Minneapolis Marjorie

I’m Still Here!

For those of you who have been following along, I have recently completed the move from my home, my studio, and my gallery. I am now living in a lovely apartment with a lake view and no longer have a studio in the Northrup King Building here in the NE Minneapolis Arts District. I am located in a cute town, Little Canada, just a bit north of St. Paul, Minnesota.

Downsizing is not for the faint of heart, I’ll tell you what. The last time my husband and I moved was in 2005, so you can imagine how much stuff we have accumulated. I had come to the realization that neither of us is getting any younger; all those unfinished projects were not going to finish themselves, and I certainly was not in any condition to be climbing up on the hillside to fix things or rearrange the landscape. During this process, I was amazed, thrilled, and astounded by the angels who swooped in, unbidden, to lend a hand, make suggestions, and take stuff away. I also spread joy through the donation of bags and boxes of art supplies and furniture and was quite surprised to drive by one of my former yard sculptures that ended up in the yard of another denizen of our neighborhood.

As proud members of the Baby Boom Generation (hold your comments…) we have witnessed the decline of many of our friends and family and decided to get ahead of that. Our dream was to live in a place where we could actually take time away from daily to-do lists and costly home maintenance and just enjoy ourselves. We have the entire Upper Midwest region to explore and we love a good road trip.

Quitting the “business” of art has given me a new perspective – I realize now just how competitive I have always been. This applies to so many facets of my life, from playing cards to working. I know I will continue to have fabulous ideas for product names, but I will resist the urge to build a start-up from them. Follow along to see if I am able to stick to this…

I am also enjoying the experience of art for art’s sake. No deadlines, no pressure, no studio crawls to prepare for, and no judgment, real or imagined. I am nibbling away at the #100 days of Art project between unpacking boxes, and I have really enjoyed just working in a sketchbook creating collages from found papers. Yesterday I congratulated myself on scanning in all the paintings I have ever done, and now I can print them out to be used as collage fodder!

I look forward to continuing my Art Salons, which I call “Art Salad.” For those of you who live in the area, please fill in the following questionnaire if you would be interested in attending.

We were lucky to have dodged the usual crazy snowfall here, which really helped with the logistics of moving and look forward to spring and summer – and enjoying the pool! My next mission is Guerilla Gardening – planting flower seeds in view of our balcony/deck. I just have to hide them from the geese, ducks and songbirds.

I’ll see you next month!

I’m Still Here! Read More »

We’re in!

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Well, it looks like I missed my chance to wish everyone a Happy New Year, but I’ve been busy. To recap, my husband and I have moved everything we know and love 8 miles across town. It may as well have been 2508 miles, as it was just as much work. Or more. We are still awaiting the second moving truck for the final stack o’ boxes and my electric tricycle. We learned about what we didn’t need in our lives (so many boxes donated, sold and otherwise dispersed) and what we will actually use. We are also going completely wireless, which is a big leap for us OG folks. Tomorrow we will welcome the second visit of the traveling technician to hook everything up. I spent at least 4 full days and myriad brain cells trying to hook up the internet modem to the TV, and, after buying a brand-new TV I learned that the “box” that was provided by Xfinity (a four-letter word) was defective. We are now on TV #3, and eliminated the dang box, and are quite happy. I tried, I really did. On the way to the X (formerly Comcast) store, I meditated while I drove: “I will be patient; I will be kind; I will wait my turn.” Once it was my turn, I was told by the staff person that I should go home, unplug it, and plug it in again. Huh. So much for customer “service.” I guess I was confused with a Karen/Jessica/whatever they call us.

But now I am sitting here at my humming computer, listening to soft jazz on my fabulous Klipsch Bluetooth speaker, and gazing out the window at the woods. I am happily ensconced in my new, wee studio with so much stuff, yet surprisingly comfy. This morning, just for fun, I took my laptop over to the business center (right next to the fitness center) just for a change of scenery and a chance to use more of my keys.

I truly love it here. Who knew? After all those years of homeownership, it is so refreshing to not worry about something falling apart. I have better water pressure and more hot water than I have had in any of the places I have owned (7 locations). It is quiet and cozy, with a heated garage (my little KIA is so pleased) and situated right in between the homes of two of our children (the third one is 2508 miles away, but is visiting in a couple weeks). When the sun comes out for good next summer, I will be able to meander out our door and slide into the swimming pool. Yesterday I watched a flock of ducks circling above the lake as if they were on a race track. We have shamelessly eaten out way too often, but it is tempting when the array of restaurants is only a block away. I have certainly not been bored, and I cherish the spontaneous lunches/dinners/baby-sitting gigs with the kids. I continue to shop at the food co-op in our old neighborhood, and visit my former neighbors for lunch or tea while I am there. I do not miss the house. At all. We were there for almost 20 years and there was an unending list of things that needed to be attended to. I think some of the lists are still there.

