Katdish.net

From Wikipedia:

Jumping the shark is an idiom created by Jon Hein that is used to describe the moment in the evolution of a television show when it begins a decline in quality that is beyond recovery. The phrase is also used to refer to a particular scene, episode or aspect of a show in which the writers use some type of “gimmick” in a desperate attempt to keep viewers’ interest.

The phrase jump the shark comes from a scene in the fifth season premiere episode of the American TV series Happy Days titled “Hollywood: Part 3,” written by Fred Fox, Jr.[4], and aired on September 20, 1977. In the episode, the central characters visit Los Angeles, where a water-skiing Fonzie (Henry Winkler), wearing swim trunks and his trademark leather jacket, jumps over a confined shark, answering a challenge to demonstrate his bravery. For a show that in its early seasons depicted universally relatable experiences against a backdrop of 1950s nostalgia, this marked an audacious, cartoonish turn towards attention-seeking gimmickry and continued the faddish lionization of an increasingly superhuman Fonzie. The series continued for nearly five years after that, with a number of changes in cast and situations. However, it is commonly believed that the show, out of ideas and even trapped in its own success (largely due to the disproportionate popularity of the “Fonzie” character and the show’s (executives’) intense desire to continue “milking” that), began a downhill slide, becoming a caricature of itself often filled with little more than its popular catch phrases and character mannerisms.

The idiom has been used to describe a wide range of situations, ranging from the state of advertising in the digital video recorder era, views on rural education policy, the anomalous pursuit of a company acquisition and Facebook’s efforts to “modernize its home page … with empty bells and whistles — take, timeline and subscribers, for example” before an anticipated 2012 IPO.

Or perhaps it could be used to describe trying too hard to make something perfect–fretting over some tiny little detail like a couple of stray paint specs in a mural that no one else but you would notice, scratching them off the wall, leaving two giant scratch marks in the wall, trying to fix what you should have left well enough alone, and then having to come up with yet another element in an already full mural to cover up your nit pickiness.

I thought the shark I had painted which still needed to be fixed to my satisfaction would be the element which would cause me to jump the shark–which would have made the title to this post more fitting, but despite my original disdain for the shark I painted,

fixing it wasn’t nearly the headache I thought it would be.

Ironically, the element which was surprisingly one of the quickest and easiest to paint, the turtle, was what gave me fits towards the end of the job. Actually, not so much the turtle, but two tiny specs of yellow paint I had dripped when painting the yellow angel fish above him.

Here’s the turtle with the yellow specs above him, which, for the life of me, I can’t see in this picture.

But just like the pearls on the mermaid that probably would have been okay if I had left them as they were, I could see them up close. Unlike the pearls on the mermaid, my attempt to make things better only made things much, much worse…

Several attempts to glaze over the spots just made a mess of things, which is why I decided that the turtle needed to be blowing some bubbles.

Even though I was able to fix what I should have left alone in the first place, when I look at that wall, my eye is immediately drawn to that place on the wall where the water is just a little bit darker because of my feudal attempts to fix my mistake. A constant reminder that fussing over tiny details instead of looking at the big picture can often lead to jumping the shark.

Many thanks to my neighbor Louie for lending me his wide angle camera lens. I gotta get me one of those!

Mwha ha ha!

In case anyone is wondering, yes, I’m still painting. I’m hoping to be done by this week, but who knows? My time management skills are, as my mother would say, “the sucks”, and I never know how long any one element of a mural is going to take to finish until I actually finish it.

Take Zombie Mermaid for example. She’s no longer a zombie, but she always will be in the the above photograph. It’s a fairly simple design, but she’s got a lot of layers. In this first picture, she’s got some details added to the base design: the hair and the fins are given some dimension with a few well placed brush strokes.

More layers after that. I’ve added ribbons and pearls, started on the eyes, nose and lips and added shading to her skin.

There’s still much to be done, but as I stood back and looked from a distance, I liked the progress. I especially like how the pearls were looking.

From a couple of feet away, I thought they looked great just like they were, and for about half a minute or so, I considered leaving them. Because frankly, painting each pearl one by one is pretty dang time consuming. But then I got up close again.

And up close, they look pretty crappy.

