Judy Westergard Paintings

Getting to the Punchline

2012-01-22T12:23:00.004-06:00

"Getting to the Punchline"
watercolor 8" x 20"
$225
JudyWestergard.com

I've struggled for such a very long time with the idea of "finding my voice" that I had given up on reading any more on that subject, figuring that, for me at least, it was a hopeless search. Nevertheless, I gave it one more try when I found an article that offered this idea: "Before you sit down to (paint, sculpt, write), jot down a few words or phrases about what it is about your chosen subject that grabs your attention." I've completed three paintings after following that tip; it seems to work! I painted "Getting to the Punchline" from separate photographs. But before I even picked up my brushes, I stared long and hard at the photos. Recollections of parties last summer intensified my memories. I wrote down words that flashed from my imagination to my hand: 'sunshine/shadows', 'triangle implies relationship', 'affection'; and yes...even 'dirty jokes.' I've learned that struggling to find my voice is indeed a means of getting to the punchline. Now if only I could recall the source of that article; I'd love to credit and thank the author.

A NEW WORK FOR A NEW YEAR

2012-01-02T18:46:00.006-06:00

"Abandoned"
5" x 5"
watercolor on panel
$125 framed

I don't make resolutions for the new year...but I do think about (and sometimes even accomplish!) a few goals. One of my left-over goals from 2011 was to try to move away from realism in painting into something a bit freer, a bit more experimental. While I've done a number of things that would fit the general category of "a few artsy experiments," only now have I finally accomplished something I think is worth bringing out in public. I'm not sure that this new voice of mine is completely tamed yet, but I like where it's going. I'd love to hear what you think.
This painting was inspired by a photograph by Karen Doody, award winning underwater, surfing, and nature photographer. Many thanks to Karen for her permission to use the photo. Her website it well worth a visit.

PERSONAL SHRINES: INSTALLMENT #2

2011-12-28T15:26:00.006-06:00

Andi & Tom's Memory Shrine (Exterior)
approx 18" x 22"
foam core, rice paper, mixed media

I wrote in November about personal shrines and where they can lead. That first one (see November 25, 2011 entry) got me thinking about my maternal grandmother to the extent that I'm playing with the idea of a trip to Poland. It also got me thinking about trying a much more ambitious project for my daughter and her husband. I wanted it to be a surprise but I knew I'd not have access to the ephemera that's important to them: shells and rocks from shores and camping trips; a scuba diver's chart; dive maps; and particularly my son-in-law's family tartan.

So I proposed the idea to my daughter. Her enthusiasm gave me the impetus I needed to take on what I thought would be a 20-hour project. Good thing for enthusiasm; it got closer to 40 hours...and I had a ball with each and every hour. I also have developed an extravagant admiration for architects who erect balsa wood miniatures of their proposed designs! But the best part of this particular project was going through photos and imagining the places my daughter and her husband dive. I feel I know them as a couple in a way I hadn't known them before.

Andi & Tom's Memory Shrine (interior)
approx 18" x 22"
foam core, rice paper, mixed media

A CHRISTMAS STORY

2011-12-22T20:10:00.003-06:00

December of my sixth Christmas was filled with whisperings from older neighborhood kids that led me to question the existence of Santa. The night of December 24 put my doubts to rest. But in order to tell this story properly, I need to fill in a couple of details.

For many years my brother and I shared the only bedroom in a house so small that we set up our Christmas tree in the kitchen. My bed was at right angles to the door that looked into the kitchen, an important detail in the telling of this tale. Tommy and I had finally gone to bed with the usual Christmas eve jitters. Would he come? Would I get the bride doll I’d wanted? Would Tommy find a coveted electric train like the one that we had seen in the Dayton window? A train would be particularly special since so many of our family -- Dad and Grandpa included -- were firemen and engineers for the Soo Line.

Tommy and I talked and giggled late into the night until the final warning came from Mom: “If you kids don’t get to sleep there’ll be no Christmas!” And so we slept.

It must have been around 2:00 a.m. when I awoke to a noise in the kitchen. Now remember, I had a direct line of vision from my bed to that tree. Sure enough, someone was under it, setting up a train set. But something was very wrong. The guy under the tree was Dad. My memory now fades to shades of gray as I watch him on his knees. His arms are on the floor, his back is hunched. He reaches to place a caboose on a track...and he sobs.

I am six. I am disappointed. I am confused. I roll over and go back to sleep.

I learned the next morning that Soo Line management had called to tell my dad of his father’s sudden death of a heart attack on the steam engine Grandpa was driving that night. And that’s when I learned the truth about Santa. He lived in my dad, a man who would focus on making a little kid’s Christmas morning special despite the huge loss he had just undergone. I never did tell neighborhood kids that they were wrong. At six, I wouldn’t have known how. But even at six, it was enough that I knew.

PERSONAL SHRINES AND WHERE THEY CAN LEAD

2011-11-25T20:31:00.008-06:00

"Rosalia"
foam core, rice paper, stamps and ephemera
7" x 5" x 2"

I never knew my maternal grandmother. I wish I had. She died well before I was born. I wish I'd have asked questions about her while there were still people in my life who could have answered them. How is it that she had the courage to leave pre-war Poland by herself when she wasn't quite 21? How did she get the money? Family lore says that she saved her egg money, but even though she went by steerage, she would have had to start saving when she was a little girl. How did she get from the south of Krakow to Poland's northern ocean fronted border? I was too young and too full of myself to ask these and myriad other questions I have about this gutsy, prescient young woman.

Grandma was on my mind when I found Carol Owens' Crafting Personal Shrines at the Minnesota Center for Book Arts' shop. After a couple of aborted trials, I constructed this little memorial to my mom's mother. It's not nearly as elegant as the samples in the book but I'm not displeased with my first effort. I learned a lot...about Poland during the pre-WWI years; about Polish farms and the probable life style for young girls married off to farmers three times their age; about what it was like to travel alone in steerage across a stormy Atlantic ocean. What I didn't expect to learn is that I share a number of traits with her: a love of making things, a curiosity about the unknown, and a determination to try something scary despite others' cautionary warnings. So maybe what I really learned is that I know her better than I thought.

AVOIDANCE AND THE CREATIVE PROCESS

2011-11-01T18:43:00.004-05:00

Into the Woods
5" x 5"
acrylic on canvas
$125 framed

I wrote on October 2 about artist collaborations and the first of a monthly meeting with travel and food writer and old friend Donna Tabbert Long. That first meeting set a fire under my (fill in the blank). I hung one show and submitted a proposal for another. I finished six small acrylics. I sketched a thumbnail for a graphite drawing of milkweed pods. I’m close to completion of two spirit houses. (More on these later...maybe.) My gallery is ready for this weekend’s big art crawl. What I didn’t complete was my assignment: to write about my creative process.

The backstory: As Donna and I talked, it became clear that our creative processes needed more structure. Past experience told us that committing to 25 pages a day (Donna) or a painting a week (me) would get us nowhere. Nope...we needed something more tangible, more concrete. Donna’s assignment for me: To write about my painting process.

And thereby lies the irony. I discovered that I get a lot done when I’m avoiding the one thing I’m supposed to do. So, while I completed more work in a month than I usually accomplish in half a year, I avoided the “gotta do” -- write about my creative process in order to understand it better. Oh. I just did that, didn’t I? Clever sneaky Donna! I think I owe her a cappuccino.

ART ATTACK 2011

2011-10-24T18:34:00.004-05:00

"International Harvester"

acrylic on canvas
5" x 5"
framed $125
unframed $85

“Human salvation lies in the hands of the creatively maladjusted.”
Martin Luther King, Jr., in “Strength to Love,” 1963.

I smile every time I read this quote. I’m hardly capable of saving humanity but I sure do feel “creatively maladjusted,” especially when I head to my studio, a place where an ADD specialist would find a enough material for a PhD. thesis. I’ve finally decided to ignore other people’s urgings that I stick to one voice/one medium -- and the work I’ve done over the past several months reflects this joyful rebellion. The result? Glad you asked. I’ve continued with the hands portraits...but nothing’s finished yet. The botanical watercolors have morphed into ink and oil monoprints. I’ve fallen in love with something called “spirit houses.“ I hope to have a couple of ‘em ready for November’s Art Attack (see below). What is finished is a series of framed 5” x 5” acrylics that are really cool, if I do say so myself. If you're thinking about holiday gifts, you might want to consider a gift of art. I'm offering gift certificates in any amount to be redeemed by the recipient whenever he/she gets around to it. You'll find 3" x 4" prints on miniature easels ($12), oils in the same size on easels ($25), framed and unframed watercolors ($45 - $75), framed acrylics ($125), and unframed oils ($400 - $600).
ART ATTACK The Northrup King Building http://www.northrupkingbuilding.com
200 artists, one location
NOVEMBER 4 5:00 - 10:00 pm
NOVEMBER 5 noon - 8:00 pm
NOVEMBER 6 noon - 5:00 pm
You’ll find me and studio mate Darrell Hagan in #427. We’d love to see you!

ON THE FEAR OF FAILURE AND ARTIST COLLABORATIONS

2011-10-02T14:30:00.005-05:00

Consider the Possibilities
by Judy Westergard
oil on canvas
all rights reserved

I've spent the last few weeks focusing on the creative process, particularly those road blocks that waste too many hours on the internet, playing Angry Birds, or washing the pipes below the bathroom sink. If this sounds familiar, then perhaps you, too. may have read a lot about these stoppages. I've jotted down some thoughts about this, in preparation for the first of a monthly meeting with travel and food writer Donna Tabbert Long. Our hope is that our collaboration will help each of us through these blocks and, with any luck, improve not only the quantity of our work but the quality. Donna is thinking hard about moving into fiction. My goal is to...well...to find a goal! My work is all over the place: realism, impressionism, abstract. I love it all, I want to do it all...but I spread myself thin and therefore I don't see the kind of growth that sticking with one voice would give me. The other part, of course, is fear. What if I were to work toward a specific goal and find myself wanting? What I'm hoping Donna and I can figure out (because she says she's all too familiar with it) is where this fear starts. I was thinking about this fear of failure the other day when I was watching a little girl learning to ride her skateboard. Arms flailing, knees at odd angles...her tumble was guaranteed. But up she got, her giggles audible to me on my front porch. The voyeur in me could feel her joy as she tried to master this scary but thrilling skill. Fear of failure? Not her! I added her photo to my studio's bulletin board in the hope it would inspire me to keep on trying. I was thinking about her again when I came across a quote by NPR's Ira Glass. It's long but it's worth the read. See what you think:

Nobody tells this to people who are beginners. I wish someone had told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple of years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase; they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are will in this phase, you gotta know it’s normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you finish one piece. It’s only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take a while. It’s normal to take a while. You just gotta fight your way through. --Ira Glass, posted by Arts Wisconsin 10/1/11

I'm pasting this note next to her photo: "It's gonna take a while. You just gotta fight your way through."

THE EXCITEMENT THAT AUTUMN BRINGS

2011-09-28T17:20:00.003-05:00

"Rose Leaves"
oil monoprint on birch board
$125

Is it because I used to be tied to a school schedule that I think of fall as a new beginning? There's a sparkle to this season that always energizes me. I've been channeling much of that energy into art, some of which I've even finished! My new work includes monoprints and monotypes. I'm also working on three-dimensional personal shrines that incorporate my botanical watercolors with ephemera from the outdoors. Autumn will soon be over and indoor activities will start to look pretty darned good. My hope for you is that fall sets a fire in your heart and that you, too, are inspired to take on new and exciting challenges.

MEMORIES IN A RECIPE BOX (revisited)

2011-09-27T14:30:00.006-05:00

"Throw In a Handful of Parsley"
print by Judy Westergard

I published this a couple of years ago. When a friend asked me for the recipe for my mom's vegetable beef soup, it seemed like a not-bad idea to publish this again. The soup recipe's at the end. Enjoy!
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. Major yum!
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.

Recipe for Helen's Vegetable Beef Soup (Thanks, Mom; gosh, I miss you.) Brown 1 to 2 lbs soup meat in olive oil or butter Add 4-6 cups hot water, 1 tablesp. salt, a handful of dried parsley, a few peppercorns and a handful of dehydrated onions. Cover pot and simmer for an hour or two. Add sliced celery and carrots...about 1/2 to 3/4 cup each. Add 1 can strained tomatoes. Add 1/4 cup barley. Continue to simmer another hour or until you're so darned hungry you can't wait any longer. Serve with Kluski noodles (or any other soup noodle you prefer) and fresh artisan bread.

FALL FINE ARTS SHOW, MINNEAPOLIS, MN

2011-09-19T20:45:00.005-05:00

Still Life with Meyers Lemons
Oil on canvas
$125 Framed

NORTHEAST MINNEAPOLIS ARTS ASSOCIATION presents the 2011 FALL FINE ARTS SHOW

Please join us at the opening reception! Friday, September 23, 6 - 9 PM
Grain Belt Bottling House
79 NE 13th Ave, Minneapolis, 55413

ARTWORK: 100+ pieces of unique, creative artwork from NEMAA Artists for sale.
VOTE: For your favorite piece of artwork for the People's Choice Award. All awards presented at 8:30 PM.
FOOD: Chowgirls Killer Catering
BEVERAGE: Beer from Surly Brewing Co, wine, and non-alcoholic selections available
MUSIC: Duo Guitarists Nick Haas and Joel Shapira
SILENT AUCTION/RAFFLE: Including theater tickets, fabulous gift baskets, restaurant and retail store gift certificates, and more!

Additional viewing hours:
Saturday, September 24 / Noon-6pm
Sunday, September 25 / Noon-3pm

TUESDAY MORNING AT SILVERWOOD

2011-08-23T18:22:00.004-05:00

In Full Bloom
by Judy Westergard
all rights reserved
oil on linen; birch panel
available at JudyWestergard.com

The patio at Silverwood Park is a busy place this morning. Over in the corner a college professor perches at the edge of her chair. Papers, notebooks, laptop clutter her table as she plans upcoming lectures. Four of Silverwood Park's staff sit nearby. They're working out the details for Silverwood's upcoming art programs. Behind me two professional violinists trade riffs and ideas while they polish their repertoire of Appalachian reels. The sounds of children's giggles and a fresh breeze off the lake mingle with the aroma of my cappuccino. Some people might think of this as sensory overload. For me it's pure inspiration. The sight of the planners. the sounds of the kids, the feel of the breeze and the seductive smell of caffeine trigger both my imagination and an irresistible desire to get back to my studio and paint. The result is the image above. I hope you like it.

SOMALIA'S TINIEST VICTIMS

2011-07-28T11:13:00.004-05:00

The Gift Giver
by Judy Westergard
oil on canvas
all rights reserved

On Wednesday, July 28, 2011 the Minneapolis Star Tribune ran a poignant article entitled "Somalia's Tiniest Victims." The article, written by Katharine Houreld and Khaled Kazzha of the Asociated Press, featured a heart-breaking photo by Schalk Van Zuydam (Assoc. Press). "At only 7 pounds, (the infant in the photograph) weighs as much as a newborn," the authors write, "but has the weathered look of an elderly man. (This infant) is just one of 800,000 children who officials warn could die across the Horn of Africa. Aid workers are rushing to bring help to dangerous and previously ureached regions of drought-ravaged Somalia."

