Owning and renting

Today's post is illustrated with pictures of houses I want to buy, but won't. Probably.

I've just re-packed my car with boxes. No room for cats; just boxes. Television, computer, kitchen stuff, clothes (two people's worth), miscellaneous boxes of things I can't get rid of (what DOES one do with the development tanks that are obsolete, but go with your antique aerial camera?). Taking a break before packing the trailer too, then driving down to get an early start on the apartment walk-thru in the morning.

S and some friends will load up trucks and drive down tomorrow, then the storage-unit emptying begins! As well as seeing the full extent of the damage my furniture sustained (NEVER USE MOVERS.com!!!!).

I'm not very excited to go to an apartment. I should be. OK, in some ways, I am. I look forward to possessing space again. I look forward to unpacking my books in my new office. Moving into a 900 square foot rental apartment? After owning a 2900 square foot AWESOME house? I'm not sure how I will do with that transition. How will I live with a regular, white bathroom? Where is the character? Where is the vintage charm and functionality?

Just like thrift shopping gives me a thrill, house hunting/watching is a blast. I want to own lots of houses. Or at least, look at all of them. No, it's not true. I want to collect them. I covet them. There are beautiful details foolish, capitalist-infected owners will rip out to replace with something new and made in China. I can't allow it!

So, I have been hunting. Even though I'm about to sign a one year lease, I am hunting. Only now, I have to think about what someone else would want, what his needs are. It's weird. And sometimes hard. For example, I covet that blue wallpaper room, but it is too much for him. As it is in the "master" bedroom, that means I can't simply say, "fine, this will be my office and you can never go in there!" 

So we prepare for our apartment, where I don't plan on putting anything on the walls, because I don't want to patch nail holes in a year. We will have no garage, continue to have half our stuff in storage, and have to have a cat-box in a bathroom (ick!). But I also have an appointment to look at several houses on Monday. And I'm also looking at "commercial" properties, so I can separate out the art stuff from the house stuff. I also found some hybrid properties with a house and a building. You know, so I can make bigger installations and push that side of my career forward. I'm excited about it, but also terrified I won't use it.

Good things shouldn't freak you out OR Things all art students should know what I finally know

Today was Commencement for our 2012 graduates. I know many of my own students are filled with the terror of "what's next" and "how will I earn a living". I remember the terror too. Trying to explain that you might have a job outside your field while you pursue your art is hard enough to accept, not to mention, explain to others. As art faculty, we have the same problem. The alumni surveys go out with that question, "Are you earning a living from your degree?" Usually the answer is no. No, I work in radio or real estate or dog grooming, but I ask, what job doesn't benefit from an education? And more so, is salary the only judge of academic success? What about happiness or cultural appreciation and contributions? What about the artist who make a small amount of money from art, but gains a lot of happiness and peace from it, while they have a "day job" as a seamstress?

During our recent job interviews, one question I wrote was, "please talk about a time you felt things were going right in the classroom," and I was amused by imagining my own answer. Of course, seeing a light bulb go on as a student finally connects content and technique, but I think my favorite moment in teaching is more subtle. When I see students suddenly achieving at their work, making work for themselves and not just for me, that is when (I know from experience) the anxiety sets in. "How will I ever find a place in a world that is so career and rank oriented? How can I be so selfish to think I'm good enough to be an artist?" That realization is such a trauma. While it reveals a low self esteem for the student artist, it also means they have reached a level of knowledge to know how much there still is to learn. The student who doesn't show this, in my experience, is the student who has not yet questioned their own assumptions about "talent" or how an education should challenge their preconceived ideas about themselves as artists.

It's the students with that traumatic realization that are both self aware and in a precarious place in their learning. Then I tell them this, and I tell them as many times as I need to, til they believe me.

Art students in many ways are more challenged in school than other students. Most degrees ask you to learn what is already known, to retrace the logic of an experiment or philosophy that you might be able to replicate it, then send you to graduate school to start creating new knowledge. Not so with students of the arts. Much earlier, these students are asked to create new, never before seen works from new ideas. It's hard work they will likely never be acknowledged for by other degrees ("oh, you got an art degree? That sounds fun, but what are you going to do with that?"). This is an area art majors are at the advantage over others in the job market: generating NEW ideas.

And as for being an artist? We are both at the advantage and disadvantage. We will never be "hired" as an artist (in terms of making personal work), while doctors and lawyers are hired. They never question if they are a TRUE doctor or lawyer, but artists always question it (or at least, cyclically). BUT we can also Never be fired... we can only quit.