How many people will see that mermaid, then decide to get close enough to see those pearls up close? Probably very few. Chances are, no one would ever notice that what they see from two or more feet away isn’t what it appears to be upon close inspection.

But I would know.

Despite what everyone else may see as acceptable and even beautiful from far away, the creator has an intimate view of her creation and knows the flaws others might never notice.

And when the creator knows a flaw can be worked on and made better, she goes about doing just that. Because a flaw that can’t be seen from a distance doesn’t make it any less a flaw to her.

Of course, walls don’t have free will, aren’t willfully disobedient and don’t talk back.

They’re much easier to deal with than we are.

Next up, I have to work on the many imperfections of my shark. Which may look okay from a distance, but up close it’s total crap…

***

This post is part of the One Word at a Time Blog Carnival: More, hosted by the lovely and talented Peter Pollock. For more on more (ha!) please visit him at PeterPollock.com.

I suppose every storyteller–whether their tools be pen and paper or the gift of gab and a captive audience–have their own way of getting to the end of a story. The processes are probably as varied as the storytellers going through them. As I began painting a mural today, it occurred to me that mural painting isn’t too much different than my writing process.

I begin with an overall theme or idea and a blank space.

The theme is an ocean and this particular blank space is a room at a chiropractic office designated specifically for children. There are certain “must haves” requested by the client: dolphin, sea turtle and mermaid, but everything else has been left up to me. (These are my favorite kind of clients, by the way.)

But the blank spaces are rarely ever truly blank.

There are cabinets, electrical outlets and light switches to consider, not to mention the furniture that will be in the space once the painting has been completed. When we share our stories, we bring our past experiences with us, good and bad. In either case, we can work around them or choose to incorporate them into the picture.

When painting and when creating a story, it’s good to remember that things often get messy. Lines are blurred and smeared. You have to work towards the picture in your mind and rest assured that you have the talent and the tools to get you there in the end.

And speaking of tools, you’ve got to work with what you have in your tool bag.

This brush has seen better days. The tiny nails that fasten the brush head to the handle have worked themselves loose over several uses, which makes it necessary to grasp the brush at the base of the handle rather than the handle itself. There are bristles in the brush that are permanently stuck together which cause the paint to streak on the wall. I’ve got better brushes at home. I’m not sure why I grabbed this one. But you know what? A better brush wouldn’t have created the perfect, water-like streaks when I pulled the glaze and paint across the wall. Imperfection can help create unexpected beauty. Old and well-worn doesn’t necessarily mean useless, quite the contrary.

I’ve lost count of how many walls and ceilings I’ve cut in with this brush. It’s hardly a thing of beauty, but when I put it in my hand, I know exactly how close I can get to a ceiling or a baseboard without getting paint where it doesn’t belong. I trust it to do what I need it to do. I can’t say that about a new brush, which is why I rarely buy them. I do my best to take care of the parts that matter–the bristles–and accept the ugliness of the parts that don’t.

I’ve only just begun this mural. Many elements and layers still need to be added before it looks anything resembling an underwater seascape. But I know what I’m doing. I’ve done it before.

I’m confident that when I’m packing up my paint and brushes on that final day, it will mimic finished room I have in my head.

I can be confident of a good outcome despite the messiness I now see. Me–a person who has never taken an art class, someone who has just figured things out through trial, error and experience–how much more confident can we be that the Creator of the Universe, the One who knew your story before you took your first breath, can see the masterpiece He created in you.

His masterpiece in the mess.

This post is part of the One Word at a Time Blog Carnival: Much, hosted by my friend Peter Pollock. To read more posts on this topic, please visit him at PeterPollock.com

Many of you know that besides being a part-time blogger and internet tornado, I’m also a decorative painter. Or, as my friend Jim once introduced me as, a faux paux painter. Since my paint buddy Tamara went back to work full time, I’ve pretty much stopped accepting jobs, but I will do small projects for friends occasionally. A friend called last week and asked if I would be willing to do a faux finish in her powder room.

The above picture is how her bathroom currently looks. Rather, I should say it’s how it used to look before I began the prep work for the faux finish. It’s a perfectly nice looking little powder room, she just wanted something a little fancier for the guest bathroom.

