worked hard and then about 1:00pm Valerie’s boyfriend surprised all of us with a Champagne brunch for her birthday.  It was delicious.  We shared all sorts of gourmet foods, had Champagne Cocktails and enjoyed each other’s company.  Some of us went back to work but Valerie, Sonja and Nancy continued to party until the end of the day.  It was so much fun.  Some good work came out of the workshop too.  I have a few photographs but didn’t get all of the shots I wanted.

So that’s the workshop.  Check out some photos and the good work. Thanks to all of my students who made it such a great weekend. 

My next workshop will be at The Dalles Art Center July 25^th and 26^th from 11:00am until 4:00pm.  Contact Carmen at the center to sign up. I’ll write more about this workshop later.

Oh, one last scary and weird thing.  There was a murder here in Timber Valley last week.  I don’t know all of the details yet but I’ll be checking out facts and rumors as I find them out.  The murder took place about a mile from where I live.  Lots of woods to hide in if you don’t want to get caught.  It’s usually very peaceful up here so it was unexpected to see all of the Klickitat County Sheriff cars coming and going.  I guess we can call it Law and Order Timber Valley!                    

I’ve been busy this week working with clients for my creativity coaching class.  I’ve done a lot of thinking because of this work about where ideas come from.  Creative people are like sponges.  Even as children they soak up everything that is around them.  They are the individuals that set out to go on a five mile hike and end up covering one mile because they stop to LOOK at things.  My kids used to tease me about this all the time but of course the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and I see both of them branching out in their own creative ways.  My daughter is a writer.  She may not always describe herself in that way but she can’t help but see everything as a story.  My son is a creative.  He makes his job at Pop Cap Games in Seattle creative in all different sorts of ways.  He’s a photographer, a computer genius and the best father I’ve ever encountered. Tavish, his son, misses nothing.  Tavish , at the age of six, is already a creative. 

Ideas come to artists and creatives from everywhere.  Sometimes we have so many ideas it’s hard to know which one to act on first.  Often I don’t know whether to write, paint, collage, read, go outside and sit in the sun or take a nap and dream.  I like to overhear conversations anywhere.  My best paintings have sometimes been inspired by listening to strangers at the next table in a restaurant.  I don’t ever remember not having these ideas or being so interested in everything.  I find this is true of all of my creative friends.

Also, creativity is like a rollercoaster.  When you’re acting on it, in your studio or at your computer it’s so much fun.  When day to day life gets in your way and there are things you can’t avoid having to do, it feels scary and there seems to be nowhere and no time to put these all important ideas down.  As a creative… getting, expressing and saving these ideas IS the most important thing in your life.  These ideas will make you immortal.  So the artist is constantly caught between passion and panic. 

I’m trying to work through artistic panic with my creativity clients.  It’s hard to comfort them but I’m proud of them for trying to find ways to celebrate these important and unusual desires and get past their fears. I have found ways to accomplish this. I’ve also realized that art, poetry and writing are what cultures are all about.  Students in school learn the “basic skills” so they can enjoy the written word, appreciate important art and understand the course of history.  The reason to learn is not to pass tests at the end of the semester or to get into the most celebrated university.  We creatives have a duty to pass on our ideas.  It’s the most important thing. 

Don’t forget to sign up for my Maryhill workshop this weekend.  Bring your sunscreen and a hat.  For information get in touch with Carmen at The Dalles Art Center.

Here is my hubcap finished for the landfillart.com project.  “Our Lady of the Flying Hubcaps”.

Multitasking as a word doesn’t cover what this day is shaping up to be.  I woke up to a gigantic crashing sound as a fifty foot Douglas Fir hit the driveway.  Then, like bees, guys swarmed around and started cutting limbs with chainsaws.  If you’ve ever seen the show “Inside the Actor’s Studio” there is a question asked by the host near the end of every program of the celebrity being interviewed.  The question is “What is the sound you hate the most?”  As you’ve already guessed this celebrity would have answered “the sound of chain saws in the morning”.  We’re in the middle of having about ten big trees taken out of our front and back yard.  Don’t worry…we have hundreds…four acres full.  But we decided to remove a few of them when my flower garden started moving out into the driveway by its own power because it was feeling so sun-deprived.  We live like vampires in our dark cabin and need some light to keep us sane and to promote some plants we’d like to try out in our wild garden.  So the falling trees.  What you can’t imagine, especially if you live in the city is what cutting a few trees down really means.  It means moving any fragile possessions that are anywhere near the place where trees will fall as far away as possible.  It means taking down your deer fence.  It means three huge machines (one called Madd Max that I’m in love with) and trucks drive over your lupines and park all over your property.  It means all of your kitties hide in the house in the top part of your closet and huddle there all day.  It means you have all of the left over branches from each tree to pile and burn or if they’re bigger branches but not big enough to sell to rescue and cut for firewood.  It means each day that there is cutting the entire day is unsettled and nerve wracking.

