My Thankfuls

I got in the car this morning and thought about Tom. Tears started to well up. The emotional pain I went through when Tom died is resurfacing as I think about what lies ahead for a Facebook friend who lost her husband recently. We share the same birthday and his death will forever be linked to it and to Thanksgiving for her. Once again I am reminded how quickly life can change. Change being the only constant in life.

My husband has been posting daily "what I am thankful fors" on Facebook for the entire month. He is not thinking of them ahead of time. He is waiting to be inspired by something that has occurred that day. Many of them have centered around me. For that I am thankful. He doesn't live in my body and can't truly experience my illnesses, but they certainly impact him and I worry from time to time that it will drive him away. That I bring him happiness is still a concept that amazes me. That I found love again also amazes me. That I am able to be happy at all amazes me. Learn from change. Adapt to the changes. 

I've lost physical abilities and I've lost people that I can never get back, but I have gained so much more in wisdom, gained the ability to appreciate what I have left and what I can still do. Living is very much worth the price I have paid and continue to pay to remain here. I make a difference by being here. We all do. We impact family members, friends even strangers. Hopefully for the betterment of us all. There is power in this. Use it wisely. 

I dropped my hearing aid, for the good ear of course, on the stone floor one cold morning last week and parts of it shattered. I managed to get an appointment at the ENT doctor's office yesterday and asked to get my hearing checked at the same time. They were completely swamped and I spent the better part of the day there. Though I had other things I planned to get done, it wasn't worth getting angry over. By the profuseness of the apologies and being told that no one had even taken a lunch break, I think other patients weren't so patient. Initially, they thought they would be able to fix the hearing aid while I waited, so after the hearing test I was put in an exam room rather than the waiting room. The door was open and the Physician's Assistant came in and sat down and introduced himself. Thinking he had some information to share, I waited expectantly. He finally said, "I just needed to take a break." I laughed and replied, "Just needed to get out of the main flow, huh?" "Yeah…so where are you from?" At that moment a favorite quote from the television show "House" popped into my head, "It's what life is. It's a series of rooms and who we get stuck in those rooms with adds up to what our lives are." I decided to take it literally. What ensued was an amusing conversation about the difference between living in Dallas versus Ft. Worth, other states he had lived in and later that his daughter was an artist living in Oklahoma City. I also learned that the power was out at their other office due to the sleet and they were funneling people here. That's why it was so crazy. They were trying to accommodate everyone they could. I hope our conversation was the break he needed. Before I left, I was talking with the audiologist and the P.A. came in, pointed at me and said, "she's really nice." Well, at the very least, I didn't make anything worse for them and I saved myself the energy it would take to get angry at the long wait. Let go of what you can't control.

I'm not sure where I had intended to go with this blog entry. It turned into a stream of consciousness kinda thing. Ultimately I guess it's about what I'm thankful for (it is Thanksgiving after all)…my husband who I appreciate dearly, my painting and writing abilities that allow me to share pieces of myself with the rest of the world, that I am still able to work and to have a job that makes use of my creative talents, my pets that bring laughter into my life, the friends and family that have been so supportive, medical technological advances that caught my breast cancer early enough to consider me cured and of course all the plasma donors who I truly couldn't live without. I am warm, safe and happy and that is so much more than many people have. It's not worth lamenting what is gone. No regrets. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

At a Loss for Words

"Sunlit Lake Fog" • 6"x6" • Acrylic on Masonite

"Sparrow, get off of those clean pillows!"

I was in the laundry room which has shelving for clean linens, bulk item storage and a place to hang clothes temporarily as they come out of the drier–except it's become more of a second closet for me. My clothes just don't seem to make it to the bedroom.

Ed walked in and heard me chastising our cat. "Uh sweetheart, what pillows? I don't see any pillows." He's teasing me. They were in fact several stacks of towels. In my head I said towels, but that's not what came out of my mouth. I wonder if I'm losing my mind. I had already forgotten my hearing aids twice. I never forget them. I have to reread anything I write 3 or 4 times to catch mistakes. Such as typing 'booth' instead of 'books.' On multiple occasions, instead of speaking the word that I have in my head, I say one that sounds very similar, but likely does not have the same meaning. Better yet, I can't find the word I want at all until 5 minutes later when it suddenly pops into my head at which point I speak it aloud completely out of context.

So when I saw the Physician's Assistant for my oncologist on Tuesday before my infusion and he asked how I was, the first words out of my mouth were, "I'm okay, but Tamoxifen is making me stupid…(long pause)…and forgetful." He laughed and asked why I thought that. So I added "As an example, I forgot my hearing aids, so I may have trouble understanding you today." 

