Stressed and ready to throw in the towel

Is art supposed to be stressful? I suppose that it could just be for me. Also has how I work through this gotten worse with more uncertainty plaguing me? It would certainly seem so. I don’t know which is worse the struggles with the surreal piece or this recycle piece. I’m usually a problem solver, but lately that does not appear to be the case. 

I wanted initially to work with the photo of the rusted decaying streetcars. When I determined that they were not Pittsburgh streetcars that immediately created a problem. I appear to be lost ever since and trying lots of ideas to get out of this dilemma. It’s like throwing darts at a dartboard blindfolded. Too many darts and no real solution. I’m not even sure what I want right now. What do I want this piece to say?

The only idea I came up with is a rusted streetcar with a new version of that streetcar as a ghost. Both are part of the past, but one is worn out and the other is the ghost of a memory. So I developed this idea. The ghost in this one is the rusted streetcar. That’s not exactly my idea. 

So I tried this. A rusted streetcar with a ghost. A distant steel mill in the background. Steel mills are gone from Pittsburgh, too. I remember them being there as a kid. This one AI did as plastic bags. 

Or should the mill be a ghost, too?

Still plenty to work out here. I need to see what a real steel mill looked like. Is the ghost streetcar enough of a ghost? Am I set with this idea for once upon a time? Who knows. A new idea always seems good until it isn’t. 

Am I worried on how to do this in plastic bags? Not really.

My husband likes these images. 

Thanks for reading. 

Chris

I’m so sorry, Uncle Albert

With the ideas for the recycle show in my last blog I must have thought I was the Hallmark channel or Thomas Kinkade. If you know me at all you will know that that is not me. I have a more gritty style than that. That is why I initially was drawn to the decaying streetcar photo. I had to go back to it and figure out what to do with it. Here’s the photo. I will post tomorrow about what I’m thinking now. I’m sure my friend, Idaho Beauty (https://idahobeautyquilts.blogspot.com/) will be happy about my change of heart. Thanks for reading.

Chris

I think we are at the final version

I won’t go into the details of how I argued with 3 different AI models yesterday to get this final image for the recycle show. But I think I’m there. I wanted a shorter look down the street. I wanted the girl (me) closer. I wanted the streetcar closer. I wanted the car stop sign hanging from the building which is more accurate than on a pole. I wanted the stuff at the end of the street to be faint. So to change all of that it was very interesting.  Think the final size will be 16 by 20 so I’ll be able to buy a standard size frame for it. Any editing at this point will happen during construction. At least I now have a plan that I’m happy with.

The perspective is pretty good. The streetcar might be a bit large, but that’s alright.

Once Upon a Time in Steel City

In the 1960’s, the streetcar was already a big part of my life—taking me to Saturday art classes at the Carnegie Museum, to school, and into the city to feel grown up. 

On winter nights like this, I would wait for the Shannon-Library, hands in the pockets of my wool coat, listening for the rumble on the tracks long before I saw the light.

When that red car came into view — wet rails shining, windows glowing with warm light — it meant I was on my way somewhere. It meant the city was still looking out for me.

The car from my memory is gone now. The tracks on that street are paved over.

I made this piece from what we throw away — plastic shopping bags and used dryer sheets. There is something fitting about that. We let the streetcar of my youth disappear, but the plastic stays. If the plastic is going to be here forever, it might as well hold onto something good.

OR

Last Streetcar Home

Once upon a time, in Pittsburgh in 1965, the streetcar was already a part of my life—taking me to Saturday art classes at the Carnegie Museum and into the city to feel grown up. A few years later it would take me to school, too.

On winter nights like this, I would wait for the Shannon-Library, hands in the pockets of my wool coat, listening for the rumble on the tracks long before I saw the light.

When that red car came into view — wet rails shining, windows glowing with warm light — it meant I was on my way somewhere. It meant the city was still looking out for me.

That car from my memory is gone now. The tracks on that street are paved over.

I made this piece from what we throw away — plastic shopping bags and used dryer sheets. There is something fitting about that. We let the streetcar of my youth disappear, but the plastic stays. If the plastic is going to be here forever, it might as well hold onto something good.

Thanks for reading.

Chris

Well that’s just great!!

I started to think about the streetcars in the image I wanted to use for the recycle show. Here’s the image. It turns out those streetcars are not Pittsburgh streetcars. We never had green ones and that round one never came in yellow. As far as I can figure they are Boston streetcars. Pittsburgh in the 1960’s had red and cream colored cars. 

I tried to decide if that was important or not. I tried making both cars red, but that was just boring. I made one car red, but the yellow one is not historically right. Does that matter? I tried to convince myself that it did not. Eventually I decided it did matter since my memory is Pittsburgh. I wanted the story to be about Pittsburgh.

So I began thinking about taking a different approach. Why not have a real Pittsburgh streetcar from the 60’s in the city? My story doesn’t have to be about rusted streetcars. My husband found this image that I modified several times to get an image to work with.

A few of these have perspective issues. I saw that and spent a lot of time trying to get that right. Eventually I settled on the following image. I wanted the once upon a time to be about me as a young person in the  60’s waiting for a streetcar. I remember being so relieved on a cold night when the streetcar was finally coming. I will have to look at this image to make sure it’s OK, but this is where I am. I rode the Shannon Library car. So this once upon a time went from rusted streetcars to a more personal story. 

Here’s the streetcar a bit closer. Looks like I lost the conductor!

Title: Steel City Memories (my husband hated the last Journey)

Artist Statement:

Once upon a time in Pittsburgh, the red streetcars took me everywhere — to school, to Saturday art classes at the Carnegie Museum, and on shopping trips in the city.

I wanted to capture a piece of that memory: a snowy winter night when the shop windows glowed warmly against a cold, a Pittsburgh street, the CAR STOP where I waited in my wool coat with a simple tote, and the red 1706 Shannon-Library streetcar coming down the tracks — a part of my life that is gone.

I chose to make this piece from materials that might otherwise be thrown away — recycled plastic shopping bags and used dryer sheets. There is something fitting about using plastic bags to remember something that has disappeared. The streetcar is gone, but the plastic remains.

Size 18 by 24

Now about the surreal piece. I’ve decided to stick with my original plan with the raven. Done….end of story…enough anguish.

Thanks for reading.

Chris