Now I will be cleaning off my table top and making some art. I can’t wait! I did a couple collages last week, just to see if I still could, and it was rejuvenating! I had only three colors of paint and one pad of paper, but it was good practice to see what I could do with limited supplies.

See you next month!

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Moving: adjective

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Transferring belongings from one residence to another
Stirring deeply in a way that evokes a strong emotional response

Nineteen years next February, my husband and I got married and bought this house. It was a new beginning for both of us – we were opposed to moving into one another’s digs and realized that a fresh start was in order. We were blessed to find the Perfect House – room for both of us to have our own workspaces and a delightful home in a very wonderful neighborhood. From time to time I would visualize moving again – and quickly clamped down that possibility. Then, the inevitable happened – we woke up much older than we had been and started experiencing some limitations that come with having so much to care for and so, so many stairs. I modified my body with new knees and various orthopedic interventions, but it was clear that we needed a change.

After owning several homes, it never occurred to me to consider living in an apartment or condominium, until I did some research. It seems that the American Dream that we had attained had some hidden down sides – basically, I had begun to feel that this house owned us. We had to finance so many repairs and forgo vacations in favor of staying behind to nurture our garden that we had lost every shred of freedom that we had attained. I began to look at apartments and was pleasantly surprised to learn that there are quite a few out there that I could imagine living in. We settled on a 3 bedroom, 2 bath place with two balconies, on the ground floor and with its own exterior door. I mention these two amenities as I dreaded living in a high rise or feeling like I was living in a hotel. As a retired hippie, I need to feel in touch with the earth under my feet, and our unit overlooks a lake, with no direct view of any streets or driveways. I think it will be just the thing for us. We were pleased with the young men who manage the property, and the deal was clinched when I learned that we could keep our bird feeders. We will be living pretty much halfway between our son and daughter and their families, and not at all far from where we are now. The town is Little Canada, which I have always like the sound of. Very Minnesotan.

The packing has been brutal, which was no surprise. So many things to look through, so many art supplies that I have not used since I got them. I started by making a floor plan on graph paper for the bedroom that will be my new studio, so that I could plan on how much I could keep. It’s not bad, actually, and I have been creative in much smaller spaces. We have our own separate thermostats, another plus, as I am always warm and he is always cold. We will be moving in two stages – the first will be all our “living” stuff (beds, clothes, chocolate, coffee, basic creature comforts) and the second will be all the rest, once we decide what we are keeping. I have been an active contributor to Marketplace and the Buy Nothing Group, which had the added benefit of meeting some pretty cool folks and like-minded individuals. Once we get that first move done, the other stage should go pretty quickly. (fingers crossed!) Oh, and did I mention I will have a pool and gym right there? I was happy to find a community that isn’t over filled with amenities that we will never use, and includes a community room where I can continue to hold my Friday Night Salons once the dust settles.

I want you to know just how grateful I am for you. Thank you for letting me be a part of your lives. It’s the privilege of a lifetime, and one that I feel grateful for each and every day. I could not have attempted this without the love and support of my dear friends and family members.

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Newsletter / mschalles

Moving is a word that can strike fear in the hearts of the most robust and upbeat people. Each year in a place adds another layer to the collage of life. Therefore, I have about 20 layers to go through, peel back, contemplate, and decide what gets to stay. It’s a hard job, but I have to do it. It started a few years ago as Swedish Death Cleaning, and now it is serious. We will be moving from our rather rangy home into a 3- bedroom apartment as soon as we can get the job done.

A few months ago, eager to beat the snow, I started on a campaign to understand every single housing option for us. I have been a homeowner almost exclusively since 1976. To contemplate renting, it took a certain leap of faith. I did come to the conclusion, however, that I have begun to feel that the house owns us. Renting will offer a few different things – no more “to do” lists every weekend, no more things to fix or replace, and a certain amount of flexibility to move if we don’t like where we end up. Once we get rid of a fair amount of baggage, we should be lean and more able to pick up and try someplace else. Also, I was pleasantly surprised to see that the cost of renting here in the Twin Cities is reasonable and fits nicely within our fixed income. I have focused on 3 bedrooms/2 baths with the intention of using one bedroom as my art studio. I already have the floor plan all figured out on graph paper, which helps me see what I can bring. We will actually have more square footage than we do now.