I had done a little research already of course and ran across a few forums where other breast cancer patients were discussing a similar experience with Tamoxifen. I never gave birth to children, so I don't have any personal experience with the "Mommy Brain" that is blamed on hormone fluctuations post birth, but I figured if this drug's job is to block hormones, then I'm likely finding myself in a similar predicament. I also keep calling our new cat she instead of he. Frankly, I doubt he cares and is just happy to be off the mean streets of Granbury and in a loving home with regular meals, but my mistake seems to bother Ed a bit, since he corrects me every time. Then I think of the TV show "The Closer." If you were a fan, you'll know why.

Josh, the P.A., is nodding his head and has a slight bemused smile on his face as he's listening to me detail my answer to the "why I think that" question. I'm trying to decide if I should be annoyed that he's finding this amusing, but determine that it actually is, a little. Until he calls me, M'aam, which does annoy me because in my head I'm still in my mid-20s. Then he confirms it. "Yeah, it's likely the Tamoxifen." The Tamoxifen that I'm supposed to take for the next 5 years! It's only been a month and I already feel like I'm going insane. FIVE YEARS…or until I go into menopause naturally. "But my job is to be creative on demand. That's a little hard to do when one's brain is in apparent hormone withdrawal," I implored. "And my obsessively detail oriented nature is one of my strongest assets." There are other drugs, but they are usually given to post menopausal women he tells me and suggests I speak with the oncologist at my next appointment with her. He actually stated another oncologist's name and I said that's not right and my brain decided for dramatic effect to completely lose the name of my actual oncologist. 

So until this gets sorted out please avoid going grammar nazi on me. Forgive me if I put my glasses in the refrigerator or if I stop in mid-sentence at a complete loss for words. If I call towels pillows and pillows towels, or if I forget something I'm supposed to do for you, a gentle reminder would be appreciated. Now I'm going to go reacquaint myself with writing lists and the wonder of post-it-notes.

The Dark and the Light

I know it's not a 'pretty picture'...a dying cedar tree. If you look at my work, the majority falls within the generally accepted realm of what is beautiful or pleasing. If you form an impression of what you think I'm like in person based on it, you may end up pretty far off the mark. In my life I have often been drawn to things that are not pretty in the traditional sense. I see beauty in the ususual. I have a fondness for reptiles and kept large lizards for many years. I love bats. I used to grow carnivorous pitcher plants and was recently thinking of getting more. I'm fascinated with the biology and psychology of mental illnesses. I like to understand the motives behind what people do or say and take little at face value. I think medical examiner would be a pretty cool job.

Perhaps I need beauty in my art. The light to balance out darker side of life in general, but you can't have one without the other. Ignorance may truly be bliss, but I choose to understand and accept that everyone has both dark and light within and to deny this is to not know yourself.

So this cedar tree with its octopus like tentacles reaching out in all directions is not so much an anomaly for me, as it is just another part of myself.

About the painting:

I used a glowing, orangey background to make the time of day less easily pinpointed as well as making the tree feel even more isolated since you can't see it's surroundings.

"Last Days"

-Near Sedona, Arizona

Acrylic on Board

8" x 10.5"

note: dimensions are unframed size

comes framed

$390

Currently accepting checks and PayPal

or pay in installments.

Contact artist for details.

View this painting on Rebecca's website

Read more of Rebecca's blog entries at rebeccazook.blogspot.com

See all Rebecca's work at www.rebeccazook.com

Brain Stuck in Overdrive!

At some point in my life, I forgot how to turn my brain off. That may not seem like much of an issue at first. I tend to accomplish a lot in a short amount of time and have become a master multi-tasker. The problem is that when I get what I need to do done, I just move on to something else or come up with more things to do. Never just...stop.

As a child I would lay in the grass in the backyard and stare up at the sky. I would swear I could feel the earth turning and the hear the sound of air molecules moving. I felt the sun. I remember how when I closed my eyes my field of vision was a wash of red from the sun penetrating my eyelids and its blood vessels. Watching the sun move lower in the sky, I studied the way the changing light altered the way the surrounding landscape looked and felt. I say 'studied' but it was more through osmosis. Not some conscious, meticulous thought process, just feelings and impressions soaking into my soul.

The last couple of weekends have been quite nice and I've opened up the windows in the house. My drawing table is next to the door leading out into our screened porch. I opened it all the way. At some point I became aware of the breeze flowing through the room, the sound of birds singing, windchimes tinkling and I stopped painting for a moment. I felt a part of the Earth again. A connection I've been missing for some time now. I felt a calmness. It felt good.

When my husband and I went to South Carolina last November we spent a lot of time outdoors, but my brain was in full gear. Analyzing the surrounding landscape. Camera in hand. Looking for compositions for potential paintings. I never just stopped to enjoy myself without self-applied pressure to accomplish something.

