Days of Mania

I have them, almost everyday. Many ups and downs that permeate my very existence. I'm continuously at a loss to why. Most of the time, I don't know how to handle it as I proceed to find out what is wrong with me; why do I cry as if my life is crumbling right before my eyes? A daily reminder of what my bipolar disorder is causing me—a regular heartache that hurts so much, I never know why, or how and what has created it.  

I always ask myself if this is something I can control or even handle. Without an answer to this question, I know that the hurt won't go away, but will only accentuate even more. 

My mind races and my mind wanders. I can't think straight and I can't focus on anything. My surroundings are black and white—nothing as simple as one color opposite from the other, but an over-the-top display of emotions. I want to scream, and most of the time I do. I let it out, so loud and so intense that I'm surprised my neighbors haven't complained. It hurts, you see, and I can't stop it. At that moment in time, I can't. Without the aid of my anti-anxiety pills, it will continue to mutilate my soul and affect me as if nobody can hear me or comprehend my plight.

I want to dive into the black hole in my mind and never crawl back. I want to stay there and I never want to come out. Just hide. It bewilders me, but I continue to scream—my mind is persistent and it won't stop. My thoughts fill me with intense emotion and sadness, that I want to end it all. All of it. Everything.

How does this misery end? Aside from swallowing one of my anti-anxiety pills, will I ever be 'normal' again? What is 'normal' anyway? For me, 'normal' is happiness and tranquility, a feeling of composure and belief that only guides me into another dimension of pure merriment. Even now, as I sit here and drink my morning cappuccino, I wonder how and why? I love drinking my cappuccino, I love the taste and I love how it makes me feel albeit shaky and anxious.

Every morning I feel this way as though I want to get up from my chair and paint the world bright colors to fill my soul—paint everything I see in sight without a care in the world to what I'm depicting from the heart. I love to paint. It's something I have done since college. Even though I studied fine art, I never completely understood the effects of oils but acrylics instead. I'm an amateur at best.

I love creating my own "graffiti" on street signs I purchased at the local eco thrift. It's my way of recycling within my home, and painting unusual objects that marvels my satisfaction.

Handicap sign

Speed Limit sign

Vintage Gas Station Number

I don't care. I do it because it pleases me. It's for me, nobody else but me. The downsides of being a graphic designer is it's for the client. Although working for the client has always given me the advantage of showing my professionalism and talent, the frustration of their layperson eye only frustrates me. I know what's best and I know what they need to settle on. Even if they don't see it at that point in time. Learning is key.

The shakiness that penetrates my body with a throbbing headache most likely from my morning medication, only extinguishes typical normality . My annoyance from this medication aggravates me but I know it's something I must do everyday, or my bipolar disorder will only come back full force, only making it worse.

I am filled with dizziness, but what is more important? I know what I must do, and I know how to control it, if not for my sanity and my family's as well. I must struggle on with the manic voices climbing through my soul as if they're not there. To only make me 'normal' again.

It's time. Time to paint.

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Inspiration is Key!

This weekend, I will attend the annual local arts festival about an hour away from me. Since I live in a smaller college town, the arts festival is held every year in the major city of where I live. I love it, but it seems as though every year when I go, I'm with my husband and daughter, or even one year with my parents as well, only to be dealing with constant complaints of the heat or how bored they were. It's a hot weekend, as you can imagine, so throughout the day, all I hear is how hot everyone is—which of course, ruins the entire experience for me. Since it's located in the downtown area, you primarily walk around and check out the local artists' kiosks and enjoy their artwork. So yes, I can understand why it would be hot and uncomfortable, but for me, I avoid all of that and walk and gaze in each tent not to miss a single kiosk.


I love it and it inspires me, but it does ruin the entire day as I am subjected to the constant 'whining' about how hot everyone is. This year, I will be attending it alone. I think it's best.


I need this time to myself, and I need to walk around and feel inspired with uninterrupted grievances. Not that I can't empathize with how they feel, because let's face it, it is really hot, and for people who are not interested in art, it can be quite boring. I can sympathize with this emotion, but this year, I'm gonna do it alone!


