GLUE, GLITTER AND TIN SNIPS

Excitement built in me all day long as I watched the clock in my fifth grade classroom tick...tick...tick toward that magical moment when the bell sounded the end of the school day. Normally I loved school, but two days a week I couldn’t wait to be released so I could head for the after-school activities at the Northeast Neighborhood House. We called it the Nut House, a name I never understood until, as an adult, I learned that this Minneapolis settlement house was so named by the local residents who, during the Depression, thought anyone who’d give away food, health information, etc. must be nuts.
By the ’50’s, my girl friends and I saw it as nothing more than a great place to take tap dancing lessons and act in plays. My favorite was the arts and crafts classes. I looked with excited anticipation to see what each new session would offer. I remember with a warm fondness the hours spent making Christmas bells out of the tops of tin cans: cut four equidistant slits toward the center of the lid of a tin can. Do not let the slits to meet. Pound a nail through the center of the the lid, thus leaving a hole. Open a paper clip and slip it through the hole, leaving one end of the paper clip as a hook. Attach the other end of the paper clip to the bell. Bend the four sections of the tin lid downward. Attach a little red bow on the top of the paper clip and a jingle bell on its opposite end. Apply a little glue and a lot of glitter and there you have it...a sweet little ornament.
No one worried about kids using tin snips or manipulating sharp-edged tin can lids. Cuts? Blood? Iodine and Bandaids? Probably, but I don’t recall that. All I remember is the elation I felt when I brought these stunning (to my eye) creations home.
Now I’m in my mid-60’s and while I still love making things, I hadn’t had the opportunity to revisit that eager anticipation I knew back in the “Nut House” days until this fall when Three Rivers Park District (previously Hennepin County Parks) opened Silverwood Park in the northeast area of Minneapolis. It’s a stunning place: 32 acres of oak and maple that wrap around the northern side of Silver Lake. A small cafe serves wraps, ice cream, and the best fresh brewed coffee in town...all organic. But the best part is that it offers some wonderful art workshops, and not just for kids! Pottery, book making with handmade papers, relief printing...and my current find: Intro to Botanical Painting. Under the skilled guidance of Marilyn Garber, recent president of the American Society of Botanical Artists, I’ve discovered a discipline I never thought I’d fall in love with. I signed up for this because I figured that if you want to improve as a jazz pianist, you’re well advised to study classical piano. This kind of discipline and exactitude, along with color analysis, was just what I needed. But what I’m finding is the intense pleasure in a zen-like, focused experience. Just me, the gorgeous colors of nature, and my paint brush.
A few brush strokes and I’m a fifth grader again, happily creating art at the Nut House.

PAINTING FOR THE TRULY TERRIFIED

Green Pepper Three Views
watercolor
shown in one of 125 frame options
available on linethrough
Fine Art America

I took my first art class about 12 years ago through the University of Minnesota's most excellent Split Rock Arts Program. I thought I wanted a writing workshop. But I had just completed an intense six weeks of teaching writing to high school students and had finally finished reading and grading their papers. As I looked over the Split Rock course offerings, I knew I wasn't ready for more writing, even if it would be me as the student. Then I saw it: "Drawing for the Truly Terrified." Wow. If that didn't define me, nothing did! Long story short...I came back from a magical week at Cloquet, Minnesota, told my husband I "just want to run into that little art store in St. Paul for a few supplies," and emerged an hour later with easel, paints, and ideas popping out of my pores. Fast forward to November '09. Ready for another challenge and still terrified at starting something new (will I ever grow past this?), I dared myself to enroll in Marilyn Garber's "Intro to Botanical Painting" class at Silverwood Park (one of the magnificent Three Rivers Parks). My theory was that if one wants to become a really good jazz player, one would be wise to study classical music. Botanical watercolors, to my way of thinking, would be analogous to classical piano. But a watercolorist? of fruits, vegetables, and leaves? No way. I was adamantly certain that never would I want to delve into this area of art. HAH! Garber, a knowledgeable teacher and a gifted artist, had me in her thrall from the get-go. Will I go back to my oils? You bet. But not for a while.

Maple Leaf

watercolor
shown unframed
available on line through
Fine Art America

NEW -- HOLIDAY CARDS!

I'm working on one or two stories
While waiting for oils to dry.
The doctor has told me to lay off the goodies --
Bad news as "The Season" draws nigh!
So to conquer my need for a cookie,
And before too much snow fills the yards,
I'm playing with gold and with paints and with plants
And creating some really cool cards!