Lately, I've been thinking about my responsibilities. Some necessary and unavoidable. I have to work a day job. I have to have the medical insurance. Fortunately, as a Graphic Designer I have a job that feeds my creative needs. I have to paint too. I just do. It's who I am. I am a driven person, and everything I've taken on I can accomplish, but at what price? I have chronic illnesses. They do impact me and I need to admit that to myself. Taking down time for my benefit alone is something that I NEED to do. Not fill up every minute of every day. Self-induced stress can only be doing harm.

On the commercial side, you have to be creative on demand to succeed. Not wait for 'inspiration' and I firmly apply this philosophy to Fine Art. At the same time, though, I believe that to keep the ideas flowing, I may need to take a step back in order to move forward. Clearing the conscious mind will leave room for the subconscious to breathe new life and creativity into the process.

There's an achievable balance here...somewhere. I need to get off this tightrope I'm walking onto solid ground and find it. One step back and 2 steps forward. I'll get there and hopefully calmer, happier and healthier than I am now.

About the painting:

This is the view from my back deck. One of our notorious Texas thunderstorms had just passed over. The low sun turned the clouds lavender and orange. Bee Creek is a natural creek (though artifically widened at points) that leads into Lake Granbury.

"Storm Clouds Over Bee Creek"

-Granbury, Texas

Acrylic on Board

16" x 12.25"

note: dimensions are unframed size comes framed

$595

• Go to painting on Rebecca's Website

• See all of Rebecca's work at www.rebeccazook.com

• Read more blog entries from Rebecca at rebeccazook.blogspot.com

Choose your option

painting $595.00 painting plus shipping $615.00 In Texas: painting plus tax $644.00 In Texas: painting, tax, shipping $664.00

Art As Language

I looked up videos teaching ASL (American Sign Language) online and came across this statement, "250 signs will cover 90% of what is commonly spoken." I was shocked and not entirely sure what to think. The vastness of our language gives us the ability to communicate such subtle nuances of meaning and emotion. I relish the nuances and the creative use of language. 250 signs? Well, I guess if all you want to accomplish is basic communication, some might see this as a good thing.

Art is similar. Anyone can pick up a brush and paints and given a little instruction and time come up with a pleasing piece. I think the best painters, though, aspire to much more. They are able to evoke a 3-dimensional space, movement or emotion from the viewer with deliberate brushstrokes. Small and tight or large and loose, each has the potential to draw you farther into the work or convey a specific emotion just like words in a novel. It's amazing to me to look at a flat 2 dimensional piece and have a response, to feel something. When I get a response like that from a stranger to a piece I created, it's truly the ultimate compliment.

Space, tone, texture, color, composition, balance, symmetry, movement...just a few tools that painters have at their disposal and of course each medium has its own inherent qualities to consider. Mastery of them can take a lifetime.

Keep exploring. Never stop learning. That's my plan.

About the painting:

"Late Lunch"

16" x 12" (art dimensions not including frame)

Acrylic on board

$1,200

A scene from a BBQ restaurant in Keller, Texas

See all of Rebecca's art at www.rebeccazook.com

The Arts and the Brain

From cave drawings of animals to pots decorated with lifestyle scenes or abstract icons, to sculptures of mother earth figures, art was always an integral part of the human experience. Initially, most of these objects were for utilitarian use or to convey vital information for survival, but evolved to incorporate decorative or stylistic elements that could only be used to induce visual pleasure with no practical application and these are only the objects that have survived the ravages of time. Storytelling, music and dance were likely just as important to define us as a species in the ancient world as they are now.

One again budget shortfalls in Texas have brought to the forefront the old argument of the arts versus the sciences in our public schools and the arts always takes the hit. Why? Many believe the arts to be a frivolous pursuit that doesn't contribute anything concrete, tangible, or necessary to our everyday lives, but what we are learning in our modern technological age is that belief is very wrong.

Over and over studies show that art, music and dance directly link to our ability to process language, understand math and even enhance our overall memory. Actual, measurable, physical change takes place in the brain. This is especially important in the growth of the young brain when neural connections are being formed. Drawing, singing, dancing are natural activities for young children that allow them to process and connect the increasingly complex ideas they are exposed to. This doesn't change as we get older. There is a reason that art has always been with us.

Examples: These are just a few of many studies showing the act of engaging in art directly enhancing learning ability.

Students who took arts classes had higher mathematics, verbal and composite SAT scores than students who did not take arts classes. (More than 10 million American high school students were compared) Also, the more art classes taken, the higher the SAT scores.