I'm excited for this!


I think I need it, I really need this time to myself to appreciate other artists and their work. I only wish I could afford to showcase/sell my artwork as well, but since this arts festival has gotten so massive over the years, it has become a little out of my price range.


A part of that saddens me. I only wish there was some sort of local marketplace where artists who may not have the means to afford such lavish surroundings and events, can proudly display and sell their individual crafts. When I lived in NYC in the late 80's, I would enjoy walking downtown to enjoy the flea market filled with local artists and their creations. I only wish there was something equivalent of that here where I live.


But there isn't.

This is one of my favorite exhibits from 2011 - it's reminiscent of arcade-type retro designs

Since I've been on the lookout for a retro 70's-era pinball machine, this exhibit was my favorite. I love the designs and the retro-style arcade feel to it because it makes me want to go back to my childhood during that pre-video game craze—I loved it. Nothing can beat those days anymore.

I've always loved and still get inspired by retro designs of any sort. Or even a funky style that may not exactly be practical, but unique nonetheless. An imaginative approach.

Lime green chair - unfortunately I don't remember the artist's name—I just took the picture because

 I thought it looked cool! It looks like it's plastic and soft, but it was actually a hard chair.

Nothing inspires me more than seeing artists whose work is unique and out of the ordinary. It means they take chances and they take the time to think and create. Not just take a pencil and a sketchpad and draw something they see. They use their imagination instead, not just their eye.

Now, please don't misunderstand me, I'm not saying that artists who do create their work by sketching something they see aren't talented, but quite the contrary, they're very talented. However, what I am saying is, I don't think that takes much imagination to see and sketch, and it's not really the kind of art I'm into. I like artists who step outside of the box, not stay within them.

But again, art is subjective so there's no use in arguing there.

Local sculptor using unsual materials for this unusual sculpture

An area for children to paint a mural for whatever they want! I love it!!!

As I would continue to walk and peruse the local artists and their work, I'm in awe. I always say to myself how I wish I could do something like that, but I don't seem to have the nerve! But why not? Why can't I go out there and do something that artist can do? Isn't it all within, all of our art and our work? I don't mean to copy their work or "plagiarize" another artists' piece, but inspire me to do something like them—step away from my comfort zone and create something that will not only please me, but maybe please others as well.

This is a big step for me. As my bipolar mind and ramblings continue to fade, I know that the one thing that will make me happy will be to create—continue to create my work and my art in hopes of maybe pleasing others. 

Just like when they walk into my loft for the first time.

Ooooh ahhhh....

I will be inspired!

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Abstract Madness

I love abstract art. Always have, and most likely always will. I conquered it in college during my art theory class and believe it or not, it's not as easy as it looks. I remember struggling with my project and at first glance, you'd think abstract art, or cubism for that matter, would be easy; almost infantile and child-like. 


Not even close.


My attempts ended unsuccessful, but I received a good grade nonetheless. I was so happy and so relieved, the first thing I remember out of my professor's mouth was "it's clear you're inspired by Pablo Picasso." Hearing that made me proud. I was happy. I even named my pug after this brilliant artist as a homage to him.


Now as I look back this past year or so, abstract art for me is nothing shy of relevant. I've always loved it and now I have executed it in my art. Even more so these days than my early college years. Maybe it's an appropriate representation of how I've been feeling for so long; something that embraces my mood and my frequent doldrums. Will I continue to create these abstract tendancies as my medication will continue to work? Absolutely. It's not something that I've done in the moment only, but in the future as well. I feel that it's an accurate depiction of what has defined me for so long—for me, it felt like it lasted forever. I realize that a year taken from my life is minimal compared to the big picture, but at that time in my life, it felt like eternity.

Pablo Picasso - 1925 The Bottle of Wine 

Pablo Picasso - 1932 Girl Before a Mirror

I've always wanted to conquer abstract painting but never could. Or was it I just didn't have the courage to do so? Regardless, I've done it and I will embark on it some more. Now that I feel confident, why not?