Giclees (fancy name for high quality reprints) of these are available through Fine Art America at $4.75 each. This includes shipping and handling. You can decide on white or black background, add your own greeting, and even crop the image. Purchases through Fine Art America carry a 100% satisfaction guarantee, but trust me...the quality is excellent.
A click of your mouse on any of the images will take you to my FineArtAmerica.com site.

STUDIO NEWS

New to my "product line" --
Japanese Origami Paper Dolls.

Packaged for gift giving in clear boxes,
these charming little one-of-a-kind, hand-folded creations
can be sent as a card or removed from their backing and
hung as a holiday ornament with the gold cord (not shown).
At only $12, these make great stocking stuffers
and unique hostess gifts.

AUDACITY

Maybe This Time
by Judy Westergard
Oil on canvas
All rights reserved

A recent question from a friend had me pondering the word 'audacity. It's one of a few a words that have two connotations, each in opposition to the other. On the one hand, there's the sense of insolence, impertinence, defiance, as in: "Do you mean to say that you have the audacity to question my authority?" The other connotation is one of boldness, daring, heroism, even spunk. The "correct" meaning depends upon the situation in which it's used.
I consider myself lucky to have witnessed an amazing display of audacity in the latter of those two definitions. I just spent three hours helping a young woman write an intent paper for her college application. K is in her early 30's. She's part of the wait staff at a local restaurant. When she was 12, she was sent off to the "naughty kids' school" for what her school district identified as behavior problems. In looking back, K. attributes those problems to her severe hearing loss and to upheavals in her home life. Attendance at that school continued through high school where, she told me, only the basics were taught. She said, "It was an education that left me bored and uninspired."
K has decided to go to college, and I am in awe of the audacity that K is showing in taking action to pursue an education that she at one time thought was beyond her grasp. I am in awe of the audacity it took to overcome her past. I'm even in awe of the audacity it took for her to take me up on my offer to help her with her application. She was scared; this was, after all, an action that could set her world spinning in directions she knows she's not familiar with.
Some people might look at K's decision as one of effrontery. After all, how dare she go after something as foreign to her upbringing as a fine arts degree? Who does she think she is? Believe me, I know people who think this way. They're usually the folks who are afraid to pursue their own dreams. I, on the other hand, see K's audacity as an act of courage. It'll take a lot of boldness, daring, heroism, even spunk to achieve her goal; K. has it all. And if some folks are threatened by the effrontery of her decision, well, so be it. That's their problem, not hers.

ART ATTACK '09

Judy Westergard Studio
#343, Northrup King Bldg
1500 Jackson St., N.E.
Mpls., MN 55418

If you're in or near the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul, Minnesota the first weekend of November, consider visiting Art Attack, an annual open studio and gallery crawl at the Northrup King Building in the heart of the Northeast Minneapolis Arts District. The weekend-long event features over 200 artists working in painting and drawing, sculpture, photography, architecture, custom furniture, fiber arts, metal, ceramics, glass, hand-crafted and custom jewelry, mixed media, mosaics, textiles, and more. Art Attack is an exciting opportunity to gain admission to private studios and to buy original art direct from local, nationally and internationally known artists. This 12th anniversary will feature live music, special exhibits in the gallery and on the green space and a chance to win $500 in Art Bucks which can be redeemed for art of your choice. The Northrup King Building is at 1500 Jackson St., N.E., Minneapolis. You'll find directions and more information at NorthrupKingBuilding.com. And if you come, stop in and see me and my amazing studio mates in Studio 343. I'd love to meet you!

A TRUE STORY, NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH

A Question of Control
oil on canvas
30" x 24"

Last night I very carefully applied a final glaze to a painting I'd been working on for the past six months. The challenge with the glaze was to apply it without bubbles, streaks, or uneven brush marks. After 90 minutes I was finally satisfied. This morning I went to my basement studio ("basement" being the operative word here) to see how it looked. In the upper left hand corner...a corner which is primarily negative space and therefore holds nothing in which to hide its many legs and still squirmy body--was a centipede. He'd already left his miniscule feet embedded across three inches of Galkyd high-gloss medium, at which point he must have become so stuck that his legs (still attached to his body) were still working to free himself. My dilemma: Do I remove his still-writhing (and therefore live) body while the medium is still malleable? Or should I try to extricate his dead carcass from a dry and hard finish? I figured the latter decision would never work; by the time the glaze was glass-hard, the bugger would be embedded like a scarab in amber. Armed with a needle nose pliers, I plucked...and plucked...and plucked at him, eventually getting to his torso. Who knew that a centipede's torso could hold so much gooky stuff? The gut-wrenching job is finally done. I think I'll be able to smooth over the few mini-lumps that were left in the almost-pristine glaze. But here's my question: If anyone does a high-tech check in 500 years (a la the DaVinci piece with the finger print), will they be able to discern, based on entomological studies that this was, indeed, an original Westergard?