Creating visual art increases the ability to form images of the real world or a fictional one in the mind's eye. A person with this ability can often quickly work through many possible solutions to a problem without needing to implement each one in the real world to see the outcome. Scientists James Watson and Francis Crick attribute this ability to visualize as directly contributing to their solving the mystery of DNA structure in the early 1950s with a huge impact on scientific study and subsequent break-throughs in disease treatment.

Listening to music for 10 minutes improved students ability to form mental images from physical objects and see patterns in time and space (known as temporal reasoning) for an hour afterward.

Spatial reasoning skills improved 34 percent for preschoolers who received as little as 15 minutes of piano instruction 2 times a week. Older students given 4 months of piano training scored 166 percent higher on proportional mathematics (fractions) than those with no music training. In another study, students receiving ongoing music training did twice as well in math overall and history and geography scores increased by 40 percent. Verbal memory improvement was found to be retained a year after students had stopped taking long-term music lessons.

Background music improves eye-hand coordination. Perhaps why artists often listen to music when they are working.

My generation saw the beginning of Sesame Street and had SchoolHouse Rock. To this day I can still 'sing' the pre-amble to the constitution and know 'how a bill becomes a law." Learning should be more than strict memorization of facts. I did well in school, well enough to receive a full academic scholarship to college and I attribute the fact that the arts were a huge part of my life from its earliest stages to my overall success. Now is not the time to handicap our children in an increasingly technological world. To succeed, they need a well-rounded, multi-disciplined background in school. Cutting the arts WILL do long-term harm and keep many students from reaching their full potential.

About the painting:

"Calm Grasses"

Acrylic on board

12" x 16" (unframed dimensions)

$445

Needles and Spines

The ambient sounds in the large tiled room suddenly cease. Everyone was listening. At first you could barely make out the whistling, but soon smiles could be seen on most of the patients sitting in the turquoise chairs. Even some toe-tapping. The tune was familiar to everyone. Someone at the far end of the room was watching The Andy Griffin Show. As the last note fades, the voices regain strength. More people arrive to fill the chairs. The smiles, however brief, are welcome and needed. Most of the people sitting in the chairs are quietly engaged in battle. Most are fighting cancer.

Often the first one here, I always sit by the window. There are roses outside in warmer months. My feet dangle in the chair, not quite reaching the floor. My shoes slip off. I feel a bit like a child here; dependent on the staff that bustles around reacting with efficiency to the beeping of the machines calling out to them. Would I like a blanket, a pillow? Something to eat? No, I'm fine. I'm here once every 3 weeks. It provides me with a unique perspective about people and about life. I have a treatable, but not curable blood disorder, a primary immune deficiency. IVIG, an expensive blood plasma product, boosts my immune system and helps to control secondary autoimmune diseases. It's also the only treatment available for my illness. We are hooked up to individual machines. Mine is giving me infection fighting antibodies. Theirs essentially pumping poison into their bodies to kill invading cells. A man comforts his wife. Talking in quiet whispers. It's only her second time here. Some patients just want to sleep during their treatment. Others are compelled to talk, desperate to make a connection with someone who understands. I've heard about all types of cancers here. Of people's marriages breaking up while they are still sick. Right now the man next to me is discussing a dog that recently came into his life. He didn't want it. He thought he hated dogs. Now he is grateful for its affection and that it has given him something to focus on other than his cancer.

In some ways I feel like fraud being here. I've been asked more than once what kind of cancer I have and I actually feel bad explaining that I don't have it. I also envy these people. They have a shot at getting better, of never setting foot here again. This is a life sentence for me. Every 3 weeks, forever, hoping that my veins hold out, but self-pity is not something to cling to.

There is another group of people who come here. I wonder at their life story, but I can't speak with them. Hands and feet in shackles, flanked in front and rear by armed guards. All heads turn as they are marched through the room and placed in their own section. For a minute the rest of us forget about our struggles. They are the incarcerated, the prisoners, also here for treatment. I imagine the trip and time here is something they look forward to. I imagine it's better than day after day in a cell.

A sign on the wall proclaims, "Live. Laugh. Love." We all deal with our personal disease differently. Some overcome with sadness or anger. Some pray. Other stoic and practical, realistic about the odds, but we are trying. All of us. We understand more than most that each day is a gift not to be wasted.

About the painting:

"Prickly Pear Cactus Flower Trio"

Acrylic on Board

11" x 14"

note: dimensions are unframed size, painting arrives framed

$595.00

Sometimes I liken myself to a cactus. I'm not the most approachable person in real life. Quiet and reserved. Often with my 'spines' out for protection, but if you get to know me, you may find the flower hiding inside.

Snowmaggedon...and you thought you had it bad...

In honor of Snowmaggedon, I'm posting "Jack in January Snow."

