​I, fraternise a lot with a lot of folks half my age (or thereabouts) ~ not by choice, really, but by circumstance ~ and quite apart from work, too. Like today, I went to therapy (physical) for my achy joints (#suxtobeold) and the lady in charge of the clinic is, in fact, one of those young folks.

This being only my fourth time to come to this clinic (which, I’m compelled to say, is a lot kinder than that other PT place I’d been to), I’m not, like, super familiar with the kindly couple who run it. I mean, they’re helping me manage (and hopefully totally get over) the pain I’ve had to live with (or rather work with) for years ~ so that I can work better ~ but that’s basically it.

(Believe me, it’s not fun glomping your brush ~ or even typing ~ for hours on end with fingers that feel like they’re being crushed by Gryla on a bad day (does she even have good days lol).

Anyway, the nice lady in charge seems to want to, you know, paint in earnest ~ or at least have a show, and has been telling me about this gallery she and the nice physio have been going to. (Turns out, it’s a gallery I’ve, had a fair bit of recent history with.) (But I digress.)

Maybe it was the (first) full night’s sleep (I’d had in forever) the previous night, or maybe it’s because shut-ins like yours truly don’t usually have a warm body to talk to ~ but for some reason, I found myself encouraging this lady to just go for it and apply for a show.

I don’t know why I did that. I mean, it’s not like she was asking. In fact she even said something like ‘Wow, you’re mentoring me already.’ (But yeah, I’m afraid I’d already said too much x was too far gone into ‘lecture mode’ to take the hint.)

​I’ve written a fair bit about artists having day jobs, I guess, and I’ve mentioned my own day job here more than I wish I had.

But I guess it can’t be helped, and though I would’ve liked to keep both my jobs separate, I guess given my own big mouth it was inevitable for one job to find out about the other.

Although it has happened where colleagues from one job would be somewhat surprised upon finding out about my ‘moonlighting’.

It’s not a complete stretch, though, I mean, both jobs are sooomewhat related ~ I guess anybody would say they’re both (so-called) ‘creative’ lines of work.

Last night, I had a Zoom call with an artist from New York, a super nice, super kind woman named Leslie Volle. She creates these fantastic works in encaustic which I admire very much, but it’s her graphite drawings of twigs that I love the most.

I’m so grateful to have been able to meet her when I was taking my Praxis classes back in 2020; even more so now that she still remembers me and keeps in touch.

I had ‘planned’ to write about something else for the jillablog this month but last night’s Zoom made such an impression on me I felt the thingy I was thinking about writing about could wait. In any case, I figure writing about this now might help me to process x make more sense out of it ^^
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​Because I’d been using oil pastels a lot again this year, I thought I’d end the year with a few thoughts about what really is one of my favourite mediums~

I can’t say when I started to use oil pastels, for sure I did at school. They rank right up there with crayons, coloured pencils, and water-based markers (and ‘Guitar’ watercolours ^_^).

I’m fairly sure I still have this Christmas card I did in sixth (?) grade where you filled in the inside with solid colour fields, then drew in pencil real hard on the outside cover. Then you got a reverse duplicate in colour on the inside flap.

So sorry, too lazy to dig that card up, but these thingies I did back in `93 were within easy reach so I thought I’d share these here. (Embarrassingly, I can’t say I’ve improved all that much since then.)

I spent this year trying to clean up the various messes I made last year, and also in trying to ‘catch my breath’ so to speak, and to regroup in terms of my art practice. I’ve gotten in whole worlds of trouble, and by the grace of God I think I’m finally starting to pull myself out.

I’ve taken a deliberate break from ‘painting factorying’ (indeed, to be honest, I’m not sure I want to go back).  And all this time, I reckon what’s kept me grounded x from completely losing it was to do my best to make sure I at least drew one thing a day.

I first met Rainbow Mosho while I was taking my Praxis classes back in 2020. I think I even remember the first thing she asked ~ how she could get her work exhibited in a museum.

But it was on Instagram when I really got to know her or become familiar with her work. Praxis encouraged us in the use of Instagram and to follow each other (you know, our ‘classmates’). And after a while, I was drawn to not just her art but the artist behind it.