The first step for me is to downsize the art supplies and pieces of furniture that make up my happy place. I will hold a sale soon to sell or give away all the things that I have not touched in the last 3-4 years, and to generally lighten my load. I will probably focus on making art on paper, rather than on cradled boards with large, matching frames. If you are looking for me, I will be packing.

This is the second stage of my transition from being an exhibiting artist to an artist with time on my hands to follow the muse and see where it takes me. I am looking forward to it in the broadest sense. Rather than 2 gardens full of flowers, I will now have 5-6 pots of my favorites, on the balcony/porch/deck in pretty pots, out there with my favorite deck chair. I will keep all my watercolors, pens, markers, most of my acrylics, and all the paper I have accumulated. It will be a delight to have running water and a bathroom right down the hall, rather than to go “next door” to the house and haul buckets of water.

This is certainly a big step, but it is not the first time. I have reinvented myself/my life at least 4 times so far, and I look forward to it, packing aside. If you are in the neighborhood, please stop by. I am never too busy to take a tea break!

Decisions, decisions…

Newsletter / mschalles

In life we often need to let go of our idea of what the perfect outcome of a perceived problem should be. We arrive at the conclusion through experience, intuition, common sense, and sheer dumb luck. Often, we have to release our imagined outcome and realize that, in most cases, the worst that could happen really isn’t that bad. Excerpted from https://www.dailyom.com/

When I closed my studio/gallery last month, I suddenly realized I had time to sew a Halloween costume for my grandson. For 47+ years I considered my occupation to be patternmaker/seamstress/designer/captain of industry. Imagine my delight when I got out my little domestic machine, a folding stand, my little folding ironing board, my good shears and got to work. What a treat! Granted, I couldn’t really sew very fast on this machine, but it works great. And, it goes just as fast as I do, rather than running away with itself on those long straightaways. It was so gratifying.

As I sewed, I reflected on the skills I have learned after all these years converting two-dimensional paper and cloth into three-dimensional wearable art. I still remember all the magic short cuts, and can put a pattern together without looking at any instructions. In fact, sewing for me is the perfect combination of left and right brain activity. While painting, I rarely use my left brain once I’ve measured my paper or substrate. I felt much more balanced than I have in quite a long time. It is the closest I can come to instant gratification.

I am also enjoying the lack of deadlines and the need to please others. I sew for a while, or paint, or dink around in the art room, and when I decide to take a break no one is judging me. (They never were in the first place, but tell that to my brain.)

My other BIG NEWS is that my husband and I have decided to sell our house and move to an apartment! I am so excited – the yoke of home ownership only gets more stifling as we get older. I look forward to doing less and accomplishing the same. Day trips? Dinners out? Why not! We talk about it plenty, but there is always “something” that has to be done. We have our eye on a nice 3 bedroom, 2 bath unit with a view of a lake and trees all around, close to where we are now. There is SO much to learn about housing as a retiree – yikes! Luckily, I have a built-in spreadsheet feature, so I have it all where I can find it. Basically, we will pay about the same each month if we buy a condo or rent an apartment, and I figure once we have gotten rid of all the things, we will be more flexible about moving a second time if necessary. You never know, right? This is us being prepared.

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What happens when you let go and see what happens

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This week I made a very important and momentous decision. I will be moving out of my gallery space at Northrup King in the next few weeks. With the upcoming open studios event, I realized that there is just too much going on in my life right now to use any of my brain power for things that do not make me happy. I will sell anything that people want, but donate most of the remainder, keeping pieces that my family wish to have.

This decision comes on the heels of another, even more significant conclusion, and that is that my husband and I have to prepare for the inevitable time when we can no longer live in our home. He is not ready to face this, but at least he can think about it while I do the research it will take to visit various senior living communities, compare locations, floor plans, costs, and eventually get on a couple waiting lists. I have always had a more immediate nature (“Hey, kids! We’re moving to Minnesota – now!” for instance) or, “What the heck am I doing here? Time to go!” He prefers to ponder things for much longer, which I totally respect. I dive into a lake and he takes his time until he is in the water. I will channel my enthusiasm into gaining information, meeting residents, and making a spread sheet, like I do. We must embrace the spread sheets.