I've been stuck in the house since Monday evening when the ice storm followed by snow hit. I know many of you are in the same boat. We knew it was coming and prepared by buying groceries on the way home from work (day job as a Senior Graphic/Web Designer in Ft. Worth). I got the last of the broccoli and carrots and 2 of the last 5 red bell peppers and was surprised those were on people's must have list. What we weren't prepared for was that our relatively new furnace would cease functioning.

At 10 pm Tuesday, we suspected we had a problem when the inside temp dipped noticeably. Did I mention the ice storm? No one from the Heat/AC company was willing to venture out to help us. I dug out a couple of electric heaters and a heating pad. Our main worry was the parrots. At least the dogs and cats had their own personal fur coats. The receptionist, who the Heat/AC company phone was forwarding to, sitting in her nice WARM house, says nothing could be done. We moved the parrots to the bathroom and left the overhead heater running and got the temperature up to near 60 for them at least.

Wednesday morning the house was at 44 degrees and I had 3 cats sleeping on me. Within minutes the power goes off. Crap! What is going on. Now we think this is even more serious than just the heater. It's off from 7am to 7:15am, oddly precise. I turn the TV on as soon as we regain power to find out that we are experiencing rolling brownouts because several power plants failed overnight and the remaining ones can't cover the dramatically increased load. (Note: The majority of Texas is it's own self-contained power grid. If you'd like to read "why Texas has its own power grid" visit http://www.slate.com/id/2087133/)

Another call to the Heat/AC company, toasty warm woman answers and is reluctant to do anything. We knew one of their techs lived somewhere in our neighborhood, my husband asked (just short of demanded) his phone number and got it. The man said he was unable to navigate his driveway, but he did talk my husband through checking several possibilities to no avail. Everything seemed fine. My husband (who grew up in Kentucky and thinks that all Texas drivers are wimps when it comes to winter weather) drove over to the tech's house, brought him back to our house and made him a cup of coffee to help keep warm. The dogs were thrilled with the visitor and insisted on 'helping' him. At least the running around was keeping them warm. The outside temperature was in the single digits and I was unrecognizable with my 3 layers of clothes, a coat and hat, plus a blanket draped around me.

The issue was with a couple of pressure valves "that never break." Of course they needed to be ordered. Why stock something that never breaks and no one was at work there either to place an order. He did give us a small space heater to add to our collection. After several tripped breakers, we finally figured out what we could plug in where. The dogs pretty quickly found that the prime spots were in front of the heater and I had several cats vying to lay on me with the heating pad. Still freezing, even with the heaters, we called Home Depot to make sure someone was actually there, "please come buy something" was the response. I just wanted to get in the car with the heater cranked all the way up. The roads, weren't really all that bad. The bridge over the lake on 51 was significantly ice free. The landscape was lovely as were several frozen fountains we passed. Unfortunately, Home Depot only had 3 propane heaters left, which we didn't really want. Next stop Lowe's down the road. They were in better shape and we came home with 2 ceramic heaters.

We set the new heaters up in the bedroom. The only place in the house without a vaulted ceiling. I put the smaller, borrowed heater in the adjoining bathroom and we gathered up 3 parrots, 5 dogs, 5 cats and us and went into the bedroom. At least we tried to. This was a little too much closeness for a few who have now chosen to stay in the colder parts of the house, though we have forcibly made them stay in the room long enough to warm up periodically through the day. Plus the oldest dog, seems to be having a bit of a gas issue.

We're in good shape to wait this out, right? Husband tries to take a shower, I try to paint in my normal area, which is not in the warm bedroom. Another rolling brownout rolls in. Husband walks back to where I am. I think he's waiting for the power to come back on. Not it...the shower drain is frozen and the water just fills up the basin. Sigh...really? Really! How did we offend thee lady Karma. I try to paint once the power is back on, but numb fingers and toes make it quite uncomfortable. It's time to call it a day.

39 degrees in the house Thursday morning. I wake with a Border Collie and a German Shepherd wedged between me and my husband. My intent was to brave the ice and go to work to warm up, though the local news was still adamant that people should stay off the roads if possible. Schools were still closed. We decided that the birds would freeze to death and/or the pipes would freeze if we turned off the space heaters and we certainly didn't want them running if we weren't here. Since the clutch went out on my car on Friday, we didn't want to leave one of us stranded without transportation, so we both stayed home.

"Oh, well we can't very well send someone to Carrollton to pick up the parts with ice still on the roads. It will probably be Monday," says the unsympathetic woman who I now wish was trapped in her house with the thermostat stuck at 100. It's 39 degrees in our house! She wouldn't last 10 minutes over here. Sooooooo, do you think you can have them overnight the parts directly to our house instead of waiting for the roads to be better to send someone? She'll see. Grumble. Grumble.