Words like tragic, horrific, heart-rending don't begin to define this catastrophe. I've put the link to the article below. If you are moved to send a contribution and are in a financial position that enables you to do so, I urge you to consider a donation, no matter how small. The article includes the contact information of three Minnesota-based groups that are helping in the crisis. Entering "Somalia relief organizations" in your search window will also get you a list of such organizations.

Does Somalia seem far away? Go to the Star Tribune article and look at the face of that child. Trust me; the photograph will hit you in your heart. And, if you have a blog, you have my permission to copy and paste this blog entry of mine onto your blog.
http://www.startribune.com/world/126221658.html

IN THE STUDIO

2011-07-24T17:20:00.004-05:00

Prairie Reverie
mixed media
7" x 5"
copyright Judy (Judith) Westergard
all rights reserved

Ideas swirl, eddy, billow.
They surge. They seethe
in and out of
the closets,
the drawers,
the shelves
of my mind.
My imagination plays with me.
Could I? Can I?
I move to my studio,
surrounded by paper and canvas,
palette and easel, brushes and paints.
Burnt umber.
Wild violet.
Alizaron crimson and cerulean blue.
Could I? Can I?
Will I?

ON LIVING WITH A BRAIN TUMOR: Purging My Way to Peace

2011-06-23T13:52:00.007-05:00

Untitled digital watercolor
by
Judy Westergard
all rights reserved
Visit my website by clicking on image

My husband and I recently attended a party to celebrate his sister and brother-in-law's 45th anniversary, and, as usually happens after the general congratulatory toasts are made, the food is eaten, and things settle down to quieter conversations, folks catch up with one another. My catch-up consisted mostly of updating relatives who asked with great concern how I was holding up with the brain tumor. I was surprised because, quite frankly, I don't give it much thought. (Refer to my 9/30/2010 blog, "This Story's Done!") True, "The Little Bastard" is still there, but equally true is my conviction that my next MRI will confirm the January MRI -- that TLB (see above) is still dying. The process could take a few more years, but I've been assured that things are moving in the right direction. Still, answering questions about TLB had me pondering a question I addressed here not too long ago -- specifically, whether this experience has changed me. I've already talked here about no longer tolerating thoughtless people. (The latest boorish comment was about my eye glasses: "Kind of freaky looking, doncha think?" Suffice it to say that my response did not put him at ease.)
Added to my new-found ability to deal with confrontation is my new-found need to purge. (Not that kind of purging; I'm talking about stuff here.) I'm surprised at this because I've never been a hoarder to begin with. Not many clothes in my closet, not much in the way of knickknacks on my shelves. Nevertheless, ever since September’s radiation, I find myself urging my husband to help me rid ourselves of things we don't need, don't use, don't want.

The obvious up-side to this is a cleaner, neater house. The surprise, though, is my cleaner, neater thought process. This new lack of visual clutter has led to a mental calm that has allowed me (finally!) to finish projects before taking on new ones. My life-long pattern has been to bounce from one thing to another -- not an ADD issue but rather a joy in multi-tasking. Generally not a problem, but often I'd prematurely abandon a good idea while I moved on to something else. But my brain tumor experience has left me with a much greater appreciation for the sanctity of the here and now. "Live for the moment." "Appreciate the present." I used to hate cliches; now I see them as truisms. It's unfortunate that I had to experience the fear of a brain tumor in order to understand, but I'm so very glad that I still have a good 20 to 30 years of a life to live with that understanding.

ONE HUNDRED NAMES FOR LOVE by Diane Ackerman

2011-06-03T12:36:00.004-05:00

The Reader
by Judy Westergard
oil on canvas

Among my top 10 favorite books of all time: "One Hundred Names for Love" by Diane Ackerman. This is a funny, poignant, insightful, well researched memoir of her life with her author-husband following his massive stroke that left him aphasic. Despite his doctors' predictions that he'd never be able to speak nor understand again, Diane, along with a charming, funny day-nurse, worked non-stop to immerse Paul with language: puns, memories, questions, tormentingly slow conversations in which they would patiently give Paul all the time he needed to respond...sometimes as long as seven minutes. The result (and I'm not giving anything away here; she lets you know from the get-go that he eventually publishes again) is an almost-fluent post-stroke aphasic. This one's a must-read on so many levels: being a care giver, how we acquire language, strokes, overcoming adversity, and just plain elegant writing.

SILVERWOOD SPRING

2011-05-27T20:46:00.004-05:00

Silverwood Park is the newest addition to Three Rivers Park District's magnificent "collection" of parks in Hennepin County, Minnesota. After a particularly dark, cold, and rainy spring, Silverwood's rain gardens were filled to their edges. I wandered around the park with my camera, the sun came out, and colors glowed. If you live in or near Minnesota's Twin Cities, this park, with its mission of combining nature, ecology, and the fine arts, is a must-see.

ARTISTS' BOOKS

2011-05-02T19:46:00.009-05:00

Do you, like me, come up with ideas that you want to try but that never go anywhere? I came across this odd little sketch while I was skimming through old sketchbooks, looking for ideas. I recall clearly why I did it: I was and still am captivated by artist books. In fact, I have more than a few publications with photographs of artist books.* I have at least half a dozen of ideas for artist books that I really want to plunge into. I love the potential for a visual narrative that hints at but never resolves the question of who we are. I still want to tackle an artist's book of my own. Oddly, this little orphaned sketch put an end to my explorations. I wonder why.

*Two of my favorite:
500 Handmade Books; Lark Books, A Division of Sterling Publishing Co., Inc., NY/London, 2008

Book + Art: Handcrafting Artists' Books, by Dorothy Simpson Krause; North Light Books, Cincinnati, Ohio, 2009.

TOSCA...AS IN MAGAZINE

2011-04-29T18:53:00.004-05:00

Theatre, Opera, Shakespeare, Culture, Art

Someone asked me the other day why folks would bother with Exploring TOSCA magazine when it's so convenient to just open the lap top/iPhone/iPad etc. and do a search for what's happening in the Minneapolis, St. Paul, and Duluth areas. I've been trying to come up with a quick answer as to why I love this periodical (other than the fact that I'm in the current issue). And wouldn't you know it? The old Eastern philosopher was right (whoever he was) when he said, "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear."

So here it is, straight from the website: "...the newspaper's Entertainment sections... skip many things. Now we can find out all about listings in one place rather than Googling each entry to see what it's about." And in the words of TOSCA editor Gail Weber: "Exploring TOSCA is the most comprehensive arts guide available in the Twin Cities. It is published quarterly and describes hundreds of arts events and opportunities for readers. It lists events by category and by weekend. It lists the many free and almost free arts events in the Twin Cities and the Duluth area. It also features the work of local artists."

My two cents: Just try doing all that on your laptop while you soak in the tub!

Go to tctosca.com for an on-line sample, then seriously consider a subscription. And no, this is not a paid advertisement--just an endorsement of something I believe in.

UNANSWERABLE QUESTIONS

2011-04-27T12:19:00.004-05:00

"Helen"
pencil on paper
by Judy Westergard

I was listening this morning to a Minnesota Public Radio broadcast on what the future will look like. Physicist Michio Kaku was Kerri Millelr's guest. They discussed some riveting ideas. Of particular interest to me were Kaku's predictions about the brain and technology, especially a discussion about the possibility of downloading the information held in the brain of someone who is about to die. An odd subject, you say? Let me explain the backstory of my interest. It's taken me years to find--what...the strength? the emotional distance? to talk about it. Here goes. Several years ago, after two-and-a-half weeks spent in a coma in an ICU at a local hospital, my father died. I remember the ensuing days as a surge of oddly yoked activities: funeral preparations, family notifications, all the chores involved in ending a school year, and of course, helping my mother through the final steps that would make her a widow in the eyes of the legal system. Lots to do, not much time for quiet talks. Three or four weeks later, Mom, my brother and I and our spouses faced the inevitable. The others were working downstairs while Mom and I went through Dad's belongings. Except for my occasional question about some particular item, she and I worked in their bedroom in silence until, unexpectedly, she turned to me and said, "I found a note in your dad's bureau drawer." Her face contorted. The look in her eyes spoke of pain. Can silence get loud? I sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to go on. "My name was on the envelope. It said, 'If you're reading this, I've already died.'" She paused...a long time. I, usually so ready with words, couldn't speak. Then she added, "I tore it up. I put it in the garbage. I'll never tell anyone what was in it." Why did she seem to blame herself for what she had read? Why wouldn't she tell me what was in it? And if she was determined that I never know the contents of that note, why did she tell me of its existence My mother has been gone nine years. To this day, when I want to torment myself, I bring back this memory. How I wish I could have downloaded what she knew.

GROWING UP CATHOLIC

2011-04-24T16:30:00.006-05:00

"She Always Traveled Incognito"
by Judy Westergard
Giclee prints available at FineArtAmerica.com

I try to concentrate during Sunday Mass but more and more my mind often wanders. This morning's Easter celebration with all the kids in their finery, brought back a flood of memories which later triggered an enthusiastic conversation with friends over what we remember about Growing Up Catholic.

I shared my conviction that, despite being a girl, I was quite capable of distributing the Communion wafer, thank you very much, and I could prove it with the multiple packages of Necco Wafers I ceremoniously placed on my kid brother’s tongue. I think what I really was after was power as I insisted he kneel in front of me and hold a pie tin under his chin. That lad would do anything to get my Necco Wafers.

Childhood friends Joanie and Mary Lee attended the neighborhood Catholic school. They were masters (mistresses?) of the nun's habit that was de rigueur in the mid-50's. I, on the other hand, one of a handful of Catholic kids in the local public school, had only movies to guide me. So while Joan and Mary in habits pinned from old brown curtains would maintain order in their backyard classrooms of stuffed animals and dolls, I (still looking for power) entered our make believe school as Head of the Order, wrapped in white dishtowels, my mother's slip around my head. (I never could make Joanie and Mary Lee obey me; they just didn’t buy it.)

My favorite story, though, comes from Jay who grew up the only Lutheran in a Catholic neighborhood. "I went to church with my Catholic pals, impressed with the fancy stuff they got to do when they served as altar boys. I loved the Easter Sunday ritual where the priest walks up and down the aisles, blessing the congregation with his aspergillum dipped in holy water. I still wonder what the neighbors thought when they saw us solemnly process through the alley, blessing the trash cans with a sprig of soggy broccoli."

Maybe letting my mind wander isn't so bad after all when it brings back all these memories.

I'M ON LOCAL ARTIST INTERVIEWS!

2011-04-16T20:27:00.003-05:00

MinneapolisPhotographer Michael McGraw featured me on his Local Artist Interviews. Thanks, Mike; you make me look really good!

Artist Bio~ I started painting when I took a workshop through the U. of Minnesota's Split Rock Arts Program. A week at the Cloquet Forestry Center in a class called "Drawing for the Truly Terrified" (which I was!) and I was hooked.

Fifteen years later I'm still learning. I so much enjoy exploring and experimenting that if consistency of medium and voice is what you're after, you'll not find it in my studio. Visitors there often remark on the variety in my subjects and voice. What can I say? I’m sort of like the Manhattan Transfer. I paint what I love and what I love is as varied as their music. (On the other hand, my mother would have told you that I just get bored easily.)

Tell me about your work. What are you currently working on? How is this different from past projects?

I’ve been working in oils for a number of years, creating portraits of people using only their hands. About a year ago I took a botanical watercolor class from Marilyn Garber, founder of the Minnesota School of Botanical Art.

I wasn't particularly interested in watercolor work or in painting pictures of plants. Rather, I saw this as a discipline I needed; I signed on under the theory that if you want to play jazz piano well, a good foundation in classical music isn’t a bad idea.

To my way of thinking, Garber’s instruction would provide me with the classical basis I needed if I wanted to get better at what I was already doing. I never expected to fall in love with botanical watercolors. As a result of almost a year under her excellent tutelage, I'm experimenting with combining my hand portraits in oils with my watercolor botanicals.

The Massage Therapist

"What is Art?" is certainly too big of a question to ask here, but what do you hope your audience takes away from your art? What statement do you hope to make?

Whether they're looking at the hand portraits or my botanicals, I hope that viewers of my work come away with a heightened insight into the details that make both people and plants intriguing, mysterious, beautiful.

Independence Day

What was the best advice given to you as an artist?

“You’ll never be an artist because you can’t tell me how many buttons are on your shirt without looking,” my 9th grade art teacher told me. It took me 40 years to figure out that what he was saying was that an artist needs to pay attention to the details. At 14, I believed him and became first a secretary, then an English teacher. I didn’t start painting until I was almost 50. I’m a slow learner...but one who pays attention to details.

Tell me about your work space and your creative process. I show at Northrup King and I work at home. I have half the basement for my oil paints. Not glamorous, but the walls are white and my husband stapled sheets of white foam core to the ceiling. The upstairs attic-cum-bedroom is where I do my dreaming, writing, drawing, and watercolors. My stash of art books is there, sharing space with my plants, boxes of handmade paper, and three ring binders I call my Directories of Visual Instruction...collections of magazine clippings, sketches, colors I’ve mixed...it’s my main source when I want a new idea.

Who are some of the Minnesota artists you enjoy?

I wish there were room to list them all! At the top of my list are Margo Selksi. Her narrative figure work entraps my imagination. Kristie Bretzke does insightful and thoughtful portraits of street people.

If I were to follow you around to see art in Minnesota, which places would we go? What would we see? I get to the "biggies" a lot...the Minneapolis Institute of Arts and the Walker Art Center. I love wandering through the galleries in Grand Marais. Locally, hands down it’s the amazing and ever-growing work by the N.E. Minneapolis artists, especially those artists in the Casket Arts Building and those in the Northrup King Building.

Primrose Leaves

Where do you go online for good art resources, whether to find a new artist, or to see what is going on in the art world locally and otherwise?

I’ve stumbled across some amazing people through Fine Art America. I frequently return to the apps I've installed on my iPad, a favorite of which is "Art Authority."

Another favorite is an accidental find through eBlogger: Myrna Wacknov does collages, watercolor figure work and portraits that speak of someone who loves people, color, and experimentation.

An Act of Contrition

What can we expect to see from you in the future?

I’m not ready to make a detailed commitment to what I’m experimenting with, but I can say that it has something to do with combining classical music with jazz...in other words, my watercolor botanicals with oil paintings. If this works out, they’ll be at the gallery space I share with Darrell Hagan in Studio 427, Northrup King Building, Minneapolis.

AN ART SHOW WORTH SEEING

2011-04-10T14:19:00.005-05:00

"Winter Thaw"
by Thomas Wilczewski

You're invited to Sister Kenny Rehabilitation Institute's 48th Annual International ARt Show by Artists with Disabilities April 14-May 13, 2011. Regular exhibit and sale hours are weekdays from 9 a.m.-4:30 p.m. Free admission. For more information call 612-863-4872 or visit sisterkennyinstitute.com.
Address: Abbott Northwestern Hospital Campus, 2nd floor, 800 East 28th Street, Minneapolis, Minnesota 55407
GRAND OPENING: April 14, 2011, 5-8 p.m.
Free Admission. Free parking opening night only.

ART-A-WHIRL 2011: Save the Date!

