Art Ink

14 - The Ladybug's Wish - A Short Story Inspired by a Mystery Artist

13 – All The Other 9/11s – A Short Story Inspired by Dave Conrey's Art

I’m thrilled today to introduce you to writer, director, and producer Nathan Ives whose latest film, “Somewhere in the Middle,” just released a few days ago. He was gracious enough to give us an insider’s look at how the film came to be, but before we dive into his story...     [If your podcast app isn’t showing the featured art for this episode above visit rebekahnemethy.com/artink# to check it out.   Castbox and Podcast Addict are both apps I recommend that do show episode specific art.]     Links from the Show at a Glance:   Artist: Nathan Ives Title of Documentary: Somewhere in the Middle - Watch Somewhere in the Middle on Amazon Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MuleFilms/     Also mentioned in this episode:   Griffin House’s song: City River Lights   Movie: A Christmas in New York   Movie: The Basement   Singer-songwriter: Griffin House   Actor: Jasika Nicole   Guitar Player: Aaron Tap   Paper Sculptor: Jeff Nishinaka   Painter: Dan McCaw   Art Ink Submission Guidelines: rebekahnemethy.com/artinksubs       Art Ink Podcast Transcript:   [Intro:]   Hello my friends, thank you for tuning into another episode of Art Ink. When I was still in the imagination phase of creating this podcast I had daydreams of featuring not just visual art, but also music and dance, knitting and embroidery, movies and books. I’ve been hustling so much to get each episode out on time it’s left me featuring artwork that’s limited to my small perspective. That’s not to say I don’t absolutely love the art and the artists I’ve selected so far, but what I am saying is that I’m just 1 person in a universe of what sometimes feels like infinite artists, and sometimes the only way for me to open up to a new creation is for YOU to reach out to me.   That’s why I’m thrilled today to introduce you to writer, director, and producer Nathan Ives whose latest film, “Somewhere in the Middle,” just released a few days ago. He was gracious enough to give us an insider’s look at how the film came to be, but before we dive into his story, let me give you a little taste of what it’s all about.     [Art Description:]     “Somewhere in the Middle,” is a documentary that digs into the lives of 5 artists who you’ve probably never heard of, but have all made a legitimate career from their creative work. Two musicians, an actor, a painter, and a paper sculptor all share stories that illuminate what it’s really like to have a career in the arts. In a culture that sees artists as either superstars or starving, I found this to be a refreshing look at the reality of being a full-time artist.   With that, I’m going to narrate the story that Nathan sent in about what sparked his idea to create this film and a bit about the struggles he overcame to complete it.   [Story:]   ‘River City Lights’ blew me away. The song is simple, beautiful, heart wrenching, and, to me, a perfect song. To this day I’m mesmerized when I listen to it or hear Griffin House play it live. For a few minutes I escape the craziness and drift into a melancholy oasis. There are a handful of songs in my life that have this effect on me, most I discovered in my teens, a few precious ones, more recently.   In 2016 I was directing ‘A Christmas In New York,’ and needed a song for the closing credits. I reached out to Griffin, having met him at a few of his shows, and he was gracious enough to write one for the film.   We developed what I would call a professional friendship. We’re not on one another’s Holiday card list, but when he’s in town, we’ll chat before or after his show about music, films, and getting by as an artist.   On one such occasion I made a comment about how impressed I was that he’d found a balance between staying true to his art and making a legitimate living. Griffin replied with one of his humble, sheepish grins, and a ‘thanks, man.’   Then he continued and said, ‘but you know, I was playing at The New York City Winery a few weeks ago, it was a sold out, like three hundred people or something. Really fun show. Afterwards this couple comes up to me, and this happens all the time, they said ‘we really love your music and we just know you’re going to make it someday!’   Griffin owns a house in Nashville and his music is the primary source of income for his family. He spends a couple of weeks on the road playing shows followed by a couple of weeks at home spending time with his family and working on new material. Sounds like a miserable life that no one would want to live… or, wait, does it sound like a life many people would dream of living?   Our conversation got me thinking about what it means to be a ‘successful’ artist. Over the next couple of months the question kept drifting into my psyche at traffic lights, in the shower, and other random places. Eventually it occurred to me that it was something I wanted to explore further.   Around that time, I had just completed a horror film, ‘The Basement,’ and my wife and I had our second child. I needed a project smaller in scope than a full feature film, that I could do in my free time, in and around changing diapers. At which point the seed of the idea for ‘Somewhere In The Middle’ was born.   I reached out to Griffin first, since the idea originated with him, and he agreed to be interviewed. One of my favorite people on this big planet was next, the actor, Jasika Nicole, who I had worked with previously on a film. My friend Paul is Matt Nathanson’s tour manager and recommended I interview Aaron Tap, Matt’s longtime guitar player. I was introduced to paper sculptor Jeff Nishinaka through the cinematographer I’ve worked with through the years, Ken Stipe, and Jeff, in turn, introduced me to the painter, Dan McCaw.   All five met my criteria of not being household names, but who made a legitimate living solely through their art.   There, I had my subjects. All that was left to do was to interview them all, write all of the moments and ideas I loved on index cards, lay the index cards on our dining room table, and stand over them, sipping a cup of Earl Gray tea, nibbling on cookies, until I figured out exactly what this film would be.   