Painting, guns, and all that jazz

Here is the situation. I've been painting a mural in a room spa for over 8 hours in one day recently. I was twisting, turning, and stretching my body in all possible directions, painting in very dim lights. After a long day I came out of the room to take a break in a waiting room.  A guy in his 50-s was sitting there. He looked at me with fake excitement and said “Here is our Picasso!"

"Maybe I'm better than Picasso," I replied.

The guy stared at me some more, sitting, oh, so comfortably in his chair.

"His paintings are worth millions," he said.

Now that's the point where I’m boiling inside but behave like Ally McBeal- the character of popular past TV series. She imagines what she would do to a person who insults her but says nothing smiling politely instead, just what's expected from her (a successful lawyer).

Being an artist I get caught in these kind of situations constantly when this type of people ( I call them either too brave or not very smart) challenges my patience and breaks down my sense of self-worth. This is where the guns come in. It’s when your inner self get constantly challenged, sometimes even attacked by insensitive people for many years over and over again with their rude remarks or just insensitive thinking process. This is when so called “normal” person goes nuts killing people unexpectedly in “senseless” rampage. While there is NO excuse for shooting people and I’d never do it myself, I understand some people who shoot others. They do it out of incredible frustration. When their boundaries have been violated so many times, one day they decide to project their pain onto others. Words often hurt a lot more than actions. Although I’m far from being perfect, nowadays I think what I say. And I’m responsible for my words.

The Enigma of Thailand

I'm so excited to introduce my new book "The Enigma of Thailand" to sophisticated and curious readers!
I went to Thailand last year and I've been working on this book since then. I wanted to bring distant Buddhist culture to the U.S. shores to show a totally different lifestyle and the beauty of this exotic country.

ORDER YOUR BOOK TODAY AT http://www.veronicasart.com/Thailand.shtml . I'm giving $2 off of the list price to all my friends on Facebook if you order the book through my website (US orders only).  I'll include 2 bucks with the book shipped to you!:) 

 Feel free to SHARE this press release with your friends!

See sample pages of the book below. All material is copyrighted.

Different

The Drift, paper collage & Photoshop

The drift 2, paper collage & Photoshop


I'm letting go of people who try to mold me into their shape, standard and worldview. I'd like to be me. I feel happy. :)

The clown, paper collage and Photoshop

Grateful

Life is like river stream. It runs deep. It’s fast. It turns. It constantly changes. It moves and it is impermanent. There are a few big, beautiful dark stones resting underneath every stream that often give this specific, sophisticated color to its waters. Those shimmering pebbles seem to be lasting. And although they can be moved and even overturned in time, those stones often shape up and even change direction of the stream. There are very few people present in my life’s river who are similar to those glistening, polished rocks. They have been defining and making a difference in my path. I’ve realized that although not everyone is able to understand me, many people do love me. Despite all the differences I often transpire with my husband and others I find it heartwarming and fulfilling to see his support of me. I’ m grateful he doesn’t bring me down for being who I am today - the artist. I’m glad to know he likes most of my paintings and he has let me paint what I wanted for many years. He is the one who bought me a fancy digital Nikon, let me go on educational trips to New York, helped me hang many of my shows and supported my studies for a degree. It’s been years of tremendous effort and work for both of us and this year is becoming a massive turning point for me. I begin to wonder if my life’s stream is going to change its course for good and actually bring the best out of me and people who really want to be beside me.

Longing for understanding, 16x20" oil.

Passion and Obsession

 (Writing Exercise: tell me what the difference between a passion and an obsession is. Would you rather have an obsession or a passion? N. Goldberg, Old friend from far away

When I hear words “passion” and “obsession” I immediately think of one of my former friends who had such a passion for her unusual match – a black guy, several years older, of totally different background and a walk of life. And then I remember his passion for her - it was thoroughly mixed with obsession. He wasn't just in love with her porcelain white skin, long golden hair, voluptuous chest and Mary Kay Apple Berry lips. He was obsessed with her not spending enough time with him or actually spending it somewhere else without him being around, even if it included studies or times with her girlfriends. He was jealous of her every move that erupted in fiery fights in predictable intervals during memorable half a year we spent studying business in 1996 Tulsa. It was time of personal revolution and discovery tapping into the unknown, breaking or rejecting the boundaries, seeing life from a totally different point of view...