2011-04-02T14:59:00.004-05:00

Longest continually running open studio tour in the country! Click on the image for more info.
Friday, May 20, 5-10pm
Saturday, May 21, Noon-8pm
Sunday May 22, Noon-5pm

You can find me at
Studio 427 Northrup King Building
1500 Jackson St., N.E.
Minneapolis, Minnesota 55413
Click here for directions

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT

2011-03-31T18:19:00.014-05:00

"An Act of Contrition"
watercolor & ink on Wallis sanded paper

When I sign an email I include my studio address and contact info. Lately I've been adding a tag line: "Oils, Watercolors, and a Few Artsy Experiments." I'm hoping that "artsy experiments" will explain the variety in the work visitors see in my studio. I've been criticized for that variety: "You'll never get gallery representation, Judy," I've been told. "You need to stick to one voice." But if I ain't happy, the fam damily ain't happy, and what makes me happy is trying new things. So here, for what it's worth, are the two extremes of what I'm working on now. As I say in my brochures, "I paint what I love, and what I love is as varied as the music of the Manhattan Transfer. My mother would have said that I just get bored easily. As the kids say, "Whatever."

Primrose Leaves
Watercolor on Fabriano 300# paper

MORE THOUGHTS ABOUT THE CREATIVE PROCESS

2011-03-27T12:36:00.022-05:00

Click on image to go to my website

My husband commented recently, with a smile on his face, that I’d probably implode if I weren’t making something. Bread, a sweater, a painting...he’s right. If I don’t have at least two projects in process, I sink into the Slough of Despond.

This got me thinking about creativity. If you're like me, you know a lot of people whom you'd describe as creative. No doubt you’re a creative, too. Into the mix I include painters and musicians, weavers and knitters, woodcarvers and cooks, bloggers, thinkers...the scope is as deep as it is long.

There's been lots of research about why we feel the need to create, much of it related to our ever-increasing technologically oriented society. But my ponderings here have more to do with what creatives do with their creations.

Imagine a spectrum of creative people. At one end are what I call the quiet, introspective types. Take Linda, for example. She writes...a lot and quite well. She's observant, perceptive, an excellent listener. She has a talent for dialogue that captures a personality with spot-on accuracy. But publish? Produce? No..."I do this only for my own enjoyment," she says. And I believe her.

Mary's cityscapes in graphite are among the best I've seen. Architectural accuracy is there, but so is a sense of how she feels about the places she draws. But sell? Display? Mary's drawings stay in her studio. "I do it because it makes me happy.”

Move along my imaginary spectrum and you'll find people like me. I think of us as "noisier" with our studios and galleries open to the public. We sell but certainly not enough to make a living. So why do we do it? Melinda Kordich's answer speaks for me and a whole lot of others: "I feel wonderful when someone looks at a painting and says, 'That's my grandmother. I can smell her talcum powder and feel her hugs. Thank you for bringing back that memory." I get it. The emotional high makes it all worthwhile.

Finally there are the professionals, those whose work ethic, dedication, and (dare I say it?) talent leave me breathless. Here are three you might want to check out. I've never met them. I wish I could.

My rna Wacknov is a California artist, teacher, blogger. Her collages, watercolor figure work and portraits speak of someone who loves people, color, and experimentation. Her blogs, "Drawn from Limb to Limb" and "Creativity Journal" are exciting inspirations. Her unique artistic voice is exhilarating and compelling.

Marlene Burns is an Arizona artist who interprets her Jewish heritage on canvas. Her work is lyrical and engaging. Her palette is strong and emotional. I want to be Marlene when I grow up.

Karin Kuhlmann takes digital fractals into a whole new realm of art. I've seen lots of fractal work. Yawn. It’s only Karin's work that creates a visceral reaction in me and that makes my heart beat faster. Luscious colors, seductive rhythms...like Wacknov, her work is better viewed than described. I'd like to be Karin when I grow up but there's no way I could master her computer skills.

And what about you? Are you reading this while you're planning tomorrow’s dinner? Are you in the middle of knitting a sweater or carving a birdhouse? Did you try to figure out a more efficient way to pick up the kids from school? Welcome to the spectrum, Fellow Creative! Regardless of where on my spectrum we land, I believe that what we all share is a desire to solve problems. Isn't if fun when it works?

Three others worth your time:
Kathleen Daughan: Maine seascapes
Darrell Hagan: Surrealism and erotica
Karen Kiefer: Narrative Portraiture (and a website that's just plain fun)

THOUGHTS DURING A FEBRUARY BLIZZARD

2011-02-20T20:26:00.005-06:00

"After the Fall"
by Judy Westergard
graphite on paper
For info on giclee reprints click image

Snow has been falling all day in Minneapolis. Predictions call for snow all night and into Monday. After three balmy days during which we were seduced with spring-like temperatures, winter has returned and this Narnian blizzard draws me to the windows as if staring at snow too thick to see through, could change something. Last night I was transfixed by the moon light on my newly snow-free patio. Tonight I know that beautiful full moon is there behind snow-filled clouds, but the only light higher than my head comes from the dim glow of leaden street lamps. The snow is frustrating, yet it, too, is beautiful. And I'm reminded of winter days over half a century ago, walking home from school with Karen, our pre-adolescent voices recreating a round taught to us by Rita Marie Andrescik, who came to our grade school once a week to teach music:
Snow on, snow In lovely whiteness everywhere. Moonlight is breaking To make the night so fair....
We'd vary the pitch, we'd try different rhythms, change the dynamics ("No! Let's hold that last note for a count of eight and fade!" one of us would insist.) We were oblivious to everything and everyone around us, intent only on recreating the skills we learned with that haunting melody. Tonight I'm still haunted by the beauty of the snow, but even more so by rapidly changing seasons and days that go by too fast. After the fall comes winter, and after winter comes spring. I know it. So why, on this blizzardy night, does spring seem to far away?

NEW YEAR, NEW STUDIO

2011-02-06T14:29:00.008-06:00

I'm excited to announce the opening of my new studio. Same site...Northrup King Building in Minneapolis...but I'm no longer subleasing. Darrell Hagan and I decided to take the plunge and, in the words of my husband, "move in together" (as studio mates co-leasing the same place, that is.) You'll find us in Studio 427. We're open from 5:00 to 9:00 pm on the first Thursday of each month, by appointment, and of course for Art-A-Whirl in May. (More on that later.)
Darrell specializes in surrealism. My loves are narrative pieces in oil and botanical watercolors, with the addition of an artsy experiment every now and then. We'd love to see you.

A NEW YEAR, A NEW OUTLOOK

2011-01-23T14:50:00.003-06:00

Grape Leaf Ivy
original watercolor by Judy Westergard
all rights reserved
click here for purchase info

I thought I was dealing with the brain tumor thing so well. But it wasn’t until my follow-up MRI in early January that I realized how lethargic I’d become. With “proof positive” that the tumor is indeed dying, I find myself energized and eager for each new day. I'm painting (the watercolor above is one of several I've been working on), baking, writing, planning, moving into a new studio...buoyancy! enthusiasm! stamina! I had spent the majority of my days between June and January reading...and even then I'd look off and stare into space...tired; napped a lot. So...the question is, how can we know if we're dealing with stress when we don't recognize that we're stressed? I’d always thought that there would be some kind of emotional awareness that I was not dealing well with things. I discovered that for me, it’s a matter of looking for differences in my day-to-day activities. It’s obvious that even in my mid-60’s I still have lots to learn!

WORK IN PROGRESS--CONQUERING FEARS

2010-12-31T20:44:00.003-06:00

D. in Taos
(work in progress)
Phase 1: block-in
oil on canvas

I’ve always admired and, if I’m honest, been a little jealous of people who can paint and sketch in public. Some are plein air painters, totally focused on a lake or a park or a mountain. You’ll find others in a corner of a coffee shop, capturing gestures with a quick laying-down of pencil or charcoal on paper. What makes me envious is that their available subject material is so much greater than mine. Now it isn’t that I don’t want to paint those lakes and parks and mountains, and goodness knows I love figure work. But I seem to be paralyzed by the notion that someone might watch me and, in my overworked imagination, watching equates with judgment. So I’m trapped in my studio with my photographs, well aware that the only thing that’s trapping me is me! In a hopeful attempt to at least start getting past this debilitating fear, I offer something I’ve never offered before...a work in progress. I’m tempted to make all kinds of excuses for it..explain what I know is wrong with it at this point...but all I’m going to say is that it’s in its pre-school stage of development. I intend to post a few more photos as it grows up. In the meantime, I hope that if you, like me, have some unreasonable fears that are holding you back, you’ll find a way to gently ease yourself out, past, or through them. My theory is that bringing a fear into the open will diminish it. Won’t it be neat if it works for both of us?

DANIEL SMITH WATER COLOR STICKS--GREAT FUN!

2010-12-30T20:30:00.003-06:00

"Holly"
sketch painted with
Daniel Smith Extra Fine Water Color Sticks

I’ve written about childhood events, travel adventures, favorite foods. I’ve nattered on about the anxiety, the malaise, and my overwhelming sense of good fortune as I underwent what I’ve come to call The Summer of My Brain Tumor. But I’ve never written about a favorite new art product, so even though this is going to sound like a paid ad (it isn’t; I have no connection with the manufacturer), I want to let you know about Daniel Smith Extra Fine Water Color Sticks. These are amazing. They react really well with water, releasing creamy, rich colors. The pigment-packed colors are highly transparent, allowing you to build layer upon layer. They interact beautifully with traditional water colors, both pan and tube styles. You can apply them directly to paper and wet later with a brush; you can dip them in water then paint; and you can wet your brush and stroke the stick. You’ll get exciting and varied results no matter what you do. They’re perfect for travel. I did the sketch above with three colors of the sticks; I started with a pale first coat of hansa yellow light. Next coat was a combination of the same yellow and ultramarine blue, thus giving me a lovely green. After that I played with various combinations of pure sap green and and combo of sap green and ultramarine blue. The sketch isn’t done yet...probably never will be. But I’m so excited about these “toys” that I wanted to get this out there. Let's paint!

COOKIN' WITH MUSHROOMS

2010-12-07T14:22:00.004-06:00

"Two Mushrooms"
by Judy Westergard©
graphite on paper
To purchase original, click on image
Giclee prints available through FAA (click here)

Nothing special here...just a favorite recipe.
Dice seeded green pepper, onion, and mushrooms in approximately equal amounts. Saute slowly in olive oil until tender/crisp. Season with sea salt (optional, but it's really the sea salt that makes this a great side dish). Serve immediately or at room temperature. Yum!

CONTEMPLATING STUFF THAT MATTERS

2010-12-06T20:02:00.007-06:00

"Artichoke"
graphite on paper
$75
available via PayPal
(click on image)

I continue to think about a question that was tossed out at me not too long ago. "Has your experience with your brain tumor changed your life in any way?" she asked. I answered (and wrote on this blog) that except for no longer abiding the vapid and/or the inane, I'd not noticed much difference. But it's been a few weeks since that conversation; I'm rethinking what I told her, and I think it's due to the botanical drawing classes I'm taking, the focus of which is...well...focus! Instructor Marilyn Garber has us looking very closely at the minutiae that make up our subject matter, subjects that have included a seed pod, a persimmon, mushrooms, an avocado, and now a dieffenbachia. This kind of calm, slow, exacting work is a zen-like experience, and I find myself in awe of the beauty of of what I'm drawing. I know, I know...centuries of artists have written about this, painted it, and created some of the world's greatest music as the result of having been inspired by the natural world. Like them, I've always appreciated nature...but now I see it as a metaphor for something much bigger. I haven't figured all this out yet but I know that somehow it's connected with my brush with my eventual demise. And if I ever do figure it all out, you'll be the first to know! Thanks for reading.

ANOTHER HOLIDAY CARD

2010-11-19T15:07:00.004-06:00

Peace Dove
copyright
Judith (Judy) Westergard 2010
all rights reserved

As promised in my last post, here--hot off the cyber-space press--is another another holiday card. Depending on the size of your computer screen, you may not be able to see that I created the dove with the word "Peace." Cards ($4.00 each) are available at my studio...#343, Northrup King Building, Mpls. and also through FineArtAmerica.com. (Click on the image.) You'll find more info about those in my November 18 post.

CHRISTMAS CARDS! GET YER CHRISTMAS CARDS HERE!

2010-11-18T18:24:00.007-06:00

Minneapolis' sudden and instant winter of last week got me into the holiday mood early this year. The result is a collection of new holiday cards. They're available at my studio and through FineArtAmerica.com. (Just click on the image and then on "Cards for Special Occasions.") You can choose a white or black background and the size of tree. (Example: for a very sophisticated look, make the tree quite small.) Cards are available as singles and in packs of tens and twenty-fives. FineArtAmerica prints cards of the same quality that you'll find in the gift shops of America's top-notch museums. Everything you order from them comes with a 100% guarantee. I'll be posting more images in the next few days.

A NOVICE'S GUIDE TO BUYING ART

2010-11-13T10:45:00.006-06:00

Eggplant
(work in progress)
graphite on paper

What’s good art?

Count Basie said of music, “If it sounds good, it is good.” Same holds true for food: what’s good is what tastes good to you. So, what about art? Why doesn’t everyone agree on what’s good? Easy; we’re talking about the senses. And while there are guidelines that can help you make up your mind, in the final analysis good art is what you like. Others may applaud your taste or question it. But it’s not about what people will say; their comments are about them not about you.
Buy art because the piece
~ evokes a memory;
~ provokes a thought;
~ tells a story;
~ creates a mood.
Framed? Unframed? Matted?
Some artists present framed pieces for sale because the work has been in a juried show. Framing is almost always required in these situations. Art that is framed is protected. And of course it’s ready to hang.
Other artists offer work that is unframed because they know that framing is a personal decision. Ask the artist for suggestions about framing.
What purpose does a mat serve?
Mats can serve two purposes - aesthetic and practical. Aesthetically, a mat acts as a visual border, separating the art from its surrounding wall. From a practical point of view, mats help anchor art on paper (water colors and pastels, for example), thus enabling the artist or framer to ensure that the work remains flat without having to resort to adhesives that could potentially ruin the painting as it ages.
What about glass?
Glass protects the art against dust, pollutants, etc. Oils generally do not need this protection. However, ask the artist if the oil has been varnished since varnish acts as a protection; some artists choose to avoid a finishing coat of varnish and therefore you might opt to instruct your framer to include glass.
~ a bit of info about fragile media~
Soft pastels (sometimes incorrectly called “chalk”) need protection. Most pastelists spray a fixative on their pastels. Glassed frames are usually a must in order to protect this delicate medium from the environment.
Water colors are usually framed under glass. However, this is becoming more of a personal decision. Talk with your framer about where you intend to hang your piece. The location in consideration of the room’s lighting will steer your decision.
Non-glare or regular glass is a personal decision. A good framer will be able to guide you through the advantages and the drawbacks of regular and non-glare glass. Plexiglas is another variable. It’s lighter than glass and nonbreakable but it scratches. Glass is much less likely to scratch but weight could be an issue if a piece is very large. Another consideration is whether to use UV glass. Many framers will recommend UV glass for any art work that will hang in a sunny room. UV glass does not let UV rays pass through it so your art work is protected from fading. However, UV glass may optically alter the appearance of the colors in the piece.
What if I want it but I don’t know if I can afford it?
The price of original art can seem prohibitive. Talk with the artist whose work you’re thinking about purchasing. Ask if he or she might be willing to consider payments over time. Many artists are willing to work out such an agreement.