​A friend once asked me how come I was always so stressed whenever I was prepping for a show. (Come to think of it, I used to get that question a lot, lol.)

I told her it was because of the deadline and she said something to the effect of, ‘Oh, I kinda thought you just made things and you had a show whenever you were done.’

My dear Kathy (wherever you are now), if all artists did it like that ain’t none of us would finish jack spit or ever even have shows, LOL.

I write this now at a time when I want to sort of break away from what I used to *fondly* refer to as ‘painting factory mode’ ~ I want to just, take my time and, come to think of it, do it just like that friend of mine thought how things went with folks like me.

I sort of have this idea now, that if I wasn’t so fixated on getting things done as quickly as I could, maybe the work would turn out better, I don’t know.

​I have a vague memory of reading somewhere that being a ‘starving artist’ is no longer a thing ~ unfortunately, it is, still for me LOL. And that’s something that’s been brought home to me this year more vividly than it ever has been in my long and uneventful life.

Honestly, if it hadn’t been for God, my dad, and my brother, I wouldn’t be writing this jillablog post now (or even have a website to post it on) at my desk in the lavish (for me) comfort of the jillahouse.

God willing, things will work out somehow, steadily, and soon ~ until I get all four feet back under me again.

But for now, I couldn’t help taking a quick and humorous look at what being a penniless painter has led me to do ~ even during the times I could actually afford to throw insane (for me) amounts of moolers away on paint and things. I guess I don’t have an Ilocano dad for nothing.

To be clear, I am grateful for having such a father because his prudence not only made it possible for me and my six siblings (and then some) to go to good schools, go on holidays overseas, take up music and martial arts and basically never have to work a day in our lives until we graduated.

It also gave us (or well most of us, anyway) the insane work ethic that made it possible for me to do what I’m doing now ~ which is basically work my hindquarters off so I can continue to create.

Anyway so you’ll understand (I hope) why I end up doing these weird things because where I come from, pesos (and paint) don’t grow on trees. (Doesn’t make these any less weird, though ^^)
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I sometimes wonder how painters from way back felt when photography was invented. They probably thought they’d be out of a job! Kind of like how a lot of us *creative* folks feel about AI, lol. Or wheelwrights when they invented cars or film camera humans when they made camera phones.

It’s just how it is, I guess. I mean if things like that didn’t happen we’d all still be digging holes whenever we needed to go to the jon or hitting the jungle for lunch (or something to wear).

That said, I’d like to say a few things about painting for memory. This does involve painting from memory, but I wanted to go into painting or drawing something to save it for a time when maybe our memory cells don’t work so well anymore. Or to save it for when things change so drastically that the thingy you’re saving isn’t likely to ever for never no matter what forever happen again.

So that when you look at the painting, you remember ~ and maybe even relive it.

So I saw this basketball movie while I was sick in bed a week ago, and in it I saw this coach tell the baller he was training that he had to learn to deal with trash talk. More specifically, he had to learn how to not let trash talk get to him and still be able to play the game.
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It wasn’t easy, to say the least ~ you wouldn’t believe what the poor guy had to listen to. Of course he gave it to the trash talker, and of course everyone shook their heads and said tsk, tsk, couldn’t handle it. Poor guy got ejected from the game and of course the trash talker had a huge stupid grin.

You might think this was weird, but I’ve always been able to draw some sort of parallel between art and sports ~ but never more than about a week ago when I found myself watching this film.

Because there is a lot of trash talk aimed at artists ~ or well at least, I’ve heard my share. And the sad thing is, sometimes it’s from your fellow artists ~ just like how the basketball players in the movie were trash talking their colleagues.

But see, like that baller in the movie, we really just need to learn to ignore those j**k ****s and focus on our practice.

Buuut I guess we’re only mortal (if not human), so I guess we (or okay fine, I) can’t help but vent sometimes. And I guess I’m sharing this to let you know that if you’ve ever been on the receiving end of trash along the lines of the following, you’re not alone and ~ here’s my nail-studded baseball bat. (Just. Kidding.)
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