I will still make art. The pressure of showing it, attending events, hoping for sales, and making sure I have enough to fill the bins, is just more than I need right now. I picture my brain as a room full of compartments – and they are limited. When I wake up in the middle of the night sweating with all these things running through my brain, I know it’s a sign. Each time I have been honored with a commission, it has not been driven by my presence in a gallery. I will give myself permission to see where my artistic intuition leads me. Sketch books? Watercolors on paper? Urban sketching? Who knows? It will be a relief to find out. In addition, I will go through my studio and get rid of anything I haven’t touched in 2 years – sell, give away, donate – there are so many possibilities. I’m actually looking forward to clearing the decks.

Thank you all for your love and support. Watch this thread for updates!

“One of the scariest moments in life is when you come to the realization that the only person that can save you is yourself.”

– Demi Lovato

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Man plans…

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…and God laughs.” I’m sure you have heard this aphorism before, but it keeps arriving in the forefront of my mind. Once again, I have come to the conclusion that I am over-booked, over-thinking, and over-tired. When the weekend arrives, I feel like I have spent half my week driving to and fro, making myself too tired to do anything productive. Perhaps it is a stalling tactic? Who knows? All I know is that I have to clear the decks and make room in my life for the things that are truly important. Today I made the decision to cancel a class I have been attending. It was lurking over me like the Undertoad (from the World According to Garp: An underlying threat of disaster beneath the surface of everyday life. A mythical monster that lurks underwater to catch unwary swimmers; a personification of an undertow.) As soon as I sent the email, my head stopped hurting, my depression lifted, and I was suffused with new energy. Ta da! I must return to my previous life hack (gad, I hate that term, but if the shoe fits…) of planning all my errands on one day of the week and leave the rest open for spontaneity, which is truly the spice of life. I have gotten into a great routine of swimming every other day, and now I can get back into it, after being just too tired to even get into the car.

While I was pondering my blues, I started thinking about that pandemic we lived through. Well, guess what? I keep hearing from people who “finally got COVID.” We have gotten pretty lackadaisical in our errand-running, I fear. I think it may be time to consider wearing masks again – at least while shopping. I would hate to catch that dreaded disease after holding it off all this time. (Your mileage may vary – I know there is more than one camp for this subject).

Hallowe’en is almost upon us. I see leaves on the ground, and there is a nip in the air. Today I actually wore a hoody when I left the house! Time keeps flying by… If you like to dress up for the big day, have a blast. I will leave the light on for the little kiddies (and turn it off when the elder teens start coming to the door. Unless I recognize them and they ask nicely for some treats!)

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It’s FALL!

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It’s fall, it’s fall – my favorite time of all! Time to dig out the flannel sheets, hang them in the sun, and ease them onto the bed, knowing how cozy they will be while I continue to leave my window open for sleep. It’s fall! Some folks call it autumn, but that doesn’t work very well in poetry, so I will stick with fall! We had the first hint a couple weeks ago (actually the very day after Labor Day – some things are still predictable) when the temperature nose-dived from 98 down to 40 overnight! What a delight! It surprised no one, and delighted me. We are starting to see yellow leaves in the street, the flowers have totally given it up for the season, and I can sit and reflect on the past beauty by studying the photos I took during the glory days of summer. It’s always a wonder to me when the seasons change that we really cannot remember previous seasons. Humidity? Heat? Yes, I sort of remember being miserable, and I really got tired of the air conditioning grinding away in the studio, but now I can throw open the doors and windows, glory in the cool breeze and hear the music I’ve chosen to play.

Fall is also a wonderful time to rethink how to spend one’s free time. Gone are the hordes of visitors (God bless them all and please come back next year!) who don’t know how to navigate the highways and surface streets; I can let go of the need to make sure the house is tidy for drop-in guests. In fact, I have noticed that even if I DO clean the bathroom to a dazzling shine, it doesn’t always get used! We are not natural dazzlers.

This summer proved to be the most memorable in such a long time. Great and glorious memories of spending time with our lovely family – eating outside on the “flying bridge” between the house and the studio, watching the dog walkers and strollers stroll past, cooking out on the grill, watching the flowers grow and grow and grow – I picked the tallest varieties this year! Our grand children are a great reminder of why family is so important – they are so amazing and insightful. They remind me constantly how important it is to be observant and they rekindle my natural tendencies as a self-learner as I learn along with them.

I have so much to be thankful for, and each season brings a moment of reflection about that. I am so glad that I moved here, where we have four moments each year to watch the seasons change and remember that we will, too.

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Have you embraced the Hive Mind?

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I will be the first to admit that I am an Old Fashioned Girl. This is not to say that I am stuck in the dark ages, in fact, I am proud and delighted that I am still learning. In some cases, the learning curve is steeper than others. In this case, I am referring to the ways in which we gather information.

