My First Haiku

Many years ago I wrote poetry.  I have always loved putting words together.  You will often find some words incorporated into my art.  

Recently I decided to dabble in it again. I have never attempted a haiku.  One day last week standing at the kitchen counter with a pen and the back of a grocery store receipt I penned the words you see above.  

As I read through them over and over one of my sketches turned digital art popped into my mind.  I felt that the image was fitting for these words.  Working on my iPad, which is what I use for most of my digital creating, I added the haiku text to the image in the Phonto app.  Super easy to use and its free!  

Hope your summers were lots fun in the sun!  As always it  has sped by way to fast.  Behind the scenes in my studio I am starting to figure out a set up to record my mixed media process.  So hopefully I will be sharing some art videos with you soon!  

Exciting Somerset News Part 2 !!

As if it wasn't exciting enough to have my work published in Somerset Digital Studio

 I was grateful to find out last spring that 2 of my paintings were chosen

 for publication in Somerset Apprentice! 

I had the wonderful opportunity to write technique articles to accompany each piece. 

 I love how they turned out.  

And had fun writing and sharing my process.  

These are two of my favorite pieces to date and I am

 so excited to share them with you!

This piece in particular I love for its simple color palette of just black and white.
Those of you that have been following my blog for some time now
know my secret love affair with that palette
 for both painting and my digital art.  

So go pick up a copy of the Autumn 2014 issue of Apprentice on newsstands now!

  Or order a copy HERE!

If you happen to try the techniques stop back and let me know! 

 I would love to see what you create!  

xo

Novel Excerpt

Today I thought I would share some writing.  I am continuing to work the novel I started back in November during NaNoWrimo.  So from time to time I will be posting snippets here on the blog.  I am making headway and it is exciting to watch this story come to life.  I mocked up this cover art using my own photography and of course filters.  Once had the visual it kept me going. 

The following excerpt is a memory that my narrator Carly is recalling about her alcoholic father.  

Hope you enjoy today's snippet!

I would hear his footsteps coming up the stars.  Heavy footsteps, a hard clunking sound.  A very determined sound and this sound would slowly get closer and closer to the bedroom door.  The door would fling open as I listened to it almost come right off the hinges.  And there he would be standing like a shadow in the light of the doorway bracing his stout drunk frame on the door holding onto the knob for dear life as if it could ever hold up his weight.    He would stumble over to the edge of my bed.  As he got closer so did the smell of beer on his breath.  I pretended to be asleep.  Sadly that never worked.  The smell of his beer breath turned into a warm breath I could feel on my face because he was so close. I’m sure as warm as the alcohol felt pumping through his veins.  His eyelids were heavy but still open enough to see through to his bloodshot eyes.  I closed my eyes tight in a futile attempt to protect myself wishing with my whole heart that my mom was there to save me.  He reached up to touch my face and my toes curled in anticipation of the horror I would feel.  

I felt the weight of him denting my mattress as he reached his cold scuffed hand up to my cheek.  The cement from a day of work was still decorating his fingers.  The smell of cigarette smoke was wafting off of his crew neck t-shirt.  As he looked into my eyes I noticed the tears.  His eyes were welling up.  His bottom lip began to quiver as he spoke.  

“I’m so sorry my little girl.  I promise I will never do this again.” he said as he cupped his head in his hands.

“Don’t worry daddy, it will be ok.”  I responded in my little girl voice as I wondered why my dad was crying.  Dad’s aren’t supposed to cry I thought to myself.  He didn't even cry when my mom died.  Why cry now.  

“I am gonna stop drinking I swear.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before” I thought to myself.  

“You are the most important thing in my life.  I never wanted to hurt you. I wish I could bring your mom back but I can’t.  I miss her so much, everyday.” he said with a shaking in his voice.  

My mom Connie Milanti died of breast cancer when I was 10 years old.  They say that when people get sick that it can stem from emotional trauma.  Each area of your body holds significance to a certain emotion.  I read a book recently that tied breast cancer to love, or more significantly lost love.  That hit me like a ton of bricks.  My mom fell in love with an alcoholic, an abusive alcoholic and spent her time with him just soaking up the negative energy like a sponge.  What else could happen?  Nothing good was ever gonna come of that relationship.  Not even me.  