So I can't watch TV, because that room is freezing. I can't paint comfortably. I can't take a shower.

Yes, something else can still go wrong. You guessed it, the toilet drain is frozen. If you wait, the bowl will drain, liquid...eventually. Not paper...or other things. Husband makes a bathroom run into town. So I sit here on the bed. Currently 3 dogs, 3 cats and the 3 parrots. The number of furry creatures changes at least once every 30 minutes as someone wants in or out. We feel like hotel doormen, but the parts should arrive sometime tomorrow and I will be waiting anxiously for the delivery driver on Friday. I thought snow days were supposed to be fun.

About the painting:

"Jack in January Snow"

Water-Soluble Oils on Canvas Board

11" x 16.5" note: dimensions are unframed size comes framed

$495

See all of Rebecca's work at rebeccazook.com

All Creatures Great and Small

I had intended to write on a totally different subject, but realized that 5 of my last 6 paintings posted were of animals, so thought this would be more appropriate.

I have always had a strong connection with animals. Not just to the normal cats and dogs. Fur, feathers or scales, it didn't matter. I was captivated. I could relate to them more than people, easily getting inside their heads and understanding their motivations, their reactions, their fears. One of my favorite books I had as a kid was a field guide to bats that I bought with allowance money at the Heard Museum in McKinney, Texas. The grocery store carried an 'animal encyclopedia' book series. My mom would buy one each week. I'd be excitedly waiting for each one. Unfortunately, I never got the entire set, but I read what I had over and over and studied the pictures of the animals. Neighbors would ask my parents if they could 'borrow' me if their pet escaped and wouldn't come to them...they would come to me. Animals drawings were certainly the bulk of my artwork growing up and I return to the subject periodically for my paintings...and there is likely a pet hair or two embedded in every painting I've created.

One of the earliest pieces that I remember doing was of a cat, in school, probably second grade. I was concentrating hard when the teacher reached down with a pencil and drew a new foot on my cat, suggesting I should do it differently. I couldn't believe she had just drawn on top of my picture. I didn't say anything, but I know I shot her a very angry look, which would have surprised her since I was one of the really quiet, shy kids. She never did that again, though.

Walk into my home and it's obvious the love affair never ended. Currently we have 5 dogs, 5 cats and 3 parrots. Most were adopted or found, some had suffered abuse. The furry ones have plenty of room to run in a semi-rural setting. Having 3 supposedly antagonistic species living together has not been an issue. The dogs play with the cats. Some of the cats think they are dogs, one parrot meows, the other parrots think that we are all one big flock and are most at ease when everyone is in the same room.

One of the qualities I love best about animals is their honesty. You often hear people talk about the unpredictability of animals. I disagree. Their emotions are completely out in the open. You just have to be paying attention. Read their emotions through body language and you know exactly what they want and how they are going to act. People hide their true feelings. They may say things just to hurt you, or the opposite, not say something for fear of hurting you. My husband has this quality of honesty and I never have to guess whether he is concealing something. Sometimes my emotions get bruised, but I prefer that to having to guess what he is really thinking.

Animal intelligence is something so many people still dismiss and I don't understand why. I have watched our pets over the years do fairly complex problem solving. Do people think that admitting animal intelligence somehow diminishes our own? Why would it? Here is one example that actually flies in the face of my earlier honesty comments. Our Australian Shepherd mix LIES. I've caught her in many over the years. This is my favorite story.

I taught Turbo when she was quite young that if she found something on the floor that she wanted; she had to come ask me if she could have it. This worked well. I'd either say 'yes' or I'd take it, but praise her for bringing it to me. No downside for her.

One day I'm sitting on the sofa and she comes and sits right in front of me and stares at my face. I ask her what she wants and proceed through the entire list of possibilites...do you need to potty....are you thirsty...play...treat...etc. No response. None. I finally wave my hand dismissively and say 'okay. okay.' Immediately she leaves, which I found odd. Within seconds I hear the sound of fabric tearing. I look behind the sofa and see her with a sock; holding one end down with her front paws and the other end in her mouth pulling on it. I start to yell. Then I picture her sitting in front of me and I come to the realization that she had that sock stuffed completely in her mouth and 'technically' I said okay. I didn't yell. I didn't react. I just sat back down.

Some of you are saying, yeah, yeah, I don't believe it. Well, I wasn't quite convinced myself. If she deliberately misled me, imagine the forethought that went into it. It's pretty complex.

A couple weeks go by and here she is again. Sitting in front of me, not responding to any of my suggestions on what she wants. Only this time I reach down to open her mouth. Suddenly, her jaws have the strength of an alligator's. Turbo is not about to let me see what is in there. I start sticking my fingers between her teeth and prying. She finally gives in. There sitting on the middle of her tongue is a Hershey's Kiss. Still wrapped in foil. Paper flag intact. Not a single tooth mark.