MEMORIES IN A RECIPE BOX

"Kiss the Cook"©
by Judy Westergard
water color

Despite my not-so-recent pledge to place housework on a lower (and I do mean lower) rung on my ladder of priorities, I nonetheless heard my mother’s voice: “When’s the last time you cleaned these kitchen shelves?” You don’t want to know the answer to that question, but you might be interested in the result. Among my cookbooks I came across the little wooden recipe box that was part of our 1957 Home Ec. equipment requirements. Now I’m not particularly nostalgic about that box, I sure am about its contents. Sure, it contains a 40-year collection of recipes, but more important, it contains memories. From Aunt Dorothy, the most outgoing of my dad’s sisters, there’s Marshmallow Liho Liho, a calorie-laden, decadent homage to Cool Whip® that contains nothing that hasn’t been canned, dried, or packaged. Never made it, but every time I look at that recipe, I think of Dorothy’s warm and wonderful laugh and her obvious enjoyment of life, all the way through the two years she lived following her double leg amputation. Had Mary, my next door neighbor lived, she’d now be into her 100’s. I still miss Mary. She loved to have family over and to Mary, everyone was family. Her recipes had two requirements: easy and fast. Example: 10 oz. currant jelly, 3 T. prepared mustard, and 1 lb. cocktail wieners. Combine jelly and mustard in a 4 c. glass container and zap in micro on high for about 3 min. or until the jelly melts. Beat in the mustard to blend. Toss in the wieners and serve in a chafing dish. Oh gosh; there’s Pete’s recipe, written in his labored scrawl. Teachers aren’t supposed to have favorites but that’s an ideal world I didn’t inhabit. Pete qualified for “Ms. W’s. fave” not only because, despite his multiple handicaps, he worked so hard, but also (mostly?) because he had the sunniest disposition of any kid I ever knew. He also loved to cook. Well...maybe “cook” is too broad Pete’s talents lay more in the area of combining things. His fave? Frozen bananas: Melt some chocolate chips. Peel some bananas. Poke ‘em on a stick. Dip ‘em in the melted chocolate. Place on a wax-paper lined cookie sheet. Pop ‘em in the freezer. Krupnik from my ex-sister-in-law; lemon florentine salad from a colleague at parochial K-9 school at which I first taught; Knox Blox, a favorite treat of my daughter’s childhood. There are probably 150+ recipes in that little brown box, but none starts the gears of my memory movie quite so readily as my autumn favorite - vegetable beef soup. My mom made this as soon as the autumn weather hit. I’d come home from school to a kitchen redolent with the savory smell of browning beef, to which she’d add water, dried onion, bay leaves, salt, pepper, and barley. After simmering for a couple of hours, the pot would be ready for the carrots and strained tomatoes. Some cooked Kluski noodles and fresh, crusty bread made for one terrific meal. Neighbors and family pass on, colleagues lose touch after retirement, friends move. But all of these people still live in my recipe box. It’s cool in Minneapolis today. I think I’ll go brown some beef. I can clean those shelves some other time.

ART AND THE MINNESOTA STATE FAIR

"The Gardener"©
by Judy Westergard
oil on canvas
24" x 24"
all rights reserved

It's State Fair Time!
"Our fair is more than food-fest and farm animals.
For these twelve days, we are all of us Gathered together and swept up into one fluid choreography
Of pleasure, tenderness and curiosity"
-- from "We Are All of Us" by Leslie Ball written for the '06 Minnesota State Fair.
Ahhh...the tangy aroma of pronto pups with mustard. The sweet crunch of sugar on your tongue as you bite into a warm mini-donut. The screams of the teenagers from the midway. The lust-filled eyes of the guys at the new car displays. Newborn calves, goats, pigs at the Miracle of Birth barn. The sudden quiet as your cable car gracefully lifts you up and across the fair grounds. All this and ART, ART, ART! I can't say I wasn't tickled to learn that "The Gardener" was accepted into this year's fine arts show. You can see it, along with sculpture and photos, watercolors and pastels at the Fine Arts Building. And as long as you're wandering around the fair grounds, stop in at the Butterfly House. Art pals Jon O. Erikson and Lauri Svedberg were instrumental in the display and art work. Not only is this a great respite from the hullabaloo of the fair, it's a great place to regain that sense of childhood delight as you watch the awed faces of little kids with butterflies on their foreheads, hands and tummies.