Once I had a general structure, it was off to sit for many hours in a dark room with the editor, Brady, and cut the pieces together. Once that was done and we had a rough cut of the film, I decided, without question, it was the worst thing, perhaps, that I had ever seen.   I then went home to my wife, talked about what a failure I was, and moped around the house like Eeyore for a few days. At first, she was sympathetic and did her best to console me, but given that she’d just given birth to a ten pound child, understandably, it didn’t last long.   A few days and ideas later, I went back in with Brady and we re-cut the film. It was much better, it suddenly felt again like a project that just might be worth finishing. As we began laying in the score from Pat O’Brien, it really started to come to life and I was beginning to think that this might actually be a film I’d be proud of.   From there, it was off to The Garrison, both my producing partner on the project and the post production facility. There we did the sound, color, and animated the titles. To be clear that’s the equivalent of saying, we just painted the house, put on the roof, and did the landscaping. It’s a lot of work and took about six weeks.   In the end, Somewhere In The Middle is a film I’m very proud of. What strikes me most about it is the honesty and vulnerability of the subjects. They really pull no punches and give us a window into their lives, the good, the bad, and the ugly. They are hard working, flawed, kind, extraordinarily talented human beings who, even though they may not be among the fortunate few who make it to superstar status, are redefining what it means to be a successful artist.   I hope the film will serve as an inspiration and education for those considering a career in the arts. For parents of a child considering such a path, I hope it offers a different perspective. For those who are working artists, I hope it offers that ‘thank God I’m not alone’ feeling.   There are moments in the film that will resonate with anyone in the arts, but many of those moments are as much about life as they are about art. I’ll leave you with the one from the seventy six year old painter, Dan McCaw, who said ‘In the end, we’re only what we’ve allowed ourselves to be.’     [Conclusion:]   So, another reason I found “Somewhere in the Middle,” such a refreshing film is that, until now, podcasts were my only source of insight into the world of full-time artists. The mass media rarely cover anyone who isn’t already a household name, and I don’t think there’s a movie out there that doesn’t regurgitate either the rags to riches cliché and/or the starving artist stereotype. A new story is long overdue, and I’m so glad that Nathan is helping to tell it.   Despite how much I learned from these career creatives, I actually resonate with Nathan’s story, the part that I had to dig a little deeper to pull out of him, after he submitted his story. And because I think many of you will resonate with this too, I’m going to share.   As I let you know in the last episode I’m back to temporarily working a day job to pay off some of the debt I racked up in my yearlong journey of jumping into voiceover and to fund a new soundproof booth so I don’t have the urge murder my neighbors when they want to mow their lawns. Am I a failure because I decided to make some regular income from a job that’s not quite as satisfying… sometimes I think so, honestly, but I know that’s a culturally programmed mindset. And despite my intention to turn off the audiobook and voice over work since June, the jobs haven’t stopped coming, so for creating a mindset of success for myself, that’s been really validating. So really success is so very personal. Some artists want the paparazzi, to me that would be an absolute nightmare, I just want to be able to control my own schedule and work in yoga pants.   This is Nathan’s 4th film according to IMDB, his 5th if you count another movie I came across, that, for some reason, is not linked up there. Maybe there are even more I don’t know about. But the point is he worked with Vivica A. Fox on his very first movie, and he worked for 3 years completely off of his creative work. When I asked him about the experience of his own career via email Nathan wrote:   “Currently, my wife and I own a boat salvage yard that I manage and she has a good job in healthcare. Luckily, we have very good employees and the boat business only takes a few hours a day of my time. The rest I can focus on film work.    The best things about my time as an independent artist were the flexibility and working on the creative elements full time. When I wasn't shooting, I was down at my favorite coffee shop writing or prepping for upcoming projects - that was fun. The worst things, by far, were the inconsistency of work (and pay) and taking a lot of jobs I really didn't want to do, just for the money. I'm much happier now, balancing my time between a business that I also love (boats), that is much more consistent, and film. These days, the film work I do, goes towards the kid's college funds or a remodel on the house.”   I’m so happy he shared that with me, because it just goes to show you that an artist’s idea of what success is, is as nuanced as the people behind the art.   I know that many of you listening today are artists, and if you resonate with the idea of helping to shatter the starving artist paradigm there’s something you can do to help:   Please watch “Somewhere in the Middle” on Amazon and leave an honest review. Your reviews will go a long way in making sure this movie will be seen by as many people as possible. I’ll have a link in the shownotes that’ll take you right there.   Thanks in advance for your support! Ok, my friends, that’s all you’re going to hear from me today, but before I go, I wanted to let you know to stick around for just another minute if you want to hear a little teaser from the movie. Ok, I’m signing off, but as usual, I’ll be back with more in a couple of weeks.