While I was in school studying art, I always tried to analyze abstract art. I always wondered and asked myself, can it be analyzed? Or just something you feel from within? I've always said—and promoted—that art is subjective. Not everyone is going to love or appreciate your art or other artists' work. It's something we have to accept as artists. It took me a long time to realize this and not take it personally, but I admit, it's difficult to follow this rule of thumb, but for the most part, I don't let it get to me. As a graphic designer, we're not there to design for ourselves, but for the client. If they can't appreciate your expertise and professional background, then we have to accept it and move on. I always wonder why they hire us to begin with anyway.

Back to the drawing board.

Pablo Picasso - 1937 Lee Miller as L' Arlesienne

Pablo Picasso - 1934 Head of a Woman Portrait of Marie-Thérés Walter

As you could imagine, abstract paintings are quite a bit different than graphic/advertising design. Not many clients would request something abstract to their logo, business card, et al, as they would prefer something a little more straight forward. Which is why I love painting more abstract than anything else. It epitomizes who I am and exploits my left brain. 

Aside from the paintings, I don't want my mind to be 'abstract' anymore. I want clarity in my life and my brain. Like they say, Rome wasn't built in a day, but for me, I've been struggling with bipolar disorder since 2004, so I think it's time I get better.

What do you think?

As I continue to paint for myself, I will continue to hope that one day soon, I can even paint for a much larger audience than myself and my family. Maybe have one of my paintings hanging in somebody else's home instead of mine? Only time will tell to see if that question will be answered, but for now, I'm doing it for me. It pleases me and I enjoy it. It keeps my mind off everything around me and my constant racing of thoughts. At this point, they haven't subsided, they're just more tolerable now.

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NOTE: At the time that I wrote this post, I received an email requesting that I hang my paintings in a restaurant in town where they showcase local artists' work. They would like me to showcase my work as well. It's a step in the right direction as I try to sell my work and my painting services. An unusual exhibit, yes, but it's a start. Wish me luck!

Painting Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

I love painting, I do. I think I've made that apparent in most—if not all—of my prior posts. Although I haven't been trained professionally as a painter (even though I studied art), it's something I've always done to calm my nerves and makes me happy—even to keep me occupied and "out of trouble." It's just what I've always done. I think I take after my mother in that regard, because she did the same thing.

After many years of painting bright colors on many canvases, I've come to the realization that painting has helped me through my bipolar disorder on many levels, not just as an artist, but for a therapeutic point of view as well—even if I wasn't made aware of it at the time. However, it's something I have always enjoyed and realize that many painting instructors teach their students to mix their colors and never paint straight ouf of the tube. For me, I'm the opposite. I prefer to paint with acrylic when most instructors teach their students to use oils instead.

Any way you look at it, it's still a personal preference.

I do know that as a fine artist, we will all eventually use what works for us the most. It allows us to inhabit our own methods and excel as artists. At this point after many years, I don't care what the art community thinks about my paintings, and I don't care if they're being critiqued to the point of negativity and displeasure, I enjoy painting and I take pleasure from it.

As a graphic designer, we are taught to design for our clients, not the designer. That rule of thumb has always been tough for me, but I've come to learn after many years of working as a graphic designer that it's how we have to work in order to make a living.

We are there to make the client happy.

It can be very frustrating because as professionals, we know that many times the design we choose instead of the client, are always better. But that's not always the case. The client sees and desires what they want, regardless of our professional opinion. I've just learned to not take it personally, because ultimately it's not a reflection of who I am, but of the client during that point in time.

Isn't that what they're paying us for?

When I'm painting, I can take comfort that I'm doing it for me and for myself only. Nobody else. I've never put my paintings up for sale and I don't intend to. Over the years, I've been lucky enough to have painted many commissions of pets, couples, children, etc. but I've never really sold my paintings that are hanging on my walls.

These were painted for me. 

I truly believe that these individual paintings mean something special to me and they have a purpose in my home. I don't think I could ever say goodbye. They're important to me and I've grown to accept them as part of my 'family,' part of my decor.

