10. Just Start

I CAN procrastinate like a pro! I know I'm doing it, I know I don't like to do it, and I even know how to stop doing it. Most times I shrug it off; I'm good with deadlines. But occasionally, and usually with a person portrait, it can go on for a tad too long for my comfort.

THAT'S WHEN I have to close my eyes and visualize this painting, called Lion Reading, which hangs in Kaweah Delta hospital, in Visalia, CA. I painted it 16 years ago, in 1998. I was still struggling with making my living as an artist after a divorce, and also raising a 7- year old daughter, Bronwen, no money, not sure when the next commission would come. So I designed this 8'x8' painting, to present to the hospital in hopes of selling it.

I GOT a good part of the painting done, but when it came to painting Lion's eyes I froze. He's telling an exciting story so his eyes needed to be bright and opened, but NOT crazed. He's not going to EAT the young animals! 

A DAY went by- then another. A week. Finally, frustrated by my lack of confidence, Bronwen came up to me, handed me a paintbrush, fully loaded, with that look on her face that meant I know all things, and said "Just start. You'll figure it out." Yeah, that's my girl. 

I DID start, I did figure it out, and I sold it to the hospital for a whopping $5000, enough money to allow me to take a breath and go forward. And today, right after I post this, I am going to get up from the computer, load a paintbrush and "just start."

9. Why I Use an Orange Ground Color

YOU THOUGHT I had artistic insight and esoteric jargon to explain why I use orange as a base color. Maybe you hoped to learn about color theory or how color conveys light.

I COULD SAY it's because it creates movement in a painting, or that it suggests a wood-block or stained-glass feeling. I could say it makes the other colors pop, or that it directs your eyes around the painting.  I wouldn't be lying.

BUT THE straight-up truth: I have, in my whole life, never loved a coat as much as I loved this one. Whenever I wore this coat, I felt like I was soaring above the trees on my way to school.  It was my Superman cape, my butter on toast, a puppy hug.

NOW, 50 years later, I paint in clothes covered in acrylic paint. I have a closet full. But, once in a while, I'll be pushing green paint along an orange canvas when a little jolt goes through me and I'm wearing my magic coat. And I'm soaring.

8. I Have White Hair Because I Have Dogs

Watercolor painting by Renny Spencer

I HAVE white hair because I have dogs.

WHEN I was much younger I dreamed of having EVERYTHING. To be an artist- to have a family- to own a house with a picket fence (a brown one though) with lots of dogs. So I went out and got them. At one point our house held a husband and me, 7 children (3 of them foster kids), 2 Bullmastiffs, a Samoyed, a Dalmatian, a Papillon, and 11 cats.  I joined a Canasta group, made Halloween costumes, and ran a home business selling woodcraft. I bought boots and make-up and hair color.

AS TIME went on, I tweaked the details of my dream. I had to choose between my art and my husband, and (after 20 years deciding), chose my art. I exchanged the mortgage for monthly rental in a series of small but charming homes, and struggled to keep on top of things while raising 4 daughters. I started giving up things that weren't important. Who needs TV?

THE GIRLS eventually left home, and my career and my dogs kept me busy. I felt I could finally get a studio away from home and found the perfect spot. It was September 1st, 2001. I took the plunge. Two weeks later the bombing in New York shook the world, the recession hit and I didn't have a commission for a year.

I KEPT my studio. But I gave up everything that wasn't home, food or vet bills. I stopped driving to other places- gas was too expensive. I gave up wearing make-up and finally, I stopped coloring my hair.  I don't miss any of it.

RECENTLY, I've switched my focus to dog portraits, and business is booming. I paint every day. Two of my daughters are living here in town, and I have a grandson. I still don't have television or a cell-phone, and I walk to work. I love my family, my friends, my dog, and even my white hair.

LIFE has weeded out the nonsense and left me with the stuff of dreams.