This is how the powder room currently looks:

Stripped of the mirror over the sink, pictures and accessories removed, crown molding, fixtures and baseboards covered with blue tape, the room’s not nearly as attractive as it was just a short while before. Add some temporary task lighting (so I can see what I’m painting), and imperfections which were once unseen begin to appear.

The most obvious flaw is the huge gouge in the wall which is normally covered up by a mirror:

Once the ceiling vents were removed, I discovered the previous painter hadn’t bothered to remove them but instead painted around them:

Plus a multitude of small imperfections which go unseen in the dim light of the bathroom:

All which must be addressed before any actual painting begins.

I enjoy painting immensely, whether it be a simply repainting a room or doing a faux finish or mural. There’s something incredibly satisfying for me about the ability to completely change the mood and character of a space with nothing more than a can of paint, a paintbrush and a few hours.

Do you know what I don’t like about painting?

The prep work: taking down pictures, filling nail holes, taping, removing switchplate covers, wiping down baseboards and crown moulding and walls, etc. It’s tedious, boring and annoying. It’s also necessary if you want to do the job right.

All the aforementioned things make a room look considerably worse before it begins to look better. Now’s not the time for inviting your friends to see the room. It’s best just to keep the door closed until the painter can come back and finish what she started.

We all go through minor and major renovations in this life. There are times when what has worked well for years just doesn’t seem to fit anymore. Sadly, life isn’t a 30 minute makeover show with instant results.

Change is a process, and oftentimes things get a whole lot uglier before the get better.

If you’re in the prep stage feeling ugly and useless, ask yourself this:

Who’s in charge of the renovation?

Do you trust Him?

Are you willing to stick it out through the ugly mess and have faith the He knows what He’s doing?

I sure hope you are.

Because even masterpieces don’t start out as masterpieces.

Abstract Impressionist painter Jackson Pollock

Last week I wrote about my daughter and I practicing patience while repainting her bedroom. One of the things I mentioned was that the furniture scheduled for mid-July would arrive on Monday, which it did:

Fortunately, we were able to get the painting finished as well as some much needed purging and reorganizing before the furniture was delivered. We’ve spent the remainder of the week putting things away and putting the finishing touches on the decorating. On Tuesday, while my son was at his weekly horn lesson, my daughter and I went on a quick but fruitful shopping excursion. I haven’t been to Pier One is ages, but I knew they had paper lanterns and was hoping they would have them in colors that matched the new room decor. We found those as well as three canvases, one of which coordinates with the room so well that I chocked it up to decorating serendipity:

As a matter of fact, the room was completely finished save for one thing. That big green rectangle on the wall in the first picture? This is what that rectangle used to look like:

If it were up to her, she probably wouldn’t mind painting over that rectangle and be done with it. But I really liked her name over her bed. I just needed to make some that would match her new room. I figured I would do what I did the first time: find some scrapbook paper that coordinated with the bedding. But after going to three craft stores, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I opted for my second choice: hand painting the letters.

Which is a whole other lesson in painting and patience. The letters come painted white. But I never leave anything white if I can help it. So the first step in the project was sanding followed by a very unattractive base coat:

Followed by more sanding and a slightly less unattractive second coat:

And (you guessed it) more sanding then a third coat:

I suppose I could have left the letters purple and called it a day, but I can’t very well call myself an artist and have boring purple letters hanging in my house, now can I?

Then of course you have to put a sealer on them…

Don't worry. It dries clear.

Because I couldn’t stand to have a room almost finished. Especially when the one thing left unfinished was the first thing you saw when you walked into the room:

So, that’s why I’ve been a bit scarce the past few days around the interwebs. I’ve been practicing painting and patience. And hey, just to throw in another “P” word, I’ll say perseverance, too.

And now I can truly say the project is finished:

Except for 2 pictures I still need to hang, but I’ll get to those tomorrow…

(This post was orginally run in June, 2008. Funny how I still struggle with some of the same stuff I did back then. Guess I’m pretty thick-headed.)

 Awhile back, my husband bought a tuffshed to store our lawn equipment. But before we’re able to put anything in it, it needs to be painted. I started with the basecoat, but I’ve been putting off the completion of the job. The main reason is that it’s so stinkin’ hot outside. But the other reason is that I knew I would be doing it by myself. Get my husband within 10 feet of a can of paint and he breaks into a cold sweat. There’s an unwritten rule in our home: painting anythingis my department. I’m usually fine with this. When I’m inside, my kids are here to keep me company, or at the very least, I can turn on the radio. In the tuffshed, I stand alone.