Even when my mom was sick she hid it from us.  She always put on a happy face no matter what.  She tried to smile through her tears always.  A stiff upper lip was a trademark on her once pretty face.  Her mocha colored eyes with soft, long, perfect lashes adorning the edges were chronically filled with sadness and fear.   My aunt had to drag my mom to the doctor when she was so bent over from severe back pain that she wouldn’t even move from the couch.  The doctor immediately admitted her to the hospital where they quickly traced the back pain to cancer that was ravaging her young 35 year old body.  It was in her blood, her bones, it was everywhere it could find to hide and eventually to kill her.  During all of this good ‘ol Vito just used it as a reason to hit the hard stuff.  As if it were even possible he began to drink heavily becoming more and more useless.  If it weren't for Aunt Angie, my mom’s twin, who knows what would have happened to me.  I think my mom died of a broken heart.  No doctor will agree to that theory  but it is what I  know deep within my soul.  "

For a synopsis of the novel click HERE!

NaNoWriMo Time!

Sometimes I am shocked at how long it has been since my last post! Have not been blogging much lately and I am not sure what that is about.  However, I am back today to share something exciting with you!  

I finally decided to sign up for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) after being encouraged by a good friend (2 years ago! lol)  I have had a novel spinning around in my head for about 2 years now.  I have even shared some excerpts of its beginnings.  The working title is "Snow Sign".  Here is a little synopsis . . . 

"Carly is a young woman trying to pick up the pieces of what's left of her life. Just as she feels as though she is ready to move on a startling phone call threatens to change everything. Will she be able to put the past behind her and open herself up to a once in a lifetime moment? Or will she choose to live with the regret? Guided by the love of her late husband she embarks on a journey into her past. A journey that will ultimately lead her back to herself. Her story is about the most basic of human needs . . . to love and be loved."

I even worked up some cover art yesterday using on of my photographs of a snowy walktrail.  Once I finished the image I got super excited!  I am nervous about the challenge of writing a novel in only 30 days but I am gonna give it my best shot!  This story has been playing in my head for too long.  It is time to get it out!  

I will keep you posted on how its going!  

xo

My Latest Article Published!!

Back in the early spring I was contacted by the editor from Somerset Apprentice to write a technique article for one of the pieces I submitted for publication.  This is my first time writing for Apprentice as I have published articles in Somerset Studio twice before.  I was so excited to have another great opportunity to share my writing and my artwork! 

The piece that was published is one of my favorites.  It has lots of hearts!  If  you follow my blog you already know of my love of hearts.  That is one image that always shows up in my work!  The title of my article is "Gotta Have Heart".  

Here is a little sneak peak!

Somerset Apprentice is on newsstands now so go pick up a copy!  

Feeling grateful 

xo

BIG NEWS!!! New Somerset Article!!

Hard to believe it has been a year since I was published in Somerset Studio.  Back in May I submitted new work and was so excited to be invited to write another article about the new pieces.  This is one of them above.  

Despite the fact that I have written a memoir writing these articles about my art work is so much more fun!  Most likely because there was no angst involved like in writing my book.  

The article will be published in the upcoming November issue!  It is nice to have some good news to share!  The past year has been and continues to be challenging but moments like this are meant to be savored and that is what I am trying to do!

xo

The Story Continues . . .

 If you missed the first installment of this story click HERE to get started!

And I just wanted to say a big thank you to all who commented on my Toby post.  As always your support and kind words mean so much to me.  xo

Now lets get back to Sophia . . . 

“Come here my sweetness. . .”  I hear him say in a demanding yet gentle sexy tone. 

I feel him grab my hand by the fingertips.  He gently places them up on his shoulder.  His other arm wraps around my waist and I collapse into his strong chest.  I can almost feel his heart beating through his white t-shirt.  The shirt feels soft and smells musky.

Michael gives me a tight squeeze and I tilt my head just enough to rest my cheek in the nook.  You know, that place just below the clavicle and on top of a pillowy pec muscle.  His cheek leans in to rest on my forehead.  It feels so good.  It feels like home. 