7. Hello Darkness My Old Friend

You know how a song can take you back in time? "Sounds of Silence," by Simon and Garfunkel, is an express train to 1966 – 9th grade at Exeter Union High School, sitting at a real art desk. The art teacher has asked us to listen to the record player and I've just been introduced to The Moody Blues. Rock mixed with classical. Genius.

Our 1st assignment was to paint a song, using only the words. So many exciting pieces were created – "I fell into a burning ring of fire" – "Imagine all the people, living life in peace" – "These boots are made for walkin'." I wish I could still see them.

I was so happy, and so proud to be part of that creative world. And, thanks to sympathetic teachers who gave me passes to get out of algebra class, I was rescued from boredom. I was given free rein to create what I wanted, using clay, wood, paint, beads. I made a green leather vest and knee-high moccasins to match.

I belonged. I carried my art around, in my bag and in my heart. And I've never stopped.

6. 8th Grade Science Project

DID I mention that I was a dog freak from an early age? Here I am in eighth grade with my science project. I'm in white (I especially like the bow at my neck – I think that was the first of many fashion accessories that I dropped when I started buying my own clothes at 18) and, as you can see, I loved bold colors. What a nerd.

5. Robin Eggs

ROBIN EGGS are warm and comforting. It might be their color, or tiny size, or maybe what they represent – new beginnings. For me, they are a means of time travel, an instant journey back to a 10-year old me.

I GREW UP on a vineyard. Each spring, my brothers and I would grab our little notepads and, in my organized manner even back then, traverse the rows, searching for birds' nests. We very carefully peeked into each vine, documenting each find, and then following the progress of each nest until, at last, all the baby birds flew away.

SOME EGGS didn't hatch, while others were eaten by small mammals or other birds. And it always broke my heart to scribble, "Dead hatchling– not strong enough." Occasionally we got to see the parents feed worms or bugs to the babies. It was so exciting I couldn't sleep some nights.

SOON the nests were empty, and we moved on to new adventures. We ditched our notepads and found other ways to amuse ourselves, not giving nests another thought – until the next year, when it would seem like just the best idea all over again.

I painted Robin Eggs on 16 x20 hardboard panel, which I cut with a jigsaw.

4. Making the Grade

THE BEST lesson I learned in Catholic school was this: I am the best judge of my own progress.

I'M NOT against letter grades, but, when it comes to art, I'm the only one who knows if I'm happy with my improvement. Thank you Sister Rose Anita for teaching me that.

JUNIOR HIGH. I wasn't beautiful. I wasn't popular. I wasn't even funny. But I knew who I was and I liked myself. That did not endear me to the Immaculate Heart sisters, and it didn't take me long to be labeled.  I clung fiercely to my identity (rebel) and refused to give in (disobedient). I continued to laugh (stubborn). And, most of all, I loved to paint and I knew I had talent (proud).

ONE ART lesson stands out. It's Christmas time – the assignment is to paint a stained-glass window design. I'm in my happy place, quietly working, when Sister stops at my desk and asks if she can show my piece to the class. She takes it to her desk, folds my art into a tiny square, then proceeds to cut it up with scissors. She unfolds it, it falls in tiny pieces onto her desk, and she says, with a smile, "Oops, I did that wrong. I was trying to make a snowflake. But Nadi won't mind. She'll make another one."

I REFUSED (obstinate) and, as a result, received an F on the assignment. It was my first F. I should have been upset. I should have argued my case, told my parents, even cried. Nope. Not me. I smiled. I think I actually enjoyed it. I know I enjoyed the look on Sister's face.

I CONTINUED to paint at school, but only when assigned, and I never cared about my grade. But I loved working at home on my own. Only one painting remains from those days – Siamese Cat – and only because my parents framed it and hung it in the living room, where it remained for 40 years.

AND I ESCAPED those corridors. Not with humility and grace, maybe, but with anticipation of new adventures (hopeful), and with my confidence intact and tucked safely away in my back pocket (happy).