Tag Archives: art

Putting it Out There


This year for me is all about taking risks. Being fearless.


More like being brave. Because you can’t be brave if you don’t feel fear, right? Anyway, hear me out and then I welcome your honest response(s).

I’m scared shitless. Seriously. I’ve actually been ridiculously paralyzed and it’s not going to hold me back anymore. This is me. Being brave. Putting it out there.

If you know me or not, know this … I am not good with vulnerability. Just the word makes me shudder and freaks the shit out of me. Makes me feel weak .. open to injury and insult … and any other ugly thing out there that could sting or heaven forbid, destroy me emotionally.  Which, sometimes, I fear it may .. especially in my weaker moments. But “never let them see you cry”, right?  Sadly, I have not responded well in the past (tears, or anger, or both) when it hasn’t played out as lovely and hopeful as it did in my head and you can only imagine the wake of destruction it’s created.

However, I’m happy to report that as I’ve matured over the years, my response to vulnerability has also matured. I’ve learned a lot and I don’t think I would have been ready to do this several, or even a few years ago.  So here it goes.

As some of my closer friends, and maybe a few family members know, I’ve been writing a book.  For a very long time now. At least 6 years, if not longer.  You know what’s even crazier?  It’s been pretty much done for at least 3 out of the 6.  But I’ve been sitting on it. And as hard as it is to admit, it’s mostly out of my fear of vulnerability.  Not even fear of rejection bothers me. I’ve never been one who has been too concerned with how others feel or think about me.  But for some reason this work of love, and hate, and tears, and joy has rendered me debilitated.

But I am debilitated no longer.  So look out world, here I come.

Today I am sharing the book cover prototypes.  There are four.  Tell me which one speaks to you and why. I’d also like to hear what the title says to you or you think the book is about. Don’t worry. You don’t hold all the power. Or any really. I probably won’t change the title or even go with the most popular cover choice. This is simply part of my process of making it real. Of making myself accountable to my internal universe that manages to dictate my epic failures and my greatest achievements. And making myself vulnerable .. for the greater good … my greater good.

Book Cover Proto 1

book cover proto 3

Book Cover Proto 2

book cover proto 4

I have a friend who is on a mission called “100 Letters of Rejection” for 2015.  I’m following her lead.  I also did some tiny research on famous authors who were rejected countless times and yet they persevered.  And today we couldn’t imagine a world in which these works of art didn’t exist.  I’m not doing this to be famous, to be on the national bestseller list or win a Pulitzer prize. I’m doing it because it’s inside me, literally begging to get out. So whatever it becomes, I’m good with.  As long as I put it out there with no fear of vulnerability or debilitation.

THANK YOU for hearing me out.  THANK YOU for your participation in my process.  THANK YOU for your uncensored honesty.  THANK YOU for going on this journey with me.  It’s gonna be AWESOME.

~ S

p.s. watch for the Preface of my new book, which I had refused to write and wasn’t going to include, but I’m glad I changed my mind .. posting soon.

It’s A Love/Hate Thing



Painting walls … truly a love/hate relationship here.

I. Hate. It.

The trim work, the drop cloths, applying all of that wretched blue tape, removing numerous switch plates, ceilings and corners (seriously?), removing the said wretched tape, cleaning brushes and rollers and paint pans (I don’t even do this anymore, I just throw them away), reattaching switch plates (a missing screw, what the?), up the ladder, down the ladder, step in the paint pan (insert the F bomb here), first coat, second coat, and a half day later you step back to realize it’s not even the color you thought it would be when it dried.

* sigh *

Did I mention I hate painting?

I know HATE is such a strong word and I always tell my kids to find a better word because nothing is quite that bad, maybe just misunderstood (?),  but no misunderstanding here …

! i HATE it !

After all that, what’s left to love?

i LOVE …

the solitude.

the definitive beginning and end – especially the end.

my favorite musical motivation blaring through my headphones.

and if I’m really REALLY lucky … no. interruptions. (but that’s only possible if my painting is off-site, like another planet  … or painting into the wee post bedtime/pre-dawn hours, which is my favorite time to paint for this reason alone).

The irony of all of this, is that I am a painter by nature.

My preferred method is wall murals and other commissioned large works of art.

flowers firetrucks townscape elephant mollys room my starry night

This type of painting is entirely different and much more enjoyable,

from the beginning anticipation to the bittersweet end.

But either one …  either way …  love or hate …

it’s a project that I find incredibly rewarding.

What tasks are a love/hate thing for you?

An Unlikely Fairy Tale


fairy tale castle

When someone thinks of a fairy tale, they envision singing birds, and sparkly castles, maybe some unicorns, a prince with his princess, magical moments full of enchantment .. and sparkles and rainbows and glitter and even more sparkles…

especially if you are a girl.

But not this girl.

I’m not sure at what point in my life I decided I would never have the fairy tale, nor really want it for that matter.

In high school, my fairy tale consisted of living in the Village in NYC, being all artsy fartsy with my artsy fartsy friends, staying out late, rubbing elbows with B list celebrities, painting when I wanted to paint in my giant loft with the giant windows, boyfriends went it felt right, and definitely no kids.

artists loft 2

And look at me now.

Two-failed marriages, four kids, a ratty vehicle, often living paycheck to paycheck, live-in boyfriend with two more kids, a dog, cat and a hamster, an 80 mile round-trip commute each day …

and THIS.

IS my fairy tale.

and I LOVE IT.

Anyone from the outside looking in would see a circus.


The chaos, the mess, the noise, loud-voices, laughter and tears, drawings and writings and various papers scattered everywhere, 12 different calendars to keep all eight of us in the right place at the right time (often late, but shoot, we made it, right?), mismatched socks, dancing in the kitchen, whose turn is it on the Xbox or who gets to pick the next song, sleepover forts that stay up for 3 months, the cat’s up a tree, the dog ate my pencil, i think the hamster might be dead (nope just MIA), unreturned library books, one gets the flu you all get the flu, what’s for dinner tonight, burps, farts and smelly arm-pits (except for Avery, our sweet and only little girl in a sea of teenage boys … yea right), who is picking up the kids and who is picking up the pizza making sure we don’t both end up at home with just the pizza and no kids …

And that’s just the good days.

But who doesn’t love a circus, right?!

(except for the freaky clowns of course)

Honestly …  I would take this circus over that fairy tale any day.

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