ART ATTACK 2010

2010-10-30T12:12:00.006-05:00

NORTHRUP KING BUILDING
NOVEMBER 5 5:00pm - 10:00 PM
NOVEMBER 6 noon - 8:00 PM
NOVEMBER 7 noon - 5:00 PM
1500 Jackson St., N.E. Minneapolis, MN 55413
CLICK HERE FOR DIRECTIONS

November is comin' on fast and so is Art Attack, when the 200+ artists, clothing and furniture designers, photographers, and sculptors in the Northrup King Building open their studio doors to visitors and collectors alike. There'll be lots going on. I'm excited about what the Northeast Journal called "The Chamber of Steel. "Windowless Studio 459 is wall-to-wall galvanized steel...the perfect place for a huge magnetic poetry gig. According to Gregory J. Scott, Northeast Journal reporter, "...Minneapolis resident and wordsmith Dave Kapell spent a recent afternoon slapping hundreds of oversized word magnets on the chamber's cold sporadically mineral-stained walls. Kapell invented magnetic poetry--well, as much as one can invent the process of cutting up phrases in order trorearrange their words...." After you've placed your creative writing on the wall (or just enjoyed the random thoughts of others), wander down to the gallery (studio 332) where you’ll enjoy “The Nature of Ice.” This multi-artist exhibition captures the ephemeral beauty of ice in nature will be on display the entire weekend. The gallery is only a few steps away from Studio 343 where studio mates Loretta Bebeau (works on sheet rock) and Gloria Cooper (Hebrew script in acrylics) and I would love to see you and to have you see our work. I'm moving away from the hands I’ve been painting for three years and into botanical water colors. I’ve also created a lot more of my miniatures in oil. These little gems, none larger than 3" x 4", come with a wooden easel. They make great hostess gifts and stocking stuffers. And at $25 each, they're also a great way to start your own gallery of orginal art at minimal investment.
 

ON LIVING A POST-BRAIN TUMOR LIFE

2010-10-26T20:03:00.004-05:00

An acquaintance asked me a question a few days ago. "Was your experience with your brain tumor a life changing event?" I've been thinking about that question a lot. Short answer: No. After all, there was never a question of malignancy, and the "surgery" was by gamma knife...no real knives involved, so I can’t say that the past six months have been the cause of in any major changes in my life. However, I am aware of some changes in perspective, one of which involves time. I've spent many hours thinking about how I've had the rare (to me) opportunity to look through the looking glass. What I saw was the reality of how relatively little time I have left on this planet. Don't get me wrong--"relatively" is the key word here. I'm not being maudlin, merely realistic. But I'm in my mid-60's. It’s a good guess that two-thirds of my life are behind me. So...just what did my Great Brain Zap teach me about time? Nothing that all philosophers, novelists, and poets haven't already said: We don't live forever. Use time wisely. But it took the Great Brain Zap to get me beyond a superficial awareness of that philosophy and into living it. Here’s an example: I no longer feel guilty about putting a wanna-do before a gotta-do. Six months ago I never would have read a novel at 10:00 in the morning. Start a painting at 4:00 in the afternoon? Certainly not! That's supper-cookin' time. I learned my mother’s lessons were well...but they no longer fit my life. Supper doesn't always have to be ready by 5:00, nor do I have to be the person in charge of its preparation. Another example: I'm no longer willing to suffer fools gladly. No longer am I willing to spend time with the casual acquaintance whose main topic of conversation is him/herself. You know the kind of person I'm speaking of: "Enough about me; let's talk about you. What do you think of me?" This last one really surprises me: Six months ago I never would have excused myself from tedious conversations with people I hardly know. In fact, I never would have had the gumption to be so honest as to write those lines. No...no earth-shattering changes. But I now know in ways I didn't know before the truth of a favorite quote by Anna Quindlan: "The time we are afforded to find happiness and satisfaction cannot be spared or wasted...whenever possible, dreams must be pursued, not deferred."

2010-10-06T15:36:00.003-05:00

"Flying Solo"
by Judy Westergard
oil on canvas
12" x 12"
all rights reserved

Nothing here quite so dramatic as my entries about my brain tumor and gamma-knife surgery, but I for one am happy to be done with the drama! On the other hand, info about new art work just ain't gonna be as exciting. Nonetheless, here's a pic of one of my latest ventures. High quality giclee reprints and greeting cards are available at FineArtAmerica.com. They offer a 100% satisfaction guarantee, no questions asked. (These folks produce excellent prints. I've ordered copies of my own work and I had to get "up close and personal" to be able to tell the difference between the giclee and the original.)

ON LIVING WITH A BRAIN TUMOR Day 118: This Story's Done!

2010-09-30T13:34:00.007-05:00

(Warning: The photo below is not for the squeamish. Consider yourself warned.)
I'm slowly emerging from the wanging headache, the vague nausea, and emotional fog through which I've been drifting over the past 24 hours, so this entry is a short one...just enough to say that Tuesday's gamma-knife surgery was successful. After a couple of hours debating whether the procedure was safe, the four medical gurus in charge of my case decided that yes, they would proceed. (Thank goodness! The alternative would have been daily zaps of radiation for about a month. Groan....) Anyway, it's been quite a trip, and knowing that folks have been reading these posts has gone a long way in helping me to get through it. I'm processing the experience and if I can come up with anything profound, insightful, or even funny, I'll post it here. Right now, suffice it to say that I'm one happy trekker! Tired, but happy.

We're considering using PhotoShop
to paste Santa Lucia candles
on the head cage.
On second thought...maybe not.

ON LIVING WITH A BRAIN TUMOR, Day 113: Travelin'

2010-09-26T13:54:00.007-05:00

Bruges Canal
Digitally Enhanced Photo
by Judy Westergard
Giclees available: click on image

We returned from a two-and-a-half week trip to Bruges, Copenhagen and Amsterdam on Thursday, thus giving me enough time to ready myself for the gamma-radio surgery I’m to undergo on Tuesday. Don’t want to think about Tuesday, so here are a few observations about Bruges, Copenhagen, and Amsterdam.
BRUGES: We met not one person who wasn’t well-read, cosmopolitan, multi-lingual, friendly, gracious. More than a few were darned funny. Example: I chatted with our hotel bartender about how tiny, tourist-centered Bruges is surviving in this tight economy and about the very small proportion of residents to tourists. “You have that right,” he said, tongue in cheek. “Bruges has about 200,000 inhabitants but over 3 million tourists annually. We need them, but sometimes I think of them as terrorists more than tourists!” Having met a few of those types of tourists, I got his point. Bruges is beautiful, but it’s the people I remember so well, particularly the long-legged high school girls in their oh-so-proper plaid school uniforms, the skirts of which were often hemmed eight to 10 inches above the knee. Gotta love the rebellious!
COPENHAGEN: Lots of construction going on in this very busy, very large city. And yet, despite heavy crowds of business people with laptops, residents with prams and groceries, and tourists with their rolling luggage, not once did I feel unsafe. Even crossing streets was a surprising experience: no one jay walked or crossed against a traffic light and even more surprising--not once did a driver who was stopped on a red light, inch forward into the crosswalk. Even more surprising--in a city of over one-and-a-half million people, we saw only one street person. There certainly may have been more; after all, we hardly traveled through all of Copenhagen. But the train station and the areas around it were free of beggars. I asked a bartender about this. (Bartenders are my favorite source for cultural information.) He said, “Denmark’s residents are taxed heavily (about 50%), but we’re a welfare state. All Danes receive tax-funded health care and pensions.” Wish there had been time to talk further but we had to move on. Besides, we couldn’t afford to stay much longer. Even a Coke was $7 USD! Another observation, this one from a children’s park. Dean went for ice cream while I stopped at the gate to watch kids ages five to 10 at play in a small, paved, fenced, tree-rimmed park. Two boys were engaged in a mock pirate fight, each giggling as they other bopped one another on the head with a foam rubber sword. A lad of about eight happily roller skated around his little sister who was seated on a skate board, scooting around a small tree. Others played sidewalk games or chased maple leaves in the wind. A couple of adults (parents?) casually chatted on a bench. No obvious supervision, no signs about “don’t do this, don’t do that,” no feeling that anyone was about to sue should a child fall and scrape a knee. No one seemed worried about child abduction. Calm, happy children engaged in calm, happy play. Gotta love a culture where kids can be kids!
AMSTERDAM: Again, a profound sense of safety in a huge, international city. Much like Copenhagen but not nearly as expensive. Amsterdam is a small, crowded, wonderful city of pedestrians, bicyclists, trams, and beer delivery trucks. You’ll see the occasional car, but most folksavoid driving. Cars aren’t needed in Amsterdam. Public transportation is fast, easy, and very inexpensive. We went everywhere on foot or by tram. And clean? Wow! My daughter’s neighbor was from Amsterdam. Grata was fond of telling us how horrified she was when she first came to the Twin Cities in the 1950’s and was looking for a house. "Everyone’s windows looked so dirty!" she said in her heavy Dutch accent. Only after she went into a home did she realize that what looked like dirt on the outside was merely the screen we Minnesotans use to protect ourselves from summer’s mosquitoes. After visiting Amsterdam, I understand why Grata was disgusted by dirty windows: the Dutch seem obsessed with shiny, immaculate glass! Out and about on our early morning walks through Amsterdam, before the shops opened and the streets got busy, we saw shopkeepers sudsing up and hosing down their windows, top to bottom, left to right. Gotta love the Dutch! Thanks for sticking with me through this long post. It’s helped me forget about Tuesday’s brain zap. Wish me luck. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that I’ll no longer be a WWABT*. (Woman With A Brain Tumor)

ON LIVING WITH A BRAIN TUMOR Day 84: Seeing Double

2010-08-30T18:54:00.003-05:00

"The Impermanence of Summer"
by Judy Westergard
watercolor
Considering a print? Click on the image.

Two of my favorite quotes have dominated my thoughts over the past four days because events over the past four days have found me living those two quotes. At first glance they seem to have nothing to do with each other. But that's an outward appearance. First the quotes, then the explanation: Quote #1: "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." (Anonymous) Quote #2: "...the time we are afforded to find happiness and satisfaction cannot be spared or wasted.... Whenever possible, dreams must be pursued, not deferred." (Anna Quindlen) Here's the back story: Six months ago, episodes of double vision led to a referral to a neuro-ophthalmologist who recommended an MRI. The MRI revealed a benign brain tumor. The next step was a referral to a neurosurgeon who told me that while some of my symptoms were related to the tumor, it was the cause of none of my vision problems. “Great!” I said when he offered the well-reasoned option of “watching waiting” as opposed to radiation. In the interim, in order to eliminate the double vision, I was given a prescription for prisms to be inserted in my eyeglass lenses.. They worked great...for a few days. So I headed back to my neuro-ophthalmologist. "Dr. Neurosurgeon told me that my brain tumor is unrelated to the increasing and now-constant double vision, so I'm back here on the assumption that the prisms aren't as strong as they need to be." "I'm not so sure about that!" Dr. Neuro-ophthalmologist said. He loaded the images of my MRI onto his computer screen and explained why he believes the tumor is the cause of my vision issues. "I'm meeting with my radiologist," he said. "I'll bring your case to the meeting and give you a call on Monday.” Jump ahead to today's phone call. "The radiologist concurs. We both believe that the tumor is the cause of your double vision." Now here's where the quotes come in to play. The "other plans" my husband and I have been making before life getting in the way are for a trip abroad. We started planning for this trip before the vision problems became an issue. But because I'm a big believer in pursuing not deferring this trip. I'll be darned if I'll cancel it just because I’m seeing double! Current plans: Get new prisms installed, take trip, see how things work out. No more double vision? Great; back to "watchful waiting." Continued problems? It scares me to say this out loud, even more so to write it out because committing my thoughts to paper places them in the category of reality. So if need be, I’ll submit to having four holes drilled in my head in order to anchor the cage that will zap The Little B*#*tard. I can handle the four holes. The scary part is the very slight but very real possibility of some crummy side effects, one of which is my benign tumor will transform into a malignant one. So it's back to the occasional panic attack, which I deal with by writing, and it's back to being aware of my life as a WWABT (pronounced "wabbit." It stands for Woman With A Brain Tumor.) With any luck--and maybe a strong gin and tonic--my sense of humor about all of this will return. Until then, thanks to seeing double I intend to look forward to seeing twice as much of Bruges, Copenhagen, and Amsterdam.

TODAY'S LESSON: TART SALVATION

2010-08-21T16:23:00.004-05:00

Kiss the Cook
by Judy Westergard
watercolor and ink

Interested in giclee print?
Click on the picture

Peaches are at their peak. Blueberries are big and...well...blue. Thoughts of a peach and blueberry tart have been haunting me for days. "Cholesterol levels be damned," said I to myself.
I prepped the fruit and mixed my favorite pie crust recipe, the one that includes a quarter cup of vodka and that results in an easy-to-handle, flaky pie crust that would be the envy of anybody's grandmother.
I measured carefully. I cut in the butter until the mixture exactly resembled corn meal. I added the cold butter/Crisco combo, and then the ice cold water/Vodka. I refrigerated the dough. I took it out and let it rest.
All looked well until the roll-out phase. I've made this recipe dozens of times and never has it resulted in such a sodden mess!
Next step: dump it into the trash bin.
I was on the verge of a tantrum (not attractive in a woman in her mid-60's), when I remembered my fallback routine. I drank the last of the vodka, pulled out the Bisquick® and threw a batch of shortcake into the oven.
My philosophy: nothin' ain't worth gettin' one's undies in a bunch when there are alternatives!

ON LIVING WITH A BRAIN TUMOR Day 59: Abandoning Control

2010-08-05T15:14:00.005-05:00

"Fortress"
Mixed Media Collage
by Judy Westergard
Giclee reprints available through
FineArtAmerica.com
(click on image)

Surprisingly, I’ve not been second-guessing my decision to go with the “watchful waiting” option that my neurosurgeon had given me. After all, I can change my mind and opt for radiation, should I decide that that’s the better choice. But radiation, which comes with its own set of alarming, potential side effects, can’t be reversed. So yes, I’m content to watch and wait. Nonetheless, this watching and waiting stuff does have its downside which for me is not having closed the door, the result of which is the occasional anxiety attack. Never before have I been so aware of my control freak tendencies. So I’m trying something new: total abandon at my easel. I’ve been playing with the messiest stuff I could think of: mixed media collage. And I have to admit, I finally feel quite relaxed! I can’t control this form of painting any more than I can control my future, and yet I like this form of art as much as I like the total exactitude of replicating a leaf. I think I’ve finally learned something: Life doesn’t have to be predictable in order to find its joys.

ACTING ON THE COURAGE OF ONE'S CONVICTIONS

2010-08-04T20:01:00.004-05:00

"Contemplation"
by Judy Westergard
Patel on suede
all rights reserved

One of the most enjoyable parts of being a studio artist during an art crawl is all the great people watching. I especially enjoy the little kids. One little darling in particular still resonates, no more than four or five years old. White lace cuffs on her stockings edged the tops of her red and white checkered tennis shoes. Pink ballet tights were topped by a tutu. Bouncy blonde pigtails peeked out of her white straw hat, which she proudly wore upside down. Now here was a woman who knew what she wanted! In she strutted, sketchbook and pencil in hand. "Can I draw your pictures?"
I watched with fascination while she, her mom, aunt, and grandmother strolled through our studio. "Oh, I really like that! I would hang it over my cat's bed.... How 'bout that one, Gramma? You could put it in your bathroom. Mommy, let's get the picture of the flowers. I really like flowers." Her delight was infectious. In no way was this munchkin going to let someone else’s tastes influence her preferences.
I've not been able to quit thinking about her. My art colleagues and I often share stories about potential clients who come, see, talk, return, and talk some more about a piece of work that engages them. It’ll be a piece that makes them happy or thoughtful. Sometimes it reminds them of a special place they’ve visited or it evokes a special time in their lives. The potential art buyer will even admit that the price is affordable. "But let me bring in my (fill in the blank: girl friend, mom, next door neighbor).” I'm not talking here about someone who shares living space with Potential Art Buyer. I understand why both parties should agree on what they're gong to live with. But I’ve always been curious about the need to have someone else validate one’s taste. Are Minnesotans really that unsure of art? After all, I know folks who've purchased jewelry, clothing, and sofas even if said friend said "uh uh, nope."
Maybe what’s needed is permission to let go and return to our five-year-old selves when we did what we did because it made us happy and not because someone else approved of it.