The basecoat is finished. I completed it yesterday. And yes, I spend most of the day without any human company. But sometimes, forced seclusion is the only way I get some really good face time with God. Such was the case yesterday. As I was painting, my mind began to wander. For some inexplicable reason, I started to think about the victims of Hurricane Katrina. I remember watching the television in horror as the drama in New Orleans played out, thinking to myself, “How could this happen? Why are these people stranded and dying in the streets of New Orleans?, where is the government?” This post is not about whose to blame. I think there’s plenty of blame to go around. This is about the thousands of refugees who came pouring into Houston in the days and weeks to follow, and the ones I came face to face with right here in my little town just west of Houston.

Like most churches in the area, mine held a meeting to discuss how we could help. Among other things, we set up a clothing and basic toiletries donation center in our church. We also signed up to feed the Katrina survivors who were staying at another local church. A group of volunteers from our church went over once a week and cooked and served lunch for approximately 100 people. It made me feel good that I was able to help out. I came in with such a great attitude, ready to bless the socks off those poor people. Many of the survivors were truly grateful, and again, that made me feel good. But others were not as forthcoming with the thanks yous. They were downright nasty. They complained about what type of food we served and how much they were given. Many just glared at me and others from our church. I’d like to say I didn’t take it personally, but I would be lying. I got pretty indignant about the whole process: “Who do they think they are? Don’t they know we’re trying to help them? They should be grateful they got out of New Orleans alive and have a roof over their heads!” I don’t regret what we did, and I’d do again in a heartbeat. But after my conversation with God yesterday, I think if there’s a next time, my attitude will be different.

While I was painting in the tuffshed, God said to me, “It’s not about you.” Now, I realize that that’s Rick Warren’s line – but hey, He is God after all, so I guess they’re all His lines. I’m pretty hard on Christians who sport the Jesus fish on their car, never miss a Sunday in church, let everyone know that they’re going to heaven, but don’t strive to live a life abiding in Jesus. And then I realized that’s exactly what I am. The fact that I expected some gratitude from those people exposed my heart to me for the first time since it happened. My motives were completely wrong. I wasn’t trying to be the hands and feet of Jesus, I was expecting payment in the form of gratefulness. So, I’m laying this at the foot of the cross, asking God to forgive me for selfish motives and seeking His help to become a true follower of Jesus, and I am convicted by these words:

Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God,

did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,

but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of servant,

being made in human likeness.

And being found in appearance as a man,

he humbled himself and became obedient to death —

even death on the cross!

Therefore God exalted him to the highest place

and gave him the name that above every name,

that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,

in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,

to the glory of God the Father.

Philippians 2:5-11

Do everything without complaining or arguing,

so that you may become blameless and pure,

children of God without fault

in a crooked and depraved generation,

in which you shine like stars in the universe

Philippians 2:14-15

I want to be shiny…

So, I started another blog (http://stuffipainted.blogspot.com/). Not to worry, this will be my primary outlet for sharing my insightful, intelligent, and humble view of the world (tongue TOTALLY in cheek). The other one’s just a way to show off my daft craft and painting skills.

I’m sorry I haven’t blogged too much here lately. I’ve got some stuff I’m thinking through, it’s just not quite there yet. Stay tuned!

I’m not really sure what this blog is going to be about. But I’ve found myself writing really long comments on other people’s blogs, so I figured I’d start my own and not subject anyone to my rambling commentaries unless they really want to read them.

Since my walk with Jesus is what’s on my heart and mind most of my waking moments, (okay, that’s what SHOULD be on my heart and mind most of my waking moments), I will probably blog about this often. But I’m also a painter and mural artist. So I’ll probably post some pictures of recent work and give some painting how to’s as well. And, oh yea, I’m also part of a core group that’s planting a church! I’m sure I’ll blog about that a bunch!

I guess my blog entries will be very much like my thoughts: A series of seemingly unrelated post-it notes of thoughts and commentaries from my overloaded ADD mind… “Hey look, a chicken!”