As a young clerical worker, I was very good at finding things out. I loved libraries, librarians, people with experience and a love of sharing, encyclopedias, and newspapers. As technology advanced, I was a few beats behind and was often frustrated by hitting brick walls when I tried to do things the old fashioned way. Luckily, I worked at the university and was surrounded by bright young things, many of whom were my support staff in the form of work-study students. I was amazed when I would dish out an assignment to one student in particular who would startle me with the speed of finding the answers to my myriad questions. When I asked how she did that, she smiled sweetly and said, “Google.” I thought, “Huh.” Of course, I was familiar with this search engine, but did not quite grasp the broad range of what I could learn there. The other resource I discovered was YouTube, with videos about everything. Not only did I want to learn how to install a ramafram into my plumbing, but it seemed that I was clearly not the only one. I enjoyed the various approaches that folks took in their presentations (some had clearly been drinking) and often had to watch 5 or 6 to find the video that best suited my needs.

The hurdle that defeated me the most was customer service. Who knew that you could no longer call a company and speak to a knowledgeable professional? I suppose everyone but me. After hours spent trying to get answers from the utility companies and manufacturers that own my life, I started to catch on. As much as I still hate chatting to bots, I have found the secret passageways to knowledge by asking the right questions. Yelling “OPERATOR” into the telephone no longer works, I am afraid. However, if you let the bot ask you a few questions (yes, you have to be nice to them, too, if you want to get the answers) you will soon learn the clues to have them ask an actual person to call you. What a miracle! And – this is the best part – they love to chat! There are still customer service operators out there, and they know the answers! Circuitous, yes, but rewarding in the end.

I would tell you the secret questions, but they are different for every service. If you try to use this method, please don’t give up. The results will pay off (eventually) and will not include driving over to their office, just to be met with blank stares from The Manager. Oh, and another hint – forget telephones, emails, or websites. They all really want you to download their app to your phone. That is where the technology is concentrated. Trust me on this. It’s a tiny keyboard, but this is the future.

A side note:

During our get-togethers at Friday Night Salons, this subject kept coming up: so many people have been told, quite pointedly, that they just don’t “have it.” This comes from critics, teachers, parents, and the general public. DO NOT BELIEVE IT! I was also told this when I was a newly fledged pattern-maker, and I went on to start my own garment manufacturing company that was quite successful and rewarding.

AND, the most important message on the subject: please be very careful how you talk to children about their talents, their art, or a job they have done. They will remember your comments for the rest of their lives, and those comments may keep them from trying new things. Walk a mile in their tiny shoes – you won’t regret it.

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You know that winter is a distant memory when…

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Here in the Upper Midwest, there is a common pastime among all the residents: looking forward to summer. And every year, like clockwork, or close to it, winter is over. Sometimes it is sloppy, sometimes abrupt, and always a surprise. Upon waking, you walk outside to check the weather and – there is birdsong! There is a feeling in the air that is unmistakable – a soft sigh, less of an edge, and a fresh aroma*. It is so subtle, and yet so magical. Every single time.

When I was growing up in the desert that is Los Angeles, I dreamed that I could one day move to the Midwest, a favorite vacation destination where my mom’s family lived. Snow! Rain storms! Fireflies! My world consisted of hot, dry, and often smoggy days, endless summer temperatures, and no chance to wear a coat or boots, no opportunities to play in the woods, nothing green anywhere unless you included the foliage around the yard or next to the freeway that was continuously dusty and forlorn.

I got my wish when I was 41 – not a moment too soon. Now, when it is officially summer, I can no longer remember what it was like to drive on fresh snow and ice, what the landscape looked like under all that snow and ice, and how annoying it got to be when you had to gather SO MANY THINGS just to leave the house! Hat, gloves, scarf, boots, coat, glasses, car keys, and possibly a change of footwear for when you arrive at your journey’s end.

Next winter I will look back at these images to remember what it was like, for by then it will again be cold, leafless, and covered in snow and ice. The constant reminder will be the bright red cardinal who never leaves, and appears at our window to remind us of the wonder that awaits us when the cold weather finally retreats.

In February, I will browse through the seed catalogs and place my order for the most beautiful, the brightest, and the tallest flowers, to be planted in the garden by my husband, the gardener. I will pick bouquets and at the end of the summer, I will paint a portrait of my results.

*the locals will tell you that the aroma is that of defrosted dog poo, but your interpretation may vary.

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