 Passion is part of your character and heart. It’s your inner being. Obsession is your state of mind. Something you can either gain or lose, unlike the passion that is always present in the Self. When I think of the obsession and myself I don’t think of people I could have been obsessed with along my path. I have a cocktail of passion and obsession mixed in into my blood for art and I’d like to keep them both as long as I live. This sweet, fruity, bubbly drink is so strong that I feel like I never have enough time to paint my best painting, to complete my most recent project or to write my best story. It’s like a fever. I feel constant urge “to do my thing” that might be taken away from me suddenly before I could ever finish it up on time. There is never enough time! It is pleasure and pain, joy and disappointment, highs and lows, life and death. And I hurry myself up more and more each day producing art, liking it in the moment, disregarding it in a few minutes, days or even months and doing it all over again in endless internal struggle with myself to do better and to become good.

Spirit, colored pencil, 2013

Identity and self

It’s interesting how some people who know me including my relatives really don’t get it why and how it’s possible for me to leave my family (even though it's just for a while). They don’t understand my actions simply because they see women, wives as followers of their men, husbands. It is socially acceptable to see men lead in the family, in work, in life. Women? Well, they sort of tag along behind their men. If a woman really wants something for herself, it’s considered to be frivolous, often selfish, or not thoughtful on her part. If women have high power jobs they are called “careerists” with this subtle, negative connotation underwritten in this word. And that’s because women are associated with home and it’s very convenient for the society to keep women at this assigned place. Women often don't even think of other occupations themselves as they are raised with this aesthetic in mind. When women talk about themselves they most often see themselves as mothers and wives. Ask any guy how he sees himself. I bet that the phrase “I’m a father” won’t be on top of his list. They’d talk about their jobs, hobbies, and then about their fatherly abilities. This is not to blame men, however. They carry on other "assigned" tasks by the society. 

While this notion had solidified during the evolution I think we, women, have evolved so much that we are capable of assuming other roles in life. And we should be proud of this capacity. We really shouldn't let our personal power flow to anyone else. We should nurture and take care of it, not at the expense of men but in addition to their power. This way we won’t jeopardize their lifestyle and areas of influence, rather we would discover and create new ways of co-existing in this new, complex world together. We can help men see our strengths and abilities.

I think what a great husband can do for his wife is to let her have choices. Let her decide whether she wants to be a housewife or a business woman or assume on any other role(s) she inspires to have. Every job is hard and demands dedication and work whether it’s childbearing or working at the office. New generations are growing up with this aesthetic in mind and it’s our responsibility as parents to educate our kids to do well in any and every domain they choose to be in.

Energy, 24x48 inches, oil

Learning to read

The very first book studied in Russian elementary school.

I was holding a large, deep blue book with cute zoo animals painted on its cover. Flipping through pages I looked at pictures of wildlife and read a few lines of text printed under each picture. Tigers, monkeys, birds… The book totally gripped my attention until I felt sharp pain in my forehead. It was a giant concrete lamppost that crossed the street right in front of me. Darn! I remember it snowed... It was dark but strong electric light carved out some space to create that special artificial sunshine set in a deep, indigo-violet sky. The yellow-orangey pull of light was cast onto my book that I was holding wide open while walking down the street somewhere (probably to a grocery store or my friend’s apartment) and reading it at the same time. One light kept changing the other. Pages were slightly wet but it was easier for me to flip them over somehow…

…I was sitting at the kitchen table reading my first book to my dad. The elementary school’s “Bukvar” consisted of Russian letters and reading exercises helping children learn. While a few kids in our class had already known how to read I was a novice.

“Heee—is-- ea—ting—h-iii-s-- di—nner,” I said out loud, reading the text.

I had to subdivide each word into syllables to make it easier to pronounce the words I’ve read. My dad usually did something at the kitchen while I was reading, cleaning the table or playing with his electronic “toys” as my mother put it. My dad had hundreds and hundreds of tiny metal objects with wire that made no sense to me. He stored them in his “corner”- shelves in a hallway hidden behind a door. He organized them neatly in candy boxes of various sizes. That was one of those days when my dad was going through his toys probably to find out the one he needed, sorting through his treasure.

He kept correcting my pronunciation once in a while suddenly lifting his head from his pile of metal and looking at me softly through his big glasses. I corrected myself and continued reading the text…

Then, we were tested with stopwatch in school to know how fast we could read short paragraphs of unfamiliar text. I had butterflies in my stomach waiting in line in a hallway only to get into an empty room where the homeroom teacher was sitting with her stopwatch and an open book. Red-faced I read the lines so quickly I was gasping for air in the end. I did well in my first grade tests and I did enjoy learning reading to finally immerse myself into the world of imagination without the wait for adult help.

 [Writing Exercise: Tell me how you first learned to read. N.Goldberg, Old friend from far away]