ENOUGH WITH THE BRAIN TUMOR; LET'S PAINT!

2010-07-22T12:29:00.003-05:00

"Ephemera"
by Judy Westergard
Giclee reprints available at FineArtAmerica
(click on image)

An odd combination of "needs" has resulted in my experimentions with digital painting. Those needs? Glad you asked. First of all, I absolutely need to make stuff. (My spouse recently observed that I'd probably implode if I couldn't work with my hands.) The other need has been to keep my surroundings clean, clean, clean. I suspect what I'm really after is a sense of control. Whatever...it certainly is impeding my desire to slop around with oils and watercolors. The solution has been to play with digital painting...a whole new discipline, a whole new route of experimentation and discovery. Here's my first result. Well...not the first; it's closer to #30, but it's the first that I have enough courage to take out in public. (I sure hope it behaves itself.)
If you're interested in considering a framed giclee print, click on the image. It'll take you to Fine Art America where you can play around with mats and frames of your choice. (Even if you choose not to purchase anything, you can have fun playing "gallery curator" which is a lot of fun.)

ON LIVING WITH A BRAIN TUMOR Day 41: Wishing for Certainty

2010-07-18T15:05:00.004-05:00

Waiting Rooms
by Judy Westergard
Oil on canvas
All rights reserved
Giclee prints available (click on picture)

I've always loved kits. I still have fond memories of walking eight blocks to the local craft store with Karen, Mary Lee and Joanie. There was more than enough there forboys: model cars, planes and boats in shiny boxes. Grown-ups looked at brushes and paints. Kids younger than I begged parents for boxes of pristine Crayolas and untouched coloring books. My girlfriends and I spent a good portion of our weekly allowances on embroidery floss, cotton dishtowels, and iron-on designs of chickens. But what I really lusted after were kits, especially the paint-by-number kits. Boxed sets of these promises of artistic perfection sang a siren's song so strong that my birthday money didn't stay long in my pocket. Armed with cash, I purchased a kit. The picture on the box was one I'd been lusting after for several months: a tropical ocean bay surrounded by palm trees, sand, and seabirds. A strange choice for an 11-year-old who'd lived her life in mid-America, nonetheless I knew that I was meant to paint this picture. It held so much more promise than cross-stitched chickens. Finally at home and in my favorite work space (the kitchen of the unused second floor of my parents' duplex), I peeled off the cellophane packaging and opened the box. Rows of tiny plastic containers held oil paints, each assigned a number that corresponded to the canvas' black-and-white outlines. The hairs on the two small brushes reflected the overhead light. All those colors! All that potential! I dipped my brush into the azure blue of Color #3 and went at it. And that, of course, is when reality hit. After 45 minutes of concentration (15 of which were spent trying to thin overly dried oil paints), I was invariably disappointed with my creation. Why, I'd seen better work in the coloring books of my neighbor's first-grader! And yet...and yet...every time I managed to acquire the proper sum of money, I'd buy another kit armed with the conviction that this time my painting would match the one on the box. The allure of those kits is probably no mystery to anyone reading this, but it took me a long, long while to figure it out: I want certainty. Even when I know it's not possible, I want, if not a guarantee of success, at least its likelihood. I feel that way with my art, and I feel that way with this brain tumor. I want certainty. I want guarantees. I want to know that what I start will have a successful ending. But just like with my paintings (which often don't come close to what I'd envisioned when I dip my brush into the colors), my brain tumor isn't predictable, either. And while uncertainty -- both in my painting and with my tumor -- is sometimes uncomfortable, it's taking me down some interesting paths.

ON LIVING WITH A BRAIN TUMOR Day 30: Reprieve

2010-07-10T11:52:00.006-05:00

For She Is a Lover of Life
by Judy Westergard
Pastel on paper
all rights reserved

I spent the last three weeks in a kind of limbo, wondering how and even when this tumor might change my life. I met with my neurosurgeon three days ago and now I find myself pondering my remarkable good fortune.

Malignancy was never an issue with this little bugger, but other than that my head was full of “what-ifs,” even to the extent of finding myself each day in a state of stasis that scared me even more than the tumor. Then came the good news.
“This is a great tumor,” my neurosurgeon said. “We like these kinds. If you have to have a brain tumor, this one’s the easiest to deal with.” Then he outlined three options: surgery, radiation, and “watchful waiting” (with strong emphasis on the “watchful” part).
Radiation sounded good at first because it would put an end to my concerns. “It’s done as an out-patient procedure. You’d be able to go out for dinner that evening,” said my surgeon. “It won’t eliminate the tumor but it will prevent it from growing.”
“Hmmm,” said I to myself, “that might be an option. I could close the door on this phase of my life.” But then he continued.
“We drill four holes in your head which allow us to attach a cage. This is done under local anesthesia. The cage is what allows the radiation to zap the tumor.”
“Oh,” said I. “On second thought, I can find much better reasons to go out for dinner. Let’s explore this ‘watchful waiting’ option a bit more thoroughly.”
So that’s where I’m at. I have an appointment for another MRI a year from now with strict instructions to pay close attention to any change in symptoms, at which point we’ll schedule an earlier MRI. Armed with knowledge, I can handle the “what ifs.” The bigger challenge at this point will be to come to grips with what I suspect is something like survival guilt that soldiers must endure. Why am I the fortunate one? What does this mean? I may never answer that, but it’s important that I try. In the meantime, with any luck, I can go into my 90’s with the knowledge that “I get the last brownie; after all, you wouldn’t want to deny a woman with a brain tumor the last brownie.”

ON LIVING WITH A BRAIN TUMOR, DAY 19: Coping With Stress

2010-07-03T15:41:00.001-05:00

Everything I've ever read, researched, and have been told about anxiety and stress has the word "exercise" somewhere embedded in the advice. And while logically I know that's right, to quote a character in the cartoon section of Friday’s Star Tribune, "I may know it, but that doesn't mean I believe it." Yes, I do try to dive into the YWCA's water aerobics program three times a week. And yes, I do acquiesce to a walk through Silverwood Park about as often. But my bike continues to grow dust in the garage; my hiking shoes show little to no wear, given how long I've had them. And my anxiety attacks, though mild, still mug me almost daily. Despite the promises I make to myself to "just do it," I understand all too well why I don't You see, I'm a product of an educational system for which the concept of Title IX was not even a twinkle in someone's eye. Grade school phy ed consisted of a half hour per week, during which the visiting gym teacher would announce that week's lesson. (I recall being particularly fond of watching grainy black and white films on why a fast game of dodgeball was good for us. I hated dodgeball.) My junior high years were in what was then the flag ship school of my city. Among its cutting edge offerings were the required swimming classes in the indoor pool. In order to encourage a healthy body image, the boys were required to swim nude. We girls were luckier...or so we thought, until we got a look at the wool tank suits each girl was issued. The more zaftig lasses were given a suit in day-glo fuchsia. Sizes were color coded. I and a few other Size Tinies (read "boobless") got black. The look, while nothing that "Seventeen Magazine" would have featured, wasn't bad, until we got into and eventually out of the water. Wet wool sags...a lot. The only way out of swimming class was to prove it was "that time of the month." (The word "menstruation" was never used except in books like "Growing Up and Liking It.") Tampons? If they existed, few of us knew about them. No, the only excuse was to present a soiled Kotex pad to the 9th grade gym aide. (Even those of us who never colored our nails discovered the benefits of a little red nail polish mixed with some polish remover.) Nothing in my high school gym classes convinced me that exercise was fun. Mrs. X had a thing for foot health. She lined us girls six at a time, shoeless, on a table so that she could inspect our feet for early signs of bunions. (The pointy toed shoes of the early 60's were anathema to her.) It was the job of some poor school paper reporter to write the article announcing that term's Foot Queen. Basketball was part of the curriculum, but we were forbidden from playing full court. "Girls," our teacher said, "your uteruses could fall out from that much running." It didn't occur to me until many years later that that same teacher saw no problem with having us run like mad women during 50-minute games of field hockey. (I still believe that this was the only time I've experienced true envy, and that was of my asthmatic friends. Half a century later I still hate to run.) So, it’s no surprise that exercise isn’t part of my anxiety-reducing regimen. Better to fall onto a lawn chair and into a good book.

ON LIVING WITH A BRAIN TUMOR: Day 14, The Crash

2010-06-27T18:46:00.005-05:00

"Namaste"
by Judy Westergard
pastel on paper
all rights reserved
giclee reprints available through
FineArtAmerica.com

I experienced my first major emotional crash yesterday. Even though I expected it, it came as a surprise. A sense of overwhelming sadness. Inertia. I spent most of the day doing nothing other than stare into space and play endless games of Solitaire, all the while thinking that I should/could be painting, gardening, knitting, hiking...any number of things that seven years of retirement have let me do whenever I wanted. But no, there I sat, alternately staring at the cards and into space.
But then yesterday was the first day I’ve experienced symptoms beyond a few minutes. I've alluded in previous entries to my ability to disavow all that this lump in my head might imply. Cheerful denial is easy for me when there's nothing going on to remind one of reality. What was so puzzling about all of this is that I was fully aware that I was acquiescing to this mood (which, by the way, happily broke with my husband’s magic words, "Let's eat out"). So today I went back to one of the three books I'm reading. From Seeking Peace by Mary Pipher: "All of our lives, we must keep appointments we did not make.... (Yet) we can choose the way we deal with our fate." Perhaps I should write those words down on multiple Post-It Notes and place them around the house. I sure could have used them yesterday.

LIVING WITH A BRAIN TUMOR, Day 10: Trying to Get to Reality

2010-06-23T16:30:00.003-05:00

On the Rocks
by Judy Westergard
Pastel on paper
All rights reserved

"I think you're very brave," a friend said to me as we panted through this morning's hour of deep water aerobics at the YWCA. "Brave, schmave," I thought to myself. I've got nothing to be brave about because none of this is really happening to me! At least, that's how I've felt for the past day or so. No symptoms equal no problems in my WWABT world (Woman With A Brain Tumor; pronounced "wabbit"). I can't say the same is true on those days when my vision goes wonky and my head hurts, but right now I get to continue in my self-elected position as Governor of the Great State of Denial. It's this disconnect that got me to thinking about the oil gushing into the Gulf of Mexico, the seemingly never-ending wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and any number of other challenges we face. If you've read this far, you're probably asking yourself what the oil spill could possibly have in common with a brain tumor. Bear with me as I try to make this clearer. As long as I'm symptom free, my tumor doesn't affect me. If it doesn't affect me, I have no emotional reaction to it. And without an emotional reaction it's not real. Oh sure, I know it's there, but that's an intellectual and therefore easy-to-deal-with awareness. That seems much like Afghanistan, Iraq, and even the oil gushing off our southern coast. None of my friends or family is in the service. None of them live anywhere close to the Gulf of Mexico. And consequently, like my tumor, these tragic challenges seem remote. If there's a lesson to be learned here, maybe it has to do with the realization that one needn't be emotionally involved in order to deal with a problem. I can write to my political reps regarding the wars. I can send letters to the editor of my newspaper. I can donate money to the relief organizations that are assisting with the oil spill. As for my tumor, I'm ready to deal with that, too. Soon. Maybe right after my next doctor appointment.

LIVING WITH A BRAIN TUMOR Day 7: Creative Paralysis

2010-06-20T19:32:00.006-05:00

Jack in the Box
by Judy Westergard
Oil on canvaas
all rights reserved

I’m writing this while I sit on my patio on this stunning Sunday afternoon. Warm sun, gentle breeze. Although some would call them untended, my gardens have a lush, non-manicured look that I love. It’s a look that speaks to me of abundance. And it’s abundance that I’m well aware of. In more ways than I can count I am a very lucky woman. So why this big crash? Can’t say I’m feeling sad or depressed, just unable to do anything. For example: I start to clean my studio but there’s still a pile of photos on that table, and this one is still full of palettes that need cleaning. I set up my easel, pour out some paint, pick up a brush...and half an hour later I come out of my reverie. Same position, same blank canvas. I start a book and 18 pages later discover that the eyeballs have been moving but nothing’s registered. Usually it’s stunning days like today that rev my engines. But this time I’m parked in idle. The last time I recall being like this was 39 years ago when I experienced what my physician called a threatened pregnancy. Everything came out just fine, but the interim between those words and the all-clear was one of tense waiting. I remember feeling as if I were responsible for everything but able to control nothing. I wish I had some wise words of insight into this dilemma. I know I’m not the first to have experienced it and I know I won’t be the last. I also know that I’ll get past it. If I find any magic pathway, you’ll be the first to know. As for now, I think I’ll take a nap.

LIVING WITH A BRAIN TUMOR, DAY 3

2010-06-16T20:25:00.004-05:00

Shelter from the Storm
by Judy Westergard
pastel on paper

A little more than 48 hours into this and I find I'm handling this challenge the way I have handled so many others: Debit card in hand, I head for the bookstore. For me, words hold comfort and power.
Sure enough, the folks at Common Good Books don't disappoint. Less than five minutes of explaining in no clear terms what I'm after (something uplifting but not schmaltzy; intelligent but not esoteric; well written but not preachy...), my keister is comfortably seated in an overstuffed chair in a quiet nook, five likely titles in my hand. Half an hour later I've winnowed my choices down to three. (The list is below.)
An hour later and $40 lighter, I'm in my favorite reading spot. (It's the bathtub; that's all the detail I'm giving.) I'm on page 27 when it hits me: Good grief! I'm repeating a decades old pattern that I've never noticed 'til now! The water's getting cold but I need to figure this out. Yup, I do the same thing with my art. Whenever I'm unsure of what I'm doing (I abhor uncertainty), I figure that I'll find what I need in a book. So I buy books about how to paint when way down deep I know that the only way I'll get better as an artist is to paint, not just read about it. The books give good info but they can't replace the experience.
And so it is with this brain tumor trek I'm on. I'll read, I'll look things up, I'll underline and highlight and asterisk, but ultimately, I will have to get that aforementioned keister out of its comfort zone and face my new life as a WWABT.

