This has really been a year of ups and downs. I called 2013 transformative, and it was. 2014 was… illuminating.
In the spring, I had 7 paintings in a group show at Art Access Gallery called “Strong Women”; in May, I had two pieces accepted in the Springville Museum of Art’s annual Spring Salon, and one sold! I was invited to participate in Art Access’s 300 Plates show, and one of my pieces there sold, too! I also submitted works to Murray City’s annual show, and had the great pleasure of receiving 1st in both the professional oil/acrylic category for “Nest of Hair” and in the amateur fabric arts category for an embroidery piece that I finished this year.
In midsummer, I got sick.
The rest of 2014 was spent recovering and fretting about hospital bills. I’m still working on those, and it’s going to take a good deal of time to work everything out. The most frustrating part of it all is that I was not physically able to go out and get a part time job to help me pay for everything. I felt stuck — and I still do. However, my health is improved, and I am confident that I will be able to get some .
7 finished paintings: Bitter Apple, My Special Place, Fugitives, Nest of Hair, Unwanted Visitor, and 2 squares for the 300 Plates show
12 Fine Art Post Cards for subscribers
1 coloring page
“Strong Women” exhibit at Art Access
“Fugitives” and “Pleasant Facade” accepted for Spring Salon
1st place in Murray City Art Show for oils/acrylics
3 rejections! Woot!
3 unfinished canvases still in progress.
1 finished hardanger embroidery piece — “Summer Lace”
1 finished knitted shawl
Worked on large denim quilt, crocheted afghan, beehive blanket (knit 15 puffs) & started another small hardanger piece
30,000 words on Songseeker novel (!)
IN THE GARDEN
5 lbs blue potatoes
3 lbs peas
Those two things were all I managed, and it’s just as well, because after mid-July I was unable to care for the yard and garden in any way.
All in all, a good year in spite of a 6-month hiatus. Now to promise myself not to dwell on what I could have done if I hadn’t come down with a pulmonary emolism. >_> An exercise in unhappiness, that.