All of a sudden I feel like someone has sucked the oxygen out of my body.  That nice chill is gone and a pounding in my head is starting.  As I reach up to rub my temples willing the pain away I notice the dark green big lawn and leaf bag crumpled up in the corner of the closet.  Its been five years already.  I wonder why I am holding on to it.  The clock is ticking.  Literally.  I didn’t even realize that 15 minutes have gone by and I still haven’t found my damn boots. 


 I just can’t resist.  I guess I like to torture myself.  As if this day won’t be stressful enough. I creep along the carpet towards the bag.  My knees are beginning to hurt.  I can almost feel the bruises forming.  I am sure my knee caps will look all yellowish green and brown in no time. 

 I inhale another dust bunny on the way.  I feel my stomach tying itself in knots.  I see glistening sweat begin to form in droplets on my palms.  Acid is forming in my throat.  I feel it sting as it rises up hitting the back of my tongue in a frenzy.  One big gulp and its on its way back down.  I reach up and grab my chest, rubbing it as if that will make the pain disappear.  As I continue to quell the heart attack I am sure is starting  I reach my ice cold fingertips over to the right side of the closet. 

After all this time the bag feels crunchy.  I take my thumb and push it through the plastictill it makes a print, stretches it to a creamy green color, and finally punctures a hole.  With my other hand I rip it apart.  I can't help but wonder if I am just a glutton for punishment.  

My heart is racing and I can feel the tears well up in my eyes.  There is just no sense in a futile attempt to hold them back.  It’s a wonder I resisted this long.  I reach in and pull out the sleeve of Michael’s leather jacket. Air gets caught up in my throat when I see the splatters of blood decorating the white accents of its carbon black sleeve.

to be continued . . . 

The Beginnings of A Story . . .

I feel the carpet burning my freshly shaved milk white knees as I crawl through the closet looking for my boots.  I wonder why I am so disorganized.  I wonder why I am such a mess.  As I look around I realize that I may never find them.  I flick my long brown hair off my right shoulder and notice the clock on my white wash stained end table is screaming at me.  Its ten o'clock! 

"Dam I am late again!" I think to myself.  

I go into a half stand catching my nightgown under my toes and fall flat on my back. I reach my hands up and begin to rub my now red bumpy knees back to life.  I have no energy for this.  He is for sure going to be mad at me again.

 I curl up into a ball hugging my legs, rubbing my flushed cheeks against the softness of the flannel on my nightgown.  I begin to rock back and forth as if I am in a straight jacket. Strangely the rocking soothes me.   In the stillness of the moment I am longing for him.  Sometimes I think I can feel him next to me.  I look at my forearms still wrapped around my legs as if they are holding on for dear life and I see goosebumps.  I feel the chill of them race through my body tugging on my heart.  I stop rocking.  A calmness washes over me.  I wonder if it is him again. 

It doesn't take much to lure me back to those moments.  Even though it was years ago for me it will always feel like yesterday.  If I close my eyes I swear I can see him. If I think hard enough I feel him touch me gently on the face.  Its as if I am right there in the kitchen with him again . . . 

“Hey Sophia, babe, come here.”  He says with a hushed tone that makes me tingle all over. 

As he reaches out his arm calling me to him I do not hesitate.  Not for one second. 

His jet black hair and bright blue eyes mesmorize me.  They are crystal blue like the ocean.  His soft full lips curl up into a smile and I long to kiss them.


to be continued . . . 

Writing From The Heart

That is the title of a wonderful book written by Nancy Slonim Aronie. It is one that every writer should read. I believe it will change you in many ways and not just in your writing. You see it is a spiritual journey that Nancy takes you on in both her book as well in as her workshops. Nancy has been a writer for many years as well as a commentator for National Public Radio’s All Things Considered. Nancy does not believe that anyone can really teach writing. What she does believe is that she can provide a safe place to write because if one feels safe than they can achieve many things. And as someone who has attended a few of her workshops I certainly can attest to that.