It's the Great Minnesota Get Together!
August 27 - Labor Day, 2009
St. Paul, Minnesota

IN THE DOLL'S HOUSE

"In the Doll's House"
oil on archival paper
12" x 8"

Stories occur to me as I paint. Usually they're from my memories of growing up in northeast Minneapolis. I lived a fantasy life...not the kind that's ideal, but rather the sort that comes from reading and the wish that my dull little adolescent life were more like that of the heroines I found in Jane Eyre, Sue Barton Student Nurse, and Gone with the Wind. This is part of a children's story that came to me as I worked on "In the Doll's House." The rest isn't ready for sharing yet; maybe it never will be. Still....I keep thinking that the story is in that box somewhere, hidden with the costume.
"She reached into the old box hoping, wishing, to find just the right costume that would help her pretend to be someone else, just this once, just for this magical night."

FINDING PERFECTION

The Music Maker
oil on canvas
available as giclee print at
FineArtAmerica.com

I’ve been thinking about perfection a lot lately, and how my attempts to achieve it can become a barrier to happiness. Maybe that’s why last night’s dinner at the Finnish Bistro in St. Paul became more than just a quick and handy nosh. The beautiful day was turning into a near perfect evening, more like mid-September than early August with cool, dry air and warm sun. We sat at a sidewalk table surrounded by fuchsia petunias and lime-green vines. Across the street, outside Micawber’s Books, green benches nestled among tubs of pink and white flowers. Kiddy corner, pots of lavender and purple blossoms filled the steps leading up to the beautiful old Carnegie library. The usually busy intersection was quiet. I agreed with Dean that “it couldn’t get much better than this.” But it did when a lone gentleman sat down at a nearby table and took out his guitar. The soft, seductive strains of the classical piece he was working on hung in the air like butterflies. No way could the evening get any better. But it did when a flash of bright pink caught our attention. We laughed to see a girl, no more than five or six, zoom past on her bike. She was quite a picture in her sparkly yellow helmet, her blue Care Bear t-shirt, her pink tutu, and a pair of bright-green frog-faced Wellies. Standing straight and proud on the pedals of her bike, she called out with an ecstatic “Woo Hoooo!” It was impossible not to share in her joy as we agreed that yes, this finally and indeed was perfection. There’s a lesson for me here. Maybe perfection, like happiness, can’t be forced. Maybe I’d finally achieve it if I quit trying so hard. But that’s a new lesson, and I’m old enough to know that 60+ years of habits will trump a new lesson every time. Still, I’m not so old that I’m not willing to try to learn something new...this time from a beautiful, a guitar player, and a five-year-old girl on a bike.

FINDING PEACE IN A BUSY MUSEUM

"Peace"
by Judy Westergard
Pastel on paper
Available as 7" x 5" greeting card through
FineArtAmerica.com

I waited with at least 40 others in the lobby of the Minneapolis Institute of Art for the clock to hit 10:00 A.M., the opening time of this wonderful museum. Every seat in the outer lobby was taken so I parked my tush on the only available space...a low desk opposite the five chairs that lined the window. The chairs were filled by young people, adolescents from what appeared to be a care facility for teens with special needs. These kids were obviously challenged. Four sat quietly staring into space. The fifth stared at me. Suddenly she got up and approached me. Her beautiful gray eyes, magnified by the thick lenses of her glasses, stared into mine while a hint of a smile played at the corners of her mouth. We stood quietly together, our faces no more than four inches apart. I said ‘hello;’ she said nothing. Then her soft, warm hand lifted mine. She held my hand, brought it to her eyes and smiled deeply while she gently -- so very gently -- stroked my fingers. She released my hand, returned to her seat, and stared into space. And me? I was overtaken by feelings of calm, of peace, of joy.

A friend who works with mentally challenged youngsters once told me, “So many people pity them. They think these kids are very unfortunate. But I think they’ve moved on to a higher plane than the rest of us.” I never understood what she meant until this morning.