Of course I took it. Neither one of us can eat chocolate, so I have no idea where she found it, but this confirmed that I was right. She was definitely plotting to deceive me into giving her something that she knew I wouldn't otherwise AND without outright disobeying me. She was only 2 years old. I'm not sure that a human 2-year old could formulate such a plot.

Miss Turbo is 17 now and still quite a character. I'm thankful for every day I have left with her. I know the end cannot be far off now and even though I will be devastated by her passing, I wouldn't have missed knowing her for the world.

It's been said that how we treat animals today is how we will be judged in the future. I agree. Every living creature deserves respect. Domestic or wild. We should give them the best life we can.


About the painting:
One of 2 kittens we recently adopted

"She Had a Busy Day"
8" x 9"
Acrylic on Board
(contact me if you are interested in this piece)

See all of Rebecca's paintings at rebeccazook.com

Goat Study

"Goat Study"

5"x9.75"

Acrylic on board

(contact me if interested in this piece)

View all Rebecca's work at rebeccazook.com

"Just Waking" aka Chloe Monster

This is kitten Chloe. I was tempted to name this "Chloe Monster" since that is the nickname she has acquired. I painted this over several evenings. Two of which were interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. First a small glass containing a single daisy had been knocked off the counter. The second was the Christmas garland bannister decoration being pulled off with pine cones, berries and glass ornaments scattered everywhere. Chloe had a little help from sister Olive with that one. A second painting of her sleeping -looking deceptively sweet- will be posted soon. Actually, both kittens are incredibly affectionate. They are just at a highly curious stage of development.

"Just Waking"
9"x8"
Acrylic on board
(contact me if interested in this piece)

View all my work at rebeccazook.com

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What Makes Art Good?

Over the last couple of weeks I've gotten e-mails, seen Facebook messages and run across documentaries that all lead back to the very basic question of... "what makes art good?"

Not something easily answered. There is certainly no consensus in the art world among artists. There is a movement afoot. A return to classicism. That may not be an entirely accurate word for it, but there are artists pushing hard to refocus the art world on highly realistic styles of painting. They wonder aloud, "if a patron wandered into a gallery or museum and saw a Picasso or Mondrian without the name or price tag present, would they still assign such an incredible value to it?" They have a point.

Some people think artists like and appreciate all styles of art. There are probably some who do, but overall we are just as likely to be opinionated and say "that looks like a 3-year old did it" as anyone else. Personally, abstract usually doesn't do a lot for me. That said, I have seen some beautiful abstracts that have completely captivated me. I think some people see a piece of 'art' and think, wow, I have no idea what that means, so it must be art. It must be good. Why? If you don't understand or connect to the piece why buy it?

I've watched it happen in local art auctions. Certain key words open wallets a little wider...nationally-recognized, solo shows, featured in books, gallery representation...suddenly those works become worth more even when works of equal or greater ability are present and sold for much less. Something that bothers me even more than matching art to your sofa colors is buying art purely because someone else says it's good. What's the point?...okay, I know, the hope is that some time in the future this piece of art will skyrocket in value and fund your retirement, but really, what are the odds. Buy what you love (and can afford) and proudly display it.

I recently watched a documentary on N.C. Wyeth and family. Apparently Andrew was waging a constant battle within himself over whether his work was illustration or painting. He wanted to be a painter. This I can relate to. I was trained as an illustrator, but I don't think it's always so easy to draw a line between the two. Why does one have to be better than the other? Sometimes what we value in the fine art world seems so arbitrary to me.

I like impressionism very much...can't do it myself...but I love it. Most people don't know that in their own lifetime, the impressionists weren't accepted into major shows or were hung in the back out of the way. I mean, who ever heard of a yellow sky! They were shunned and had to start their own shows to get their work in front of the public. Now we highly admire their work.

Perhaps as a society we go through phases, but what drives them, the media? I'm not entirely sure. I think all artists should study design, color, form. Learn from the masters of the past, but in the end, I think there is room for all styles of art...to suit all tastes of buyers. Is it good? Make YOUR OWN decision.

About the Painting:

Not yet titled

Acrylic on Board

12" x 16"

$445.00

This is a field off highway 51 between Granbury and Weatherford, Texas that I am rather fond of. Late summer sun setting the grasses aglow.

Sparrow's Garden

Newly Completed...