I read Nancy’s book about 12 years ago.  And I have read it many times since then.   It  takes you on a spiritual journey of what it means to be a writer. In the book she shares her own experiences as a writer but more importantly as a human being. She includes many great writing exercises throughout the book.  It is in no way an intimidating process. I for one can say that writing workshops/classes have always greatly intimidated me.  I never felt worthy enough to attend a workshop, probably because I didn’t feel like a true writer!  But what exactly makes one a writer? I believe that we all have stories to tell, stories that have the power to heal us. 


I have been feeling stuck in many aspects of my life lately and it was almost serendipitous that I ended up attending a workshop with her yesterday.  I almost did not go but pushed myself out of my funk.  I am so glad I did.  I wrote, cried, listened, and shared.  I sat and listened to her describe the difference between the brain and the heart and how it relates to writing. She described the brain as the computer and the heart as the place where you feel emotions. If you just write from your head or rather your brain you may be getting the information down on the page but it will be devoid of meaning, of inspiration. It will be missing the poetry, the rhythm that our emotions can create as we bring our words to life.


During the  workshop  you are given a writing exercise which is a lead in sentence you write for about 15 minutes and then return to the circle where you have the opportunity to share with the group.  Everyone has the opportunity to give feedback to each other. But it is all positive, that is Nancy’s rule. By the end of the day, there was much laughter, and many tears. I felt bonded to those in the room with me listening to stories of loss, and even of love. Stories of tragedy and of triumph. But what resonated throughout it all was the emotion being conveyed through each person’s words. Everyone seemed to be sharing parts of themselves that may have been tucked far, far, away. I have had this experience with Nancy’s workshop on more than one occasion and am still amazed at this environment she creates where we all feel safe to write. Where we all feel safe enough to write from our hearts……

Stand In Another Place . . .

I have not been feeling like myself lately. At times I have felt lost, like I am losing me. The past year has been beyond difficult and all the stress of it has been catching up. It has literally made me sick. Depression feels as though it is setting in. I have not been creating as much as I used to. I miss it. I am starting to miss me.

I wanted to share this video by my friend and fellow writer Nancy Slonim Aronie. She is an amazing soul and the author of "Writing From the Heart". I discovered her through that book and have attended her writing workshops more than once. You can check her out HERE. I will be attending a workshop with her next month hoping to get my writing juices going again. Actually any chance to hang with her heals my soul.

In this video she shares why it is important to sometimes "stand in another place" when life gets to be too much. Hope it will inspire you as much as it has me . ..

First Kiss . . . A Writing Exercise

©cathybueti

prints available on etsy

Today I thought I would share more of my writing. I again did this as a writing exercise. It was a memory of my first kiss the summer I was 15. Above is an image of one my favorite mixed media paintings that I felt fit well with this piece.

It was a very hot summer nite in August of '86. I had just turned 16. I could smell his Drakkar cologne mixed in with the exhaust fumes from his father's maroon Chevette. As we quickly rounded the corner I heard the squeak of the breaks. I didn't want to look up. I didn't want the ride to end.

Janet Jackson's "When I Think Of You" was blaring from the radio speakers. The windows were rolled down. I felt the warm humid breeze blowing through my hair as I turned to glance over at him. He gently touched my hand with his. His hand was big and strong overpowering mine. I wanted his big arms wrapped around me. I could feel goosebumps riding up my spine. As his hand lightly squeeze mine I felt very warm and tingly. It was the first time a boy ever held my hand. I was too shy to look in his eyes but I could almost feel his smile. The moonlight coming through the car window showered light on our hands. The moment seemed never ending. I wanted time to stop.

I felt his hand gently pull mine closer to him as if to lead me into his arms. The other hand touched my face. I was afraid he could hear the sound of my knees shaking. And just like that I felt his lips quickly touch mine. It was a soft, wet kiss that brought the goosebumps back again.

So unsure of what to say or do I said goodbye and practically jumped out of the car. I could feel my smile getting bigger as I approached my house. I turned to look back at him and heard the whirring of the engine getting louder. I was just about to wave when I heard "Cath...is that you?" in my mom's concerned voice billowing out of the kitchen window. Rolling my eyes with a sigh escaping my breath I clicked the latch on the door. I walked inside, headed straight for the stairs and up to my room. As I felt myself bounce on my bed belly flop style I licked my lips. I touched them as if something big had just happened. I tried to remember the feeling, the softness of his mouth. All of the other sounds in the house were quickly drowned out by the song playing in my head. I began to replay that moment. A thousand times would never be enough. I could only hope it would happen again. . .

