I am taking a painting class, but I can’t manage going in to the painting studio. The class is crowded, and having to get around on the Fully Manual Motorcycle knee wheeler contraption is hard enough when there are no obstacles like easels, other students, stools. It would be impossible to manage in a crowded painting studio. So I’m painting at home. This is easier than it sounds. I’m using Shiva paintsticks. They come in lots and lots of colors plus iridescent colors. You can use them like crayons and dry brush to blend colors. Or, you can use the colorless blender stick that acts like a wonderful medium and you can work with the paintsticks the same as you would work with oil paint. The paint is supposed to be dry to the touch in 24 hours. I like not having to use mineral spirits in the house. I have two cats and a dog all of which have little lungs. What might not pose a problem for me can be a huge problem for them.
Here’s what I’ve done so far. I can see I need to clean up some brush strokes. I was working with thalo green, thalo blue and ultramarine blue.
I’ve been working with wire wrapping and it’s a whole lot harder than I thought.
I’ve been able to do some mending so I found out I can sew with my left foot. This is good because there’s a lot of sewing I need to do. At least one pair of jeans and several bras.
I had a CT scan and an MRI this week. Next week, I find out about surgery.
I thought my foot was sprained. My doctor wanted me to see a specialist and get an x-ray. I forgot that I didn’t go to med school; I went to law school. I decided that I wasn’t going to pay for a specialist and an x-ray because I was sure my foot was sprained. After hobbling around for five weeks with no improvement, I decided I should see a specialist. My foot isn’t sprained. My foot is broken. My arch has collapsed. I likely will need surgery but won’t know for sure for another two weeks. Imaging is set for next week and the follow up with the specialist for the week after.
For the next 4-5 months, I’m not supposed to put any weight on my broken foot. So I bought a knee wheeler thing that I call my Fully Manual Motorcycle. It’s got disc brakes and a shock absorber. I’m not planing on knee wheeling along the Appalachian Trail, but I do want to be able to navigate parking lots, sidewalks, and getting into and out of buildings. I’ve discovered that the slightest decline is enough to send me flying wild down the sidewalk.
The Fully Manual Motorcycle will not turn on a dime. Or on a silver dollar. I’m learning how to make a 15-point turn. I’m also learning that my shin is not designed to hold my weight. Going to the mall is out. So is going to Sam’s Club or Walmart. Or even the grocery store.
I cannot drive for the duration because it’s my right foot that’s broken. I can’t use my left foot to drive because I’m short and have to pull the seat all the way up. That means I can’t get my left leg around the steering column to reach the gas pedal. The other problem is I drove a standard for more than 20 years. My left foot only knows how to use the clutch. It doesn’t know how to be subtle when stepping on the gas or the brake.
Failure to follow the specialist’s instructions can result in my foot being amputated.
All the things I cannot do is causing me to be depressed. Depression is causing me to be frozen. I have to force myself to get out of bed. I have to force myself to take a shower and brush my teeth. I have to force myself to get dressed. I’ve had to increase the dose of my antidepressant. I’m trading being frozen for brain fog. That’s the problem with psych meds. They work, but a dose high enough to give relief causes brain fog.
I’ve done embroidery on the two long sleeve tee shirts I have. I was going to dye them, but it’s very cold and I’m too depressed. So I have a white tee shirt with a Star of David and another white tee shirt with a pink flamingo. I don’t need to use my foot when I use my embroidery machine. Press the green button, and the machine does the rest. I’d take photos, but it’s very cold out. Too cold to hang the tee shirts on the clothesline while I take photos. Too hard to get the Fully Manual Motorcycle out through the sliding glass door. I haven’t tried using my sewing machine yet. I suppose I can learn to sew using my left foot with the pedal.
We had a full moon while I thought my foot was sprained. So I hobbled around the yard to take these shots.
The postal rates have become such that I will have to raise the prices of my work in my store, Deb Thuman Art http://www.DebThumanArt.com but I’ve decided to keep prices as they are until the end of February. If you’re looking for a Valentine’s Day one-of-a-kind jewelry gift, please visit my store.
Some people wear their heart on their sleeve. I wear my heart on my art. I know what I want to say, but I haven’t figured out how I want to say it although I have some ideas.
I have my grandmother’s candlesticks. We always had candles on the table for holiday dinners. My family came from Dittersdorf, East Prussia cleverly disguised as German Lutherans. It took a lot of research, 120 years, and pure dumb luck discovering my grandmother’s bad German was Yiddish to see past the disguise. It wasn’t safe to be openly Jewish when my great-great-grandparents arrived in America although Jewish traditions were kept. Sort of. Cleaning had to be done on Friday and only on Friday. When I was little, we didn’t go anywhere on Saturday. And lit candles had to be on the table for holiday dinners. Jim’s family was different. On the rare occasions there were candles, they weren’t lit. We lost sight of who we are and what we believe since 1888 when my great-great-grandparents arrived in America. But we’ve kept our traditions. Now, I keep our faith and I don’t hide the fact I’m Jewish even though being openly Jewish right now is dangerous. This piece could work as either a quilt or a painting.
This is about child abuse and how I would hide from my mother and The Drunk. I would like it to be on three levels. Blue on the bottom, gray in the middle and green on the top. After the inauguration in 2017, I was so angry, I made a quilt featuring a life-size, nearly anatomically correct, 3-d depiction of a vulva – complete with a Swarovski crystal for the clitoris. It was quite the challenge to figure out how to sew it onto the quilt and then to actually sew it onto the quilt. I don’t think I want to try a 3-d quilt again. I’m not sure this would work as a flat quilt.
It could be a painting. I’d need Jim to make the “canvas” out of wood and float the gray and green levels. My painting teacher would like to see more work where Jim helps me fashion the “canvas.”
I’m afraid. I’m tired of being afraid. Fear sucks.
There’s a new Starbucks in my town. Jim and I decided to visit it. We won’t be back. My drink was fine. Jim’s drink was fine. A man behind the counter was wearing a keffiyeh. That isn’t fine. What if he discovers I’m Jewish? I did an internet search, and a keffiyeh has no religious significance. It is not a requirement of any religion as, for instance, a hijab is. Right now, the only significance is to terrorize Jews.
We attended an outdoor Hanukkah celebration. I didn’t see any security. What if someone starts shooting us because we’re Jewish?
Classes start at New Mexico State University on Wednesday. There’s a Students for Justice in Palestine chapter on campus. Don’t let the name fool you. They have organized attacks on Jewish students on campuses across the country. They advocate killing Jews. They advocate obliterating Israel. No, I don’t know what incredibly stupid person in academic administration decided to allow the chapter on campus and give them a meeting room. This isn’t a free speech issue. This is a keep terrorists off campus issue. Yes, I have let the FBI know about them.
I’m afraid. I refuse to hide, which may be a mistake – the kind of mistake that could cost me my life. For years, I’d spoken out against assault rifles saying it should be illegal to own one. Now, I seriously consider buying a Tav-7. I seriously consider buying Level IV military grade body armor designed to be worn by women.
Deb's Art 