But as my heart grows for each painting I create, I know that deep in my heart I do it for enjoyment and a release. A release of everything I've endured this past year and what I will move to this coming year.

Maybe one of these days I'll actually sell one of my paintings, but in the meantime, I'll just enjoy them as they continue to hang on my own four walls.

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A Dream.

We all have a dream. Something we all yearn to be, to do, in our lives. Sometimes we don't all get the opportunity to live out our aspirations, but it's fun to get away, if only in our minds, as we gaze into our fantasy.

For me, a dream that I've fantasized about for the past 3 years is opening up an art school—an art school for kids. I never thought in a milion years that I would ever want to teach art, especially to children, but after having my daughter, and exposing her to art, colors, painting, et al, since she was 18 months old, I realized that it's something I loved; something I truly enjoyed. And you know what, I was damn good at it, too.

It was at this age that I taught my daughter colors. At this time, she knew her colors and by the time she entered daycare at the age of 2, the instructors were highly impressed by this. I have paintings that she created at 19 months old that are framed and hanging in her room. I love these paintings because nothing gives the impression of brightness through art more than a child's painting. The vibrance and stimulating assemblage of colors pleases me. Seeing all the bright colors gives the viewer such joy, that we don't even realize we're experiencing it.

But I do. I always appreciate and love all the different colors. Bright beautiful rich colors.

I always knew that this would be my goal, but how do I attempt it? How do I start? I have no money and no bank in their right mind would ever grant me a business loan. So how? As my unemployment is nearing its end, I am scared. So scared that as I look at the jobs listed, I get even more depressed. There is nothing in my field, and nothing that even looks like I could qualify for. It's scary out there, and I won't know what to do. The time is soon approaching.

Do I even attempt to research how to obtain this and follow through with my dream, or do I just leave it at that—nothing but a fantasy in my mind and my heart? This is what I need to ask myself, because as I sit here and ponder how I would come up with the money to fulfill this objective, it will just have to remain nothing but a daydream for now. Who knows what will happen, life is funny that way. I may have the means to follow through with this goal, but for now, I don't.

What do I do in the meantime? My heart is yearning to fulfill something meaningful in my life. I want to be able to walk away from all of this, create a therapeutic retreat, if only in my head, and grow; move forward and excel in my life. Haven't I been through enough?

We all work very hard, and in this horrible economy, sometimes people struggle to the point of losing everything. Although that is not happening to us, I look at my husband everyday as he comes home from one of his two jobs exhausted, literally exhausted. My husband works 80 hours/week, and for what? Little to no money only so we can have our bills paid, our rent paid, and food on the table—which doesn't always happen, unfortunately. Barely enough to survive as we live paycheck to paycheck every week. We are not poor, but we are not rich either. Is there such a thing as middle class these days? I don't know.

But I do know this, I will try my hardest to live out my dream, even if it takes me years to attain. 

I have to.

Abstract Finger Painting – Artist, my daughter – 2001

Copy of Keith Haring – Artist, my daughter – 2006

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The Rat Race

I mean this legitimately—the rat race in my head and my thoughts. They're always racing, so much so that I cannot sleep. It feels like my mind and my thoughts are going 100 miles a minute. Sometimes I can control it, especially when I go for my morning run, but most of the time, I cannot. Unfortunately, it prevents me from sleeping, and this isn't good for my disease, my bipolar disorder. My therapist and my "drug dealer" (as I like to call my psychiatric nurse who prescribes my medication), always tell me that I need my sleep; it's imperative I get a good night's sleep. But how can I control it? How can I control my racing thoughts?

Most of the time, I'm always thinking of ways to improve my solitude and give me projects to work on, especially for my art. But there are so many ideas that I honestly don't know where to start, or worse, how to execute them. I know I have discussed this through one of my prior posts, Therapy Through Art, but it's something that continues to affect me even today, several weeks later.

I sometimes feel like my mind is in the middle of New York City running through rush hour as though I was part of the "rat race." It gets beyond frustrating because I just can't seem to concentrate on anything—not even my art, which means the world to me right now. Again.