My book list:
Love and Death: My Journey Through the Valley of the Shadow by Forrest Church
Seeking Peace: Chronicles of the Worst Buddhist in the World by Mary Pipher
When Bad Things Happen to Good People by Harold S. Kushner

On Being a Woman With a Brain Tumor

2010-06-15T15:21:00.004-05:00

A Question of Control
by Judy Westergard
oil on canvas
all rights reserved

It has been a little over 24 hours since I received the phone call that confirmed the MRI results. I have a brain tumor. According to the radiologist it is most likely benign. My neuro-ophthalmologist explained why that was so and said lots of other reassuring things but to go into all of that isn't my purpose here. Rather, I'm changing the focus of my blog from musings about art, books, and recipes to how art, books, and recipes affect my take on being A Woman With a Brain Tumor. Conversely, I hope I can gain some insight into how being A.W.W.B.T. affects my art, my reading, and yes, even my cooking. Who knows? Maybe I'll be able to get a few more restaurant meals out of all of this! Of course my main goal is to make some sense out of this major life-changing event and deal with it with grace, humility, and good humor. (Please Lord...help me avoid turning into a Poor Pitiful Pearl!) I’ve given a lot of thought about whether to "go public" with this. I've already informed all the folks in my life who should know, so why a public blog? As usual, my favorite sounding board (AKA my husband) clarified my thoughts for me: "You're more likely to keep writing if you believe there's someone out there who wants to share your experiences. And you've already discovered that you won't keep up a private journal. So go for it!" Wise man, that husband. So here I go, mapless, off on the kind of journey I never thought I’d take. But lack of a map didn't stop Lewis and Clark and by golly, it’s not going to stop me.

A RARE COPY OF ANOTHER'S COLUMN (reprinted with permission)

2010-05-18T18:17:00.007-05:00

"Serenity"
by Judy Westergard
pastel on paper
customizable giclees available through
FineArtAmerica.com

"Is your life a spinning top?

Do you find yourself overwhelmed with information?
Are there just too many choices and options?"

These are the words that opened a column by Cinda Columb in the Winter '10 issue of "Expressing TOSCA" magazine (page 58; reprinted with permission). Her questions grabbed me like Velcro® grabs a wool scarf. If like me, you relate to this particular challenge, you might be interested in what Columb has to say:
"I feel snowed under when I open my email inbox and find over 800 unopened messages. You see, I'm a big of an information junkie; I sign up for way too many newsletters thinking, 'This will give me the secret to increased sales, solve problem A, or whatever the pitch may be.' When life starts to feel like a spinning top, my goal is to keep it as upright as possible, all the while spinning without toppling over. Does that sound like your goal as well? I love to help people find ways to simplify their life so that decision-making becomes easier and choices become clearer. There are two quick and simple exercises I recommend to my clients to achieve this. The first step...is discovering what you are good at, those things you do naturally and effortlessly. One easy way to recognize yours is by buying the book, StrengthsFinder 2.0 by Tom Rath. The purchase of this book offers an online assessment, which after completing tells you your top five talent themes. A question I ask my clients is, 'What are your core values?' The following link offers a values card sort exercise that offers a number of value words or phrases for you to distinguish the five core values that guide your life: http://oca.cce.umn.edu/prototypes/cardsort/values. When I completed this exercise, I recognized a theme that is part of the motivating fulcrum that keeps my top spinning smoothly. Remember at the beginning I mentioned signing up for too many online offerings? Well, one of my values is pursuing new truths and understandings. Ah ha, that makes sense. My other values revolve around working with and helping others. I enjoy being in a position to help others recognize self-limiting attitudes and to make changes that increase the quality of their lives. When I incorporate these values into business, volunteer opportunities and life in general, I am happier. These values validate the education and career choices I have made that bring me to this time in life: I coach individuals and teams in the business of life in order to live successfully ever after! How are your values and choices aligning?"

Cinda Columb, MA, is the owner of the coaching business
“Successfully Ever After.” Cinda has a Master of Arts and her
coaching certification from Adler Graduate School. She works
with individuals and teams who want to maximize their strengths
to increase harmony and productivity. She facilitates inter-active
workshops and is a motivating speaker. Cinda can be reached at
763-449-0127 or cindacolumb@comcast.net.

ART-A-WHIRL SPECIAL OFFER

2010-05-09T20:05:00.005-05:00

'What an artist is trying to do for people is bring them closer to something,
because of course art is about sharing: you wouldn't be an artist
unless you wanted to share an experience, a thought.'
David Hockney

I've written earlier about the classes in botanical watercolor I've been taking under the excellent tutelage of Marilyn Garber, founder of the Minnesota School of Botanical Artists. I wrote about how surprised I was to discover a discipline I didn't expect to fall in love with and about my discovery of an intense pleasure in a zen-like, focused experience. Just me, nature's gorgeous colors, and my paint brush.

I'd love to share with you the results of my studies. I'll be hanging these new watercolors in time for

ART-A-WHIRL (click here for directions)

May 14th, 5:00 - 10:00 pm
May 15th, Noon - 8:00 pm
May 16th, Noon - 5:00 pm
Northrup King Building
Studio 343

In addition I'll be offering for the first time ever an Art-A-Whirl special--50% off of selected oil paintings. If you're in the Twin Cities area the weekend of May 14, I hope you'll stop in. I'd love to visit with you!

SUNDAY IN THE GARDEN IN THE SPRING

2010-04-18T18:58:00.005-05:00

Spring Tulips
by Judy Westergard
22" x 15"
watercolor on Fabriano 300# hot press
all rights reserved
available as giclee from FineArtAmerica

Spring in my hometown has been (insert your favorite superlative here; they all fit). My peonies are setting buds almost a full month early. The miniature crabapple in the back yard is promising a spectacular show of deep pink blossoms. The cardinals are staking out their territories and claiming their mates. Their bright flashes of red among the pale yellow leaves of my ash tree never fail to enthrall me. I spent a couple of joy-filled hours today in my garden. Psychologists tell us that when it comes to evoking memory, our sense of smell can’t be beat. And sure enough, a couple of whiffs of that warm soil and I was back in the tiny greenhouse my dad used for potting tomatoes and peppers. If I were good...and I mean really, really good (which didn’t happen too often; after all I had a kid brother to torment), I’d get to help my dad transplant fragile tomato seedlings to larger pots. I felt very important and very special. But unlike my dad, I don’t grow much in the way of anything humanly edible. My garden tends to run to perennials, and in the spring, it becomes a buffet of tulips that crows and squirrels love. Luckily this year I was able to nab a few blossoms before all that was left were the stems. I hope you enjoy the resulting watercolor as much as I enjoyed painting it.

ART-A-WHIRL 2010

2010-04-10T10:46:00.006-05:00

Art-A-Whirl 2010
Click on the poster for more info

Art-A-Whirl, presented by the Northeast Minneapolis Arts Association, is the largest open studio and gallery tour in the United States. This is a highly anticipated annual event that welcomes local and regional visitors to the Arts District in Northeast Minneapolis to see the art being made in this area and to meet the artists. As visitors come to see the art over the three-day weekend they also experience the unique and welcoming community of Northeast Minneapolis. More info at NEMAA.ORG.
New in my studio this year--my botanical watercolors. I'd love to see you at Studio 343, Northrup King Building.

Four Cherries
by Judy Westergard
Watercolor on Fabriano 300# hot press
All rights reserved
click on image for purchase info

THAT OL' INTERNAL EDITOR

2010-03-27T16:20:00.004-05:00

A Question of Control
by Judy Westergard
oil on canvas
all rights reserved

I’m curious. Do you work with an internal editor? I ask because it’s a concept I’ve been aware of and fascinated by for a long time. For instance, during my years as journalism advisor for Coon Rapids High School’s newspaper, my students and I often held discussions about the extent to which they were self-editing. One such discussion I recall moderating was between the editor-in-chief and the music critic who intentionally pulled back a scathing review of a rock concert he believed was considerably less than the $125 ticket warranted. The reason? He feared the put-downs from his peers that his comments would provoke. Like the kids I, too, find myself aware of internal editors. The strongest one has the most critical voice: “You don’t know what you’re doing. That stinks. What right have you got to put that out for public viewing?” I can usually work through this one by sternly saying to it, “Shut up now!” But there’s a scarier voice that’s harder to silence. That's the voice that tells me I should paint only work that will sell. This would make sense except that when I heed this voice, the work that evolves is almost always trite and contrived. What works for me...the only time that editor is silent...is when I’m learning something new. And because that editor is silent, I let myself go. The result is almost always good -- maybe not technically perfect, but fresh and alive. “Oh!” someone says; “that’s great! You need to do more like that! They’ll sell for sure!” And of course, that’s when that nagging voice of the sales editor kicks in again. Now, I’ve read enough pop psychology to know the sources of these imaginary admonitions, but that knowledge isn’t enough to silence them. So I repeat my question: Whether you paint, write, cook, knit, carve...if you, like me, have an internal editor that gets in your way, how do you handle it? I’d love to hear from you.

THE MAID, THE PAINTING, AND ME

2010-03-17T19:08:00.009-05:00

Philodendron
all rights reserved
by Judy Westergard
Watercolor on Fabriano 300# hot press
5" x 5"

My husband and I returned recently from 11 days in Puerto Aventuras, Mexico. We suspected a great trip when our 1/3 full Delta flight afforded us a change from row 43 to the bulkhead. (Gotta love that extra leg room.) Our pre-arranged driver met us promptly at the Cancun airport with a brand new Peugeot van. (Gotta love a clean new car.) When we arrived at our condo, Dive Aventuras, which manages the condos there, upgraded us from the small one bedroom/one bath unit we’d rented to a three bedroom/four bath condo. (Gotta love a place that’s larger than our house.) Maid service was included regardless of which unit we were in. We unpacked and headed for a walk around the small village to see dolphins, yachts, and one gorgeous ocean view. Day 2--I pinched a couple of plants from one of the myriad and lush gardens that surround the area and readied them for a small water color. Got the lighting just right. Paper was prepped. Paints and brushes were laid out. The basics were blocked in. I was excited and ready to dive in for real when the maid came. No problem, I thought. I’ll leave this for tomorrow. The light will be the same 24 hours from now so, per custom, we left for a walk while she took care of her duties. We returned to sparkling patio windows, a shining shower, and the one water glass we'd used washed and put away. But my painting? my paints? the brushes? All closed up and carefully replaced in the kitchen. And the plant? There it was in a glass of water, no longer in its just-so, eye-level arrangement. Significant Other and I laughed hard when we saw the unit, sans still life but once again looking like a potential photo shoot for "Better Homes and Gardens." But I really cracked up when I relayed this story to good friend Roz: “OMG! A maid with OCD...now that’s my idea of heaven!”
Puerto Aventuras addendum:
For the hands-down, Olympics gold-caliber brownie, it's Cafe Cafe. That, along with a cup of their Illy cappuccino, enjoyed on their patio under their cheery red umbrellas, will be the perfect start -- or end, or middle -- to your day. What the heck; why not three times a day? Chocolate prevents dental caries; make your next check-up a great one!
There are lots of fun shops in the area, but my favorite was Flamingos Crossing. Recently opened by a woman from Boston, this airy, friendly place held just the right collection of great looking summer wear that would look just as good in the upper Midwest as it did on the Mexican Caribbean. Looking for a good "how I reinvented my life" story? Ask her about her reasons for moving from Boston to P.A.
Significant Other and I aren't divers but our daughter and son-in-law are. They've been down there many times and speak highly of Dive Aventuras. "Great dive shop, great diving area." Their under-water photos are so good that I'm tempted to try a test dive myself when we return next year, and return we will.

A LIST OF GREAT READS

2010-03-12T21:00:00.005-06:00

The Reader
by Judy Westergard
Oil on canvas

Four times a year I compile a list of my favorite reads and print them out as a bookmark. They've become a favorite freebie among folks who visit my studio. It occurred to me that it might be nice to share my current list with a broader audience. What follows is my favorites from Winter '09-10. Anything you'd add? Post it in the comment section. I'd love to hear about it. Happy reading!

Plainsong
Kent Haruf

City of Thieves
David Benioff

Noah’s Compass
Anne Tyler

Notes from
the Cracked Ceiling
Anne E. Kornblut

The Madonnas
of Leningrad
Dean Debra

The Glass Room
Simon Mawer

Three Cups of Tea
Greg Mortenson

Loving Frank
Nancy Horan

The Lacuna
Barbara Kingsolver

Lit
Mary Karr

HOWEVER DID THEY PAINT THAT FOOD?

2010-02-17T14:13:00.007-06:00

Four Cherries
watercolor on paper
by Judy Westergard

I should be cleaning my studio but that always involves reshelving art books. Cleaning's boring. Reading's fun. So I park my Hoover in one corner and my keister in another and surround myself with a couple of piles of books that beg me to once again thumb through them. I pick up a collection of paintings by the Old Masters, many of them Dutch. All that food! Succulent fish, colorful fruits, glistening glassware...those gorgeous still lifes set my mind to reeling. How, I wonder in awe, did those guys steel themselves against eating their specimens?
BTW (as the texters say), I've got a new web site. You can get there by clicking on the cherries. If you get a chance I'd appreciate any feedback you'd like to send my way. Too slow to load? Confusing? Of course, if you'd just like to tell me how great it looks, that'd be good, too. Thanks!

OLYMPICS ICE SKATING MEDALIST...ONLY IN MY MIND'S EYE

2010-02-16T11:48:00.006-06:00

Skaters on Lake of the Isles
by Judy Westergard
12" x 12" oil on canvas

The 2010 winter Olympics are well into the first week and as always, I’m enthralled with the ice skaters. Last night’s pairs skating sent me down memory lane to 1961 and Jackson Park. The ice rink was (and still is) only a block from Edison High School. Did we girls plan at lunch to meet at the rink after dinner? More likely we passed notes during math. My mind’s eye travels back to those magical evenings: the smell of wet wool mittens drying on radiators; the sound of skaters’ blades as they thunked gingerly down the ice-covered wooden ramp to the rim of snow that surrounded the rink. The fun we had! We practiced spins, leaps, figure eights until the warming house closed, hoping that the boys over at the ice hockey end were noticing us. And suddenly there I am, skinny black Audrey Hepburn slacks, puffy white jacket, white pom poms and bell tied to the toes of my figure skates, neck swathed in the de rigueur six-foot muffler. Ah, that muffler...an essential item but not for warmth. At 16, who cares about comfort? The whole point of those mufflers, which wrapped around our necks and trailed breezily behind us, was that A Boy would grab an end. A girl lucky enough to be “caught” by her favorite lad would do a quick spin, thus wrapping herself in that length of wool and, if all worked out, into his arms. (The trick was to do it right and avoid total collision.) Now, almost 50 years later, I see a band of sweet young things who looked more like Snoopy with his Red Baron scarf than the glamorous Seventeen Magazine models we imagined. I snap back to the pairs skaters on TV but not for long. Something else triggers a memory. The Canadian pair circles the ice with arms crossed one over the other, and suddenly there I am, back at Jackson Park with Paul, the lad with the beautiful brown eyes. Paul has playfully caught my scarf. The moon casts silvery sparkles on the ice, the snow flakes glisten and glow under the rink lights (no doubt due to my astigmatism), my toe bells tinkle softly, and we sail over the ice arm in arm, smoothly, gracefully, elegantly...right into a pile of snow. While I didn’t have as much to lose as an Olympian hopeful, my hopes of being the glamorous girl who caught Paul’s attention fell about as flat that night as the hopes of the skater who fell on the Olympics rink. But like that skater, you get back up, dust yourself off, and start all over again, toe bells, muffler and all.