TAOS PUEBLO MINIATURE PAINTING

"Taos Pueblo"
oil on canvas
3.5" x 2.5"

On a recent trip to the Taos Pueblo I ducked into a small shop to get out of a brief rain shower. I watched in fascination while Spotted Buffalo put the finishing touches on a silver bracelet. He and I chatted about our not-so-dissimilar childhoods spent running errands for our respective elders. (He toted pails of water from the river to the pueblo. I ran to the corner store for my mom's cigarettes.) I bought the bracelet, the rain ended, and I walked outside from a cozy room into pure magic. The result was this miniature oil painting. I offer it with its own little easel.
It's a wonderful item for anyone who'd like to start an affordable collection of original art. It looks great on a desk, a book case, an end table...you get the idea. It's available via in my Minneapolis studio or, if you prefer it's available in various sizes as a giclee print through FineArtAmerica.com.


Specifications:
Painting: Oil on canvas, 3.5"h x 2.5"w x .5" deep
Easel: Wood, 4.5" x 3"
$25.00 + $8.00 for shipping

SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT A FATHER

"Arrangement in Detachment"
original oil
by Judy Westergard

I spent more than a few hours the other day going through the legal papers that Minnesota required me to keep for the seven years that followed my mother’s death. 
That seven year anniversary was this week. Settlement of bills; sale of house; disbursement of proceeds of the estate...all the dry legal papers that as executor I felt duty-bound to revisit before sending through the shredder. No surprises...except for a photograph I don’t recall ever having seen. Out of a well-worn envelope marked “John’s gravesite” fell a small sepia toned photo of my dad. Though not much bigger than an oversized postage stamp, it's a telling snapshop. Army barracks line up at a precise angle behind him. His WWII Army-issued shirt, jacket and tie are sharply pressed and buttoned. His PFC insignia is barely visible but it’s there, properly attached to his lapels. But his cap...his cap...how can I describe this? It sits jauntily atop his head at an angle that I’m sure no sergeant would have approved. His belligerent demeanor, captured forever in this tiny photo, seems to say, “I dare you.” And as I stare at this photo, snapped before I was even conceived, I wonder: Who was this man? I remember him as a dutiful parent and a hard working wage earner who made sure his family had all the things we needed: food, shelter, clothing, and many of the things we wanted: baseball equipment, ice skates, bikes.... He was a part of my life until his death 24 years ago, always there to help when he was asked. But by today's standards, the relationship was a distant one. Closeness? Warmth? That wasn’t part of who he was...maybe because dads of the 40‘s and 50‘s, at least in my neighborhood, were defined as good men as long as they were good providers. Or maybe it was something else. I do know there was another side to him, one that showed up even in his high school annual. “Turbulent” was the adjective the editors attributed to him. Could that have been the making of his darker side, the side that, as the years went on, showed up in his dependance on alcohol and even to violence? I know he loved my mother. I know he loved us kids. But I also know there’s a lot that I’ll never know. Following his death, my mother found in his dresser drawer a letter addressed to her. She shook as she told me about it. “I’ll never tell anyone what was in it. I burned it," she said. Now, seven years following my mother’s death and 24 years following my dad’s, I stare and stare at that small photo, wanting it to tell me what he wrote in that letter that he couldn’t tell her in person. Why did she destroy it? Why did she tell me of its existence if she had no intention of telling me what was in it? Of course, the real questions are: Who were these people? And why didn’t I take the time to get to know them better when I had the chance?

I'M PROUD TO ANNOUNCE MY ART AS GREETING CARDS

I'm excited! Much of my work is now available in greeting card format! Through my home page at Fine Art America.com, click on an image that appeals to you, then click on the greeting card link. From there, have fun using that image to custom design a greeting card that you'll be proud to send.

Greeting Card Details

FAA greeting cards are 5" x 7" in size and produced on digital offset printers using 110 lb. paper stock.

Each card is coated with a UV protectant on the outside surface which produces a semi-gloss appearance.

The inside of each card has a matte white finish and can be customized with a text message up to 500 characters in length. The message is centered on the inside of the card and printed in black 18pt arial font.

Cards may be ordered in a horizontal or vertical configuration.

Cards may be ordered with a white background or black background.

All greeting card orders ship within 48 hours, and shipping is available to any destination in the world!

"Namaste"
as greeting card
on black 110 lb. card stock