Do you remember your first kiss? Would love to hear about it!

'The Rockefeller Proposal' - A Writing Exercise

image processed with snapseed

Today I thought I would share some of my writing. I have wanted to mix it up here on my blog so this is a first step for me in starting to share more of my creativity outside of photography and mixed media.

The following piece was written by me 2 years ago around the 20th anniversary of my first engagement. Most of you know by now that I was widowed when I was 25 years old. And although I have been happily remarried for 9 years now the difficult times I have gone through often fuel my writing. This was a moment I didn't share in my memoir. I took it on as a writing exercise one day to practice writing in the present tense. I feel as though the present tense really pulls the reader into the story or at least that is what happens for me.

Thanks for taking the time to read . . .

I am standing on the sidwalk staring at my mittens. My hands feel so cold I don't want to take them off to refasten a button. It's the button high up on the neck of my new grey and pink stripped wool coat. My fingers feel numb and I think maybe I should invest in a new pair of much warmer mittens. The wind whips through my long hair. I feel it burn my cheeks on its way past me. I refuse to wear a hat as not to mess up my hair. I am wearing lipstick so a much needed scarf across my face just won't do.

He is standing next to me. I can feel the warmth of him coming through his winter coat. It is my first time seeing the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center and I am in awe of its beauty. The lights are twinkling so bright I can feel the corners of my mouth burst into a smile. It feels like I am somewhere else. Somehow transported to another place. I am thinking about how magical this time of year can be. I feel his arm slip around my waist. I am home is what I think. We have known each other for so long how can it not feel that way. The crowd is two deep at this point. It is like we are the only ones here. I barely feel him grab my mittened hand as he is leading me over to the other side of the tree. I am glancing up at the angels so bright and white. I am unsure of where these steps are taking me.

The wind is kicking up again blowing the smell of roasted nuts from a street vendor toward my nose. We are both silent. I am wondering if he can read my mind.

"Hey Cat...take your mittens off. " I hear him say.

"No way! Its freezing out here! My hands are cold as it is."

"Just for a minute. Please..." he says.

I don't want to but I do it. I would do anything for him. I am hoping he will hold my hand to keep it warm. I feel him slowly grab my hand.

As I am turning around to hug him I watch him lower himself to the ground.

"What are you doing? Its freezing! Did your shoelace come untied or something?"

He is now on one knee. I still don't get it. My heart is racing. I am not sure why. I think that maybe this is the moment. My eyes are beginning to widen despite the cold hard air blowing into them. He is glancing up at me with the smile of a wide eyed child. It is happening too fast. I don't want to miss it.

"Cathy, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?" he asks.

I am wondering if this is really happening. I don't want it to end. I am in shock. I see only him. The tears are welling up. I am afraid they may freeze on the way down my cheek. My lips are quivering now.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!!" I say.

I feel the ring slide on my finger and then become intertwined with his hand. As he is pulling me up to him I am thinking about how happy I am. I almost feel giddy. I can see the tears in his eyes too. I can feel them now as his cheek is touching mine. His arms are holding me tight. And I am thinking again how good it feels to finally be home...

Published In Somerset Studio!!

I took a trip to my local bookstore since it is the release date of the autumn issue of Somerset Studio because I was so excited to see my technique article in print. And was actually shocked to see it on the shelf already! I wish I had a subscription so I would have received one sooner but now this will probably motivate me to get one. My friend Diane Salter was kind enough to share these images with me that she took from her copy. Diane as many of you know is an amazing artist. You can visit her HERE!

I love what they did with my artwork and it is so great to see my work along side the likes of Christy Tomlinson, Misty Mawn, Angela Cartwright (who I referenced in my own article!) and my friend Marilyn Rock!

I have had a really bad week and this was a nice perk for me. Eventually I will share in another blog post what thats all about but for now I just want to take a moment here on the blog to celebrate this accomplishment.

xo