Yesterday I had my daughter's friend come over for a sleepover, and since I had never met her mother, she eagerly came upstairs to introduce herself. Nice enough lady, just couldn't seem to stop talking. Well, for most people that may be OK, but for me, someone who suffers from bipolar disorder, my mind wanders if you've lost me; lost my interest—which unfortunately happens a little too often these days, and with her, it was just too much; too in depth.

As I'm standing there trying my hardest to listen, my mind continued to wander—round and round about everything and anything to zone her out. I couldn't help it, but I lost interest not far into the conversation.

How do I overcome this? The past several days, I have been shaky in the mornings, and now exhausted. I credit the exhaustion to my lack of sleep these days, but the shakiness, I just don't know what to do. Thankfully I have my appointment tomorrow with my "drug dealer" so hopefully he can recommend something. It's tough, kind of like this dichomoty in my brain telling me that although my depression and mood swings have diminished exponentially, I'm shaky and exhausted regardless.

The polarity is frustrating for me. No pun intended.

This tells me one thing—I'm still not 100% like I had hoped. The last few weeks have been such a huge transformation, as we had immediately thought, finally she's back.

Not yet.

After starting this painting a few weeks ago, I finally completed it this morning. Although I haven't done the finishing touches to date—a shiny gloss coat—but I can still display it proudly to share with you for this post.

I hope you like it. If not, that's OK too, I realize my art is not for everyone. That's what makes it art. More abstract in nature which demonstrates my current state of mind; my racing thoughts.

Skyscraper of a Scattered Mind – Artist, me – 2012

Thank you for reading, and thank you for allowing me to share my recent painting with you.

P.S. Please understand that my paintings are amateur as I have had no professional training in fine art painting with acrylic. But it's something I do for myself. I typically don't sell my paintings, would consider it.

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Euphoria

That word, what does it mean to you? According to the dictionary, it is defined as this:

eu•pho•ri•a

noun

a feeling or state of intense excitement and happiness:
the euphoria of success will fuel your desire to continue training

ORIGIN late 17th century (denoting well-being produced in a sick person by the use of drugs): modern Latin, from Greek, from euphoros 'borne well, healthy,' from eu 'well' + pherein 'to bear.'

Yup, that's it in a nutshell.

This past week, I felt exactly that way. I was on top of the world! Nothing could go wrong. It was the best feeling I've had in several months. 

But then it changed. All of a sudden, it felt like my world came tumbling down—not literally of course, but my mood just plummeted. What was going on with me? How could I go from being way up on the charts, to way down on the charts? For those of you who are suffering from Bipolar Disorder will know that this is consistent with the disease. But at the time that it's happening, you really don't look at it that way. You continually ask yourself this common question—why? Why is this happening to me—again!

This is how I felt:

acrylic on canvas 2008 • untitled • artist – me

Even though this is an abstract painting that I painted several years ago, it's still how I felt that day and that night. Which unfortunately, continued into yesterday. An abstract of someone—a display of 'funkiness' running through my mind. Today? I feel a lot better, but again, as the day progresses, only time will tell.

Now we all know that there's a chemical in your brain that produces how we feel, how we think, and how we react. Please don't ask me what this is called, but at this point, does it really matter? We know it's there, and we now know why, so in my eyes, if it's happening, it's real.

A few nights ago, after spending the entire day feeling euphoric, all of a sudden I was in a depressed mood. So depressed, that I started crying—crying for no apparent reason whatsoever. I couldn't understand it. How could I feel so invigorated throughout the day, only to cry for no reason? As I was crying, I immediately went into our bedroom and woke my husband up from a deep sleep. I asked him to assist me during my time of need. Thankfully, he was there as usual, helping me cope. 

Thank goodness he was there to help me because in my head, I kept thinking what is wrong with me and why am I feeling this way. Even to him, with what I have been going through these past several months, was kind of difficult for him to comprehend. Do I blame him? Of course not. But as we were talking it out, he understood and realized he needed to be there and talk me down. I've come to the point where 'talking me down' is something that he must do. 

