This past Monday was Labor Day, and after a weekend full of friends and fun, my introverted self was content to lie on my couch all day with the windows open to let the sound of the rain come through. I watched Motorcycle Diaries for the second time. The first time I watched it several years ago, I don't think I was paying attention.

I have a few friends, mostly male, that claim it's their favorite movie. I think I agree with them now. I'm emotional to begin with, but put a beautiful movie that conveys a profound and good message in front of me, and it's over. I'll think about it for days, or forever.



It makes sense that films on social justice would move me, especially when they take place in other countries. My heart has always yearned to be a part of helping those that need it most. I've traveled quite a bit and seen poverty in various places. It's life-changing, and somehow, I always end up back on my couch.

I shouldn't feel bad for having the life that I have, but every now and then, when I imagine myself older, I'm with people whose skin is darker than mine (this is not a hard task considering I'm one shade darker than albino), there's dirt on my feet and under my nails, lush and green foliage around me, beautiful mountains off in the distance, water dripping off of leaves after a rainstorm. I'm thinner, happier. I can't explain it, but it's there and the vision won't go away.

The scene is similar to places I've been before- Belize, South Africa, Mexico, and I wonder if I'm supposed to go back there or somewhere new. Would I be gone for long? Months? Years?

***

It's always bothered me when people say they want to help people in other countries when they do little to help those in need in their current location. It's easy to think, if you were pulled from your environment, you'd be nicer, more giving than you are. I sometimes believe that lie, that somewhere, out in the future and far away, there is a version of me that I can live with everyday. Not this version that gets annoyed, infuriated rather, when people drive too slowly in front of me or when my photos won't load more quickly on Facebook, these being the least of my misgivings.

I love my cat Juicy, but she is a scoundrel.

Every morning, sometime between 4 and 7am, she begins meowing. It doesn't matter if she's in my bed or locked out of my room, she's up before the sun and wants me to be, too.

Feeding her shuts her up temporarily, but what she really wants is for me to start my day. So whether she's sitting outside of my door or next to my face, she meows every twenty minutes until I get up. I think she knows I need every hour of the day to accomplish what I want to accomplish.

"Get up!" I hear with every meow. "Live life! Work hard! Bring home the bacon! Literally!"

Once I finally put my feet on the floor for good, she follows me around, meowing for about twenty minutes. Then, THEN, she has the AUDACITY to jump on my bed and go straight to sleep. Each day, on my way out the door to work, I leave behind my slumbering jerk of a cat. 

If she wasn't so adorable, I'd send her to a farm where she could better fulfill her calling.

I've been keeping myself busy lately, preparing for my show next Friday, September 2.

I'm making several different types of work, one type shown above.

It's been a long time since I've drawn only using graphite. This whittling down to such simplicity has been good and really enjoyable. I have a feeling I might be doing a lot more drawings like this in the future.

{The show next week is at 123 S Gay Street in Knoxville from 6-9pm}

Whenever I hear Hurricane by Bob Dylan, I see Matthew McConaughey walking in slow motion through a billiard hall. I can't help it, and I'm not complaining.

I dropped off the Mason Jars for Folk Fest at Yee-Haw today. I wish them well.

Here are some photos.


























































































































For this batch, I even tried a little something different with my signature on the back. I thought of this a while back but had never written it out. OMG! So presh and fitting.



Now that I've completed this and that, I have another deadline coming up.

I'm showing work at Kate Moore Creative and Jennie Andrews Photography Studio located at 123 South Gay Street (in Knoxville) next month. The opening is September 2, so if you're around for First Friday, please come see me and the work that does not exist now, but will very soon.

I just finished a commissioned painting today that I've been working on for entirely too long. I've written before about my issues with commissioned artwork. Even though the "patron" said to enjoy myself, it still stressed me out, hence why it took me a while to complete.

So this particular lady found a very large canvas (62 x 42" to be exact) at a thrift store and decided she wanted me to paint the lyrics to You are My Sunshine on it. She has sung the song to her daughter every night for, I'm guessing the past decade, and she wanted to give the painting to her daughter for her birthday.

I found some images online of other paintings I've seen with the same lyrics. We discussed colors and style. Basically, she wanted it to be "old timey" looking with greys, blues, and maybe greens. She also wanted the text to look hand-written. Got it.

I found a couple of fonts online to use and decided to interchange them and also make certain words larger than others. I spent several days drawing out the letters with charcoal, referencing my computer in the very beginning and then making it up the rest of the way.

I took the painting to the lady today, and cringed as I waited for her reaction. I didn't have to cringe long before she exclaimed, "I LOVE IT!" and gave me a huge hug.

But that's not all. She actually began to tear up, and then proceeded to hug me several more times. Granted, she's been having to deal with some difficult things in her life recently, which probably explains the response, but hands down, the most surprising and best reaction to date.

And now I expect nothing less from future clients. I'm gonna need tears, people.






















 And to give you an idea of the size:

Living in Knoxville is pretty spectacular. I'm a big fan, you can ask anybody, but there are fleeting moments when I get a little antsy here.

It helps, in these moments, to focus on the things that make Knoxville great, the natural beauty, the people, the local businesses. One such business on this list that I've always admired is Yee-Haw Industrial Letterpress.





When Julie Belcher and Kevin Bradley joined forces in 1996 to create Yee-Haw, they were pioneers in reviving the practice of Industrial Letterpress. To see their shop thrive on Gay Street for the decade I've been in Knoxville, to know they create and sell artwork in a city that doesn't sustain its artists, to me, it's so exciting. Their work as creative entrepreneurs is impressive and has always made me a little starstruck.

With that said, I'm pleased to share (giddy, in fact) that Yee-Haw has recently asked me to be in an art exhibition with them. I'm one of four artists to show work alongside their prints this coming weekend, August 19-21, at the Slotin Folk Fest in Norcross, GA, just outside of Atlanta. Folk Fest is the world's largest folk art show and sale.



They've asked for twenty of my Mason Jar paintings, and so at this very moment, I'm in my studio busting them out. After I make these, I'll have a few more to make to reach my goal of 100, and then I'll be done.

If you've been thinking about purchasing one, you still have a chance to do so via Etsy, the Market Square Farmer's this Saturday from 9-2pm, or by emailing me at beth@bethmeadows.com.