And of course I’m trying to work.  You’d never guess what I’m working on.  I’ve had a lot of strange things that I’ve used for a canvas…a life sized fiberglass cow for the Kows for Kids in Portland, Oregon, lots and lots of old wooden  ironing boards, cups, bowls, chairs and music carts for hospitals but this is the strangest.  I’m painting a hub-cap.  I was contacted by a gallery in Pennsylvania about painting a hub-cap for a project called The Landfill Art Project.  To take a look at it, go to www.landfillart.org. I knew nothing about this project until I was contacted by its director to do a piece for it.  I said yes because any profits from the pieces or the book done from the finished pieces will go to global reforestation.  (I guess to get my karma right with the trees it is no coincidence that I was asked to do this).  I’ve had some mystical experiences with hubcaps in the last four years.  When my mom was beginning to show definite signs of Alzheimer’s disease, she started a collection of hubcaps in her backyard.  There were hubcaps carefully placed in her garden, her front yard, her porch and her garage.  She must have seen that they were shiny and she liked shiny (not unlike myself).  So they continued to multiply until she finally collapsed and ended up in the hospital.  During her weekend in the hospital my daughter and I HAD to find a place where she could be cared for.  She refused to have any help in her huge house, or even to have Meals on Wheels feed her.  She was getting more and more confused each day so we had to find a good place FAST before the hospital just turned her loose on the street.  The hospital had some excellent social workers who totally understood what we were going through.  They gave us a long list of facilities to look at and off we went.  It was a Saturday.  We checked the list and found a few places that looked good to us.  We looked at some and were not happy.  Then we found a listing for St. Anthony Village in Southeast Portland.  It is a non-profit Catholic assisted living and Alzheimer care center near Powell Boulevard.  We got kind of excited because it fit our checklist for everything we were looking for.  We headed down Powell to go and see it.  As we got close to the turn off to St. Anthony, all of a sudden a shiny large hubcap flew right in front of my van window.  Amy and I looked at each other and took it as a sign. Both of us being Catholic we believe in signs and miracles. We went in, were shown around by a very nice caretaker but couldn’t talk to a director or apply until Monday.  We were also told that there were few openings and there was a waiting list.  We left our names and told the director to call us when she got back from her weekend.  Dismayed, we went home.  When we got there we had a call waiting from the director.  She had just happened to go in to work to finish up some project and got our message.  She said we could have the room for my mom.  It was a miracle.  At least that’s how we saw it.

So, the title of my piece, painted on a hub-cap for the Landfill Art Project is “Our Lady of Flying Hubcaps.”  I’ll post a picture when I’m done.  Isn’t life strange? There are no coincidences.

I have a lot to get done today and I was up early…for me.  Today is the day I start working with clients on creativity counseling through a class by Eric Maisel.  I’m very excited about this and will make my first contact with my clients through E-mail this afternoon.  This morning I’ve been up, eaten my Cheerios, cleaned the cat boxes and fed the animals.  In the back of my crazy mind I’ve been thinking about the way I create.  I’ve found that just like the Catholic Church I have developed some dogmatic rules over the years. 

1. Thou shalt make sure the studio is in workable shape. Make sure the studio is dusted and cleaned at least a week before proceeding to attempt to work in it.  This means clean up my shit, pay all of my mom’s bills, put them into a neat pile and mail the rest, get any birthday presents or cards sent out so my big table is clean, dust off my boom box (I guess I’m old fashioned that way…no I Pod), then look around the studio with a confused look on my face.  Turn out the lights in the studio and leave.
2. Thou shalt check the work calendar and see what shows or activities are on my list.  I’m obsessive. I keep a calendar of things I need to prepare for.  I check the list and see what kind of work I’ll need to do between now and December.  If this list is empty I know I’m screwed.  Usually it’s not.
3. Thou shalt pick Passions to paint.  This happens as I stack up all of my old sketchbooks and see what shapes up.  My passions for this period of work are Dark Side Pieces for the Attic Gallery in December, some small trailer pieces I just want to do, pieces with a “religious” theme, some actual religious pieces for Dynamic Catholic’s website…maybe some prints or cards, probably cards, pieces for Maryhill Museum Art Festival and pieces for Kings Mountain Art Fair in the Redwood Forest in September. Also I am painting a hubcap for a book and show but that’s another story.
4. Thou shalt start a new section in a sketchbook to narrow down ideas.  This is where I look at old sketchbooks and jot down good ideas gleaned from them to a new sketchbook.  I also look at my “working file” that has drawings, pictures and ideas I want to fool around with.
5. Thou shalt search out some visual passions.  I look at pictures I’ve saved, other work and see what turns my creative self on. 
6. Thou shalt do sketches for the first five paintings I’m interested in doing.  I draw in a sketchbook for awhile.
7. Thou shalt always use the best paper and cut it or tear it to size.  I figure out what sized pieces I will need for each show or series of paintings.
8. Thou shalt get off your ass and actually go in the studio and work.  Loud music usually gets me going.  Usually Fred Eaglesmith or Tom Waits.  For more mellow work James Taylor or KD Lang.

So these are my first eight commandments for myself.  I realize everyone is different.  BUT also everyone has rituals that work for them.  These work for me.