And thankfully, it always works. Even during my most agitated state, it works.

As I continue with my medication, I am persisting through this disease on a daily basis. 

Bipolar Gal on Twitter

Blocked?.....No Pun Intended

Here we go again, frustration with my so-called new art project is so far failing me. You know the project I wanted to work on with Legos? Ya, not as easy as I thought or had hoped. What is wrong with me? Here I was diving in after over 2 years of having zero desire to work on my art or graphic design, to having inspiration and complete excitement only to end up being "blocked." I say no pun intended because of course, I was hoping to use Legos for my new project—hence, blocks. Mainly to create a relief, except my tub of Legos have been sitting side-by-side with my canvas on my dining room table for a little over 2 weeks now. 

Ugh.

I have these racing thoughts going through my head as I wonder what is it I want to achieve here. I know in my head what I want, but I just can't seem to execute it. It's frustrating as I am so eager to get this project going—or any project for that matter—and I am blocked, literally blocked. For the most part, I always know what I do when I'm creatively blocked with a graphic design project—and believe it or not, it always seems to work, but a fine art project such as this? I have no idea where to go, or what to do. Where do I take it? How far am I willing to go to execute this project?

It was recommended yesterday by my therapist that I should take 1–2 hour walks to my local downtown area and just sit and people watch; maybe even sketch. Keep in mind, I was never your typical artist who liked to sketch beforehand, I always just did it. Whether it's on the computer, or on a canvas, I just did it. So this is all new to me. I will sketch about nothing, possibly giving me the inspiration I so desire as I sit and watch the recent spring/summer colors on the trees, the laughing of children playing in the water fountain, and the smiles on everyone's face because the weather has turned warm—maybe those little pieces of happiness will immediately inspire me. 

Hey, it's worth a shot, right?

So today, today will be my first day attempting this task—besides, this is my homework assignment given to me by my therapist. I have a week to accomplish this "assignment." I can't let her down. Isn't this what I pay her for (or my insurance, for that matter)?

I have nothing to lose.

It'll get me out of my house, away from my video game and away from my virtual world, and into the fresh air and among people, many many people.

Wish me luck!

Bipolar Gal on Twitter

Therapy Through Art

It must be done, or I will drive myself insane. Understand, after losing my last job from the toy company over 2 years ago, my drive and creativity were completely gone. I was creatively blocked. At that point, I was ready to give up my art and design background—for who knows what. I even contemplated working at a local coffee shop just for the social interaction; hoping it would help my illness. I honestly thought I'd never look back.

Until now.

I am trying my hardest to get back into the groove of things, but I admit, a lot of what has been happening to me with recent events have prevented me from doing so. It's tough, it's literally an uphill battle for me. Even as I document these events into this blog, it has turned into an emotional turmoil for me.

Yesterday I attempted to start my "Lego" project only to be completely lost. I kept telling myself what am I doing here? Why am I starting this? Where should I go with it?

To give you an idea of what I am trying to conquer, a Lego painting or sculpture is something that has been on my mind for several months now. Something I have been wanting to create and aspire to reignite my imagination. But what shall I do? What should I create? That's the million dollar question.

Now these are not exactly what I was wanting to create, of course, as they only gave me inspiration to use Legos as part of my medium. As you will see with the images below, you can get an idea of what I'm talking about.

 

unknown artist

boys & girls conference table

unknown artist & kitchen countertop/bar

close-up side view of the boys & girls conference table

Now I have no desire to emulate something as difficult as a table, or even a kitchen bar, but something along the lines where it showcases the array of colors with the juxtaposition of Legos with whatever sculpture or painting I choose to create. Either way, I believe it'll convey my true emotions of how I feel with my bipolar disorder these days—scattered and colorful.

Ideas are good. Inspiration is good. Even if it's keeping a journal, or in my case now, pouring most of my thoughts and feelings into a blog. Who knows if anybody is even reading it, but at this point, I'm not doing it for someone else, I'm doing it for me. And that's the most important role I can take in my life at this time.

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