SOME THOUGHTS ON SENSATIONAL WOMEN

2010-02-14T15:08:00.006-06:00

Detail from
"The Goddesses"
oil on canvas
by Judy Westergard

I grew up in the post-WWII era. If the concepts that grew into NOW and Title 9 were on anyone’s planning board, no one in my neighborhood’s culture knew it. I got the implied message from my mother that my life's goals should be safety and security. Options like elementary teacher, nurse, or (Mom's particular exemplar of the ideal job for a woman) telephone operator, were dangled in front of me. The message was that security meant marriage and motherhood not career.
Today I stand in awe of my biologist daughter and other women her age. She counts scientists and surgeons among her friends. But it’s when I meet women my age and older who worked past those 1950’s and ’60’s expectations that I realize just how far we’ve come.
A year or so ago I wrote about the women I work out with, most of whom are 70+ and whom I call The Goddesses. This time I’d to tell about Gail Weber, editor of TOSCA magazine.
I met Gail a few months ago when she contacted me about the possibility of including my art book “Past Matters” in her magazine. Over the next few weeks, our email correspondence convinced me that this was a woman I wanted to meet. Her writing brought to mind adjectives like dynamic and smart. My journalism teacher genes jumped at the chance to be active again. I wanted to interview this woman!
I got the chance to do just that when we finally met at a Barnes and Noble coffee shop. When she told me she was originally an English literature major, I asked her about her journey from English lit to magazine editing. And there it was...the attribute that I’d sensed in her in her emails, the attribute that set Gail apart from the “be safe” mentality I grew up with. She and I are close in age. Where did this come from?
“I practiced law for 23 years, she said. “The 80s and 90s were very intense and I worked 70+ hours a week. Always wore a conservative suit. In court a lot. During this time I was also learning more and more about the arts and that was a side interest. I was the one in our group of friends that arranged most of our arts related outings.
“In the mid 2000s I started to burn out. I was getting ill a lot and fatigued. I was no longer interested in practicing law and (I was) out of energy.
“In 2005 I started TOSCA*. I closed my law practice in 2006. I’ve met a brand new group of people that I would never have met had I continued in law. It has been enlightening, fun and fulfilling. It’s still a challenge but I have the desire to meet the challenges and bring more arts to people.”
I can't begin to know all of the reasons why one woman sets out on a road less traveled while another takes a safer, less daunting path, but I do know this: I thank the Powers That Be for these women who give the rest of us the courage to keep on tryin’.

*Twin Cities Theatre Opera Shakespeare Culture Art
subscriptions available by contacting Gail M. Weber
Gail M. Weber
Twin Cities TOSCA TM
Theatre Opera Shakespeare Culture Art
The Twin Cities' most comprehensive arts guide
The Twin Cities best arts soirees
612-481-3206

GO LIVE GO RED at 526 SALON SPA GALLERY

2010-02-07T14:19:00.005-06:00

Maybe This Time
by Judy Westergard
oil on canvas
30" x 24"

I'm excited to have been accepted into an upcoming juried show at St. Paul, Minnesota's 526 Salon Gallery! Opening night party featuring an interactive series of art, fashion, and music is February 12, 7-10p.m. The juried art show, which centers on artists' interpretations of love, runs February 12 until March 12. Percentage of sales goes to the American Heart Association. More information at 526 Salon.com

A FOOT IN THE DOOR

2010-02-04T15:19:00.006-06:00

The Massage Therapist
by Judy Westergard
oil on canvas, 12" x 12"

The Minnesota Artists Exhibition Program (MAEP) is a unique organization that is run by and for Minnesota artists. Every 10 years MAEP, in collaboration with the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, sponsors the Foot in the Door show, a collection of small works by Minnesota artists--nothing larger than 12 inches. (That's the size of art, not the artists.) "The Massage Therapist" will be in the show which runs February 19 - June 13, 2010.

SECURITY IN A BOOK OF POETRY; or, How Does One Show Love?

2010-01-26T15:18:00.004-06:00

My parents’ marriage was often rocky, sometimes violent. And yet, just the other day, as I paged through the photo albums my mom had saved, I once again came across her collection of Valentine cards. Each card--some from her, some from him--is glued onto pages that even after all this time, adhere well to paper made brittle by years of attic storage. When I was a little girl I loved sitting with Mom on our scratchy old nylon sofa. With one arm around me and the other balancing the album across our laps, she would tell me stories about how she'd walk to the local five and dime to select just the right card to send to her new husband in--ah, but here’s the rub. She didn’t know where he was. World War II censors did their job well; correspondence was often riddled with scissored holes where any hint of a soldier’s whereabouts might tip the scales if the information were to get into enemy hands.
Now I touch the bit of lace on the hat of one of the cards, a silk necktie on another. I trace my fingers over declarations of love, some pre-printed, others hand written. Most poignant, knowing their relationship through my adult eyes, are the statements from my mom--comments like “I know I don’t let you see into my heart very often, but an abiding love....” She never talked like this and I ponder the forces that moved her to put these thoughts on paper. And I start to wonder: Just how does one show love? Through words? Through actions? My dad was sometimes violent but he had a tender, caring side that showed up far more often than his outbursts of anger. Every Christmas, birthday, and Valentine’s day he always presented her with her favorite chocolate covered cherries from Fannie Farmer, even though he had to go well out of his way to obtain them. She always got the first potato pancake and the filet in the steak (and this from a meat loving man). He gave her his pay check. But the demonstration of his love that intrigues me still is in the way he let her know where he was stationed. Mom had to be worried. A young Minnesota bride, married in California during WWII and immediately separated from her new husband who was sent to...where? Why couldn’t she know? He sent lots of “I’m OK” letters, but often she told me how much she wished she knew just where he was. Was he really OK? Or was he comforting her with a lie? I think about this man’s clever imagination. He knows his new bride is worried and he knows he must find a way to reassure her. He finds his solution in a collection of poems by Robert Service. "Dear Helen," he writes. "I'm sending you a book of poetry. My favorite poem is on page 72, especially the third verse”. And from that censor-free clue, she knows in a heartbeat...now a calm one...that he’s stationed in Nome, Alaska.
I still believe that while there are lots of ways to show love, giving the loved one a sense of security is at the top of my list.

SAVE THE CHILDREN.ORG RELIEF ORGANIZATION

2010-01-15T18:51:00.006-06:00

If you are looking for a specific target for your donation to Haitian relief, I'd like to suggest Save the Children.org. The following information is from their January 15, 2010 email to those of us who are on their mailing list. The link will take you directly to their website from which you can decide whether or not to donate. I hope you do. (I am not associated with Save the Children except as a donor. I was not asked to make this plea on their behalf, nor do I gain anything from having done so other than the fulfillment of a personal need to spread the word.)

"Save the Children staff -- in rubble-strewn Port-au-Prince Haiti -- are estimating that up to two million children have been directly affected by Tuesday’s massive earthquake.
"If you’ve given generously to Save the Children’s relief, you have my deepest gratitude. As the extent of the disaster in Haiti unfolds, donations are greatly needed to allow Save the Children to provide urgently needed response. Medical supplies are being delivered to 14 area hospitals and kits of badly needed supplies have arrived in the stricken city and will be quickly distributed. More international Save the Children relief experts are arriving in Port-au-Prince to take part in lifesaving efforts for children.
"Hour by hour, our response grows. But untold numbers of children are in grave danger because they have little or no shelter or access to medical care. They also face risks of diseases, being separated from their families and exploited.
"It costs us as little as $25 to provide a Hygiene Kit which includes basic items such as rubbing alcohol, soap, toilet tissue, a body towel, sanitary napkins and a toothbrush/toothpaste. For as little $35 we can provide a Shelter Kit that could provide things like a blanket, family mat, mosquito net, a flashlight, Jerry Can, plastic pail and rubber slippers. We are able to set up a Child Friendly Space for as little as $350 to begin to address the unique needs of children during crisis.
"These are just examples of how the donations we receive will be spent. We are assessing the situation and will determine where the need is greatest. Know that your money will be used to do the most good for the children and families in Haiti.
"It’s been less than 72 hours since the catastrophe, and Save the Children is already planning for a five-year, “build back better” commitment hat will keep us by the side of Haitian children and families throughout the very painful months and years that lie ahead.

Thank you on behalf of the children,"

Charles MacCormack
President and CEO
Save the Children

PRICE REDUCTION ON MY GICLEE PRINTS

2010-01-15T13:53:00.008-06:00

Just a quick note here that the prices of my images, which are available as cards and giclee prints through FineArtAmerica.com, have just been reduced so you might want to take a look at what's available. Prints now start at $24.00.
Giclee (zhee-klay) - The French word "giclée" is a feminine noun that means a spray or a spurt of liquid. The word may have been derived from the French verb "gicler" meaning "to squirt."
The Advantages: A tremendous advantage of giclee printing is that digital images can be reproduced to almost any size and onto various media, giving the artist the ability to customize prints for a specific client.
The Quality: The quality of the giclee print rivals traditional silver-halide and gelatin printing processes and is commonly found in museums, art galleries, and photographic galleries.
The Process: Giclee prints are created typically using professional 8-Color to 12-Color ink-jet printers. Among the manufacturers of these printers are vanguards such as Epson, MacDermid Colorspan, & Hewlett-Packard. These modern technology printers are capable of producing incredibly detailed prints for both the fine art and photographic markets.

reprinted with permission from Giclée Print Net, Inc

LIT by MARY KARR - WHAT A BOOK!

2010-01-13T21:16:00.004-06:00

Lost in Her Book
by Judy Westergard
giclee reprints available through
FineArtAmerica.com

I heard the author on Kerry Miller's MPR show (one of the NPR local stations; this one broadcasts from St. Paul, Minnesota). Karr was witty, honest, and had a way with words that had me turning up the car radio's volume within 60 seconds. There's no way I can tell you about this memoir without trivializing it and, even worse, making it sound trite...abused child of alcoholic mother; grew up near the oil fields of eastern Texas; grows up to become an alcoholic herself; gets cured; finds religion (she'd been an atheist) and then converts to Catholicism. Trite? You bet, except in the hands of Karr, who was Minneapolis' poet laureate about 20 years ago. Aside from the tale she has to tell (and she tells it with great humor and love--yes, love--for her boozing mom and absentee dad), her ability as a writer is awesome (and I don't use that word lightly). Ya gotta read this one, then let me know what you think. I couldn't put it down. (BTW, Lit is the third of her autobiographical memoirs; The Liars' Club takes the reader through her childhood. Cherry comes next--her adolescence. Lit starts with her early college years and continues through adulthood. I'm almost through with Liar's Club and have added Cherry to the top of my to-be-read pile. This woman can write!)

GLUE, GLITTER AND TIN SNIPS

2009-12-24T09:01:00.002-06:00

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

2009-12-18T18:54:00.008-06:00

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 framed
available on line through
Fine Art America

NEW -- HOLIDAY CARDS!

2009-11-24T19:30:00.011-06:00

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

2009-11-17T19:07:00.008-06:00

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

2009-11-01T13:38:00.008-06:00

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

2009-10-28T12:30:00.004-05:00

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

2009-10-20T14:47:00.004-05:00

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

2009-09-05T10:10:00.007-05:00

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

2009-08-21T16:01:00.006-05:00

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

2009-08-15T15:30:00.008-05:00

"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

2009-08-05T17:08:00.007-05:00

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

2009-06-30T20:00:00.004-05:00

"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

2009-06-29T14:51:00.010-05:00

"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

2009-06-21T12:03:00.004-05:00

"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

2009-06-20T19:25:00.008-05:00

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

WORK IN PROGRESS

2009-06-09T10:51:00.006-05:00

WORK IN PROGRESS
...playing with the concepts of power and control...

I’m still coming down from the high of our 3500 mile road trip. We saw a lot and we talked -- sometimes at length -- with some interesting people. As a result, I’ve got a lot on my mind, some of it humorous, some of it sardonic, a lot of it poignant. It’s all in the works and, just like the accompanying image, it’s all “under construction.” While I sort out all my thoughts, I offer you some of my favorite quotes from overheard conversations and from my favorite reads. (Since I read on a Kindle, I can’t cite page references.) The collection is random...just excerpts that put my imagination into hyper-drive. I hope they’ll do the same for you.

---“He’s never been the same since his sex change operation.”
(Overheard on a walk)

--- That’s what I love about reading: one tiny thing will interest you..., and that tiny thing will lead you onto another book, and another bit there will lead you oto a third book. It’s geometrically progressive--all with no end in sight, and for no other reason than sheer enjoyment.”
Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Annie Barrows

---“Metaphors be with you.”
Seen on a bumper sticker

---“Age is a terrible thief. Just when you’re getting the hang of life, it knocks your legs out from under you and stoops your back. It makes you ache and muddies your head and silently spreads cancer throughout your spouse.”
Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen

---“I didn’t realize yet that thinking without awareness is the main dilemma of human existence.”
A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle

---A character's margin notes about the Ten Commandments: “Word of God or crowd control???”
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Annie Barrows

---“‘We have art,’ Nietzsche said, ‘so that we shall not be destroyed by the truth.’"
Divisadero by Michael Ondaatje

---“...there was nothing more assuring than a mask. Under the mask she could rewrite herself into any place, in any form. This is where I learned that sometimes we enter art to hide within it. It is where we can go to save ourselves, where a third-person voice protects us.”
Divisadero by Michael Ondaatje

---“Art, he’d come to believe, was little more than the principle of one thing leading to another, whereas love, insofar as he understood it, depended on a thing remaining forever what it was, which in Noonan’s experience it militantly refused to do.”
Bridge of Sighs by Richard Russo

---“The loss of place isn’t really so different from the loss of a person. Both disappear without permission....” 
Bridge of Sighs by Richard Russo

---“I’ve always wanted to be the person he believed me to be, which at times has kept me from being a better one. A terrible realization, this.”
Bridge of Sighs by Richard Russo “

---"(Isn’t) that the definition of home? Not where you are from, but where you are wanted?”
Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese

---“I am SO ready to be outta here! I’m tired of people telling me what to do. I enlisted in the Marines.”
From one of my high school seniors, telling me of his post-graduation plans

DITHERING, WHINING, AND MOVING ON

2009-06-08T10:28:00.003-05:00

"Doubt"
by Judy Westergard
ink on textured paper

When it comes to creativity, I’m not the first person to “hit the wall,” nor am I the first person to ponder the possible causes of and cures for these black holes of non-productivity. Nonetheless, here I go.
It was a beautiful early spring day when Barb and I shared a sunny table at a local Caribou. We talked about our kids...now grown; our marriages...now well seasoned; our losses...still being mourned. But mostly, we talked about what we want to be when we grow up and, more importantly, why we haven’t yet found it. (Bear in mind that each of us is well into our empty-nest years. Apparently aging does not come with a vacillation warranty.) Barb is a trained classical artist and a gifted, successful illustrator of children’s books. When it comes to art clients, I’m at the opposite end of that curve. Yet both of us feel like we’re at a watershed. Something needs to change...but what? And how do we get there? Yes, we’ve both done The Artist’s Way. We’ve attended numerous workshops and we’ve each read hundreds of pages about the creative process. But the bottom line is...we’re not content. We each want to turn some kind of creative corner, but neither of us knows where that corner is or even how to look for it. After four hours we still had no answers, but we did have some questions that we’ve been playing around with. For example: What blocks us? Answer: The need to produce. Where does that need come from? A sense that unless we’re selling, publishing, etc., what we do has no value. And from where does THAT come? Well, for me, it’s rooted in a casual statement that a friend made 35 years ago when I was selling my weavings: “How much an hour do you make?" (The answer would make a financial adviser shudder.)
Barb and I agreed that the challenge for each of us is to fight society’s lessons that unless we’re selling our work, our work has no value. We know that’s not true. But boy-howdy, it sure is hard to turn an acquired knowledge into an applied belief.