My garden is beautiful this year and so different from last year.  The weather has been weird, but you’ll notice some of the pictures I took this morning showing my little area of flowers.  I usually have time to go outside for coffee a couple of times a day here.  It’s nice.  If I’m out there all the animals seem to gather for a break with me. 

We lost our oldest cat Woody a week ago and I still think I see him resting in the garden.  We are all really sad because Woody was an exceptional cat.  Arlo has been looking all over for him and is wants attention more than usual.  They were buddies.

If any readers have rituals for getting started please share them.  Use the comments click.

TV tip.  Watch the Stephen Colbert show this week from Iraq!  If you don’t you’re missing a great moment for a true cultural icon! Also don’t forget to sign up for my Maryhill Museum painting class at the end of the month.  Contact The Dalles Art Center for information. 

Wow!  What a couple of weeks.  I haven’t got much actual artwork done but I’ve been going through all of my old sketchbooks looking for ideas for my show at Kings Mountain Art Festival and for Sandy Visse’s and my show at the Attic Gallery in December.  The Attic show hasn’t got a name yet but its subject matter will cover all areas of our dark sides. Watch out, we’ll be reaching into areas unknown and the show will be hilariously disturbing.  We’ve done dark side shows before, but only in the privacy of our own studios so this will be a first!  We are both excited and wish to thank Diana and Maria at the gallery for letting us go wild.  But I’ll talk more about that later.

So I’m working toward these shows, sweating out in the yard picking up debris from a hard winter when the phone rings.  I run inside, falling over my dog Cody who is as always blocking the door.  I pick up the phone and say hello and a voice that I swear might be Tracy Ullman’s says, “Hi Jerry.  It’s Maureen.” I had to sit down.  Maureen Jones is a person who I have corresponded with for over 50 years.  We got together as pen pals through the Oregon Journal and through a paper in Liverpool when we both were 10 years old.  We’ve written over the years, very often at first and then just a couple times a year.  We’ve exchanged gifts.  I still have a small bracelet engraved with “to Jerry from Maureen”.  What a surprise to hear from her in person.  She goes on to tell me she’s off on a trip from Liverpool to the West Coast of the US and Canada, coming down from Vancouver and Victoria BC, to Seattle and then to Portland where she wants me to pick her and Bernard (her husband) and Claire (her daughter) and bring them out here for two days and a night.  She has gotten standby tickets from Liverpool and kept apologizing for coming so soon without earlier notice.

I was so excited to finally meet her and her family.  I picked them up at the Governor Hotel in Portland and it was like we’d known each other almost all of our life.  We couldn’t stop talking about our lives and places we’d lived and our jobs and just everything.  I’ve been sending her my blog and she’s been reading it but she is not an e-mailer…I guess she’d rather communicate in person by airplane!  So this was the first time we could really talk.  I gave the three of them the grand tour of the Columbia Gorge.  We drove to our cabin by way of the Old Highway and stopped at Multnomah Falls to climb up to the higher spots, take pictures and visit the gift shop. Claire LOVED the jewelry and bought herself an Oregon opal.  The rest of us bought touristy things.  By the time we got back on Hwy 84 and to the Bridge of the Gods we’d seen osprey and lots of falls and smaller gorges.  We crossed the bridge and ate lunch in Stevenson then took Hwy 14 to Bingen and our cabin.  As we were going up Canyon Road we decided we needed a couple of bottles of wine for dinner so we passed a couple of wineries and finally stopped at the Columbia Gorge Winery that’s located just a little off Canyon on Snowden Road.  We could see clearly that the garage was a winery.   We called out to see if anyone was there besides a giant comfortable purring guard cat.  I even went to the house and knocked on the door.  No one answered.  So Bernard and I looked at each other and shrugged at the same time.  We went for a box of wines out on the table, found two red ones, and left a twenty dollar bill for them. Later I looked up the winery on the internet and found that we underpaid a little bit…but the wine was great and here’s a shout out to The Columbia Gorge Winery. I guess all I can say is be in the winery when you’re open. 

The cabin was a hit. It was a beautiful day. We had a great dinner with the three of them and with our friends Jeff and Sara.  We ate a ton of food and topped that off with two apple pies made by Jeanette (our local fancy pie maker).  Claire saw hummingbirds at our feeders…maybe for the first time.  And Cody now has a crush on a girl from Liverpool.  He’s been pining for her since she left.  We had wine outside in the garden and watched some TV.  Maureen likes a lot of the same shows I do, (Who knew?) and talked and caught up and made promises of not to be apart for so long anymore.  After they got back to Portland all of us teared up as we said our goodbyes.  Bernard and Maureen also gave us the most beautiful book on Liverpool.  Ron and I will treasure it.  But…the plan is to visit them next when we can save up the money.  We’re going to do it, just wait and see.  I was so excited about seeing them I FORGOT to take pictures so I’m waiting for Maureen to e-mail me some of hers.  That may be a long wait unless I can get her to use the “new” technology. She has already called once when they got home and I already miss her.  Oh, by the way Maureen was the one that turned me on to the Beatles…she casually said that she’d met a band of the nicest boys at the Cavern in Liverpool in one of her letters!