I think about cartoons a lot, my love for them as a kid, how I think about them now as an adult. I watched cartoons every Saturday morning growing up, but the ones I think about most often were on VHS tapes my mom would buy for my sisters and me. My parents still have the tapes, but they are in Memphis along with the only VHS player I know still exists.

My affinity for children's books and cartoons most likely stem from the fact that, back then, they offered much needed respite. They allowed me to take a break from days full of shy and awkward moments and helped my brain to rest. I would visually dissect each scene with my eyes, looking past what was going on in the foreground to all that was happening in the distance. I was just as intrigued by what illustrators decided to do with the space behind as I was in the space up close- Were there tiny houses in the background? Do the colors fade? Did they merely use a pattern as the backdrop?

If I had to explain why I make art, it would be tempting to lay a bunch of children's books out on a table and show cartoons for an hour. The way I viewed these things as a child reminds me of making work today. They each instill calm and focus and help me to become lost in contentment, because, for a glimmer of time, I quit thinking about how to be content.

Today I had a hankering to see the Bread and Butter Panthers from my past, and I found them. I watched this particular Merry Melodies Cartoon, A Day at the Zoo, over and over again as a kid. It's great to see it again.

I adore their little hands in the second frame; I cherish them.

I've come across some pretty amazing things while researching architectural salvage online. Here's a little treat I've never seen before:

A Tub Sofa



I can't say that I'd ever want one of these, but I'm a strong advocate for creative re-use, and this is a fine example.

On a different but similar note, anyone in the market for a 30.5" x 60" antique cast iron tub?

Email beth@knoxheritage if you are.

Today, I'm featuring a painting I made about my favorite M. Ward song because I just found out I'm going to see him for the first time in September at the Bijou. I'm very excited.
















Long Distance Phone
2011
acrylic and latex on salvaged wood, framed
approximately 6"x12"
$55 {you may purchase this painting here*}

I wanted the painting to have a similar feel to the song- folksy, nostalgic, simple.

*a portion of the proceeds from this painting goes to Knox Heritage

I made this painting just after The Poltroon Hard at Work. I wanted to express the idea of being consumed with thoughts of someone else. In this case, the girl sitting on the sofa is being haunted by thoughts of the girl on the ceiling. It's called Living Ghost to convey that she is not being haunted by a spirit but rather someone still alive. This implies a rift between the two girls, the possibility that renewal is there, but the presence of difficult circumstances, rendering the situation hopeless.






















Living Ghost
acrylic on canvas
2011
about 4'x 3'

Most people know this experience, especially when romantic love is lost. It can be agonizing learning how to let go of a relationship over time.

The same agony can happen over a broken friendship, and may even be worse because of how unexpected it can be to lose someone you never thought you could "break up" with.

The painting expresses the idea of this more than the feeling.

The magazine in the table is this:


















Judith Eisler made the painting on the cover. She was my drawing teacher one semester of art school.

And the Corgi is, well, I want a Corgi.






















The space reflects the type of place I'd like to inhabit one day.

Questions or comments about this painting are welcome, either via the comment section below or by emailing beth@bethmeadows.com.

I've discovered the beauty of full spectrum light bulbs. How I didn't know about them in my first 26 years is beyond me, but now I can actually see what I'm working on in my studio, at long last.




















My only complaint is that they are ridiculously hot. This wouldn't be that big of a deal if I had a/c in my studio, but I do not.

I'm thinking I could strip down and start treating this place like a sauna, maybe pushing me toward my art-nasium* idea.

But seeing that I don't have heat either, these little puppies are going to do me right come wintertime. Is that almost here?

*more on this later, most likely

I'm leaving New York tomorrow morning. Why am I not out on the town? Weeeell. I've spent enough money this week; it's time to stay in.

I'm sitting across from Luke, who is also on his Mac, and we're drinking wine, listening to music, humming along. He's in super-programing mode. I'm blogging. I'm ok with this ending.

I went to the rooftop of his and Jess's building to take photos of the sunset, hence the new banner at the top of this page. Here are some of the other photos (enjoy the self-portrait.):













One of my favorite parts of this trip was visiting the High Line. I thought it was incredible. (Click the hyperlink for the history)

In short, the elevated railway was abandoned in 1980. The city was going to tear it down, but a group of people, the Friends of the High Line, wanted to preserve it.






Hui and me.

And when we went, there were crowds, CROWDS of people up there. I was trying to figure out if the High Line connected people to anything, but no, not really. It's merely a destination, drawing people there because of what it is, not because of where it takes you. I was mesmerized, so impressed, for the visionaries of that project, the architects involved, to see how successful it has become.






























I didn't need hordes of people to tell me of its success, however. I wish I could have been there with a few friends or alone. Bare feet, walking through a shallow pool of water, looking at the sparkling Hudson River in the distance.


Amanda, quintessential American

I'm grateful for this trip. I'm ready to get back to my precious baby kitten and my studio, however. And I kind of want to go swim in a stream in the Smoky Mountains sometime soon.

It's time to process all of this sensory overload.