New Work Monday - Foiled edition (#31)

Today, the floods of disaster. Impossible to post pictures to blogger via the iPhone and I've no other means to keep my NWM promise to myself other than uploading a picture via Twitter FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!

http://twitpic.com/fzb9w

Yes, the photo was taken with the iphone and yes, I think this painting will be the last of the curly-cue square paintings. In fact, I have a bit of a hate on for this particular painting.

Gads, I'm so glad that it's done. I had high hopes for it since the night I started it, the telly had goat circus trainers performing (Saturday night programming in France, Oh My God The Hell) but helas it was to drive me as close to madness as any painting thus far.

Oh Well.

The Audacity

There is an online store that I buy art supplies from fairly regularly that has, consistently, found ways to annoy me. And those ways are always new and surprising.

There was the time I misordered a moleskine notebook.

Which may have been my fault. I don't know.

Then there was the time that I changed email addresses and then lost my login password.

Holy fuck was the customer service representative snarky that day. AND she didn't answer my question. I had to set up a whole new login identity.

But this morning? I'm still sort of shocked. At the audacity.

Rewind to May. I received a large package at work from this online art supplier. I'm a bit shocked because, WTF? I didn't order anything!

Explanation: I get delivered at work because the art supplier uses a private delivery service. This means that if I were to be delivered at home, if nobody was home (which nobody ever is during the day), the stuff would go right back to the store and not to my local post office so that I could pick it up. I agree. It's dumb. And I don't have neighbors that I know well enough to impose delivery on.

My colleagues all crow around me because I'm a demon online buyer. "WHAT IS IT THIS TIME?"

"I don't know. I didn't order anything."

"Shut up. You order so much stuff that I bet you've forgotten that you did!"

I open it and under all the kraft paper packing, I see a bunch of stuff I'd never buy. Really. Fake parchment? Not my thing.

I look at the packing slip. I see my name and address but I see that the billing address is for some chick named Collette in Orléans.

I call the online supplier and am assured that someone will come by to pick it up the next day. I take it back downstairs to reception and then FORGET ABOUT IT.

Fast forward to last week when I received another order from this supplier. After I'm delivered my package, I get a call from the lovely ladies down at reception: "Dude, that package from months ago is still here. What should we do with it?"

The hell?

I toss around the idea of how nice I am and decide to call the people at this online shop again. Because it would suck if poor Collette in Orléans paid for stuff and then never got it. I'm assured that someone will be by the next day to pick it up.

The next day, while away from my desk, I get a voice mail. Could I please call to arrange pick up?

WÔT?

I gave the first Customer Service Rep the necessary information. Why is this difficult and WHY THE HELL IS THE ONUS ON ME? They screwed up. Not me.

I'm the nice guy. Nuance.

I don't call back because I am an ornery bitch. Feck em.

This morning, I get a call again. It went a little like this:

"We'd like to arrange pick up."

"Well, like I told your colleague, the pickup point is where I work. There are people at the front desk between 8:30 and 21:00, so really, it doesn't matter when your delivery person comes by."

"Hmm. OK. I see from our records that the package isn't heavy."

"No."

"Would you mind taking it to the post office then?"

Did I just hear that? THE FUCK?

"Are you suggesting that I take a bulky package that I didn't order... which was delivered to me by mistake because someone on your side screwed up.... Are you actually suggesting that I STAND IN LINE at the post office and PAY POSTAGE for it to be returned to you? Is that what you are suggesting?"

I think I might have had my Dripped in Death voice happening.

...


"So I'll arrange for someone to pick it up this week."

"Thank you."

HONESTLY!

____________________

Image Credit: Art Brut

New Work Monday #30

Study
Pencil on paper

I admit it. I did this one on my lunch hour.

Today.

It's been one of those weeks.

So.

The funny thing is, is that I had no intention of drawing this. What I did mean to draw was a girl's head. Her hair especially. I wanted to try that because I had an idea for a painting but I didn't know how I wanted to do it. All I knew was: Hair with spirals in an upside down triangle shape, eyes looking "behind" her.

And then it morphed.

By the time I was finished with the hair, I was pretty annoyed because I wasn't sure if that was really what I wanted. I still don't know. So I left it and started drawing her neck.

And then, I started drawing her arm. I had her in a couple of positions before I thought, dude, maybe she should be holding a lantern or something. Sort of mix it up. And then I was lantern? Why?

Then I was all: birdcage!

Then I was all: I can still show nighttime if birdcage is covered up. Perhaps more so.

Next came the body. I didn't want to draw a sylphy thing. Illos have too many waifs. So we've got buxom.

You're welcome.

What's it mean? Your guess is as good as mine. What I love is that if I let myself relax, I can come up with some stream of consciousness illustration drawings.

I really need to do more.

New Work Monday #29

One of these days my house will have awesome new furniture (we haven't picked up the couch yet. Long story). And over top of the new couch, I'll be hanging this:



Big Red
Acrylic on Gallery Canvas
100cm x 120cm x 4cm

This one was fun to paint. The only thing I had difficulty with was the varnishing. Seriously. Liquitex? Change your instructions because putting on thin varnish DOES NOT WORK. Even on little paintings.