ON INSPIRATION, INTIMIDATION, AND DETERMINATION

2009-06-02T19:31:00.005-05:00

"Contemplation"
by Judy Westergard
pastel on suede paper
available as giclee from
Fine Art America

My husband and I returned a couple of days ago from a two-week road trip to New Mexico. Along the way we realized our 3500 mile drive would become our own personal American Icon trip. South Dakota’s Wall Drug, Corn Palace, and Mt. Rushmore saw us checking off three “gotta see” stops that, as kids, our respective parents didn’t have the money, patience, or air-conditioned cars that would have allowed them to tolerate even a Minneapolis to Mitchell drive. With a nod to those good folks, we motored on. Carson National Forest shared its buffalo, wild turkeys, and wild burros; we saw more wild life in one hour’s drive than we’d seen in the past 40 years. Following the mountain road into Taos on a gray, drizzly day was breathtaking. I apologize for that cliche, but there’s really no other word that best describes the glitter of lime-green aspens against rain-darkened firs and deep sienna rock faces. But as much as I enjoyed those icons, it was the art and the artists in Taos and Santa Fe that captured my imagination. Weavers, potters, sculptors, oil painters, water colorists...inspiration and excitement and eagerness to wet my brush dominated my thoughts. Now I’m home. The washer and dryer are finally quiet. My camera has finished regurgitating 150+ photos into the computer. The Oaxacan hand-woven rug is hung on the wall. And I’m ready to paint. But I can’t. All that inspiration and excitement that captured my imagination only a few days ago have turned on me; all I feel now is intimidation. Even on my very best days, could I hope to come close to the quality of the work I saw? Do doctors and lawyers feel this way, too? Do politicians and clergymen look in awe over their colleagues’ abilities to solve problems judiciously and elegantly? When I’m not feeling sorry for myself, my guess is yes; they probably do. This sense of diffidence is part of the human condition and, since I’m human, I guess the only way to conquer it is to get off the computer, go to my studio, and wet that damned brush.

ART-A-WHIRL - annual n.e. minneapolis art crawl

2009-05-08T14:50:00.006-05:00

(Looking for my non-ad blogs? Just scroll down a bit.)
If you're in or near the Twin Cities, I invite you to Art-A-Whirl Open Studio Tours in the Minneapolis Arts District. Whether you're looking to add to your collection or merely looking, this is one of the most astounding collections of original works you're likely to see in one area. Studios of 600+ sculptors, painters, fibers artists, photographers, jewelers, clothing designers, and more will be open Friday, May 15, 5-9 pm; Saturday, May 16, noon - 8:00 pm; and Sunday, May 17, noon to 5:00 pm. Silent Auction (all three days) in the third floor gallery of the Northrup King Bldg, 1500 Jackson St., N.E., Minneapolis. And if you're in the Northrup King Bldg., stop in to in Studio 343. My studio mates and I would love to talk art with you!

ON THE DANGERS OF UNEARNED PRAISE

2009-04-16T12:39:00.004-05:00

The DJ
by Judy Westergard
pastel on paper

Although I retired from teaching six years ago, news of current research in education still has the power to grab my attention. The other day I read a piece about how the now-25-year-old trend to help kids build their self-esteem has created adults who expect accolades for achievements as small as showing up for work. I never did buy into the theory that constant praise helped youngsters. Rather, my lessons aimed to set goals for my students that were challenging but still achievable.
The painting that accompanies this blog entry reminded me of the dangers of false praise. It’s a painting that brings back a strong sense of frustration every time I look at it. I painted it during a lengthy and expensive workshop in portraiture. It was the first workshop I’d ever attended, and it was apparent from the get-go that my skills were to those of the other attendees as the B-squad football team is to the pro’s. The workshop was pricey, the instructor’s vitae impressive. I was determined to get something out of the weekend. The instructor, a well-known artist in her own right, was sensitive enough to become aware of my frustrations in trying to capture the model’s likeness and mood. After the third visit to my easel, she grabbed the pastel from my hand and with strokes that were too quick for me to follow, she added shadows and highlights and said, “See? That’s all that’s needed.” An hour later she returned and praised my painting. “Excellent! This is wonderful!” Well, there’s no surprise there, I thought to myself; after all, it was her own work that she was praising; I hadn’t touched the face.
It took about six months for me to return to that painting and rework it, thus making it mine. And while I’m not displeased with the final result, it’s not the final result that I see. Rather it’s the disbelief, frustration, and eventual anger I felt as the instructor -- no doubt with all good intentions -- tried to help me feel good about my efforts. And while working on another’s piece of art without permission violates all the rules of teaching, what really irked me was her praise. It was false. No doubt her intent was to help build my confidence as a portrait artist. What she left me with was a nagging sense of incompetence.
So I was excited to read that current research in teaching and in child rearing is urging educators and parents to avoid gratuitous praise. Those memories of false praise can stick with a person for a long time. The result is often an equally false sense of failure. Our kids deserve better.

THE VALUE OF FACEBOOK

2009-04-11T12:50:00.004-05:00

Adolescents at a Museum
by Judy Westergard
prints available through
FineArtAmerica.com

It’s not often that you get the chance to revisit your past through the eyes of others. Like Tom Sawyer at his own funeral, I’ve had that chance. It’s been quite an experience. Just shy of a week on Facebook and I was in the midst of an ongoing conversation with 30 or so kids who were in my junior high English classes in the mid-80’s. They’ve brought back memories of the tacit games they played with us teachers (“Let’s see if we can get her to talk about what life was like when....”) and fond relivings of classroom activities, both planned and unplanned. But the most alluring feature of these blasts from the past is the opportunity to see those years through their eyes. My memories are different from theirs; my memories are of elaborate lesson plans, some of which resulted in puppet plays written and presented by the students, the purpose of which was to master the elements of characterization. I wanted my 8th graders to master the concepts of effective summary. They rewrote, rehearsed, and then taped chapters from Jack London’s Call of the Wild. Each chapter was accompanied by their original art work that we transferred to acetate for presentation on an overhead projector. After laborious revisions to get each chapter down to a three-minute time frame, they issued a formal invitation to the school’s 6th graders to view the results. I was old-fashioned enough to believe that memorization is good for the brain. (Still think so!) So in order to get my recalcitrant ninth graders to memorize Shakespeare, I arranged them in small groups, each of which selected a scene from Romeo and Juliet to perform before the class, the assistant principal, the principal, the counselor, and anyone else whom we could coerce into attending the production. The kids created just enough costume and minimalist scenery to suggest Renaissance Italy. (Note to future teachers: a tippy table does not a stable balcony make!) Now, 20 years later, the public and private Facebook communiques from these “kids” tell me that their “rememberies” are different from mine. What they recall are not my elaborate lesson plans but rather those things that I took for granted: encouragement, kindness, a pat on the back when earned, a raised eyebrow when needed, but mostly they remember my insistence that mediocrity was not an option, and that thoughtful challenge of accepted ideas was something worth pursuing. Am I distressed that this is what they recall rather than all those carefully crafted activities? Not at all. I wanted my students to become people who asked questions, made thoughtful decisions, and communicated effectively with others. The activities and the English lessons therein were merely ways of getting to something much deeper. I am so grateful to have had the rare opportunity of hearing that what I did matters to them. Usually these things are left for one’s eulogies. And, as usual, the teacher learns more than she teaches. In this case, the lesson is a reminder to let the people in my life know how much they’ve mattered to me. I hope you have someone in your life who elicits in you the same sense of gratitude.

THREE "GOTTA READS" FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION

2009-04-04T20:41:00.005-05:00

Lost in Her Book
Pastel on paper
by Judy Westergard
prints available at FineArtAmerica.com

Recovery from total knee replacement is hard, boring work. I’m finding solace in books. Here are three that have kept my mind off my aching leg. Bicycles by Nikki Giovanni is a book of poetry but you needn’t be a poetry lover to find yourself in a world of humor and insight. The poetic snapshots she creates in Bicycles look at love in all its permutations. Irreverent and saucy, mystical and poignant, this is Giovanni at her best. I picked up Lark and Termite after hearing MPR’s Kerry Miller discuss the book with author Jayne Anne Phillips. I'm glad I did. This is a multi-voiced, clearly written novel about people you’ll care about. Their lives surround Termite, a severely handicapped child and his older sister Lark, whose love for the boy asks us to take a hard look at how we perceive mental handicaps. Little Bee, a Novel by Chris Cleave, is a fictional tale based on the all-too-horrid realities of refugees from violent cultures. Little Bee, a very young girl and a refugee of the oil wars in Nigeria, escapes to England and is aided by a middle-aged British woman who, two years earlier, sacrificed a part of herself in order that Bee might live. My banal summary doesn’t begin to touch on what grabbed me by the throat in this book; that is, an opportunity to recall the idealism of my younger days and to try to recover the sense that what I do for someone in need, no matter how small my contribution, can matter. These books make me wish I were still teaching. I love the power of good literature that turns my attention to worlds larger than own, and I still miss sharing that possibility with my students.

MID-NIGHT RAMBLINGS

2009-03-21T16:40:00.009-05:00

After Apple Picking
by Judy Westergard
oil on linen
available through
www.FineArtAmerica.com

Until this week, I’ve taken for granted the ability to sleep through the night. Home from the hospital with a newly installed knee, an army of pain meds, and enough physical therapy exercises to fill a three-ring binder, I was ready to tackle this. My first knee replacement was four years ago. “Been there, done that” was my mantra. I was ready.
Everything went as planned. Both the surgery and the immediate recovery were uneventful. I was dangerously close to smug about how the pre- and post-surgery exercises I so diligently followed were making recovery as easy as anyone in the American Academic of Orthopaedic surgeons could have hoped. You’d think I’d have learned by now...pride goeth before a fall. Well, not exactly a fall; I’d not be writing this if I’d truly tumbled. But that crash you may have heard a few nights ago was my ego bumping into a wall of reality. A combination of muscle cramps, stiffness and chills kept me on a two hours down/one hour up schedule similar to that of a newborn’s mother. So, just like that new mom, I answered the call of my screaming baby knee. I gingerly eased my legs onto the cold floor. Locate robe; wrap shivering self tightly; find walker; and trudge from living room to kitchen to family room to kitchen to hall to living room. Fragments of Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Were Made for Walkin’” rattled around the chambers of my drug-muddled mind. The rooms, eerie in the light of March’s full moon, took on weird and different personalities. And I started to think (a preferable activity to singing Nancy’s belligerent song) about rooms in general. Rooms have long been used in western literature as symbols of the self, the womb, one’s unconscious, journeys, passages. Do an internet search for ‘dream symbolism' and you’ll find a lot to read. In my life, though, a room has always meant a safe place from which to explore the uncertain via literature, drawing, dreaming, as well as a safe place in which to hide when literature, drawing, or dreams took me where I didn’t want to be. Now it’s rooms that are providing me a safe haven for my night-time walks. If I didn’t know these rooms so well, I’d be leery of hitting something a lot more substantial than that previously mentioned wall of reality. I’m lucky to have always had safe rooms of my own. It’s a wish I would grant to everyone.

CARNEGIE LIBRARIES, NEW BRUSHES, AND JOURNEYS

2009-03-08T17:04:00.006-05:00

The Hacienda
by Judy Westergard
water color
available as a print at FineArtAmerica.com
I invested today in a couple of expensive water color brushes. Very expensive water color brushes. I do not recall ever having spent this much on brushes. And now I'm scared to use them. Investment like this requires, maybe even demands commitment, and I don't know if I'm ready for what that means. After all, the potential for mediocrity always looms. (Never has what I've attempted lived up to my vision, whether it was a new recipe, an original design for a hand-knit sweater, or my attempt at the perfect summer.)
But as I write this I'm thinking about the Carnegie library building that's near my favorite art supply store and I'm taken back to that first day of summer vacation in 1956 when Karen and I looked gleefully at each other with the sudden awareness that yes, we had indeed read each and every one of the three shelves of what was yet to be termed "young adult literature" at our neighborhood's Carnegie library. This achievement mattered because it meant that we had finally earned access to the second floor and what we called "the grown-up books." With our 11-year-old shyness, we approached the children's librarian and told her that we'd achieved the goal. Did she really drill us to confirm that yes, we had indeed read every Dr. Seuss, Lewis Carroll and C. S. Lewis on those shelves? My memory bank has a distinct image of a kindly smile on a woman with tightly permed salt-and-pepper waves asking us questions about this, that, and the other book. But like many of my childhood memories, this one is nothing more than the creation of my fears of not living up to expectations. The next slide in this memory bank, though, is real: Karen and I walked through the door that led to an ominously dark and steep flight of stairs and into the blindingly bright sunlight of the second floor. There, on his raised dais, sits Mr. Name Escapes Me, the Head Librarian. His face is in shadow, the sun that shines through the 20-foot arched window behind him illuminates his head as with a halo. He holds all the power of Oz's wizard as he asks, "And just what do you girls want?" What I wanted was to look in the huge dictionary for the meaning of words like "menstrual" and "genital." What I said in my small, timorous voice was, "Do you have Gone With the Wind?"
Over the next few years I found what I wanted and more, much of which were ideas of what I could do and whom I could be, most of which have not lived up to my hopeful of expectations. But I also found a home in literature and essay, and a place in my head that tells me that my journey is a lot more important than my destination.
I've got a lot to learn about water color. But I know now that the journey will teach me more than I ever could have hoped, and while the work I create with those expensive brushes will not -- cannot -- meet my self-inflicted goals, the journey I'll take with them will get me to places I'd never expected.

PERMISSION TO PLAY #4: THE FINAL RESULT

2009-02-19T08:47:00.008-06:00

TOBY

He's done! My first attempt at a puppet -- and my casual inquiry into the nature of play -- are finished. Toby now has clothes, a name and an emerging story. My many thanks to the readers and friends who responded to my questions about what "play as an adult" means to you. The final answer? No surprises here (insert drum rollo here): there isn't one! However, there was a commonality in the answers I received: Doing something for the sheer joy of doing it, without any expectations of a final score. When I think about it, that's not a bad metaphor for how to live a life!

PERMISSION TO PLAY, INSTALLMENT #3

2009-02-13T20:41:00.007-06:00

Stage 4:
Toby now has hair, a beard,
and a name (The Old Boy)

I know there are people who say there are no coincidences. I've never quite fallen in with that philosophy, but every so often something happens that sounds a lot like "pay attention!" These last few days have been filled with one of these shake-'em-up moments. Specifically, a friend asked me if he could pay me to restore his Christmas angel, a much-loved decoration that has been in his family since the 1940's. A week ago I would not have had the courage to take on this project; I've made a lot of art and I've sold a fair number of it, but those pieces were purchased 'after the fact.' This time, I was in the daunting position of possibly ruining a family treasure. But my venture into creating Toby seemed to give me the confidence I needed to tackle Jake's angel.
This got me thinking about what was no doubt the most valuable thing I ever learned in my education courses: We can't learn something new unless we have an earlier skill or bit of knowledge upon which to base it. A simplistic example: We biked because we could walk; we walked because we could crawl; we crawled because we could roll over; we rolled over because someone first helped us perform this amazing feat. (Yeah, I know it's more complicated than that, but I warned you it was a simplistic example.)
So who knows where Toby will take me next? "Play is work that doesn't feel like it," said one of you in my inquiry about what constitutes play after we're "all growed up." Toby and the angel are work. But it sure doesn't feel like it.
By the way, Toby's not done yet. Check back in the next day or two; his wardrobe is almost finished.