I usually point dramatically at the room at this point.

No one can fire you; but you can quit.

And when I see really good students (it's usually the really good ones) still struggling, I take them aside and ask, "Do you love this? Is this something you feel like you need to do?" When they say yes, I say, that's because you ARE an artist. You need it. And you want someone to tell you it's true, so I am. Remember it. And I know they will because I still remember when the title was bestowed on me.

There is always terror about the next show or series. Life tries to tell me my time is better spent doing something else, but here I am, still trying to make it work. I'm happy to be moving to be with my sweetheart and also joining another excellent program as a faculty member; I'm happy to find myself in escrow so quickly. But I resent all the time these things have taken the last couple weeks. I have art work to do!

Last week sucked bad enough, this week will give you a little break

(But don't count on it, or you'll jinx it!)

Got up to do taxes. Overpaid the governments by $5k. Get $5k.

Realtor and man from city showed up unexpectedly and realtor talked him out of some sections of the sidewalk, then he said he wouldn't be doing them till the following summer anyway, and then the fee would be spread out over 12 years (and would be much less than I was quoted before). Don't have to spend $10k.

Realtor said so far, her comps aren't going to get the amount we were hoping for. Assuming we sell what she thinks, lose $14K. Which is what I would have lost if I just rented.

Still trying to hire a sprinkler guy. The recommended guy can't do it for MONTHS. Called another little old man. He might be able to.

Called a cleaning lady. She sounds ancient, but can come clean the things I am getting overwhelmed by. More things checked off list, at less $$ than things disappearing from list. All right.

One more job applicant to whirl around the city tonight. I'm making the executive decision that we need steak.

Easier to make the list than check things off.

The more I have to do, the more lists I make, the more likely I want to write out those lists here, so I can talk my way through the chaos.

Because, my oh my, there is chaos.

I emailed some handymen I found on Craigslist this morning. I had two things I wanted quotes for: one I didn't think I could do myself, and one I knew I could do really well, but would take me a lot of time. So one of them emailed he could come give me a quote today, after church. When he called for the address, there was something about a Long Island Italian accent that made me really happy. He arrived promptly, gave me a really reasonable quote, then asked if I had time right now, and he could get started? Awesome. Already, the mud he put over the Issue looks better than it did. True, it isn't the right color or texture, but it looks so much better.

Then there is the whole "you gotta file your taxes" thing. I don't mind paying taxes, but they are way too complicated for me (even before I had complicated money things), so I have to pay someone, which means I have to be organized and make an appointment. Ugh. Tomorrow.

Then there is the yard. I have a recommendation for a sprinkler guy who will hopefully be able to come this week and repair the vandalism on my well, and perhaps make a valve that can switch between well and city water. Neat. Just a matter of scheduling. Everyone seems so busy. Maybe he can give the grass some fertilizer too.... it's a patchy lawn at best.

The main task for me is cleaning cleaning cleaning. De-cluttering (which isn't to say I have clutter, but I'm making a house that is "for sale" rather than "my house" now). Raking the yard. Planting colorful flowers in the pots. Luckily, the furniture is mostly placed and minimized. Somehow I have a couple-too-many small tables. Any every time I sweep or vacuum, a new tumbleweed of cat hair appears out of no where. Poor things have no idea I will soon be making them live in the trailer.

It will get done. Maybe I will soon be able to post pictures too.

Blog redesign

I redesigned my blog, so I could put in bigger pictures. Yay!
Let me know if it looks weird on your screen (and what screen/browser you have).

Trailer emptying

Torah enjoying his kingdom on

the pile of trailer cushions.

My hands are currently vibrating from all the sanding I've been doing. (Please forgive any type-os.)

I wasn't exactly methodical about emptying out the trailer last fall. True, all the dishes may as well have stayed in there (even if now I have to take them all out to wash), but the tiny bits and pieces that found their way into all the nooks and crannies is just silly.

Yesterday, I emptied out everything, removed the couch cushions (I would like to have new covers made... more on that later... and not until later!), took apart the cabinets and set about sanding them down. I was (over) confident this would be just like when I sanded down and painted my kitchen cabinets in California.

Then I remembered how every thing I did to my house in California led to six other things needing to be done, and three things breaking in the process that would need to be fixed.