If you put on thin varnish, you end up with crystalization and DUDES! Yuck.

I far prefer gooping that stuff on. Spreading it around, getting some sweeping brush action going and then just letting nature take its course.

Except the inconvenience of bugs. After varnishing, I realised that I had trapped a little fellow in amber.

Oops.

Attention Losing Ho

As you may have noticed, I have been a lot more active on Facebook and twitter lately.

I have even been answering emails from my gmail account. Will wonders ever cease?

There is a reason for this and it is called my new toy: The iPhone.

Only it isn't really MY toy. I just have the possibility of hooking my mobile phone up to it.

The phone? It's actually Mr C's. And I think that the poor thing wants it back.

Desperately.

And quite frankly, though it is lovely to be in touch and stuff, I'm starting to feel like I have Attention Deficit Disorder because there are all these neat little applications like TweetDeck and Facebook Mobile, not to mention newspapers and games and the coolness of checking my email while in the train on the way to work.

It's only been 4 days and already I'm feeling a bit like I've jumped off the deep end. Like I can't handle it all.

I suppose that this is bothering me: I even had a dream last night. It was a weird dream and it was after a little huffing on Mr C's part that I was being selfish and ignoring him.

Sigh. Dude is right.

So anyway, the dream.

I was in this weird "house" (that was sort of like a kitchen showroom shop because it had an opening like in a mall) and I was making dinner but there were people coming and going and talking about all sorts of conflicting things. About Swimming Pools and Taxis and Parks and a whole lot of other nonsense. And I kept getting distracted.

And if you know me at all? Background noise? BATSHIT INSANE! I cannot handle too much noise. That is why I'm not sure I will ever visit India because I think that I would go completely postal.

This is also why working on the trading floor at the bank? Left me in a pool of miserableness.

And why I sometimes come home from work exhausted because of listening to other people bitch all day (feckin open space) and my desk is next to a communal printer.

So.

There I was, making dinner in my long cotton nightgown à la Poltergeist, and I don't know, my right eye was all messed up. Like I had an eyelash in it, but I don't know if it was my eye, or if it was my glasses getting in the way.

What I remember feeling was OH MY FUCKING GOD, MY EYE IS CRIPPLING ME!

And while I was feeling this, I was trying to pour some cooked ground beef into a dish and I WASN'T GETTING IT RIGHT. It was going all over the place. All over the table and I thought that I would die of embarrassment.

AND ALL THE TIME THERE WAS THE NOISE.

As I was pouring the ground beef (I think I was trying to make a shepherd's pie (haché parmentier) thing) I knew that I was being speculated. I was being watched by Mr C.

And I was ashamed at my gitness.

So I got up and sort of huddled in a corner and then, all of a sudden an eye doctor came into the house (and don't ask me how I knew that he was an eye doctor because I'd never seen the fellow before). And he started mingling with the other people.

I wanted to go talk to him, DESPERATELY, because for the love of god, MY EYE!

But I didn't have the courage. I felt sad and alone.

And then some other guy came in, and I knew he was a Doctor too because he was dressed like Dr. House.

Only he wasn't HOT like Dr. House.

He was just gross.

Meh.

So he was sitting at a table, eating something (remember he's supposed to be in my house/kitchen showroom) and then I walked by because I had seen something behind him and he's got stains on his t-shirt and dude could use a cut and a colour when he leans over and says something to me about whether I could use a chat.

And I'm all MY EYE IS RUINING MY MARRIAGE. AND WTF? WHY IS THERE ALL THIS NOISE?

So he burps and gets up and we go into another room and on the way I see Mr C negotiating with a taxi driver over how much it would take him to "go home" and I'm all WHAT? This is his home!

And then I remembered that Mr C has another home!

That's when I woke up.

Cuckoo in the Nest

Last week, Mr C's Granny stayed with us to watch the children while we were at work. It was all going fine despite some weird but mild incomprehensable moments like when we weren't quite sure what she was talking about until we realised that she was talking about a conversation that we had had earlier in the day.

That is, it was all going fine until early Sunday afternoon.

I can only assume that she had had batshit crazy for breakfast.

I'm not really bothered by the whole thing. In fact, shamefully, I find the whole thing sort of funny. Not hysterical funny but definitely amusing. I wonder how long she'll hold the grudge?

To explain: Sunday morning I was feeling a bit "off". Nothing to put my finger on, but "off". She had been in our house for several days already and as a guest, she was pretty high maintenance. For example: when I came downstairs on Saturday morning, she talked for almost two hours straight (thus keeping me from waking up in my customary weekend style. To wit, with breakfast.)

So as I was feeling a bit "off", I didn't feel like giving a semblance of "entertaining".

...

OK. I hid from her.

There. I said it.

But I made sure that she was in the garden and had magazines. See? I'm not all bad.

So.