"Sparrow's Garden"

Acrylic on Board

24" high x 15" wide

SOLD

To read about the creation of this piece go to (post titled: The Good The Bad and The Ugly)

To see all my paintings visit my website
www.rebeccazook.com

Dragons

‎"Fairy tales do not tell children that dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children that dragons can be killed." -G.K. Chesterton

I recently posted this quote on my Facebook page. It struck a cord with me. Overcoming fears, perceived or actual, is something that's been a struggle for me for much of my life. My youngest sister has done a lot of research on shyness, since her daughter and she, like me are innately shy, cautious people. We analyze every new situation looking for danger and thinking of ways to prevent harm. It's instinctual, likely genetic. Society doesn't value those traits, instead bold and fearlessness are admired. If we were a flock of birds or herd of deer, though, it's the shy wary ones, ever watchful, that perceive danger first and warn the rest of the flock, saving their lives.

Of the tortoise and the hare...I am the tortoise.
The ant and the grasshopper...I am the ant.

I've always been an artist. I went through a period where I did not do any fine art painting...that's for another blog. One of the first Christmas gifts I got from my husband was a bunch of acrylic paints, brushes and canvas board. This was around 2003. I was grateful for the encouragement, but I stared at them, doubting my ability. Slowly, the way of the cautious, I regained confidence. I started entering shows. I started winning awards. I was asked to have solo shows. Okay, maybe people actually liked my work.

I think the most touching compliments I received were on a piece called "Hands by Candlelight." Several people told me it made them cry. It was a simple composition of a pair of hands holding a votive candle. Each saw something personal in it. Some knew my story, some didn't. I was dumbfounded that I could elicit such a response with my work.

So, after much thought, planning and risk assessment, I decided to start placing advertisements in national magazines for my art. The first quarter page ad should be coming out within days in Southwest Art.

I'm both excited ...and worried... some of you will understand.

Visit my website to see all my artwork www.rebeccazook.com

The Good The Bad and The Ugly

It's a new year and I was honored to be invited to join the Daily Painters of Texas and Contemporary Fine Art International organizations. This is my first blog here, though I have done a bit of blogging in the past. I hope you enjoy my thoughts. I'm aiming for transparency...honesty.

I've recently started doing something I haven't done before...posting images of works in progress. This means showing not only the good, but potentially the bad and the ugly. This is something I wouldn't have even considered doing in the past. I know from my background in advertising how potent a carefully crafted image can be and how little it takes to nick and deflate it. I was also raised in an environment where every little mistake, perceived or actual, was ridiculed. Early on, I worked in secrecy. No one would see ANYTHING until it was as perfect as I could make it. Comments didn't roll off my back, but instead seeped slowly into the deepest parts of my brain chipping away at the facade of self-confidence I tried to project. It was a defense mechanism-learned self-preservation.

Like many people, it took a traumatic shake up in my life for me to reevaluate my actions. Walling myself off didn't just pertain to my art, but to most aspects of my life where I feared being hurt. I was in the hospital for several weeks due to a undiagnosed illness before I let my husband tell any friends or family I was there. It wasn't their business, I said. I didn't want to be the subject of gossip and I didn't want anyone to see me this way; unable to walk across the floor without falling, to even sit up by myself, hair falling out, body blown up like a balloon. I think it was more that I thought they wouldn't care. Wouldn't come. Even worse, they might pity me. I couldn't show anyone I was this weak. That I needed help. That would just prove everything I had drilled into me throughout much of my life. It wasn't until the doctors said, "You will die without surgery. Even with surgery, you will likely suffer major complications or still die," that I said okay. Even then, I didn't expect or ask anything of anyone.

So showing my errors, my mistakes, my flaws is particularly hard for me...on me. I'm working to be more open. I also believe that less experienced artists and non-artists need to know that art isn't always this effortless, romantic thing that just flows from the brush to the canvas...it's actually work. If it is always effortless, I'd say that the artist isn't challenging themselves, isn't objectively critiquing their art, isn't growing. There is always more to learn. You'll find a hunger for learning in a serious artist.

"Sparrow's Garden" is specifically for an art show to run concurrent with a Master Gardener's convention in my town this coming Spring. The painting and photography will all feature local gardens. Since I'm also a gardener, this is of my own garden and one of my cats, Sparrow. I typically work from photos and shot several of her on the sandstone boulder. I really liked her position in the picture at the left in the photo, but when I began painting, it became apparent that she wasn't integrating into the garden scene. After much debate with myself and friends online, I was asked to keep the cat in. I had considered painting her out completely. I looked for alternate positions. It is not easy to paint out something that you have put a lot of time into. It's hard to separate from the emotional attachment and be truly objective. A lot of artists can't bring themselves to do it, or have to put the painting away for a while and come back to it, but after looking at the 2 images side by side, the second position of the cat looks much better. One person said that it even looks like 2 completely different paintings.

So here I am. Still learning. Growing...and even Sharing.

http://www.rebeccazook.com