The cabinet frames were clearly installed after being finished, and the walls were painted before anything was installed. There are tiny areas between appliances and cupboards and panels the sander/sanding black can't go. Some of the panels are solid, and some are sandwiched/layered birch plywood. The plywood has begun to separate in some places, so I have to pause and repair it as I go.

It's been a lot of work, as I knew it would (but pretended it wouldn't be). I'm now off to the basement to put the first coat of shellac on the cabinet doors, then off to sand with a lighter grit in the trailer itself.



I really wanted to go camping tomorrow night, so I am determined to get it put back together enough for an over-nighter in Shades State Park.

Red Woods and Black Waters

Yesterday, all the things I dreaded might happen, did.

I'm sure it was because J was there. It's Murphy's Law. Things were going smoothly for me this whole time, but then there was another person along, a person who might be skeptical of Alice's rustic beauty and provocative plumbing. Skepticism is a friend of mischief. It was nothing J did, but his presence altered the delicate balance of the trailer's ecosystem, and chaos and mayhem reigned!

We slept in later than I ever do, lingered over breakfast and lying about. I'm not used to it, and kept glancing at the clock. "It's really time to go," I would say. I took a shower, hot water refreshing. When I got out, we heard something. Outside, the sewer hose was having difficulty, as the warm water sat heavy in the hose, two feet below the raised sewer hole it was supposed to flush down. I had to lift it up to allow the water to exit. That should have probably clued me in other things could go wrong. Where was the rest of the water that hadn't been able to go into the tube?

J said he wouldn't take a shower, but I convinced him he should, that it was great. He relented. I went outside to manually hold the hose up to empty the water. It wasn't working, and tiny holes were appearing along the tube. We would have to replace it before emptying our black water tank, but I had emptied two nights ago and had gone as long as four without emptying, so it should have been fine. I asked him to turn the shower water off, unhooked the sewer line, and replaced it with my bucket. The bucket is what I use for washing dishes when I am camping in the woods. Usually, a shower is too much for a 5 gallon bucket. J resumed his shower. Within a few minutes, the gas ran out, and so did the hot water. Poor thing had to rinse in icy cold mountain water.

Forgetting about the bucket, I began the dishes, knowing we had limited time before we had to check out of the camp. Sure enough, the bucket overflowed, and we had to run out and manually scoop water out of it and into the drain tube. Yuck.

I showed J how to to unhook the hoses, unjack the jacks, hitch to the car. We washed our hands one last time, closed the windows. As I was double checking everything, I saw water on the floor. I mopped it up, but more appeared. And more. It was running across the floor diagonally, escaping out the front door. Following the trail, I found it came from where you never want to see water escaping--the toilet. The black tank was overflowing. The water was clear, so it seemed the shower water had backed into the tank and we would have to empty it after all.

It was a disaster. I had to reattach the sewer hose, and rubber-glove handle it to get an angle for the waste to flow into the sewer. I only let a little fluid out at a time, so the liquid wouldn't shoot out of the tiny holes. It was vial. When that was done, we mopped and disinfected the floor. We didn't leave the campground until after 1 PM, well after check-out, feeling awful, dirty, and miserable. The cleaning solution was making my lungs burn and my heart race, and soon I felt sicker than I had in a long time (and this was the "green" cleaning solution!). We stopped to buy the replacement LP line that would enable us to have hot water again, as well as new parts for the new sewer hose. Then, we went to find lunch, but had trouble finding a place to go, to park. By then, I was too sick to eat, and ordered tacos reluctantly. A few minutes before the food arrived, J got an emergency work call and left to deal with it in the trailer. I sat in front of my food, not wanting it, and his food, getting cold. I finally boxed up both meals, paid, and went to lay down in the trailer and listen to my heart palpitations while J was frantic on the phone.

We pulled out of town at 6PM, having not yet driven any of our 125 mile daily minimum, and were generally grumpy.

So what saved us? What made the day pleasant after all, erased the terrible morning, the ruined lunch? We listened to Harry Potter together and admired the landscape. Knowing campsites would either be sketchy or full at this time of night, and not wanted to deal with the trailer in any way other than for sleep, I had us pull into an Indian Reservation (you see the influence it had on me), remembering my friend's advice that I could sleep anywhere on a reservation without trouble. We went to the Casino, open all night with parking security. All the machines were penny and nickel bets, and they were happy to let us sleep in the parking lot. There was free soda and coffee, chili cheese dogs my now-healthy body was grateful for, and we played nichael video poker. I slept better than I had in three nights.