Around noon she found me she asked me about what we were doing for lunch. I said that we would wait until Mr C came home and he would barbecue.

"Yes, but what will we have with that? There's no more food." For nearly every day of her stay, she insisted that the cupboard was bare. It was maddening because we had lots of staples. The funny thing is is that she never ate anything when we were all sitting down for dinner.

Unless we were in a restaurant.

"Lentils? Baked Potatoes? Mashed potatoes? We'll think of something."

"If you're sure..."

When Mr C came home, he announced that he would grill up some sausages. I made some mashed potatoes and we were good to go.

This is when the WTF started:

"Mamie?" Mr C called out, "How many sausages would you like?"

"Sausages? None. I never eat the things!"

"What? Why didn't you say anything? I could have grilled you something else."

"Never mind. I'm not hungry."

"WTF?"

"Don't bother serving me any sausages either. I've never eaten one and I never will."

STUPIDLY I SAY: "Really? I saw you eat one the other night."

BECAUSE THIS WAS TRUE. We've been barbecueing almost every night and eating outside. I saw her eat one!

"WHAT! NEVER! Kilian! Have you ever seen me eat a sausage?"

Kilian has no idea what is going on. His eyes follow Mr C who is heading back inside to get something to cook for his Grandma. "Yeah. The other night."

Brenna, who up to this point has been eating her sausages quietly, looks at me and smiles in enjoyment at her meal. She hasn't been following the conversation.

"Brenna! You're doing nobody any favours by being a liar."

Brenna looks at Mamie and then at me. Her eyes make me crumble inside. Her lips quivering and with eyes filled with tears, she looks like she has been betrayed by her best friend.

I return my look to Mamie. "Brenna didn't say anything."

"You'll rue having lied today!" Mamie stabs the air with a self-righteous finger.

I get up. There's no point in arguing with crazy. "Let's go inside and eat, Brenna." She and I leave the table.

Mr C comes back outside. "Where are you going?"

"Inside. Mamie has called both Brenna and I liars."

By the time Brenna and I finish lunch, Mr C is bringing stuff inside. The war isn't over yet though.

"We're taking her home. Can you drive?"

"Sure."

As I'm getting ready, I heard Mamie say to Mr C, "She doesn't need to come."

"Yes. She does."

"No."

"Then you can take a taxi."

"Fine." Huff.

When her stuff was in the car and everyone was ready to go, she wouldn't get in the passenger seat. She wanted to sit in the back.

Because she didn't want to sit next to me.

Stunning.

"Either you get in the front seat or you take a taxi," Mr C said. "Simple."

"Fine." Huff.

Now I could have played my regular radio station? But I didn't. I put on Radio Notre Dame.

Because I'm Christian like that.

Har.

When we arrived at her place, she practically jumped out of the car before I had parked.

I was amazed at the agility. Really.

Then, she gave everyone the customary "goodbye/hello" kiss on the cheeks.

Except me of course.

Me? She ignored as she walked away.

I suppose the fact that that makes me smile a bit finally proves it.

The nail in the coffin.

Me?

Evil.

Hee!

New Work Monday #28

That makes 7 months of New Work Mondays!

I think. I stopped being mathy a bunch of years ago. This is why I send emails of B.O.B. (Monster) from Monsters vs. Aliens to the financial controller at work when I screw up miscalulate an invoice.

I also send him the text "Ca se trouve qu'un cerveau, ça ne sert à rien." (Turns out, you don't need [a brain]. Totally overrated!)

They love me down in accounts.

________________



You can see here my sketch of last week. Along with a couple of other doodles.

Click the image to read my musings.

Musings like the fact that I didn't know that fireflies really exist. Seriously. Had no idea.

They're really pretty. I wonder how they work?

Already Relegated to Arkham

Kilian: "Maman? How long until Papou (Grandpa) goes into the asylum?"

Me: "What?"

Kilian repeats himself.

Me: "What are you talking about? What asylum?"

Kilian: "Well he's retired now. That means he's old and all old people end up in the asylum, right?"

Me: "Um. No. Asylums are for mentally unstable people. Real nutters. Not people who forget where they park their cars every once in awhile."

Kilian: "Oh."

...

Kilian: "So when will Papa be going into the asylum?"



....




Kids.

New Work Monday #27

Study

So here we have a little something from my sketchbook. A drawing that I did after an idea struck me in the middle of a Cuban jungle where we were battling heat, skeeters, humidity, and paths blocked by twines, fallen palm trees as well as all sorts of assorted fronds and other oddities hanging over the path.

Without machetes.

It was tough going.

We saw nothing on that trip except for dense forest and light up ahead. Worn out and feeling moderately gross, I was startled when my brain went: Ka-Bing! That would make a lovely brain metaphor.

In my sketchbook, perhaps naively, I gave it the name "Enter the Psyche".

However, now that I've read the story of the mythical Psyche, I'm not sure if that title would work completely.

Though I do concede that that Cuban jungle was remarkably like Hades.

Remarkably.