12 - The Origin of Somewhere in the Middle – A Film by Writer, Producer, Director Nathan Ives

11 – Diptych in Love – A Short Story Inspired by Dorothy Siemens’ Art

Today’s story is from my own blog archive, which, I realized gives me the opportunity to fill you in on more Art Ink history, because what you may not know is that this show is an expanded audio version of what I was already doing on my own blog for my own art a few years ago. And I actually have to thank Melissa for that original blog concept too, because if it weren’t for her “Tiny and Daily” teachings…   [If your podcast app isn’t showing the featured art for this episode above visit rebekahnemethy.com/artink10 to check it out.   Castbox and Podcast Addict are both apps I recommend that do show episode specific art.]     Links from the Show at a Glance:   Artist: Me (Rebekah Nemethy) Title of Art: Sandstorm at Sea Artist’s Website: rebekahnemethy.com Instagram: @rebekahnemethy   Melissa Dinwiddie’s book The Creative Sandbox Way (check out the first 50 pages for free!)   Support Art Ink on Patreon to get goodies: rebekahnemethy.com/patreon   Art Ink Submission Guidelines: rebekahnemethy.com/artinksubs       Art Ink Podcast Transcript:   [Intro:]   Welcome back to a brand new episode of Art Ink! I feel a bit like I’m cheating this week… because despite my best efforts to sit down and write something new over the past couple of weeks, I’ve barely had time to sleep let alone get into a creative or productive groove. I have a bad habit of putting too much on my plate… I’m working on it.   But!...   The good news is that it’s nearly my favorite time of the year: Creative Sandbox Retreat time! As you’re listening to this, I’m packing my bags with comfy clothes, blank notebooks, and maybe even my camera, to head to California, where Melissa Dinwiddie hosts her annual creative retreat about an hour south of San Jose. This is either my 4th or 5th year returning… I honestly lost count hahaha. Time just slips out of my grasp when I’m there, I’m afraid to admit it, but I’ll be on my way home before I can blink I’m sure.   So why is that good news for you? Well it’s my intention to crank out some stories while I’m there. As many as I can manage in the 5 days I have.   Today’s story is from my own blog archive, which, I realized gives me the opportunity to fill you in on more Art Ink history, because what you may not know is that this show is an expanded audio version of what I was already doing on my own blog for my own art a few years ago. And I actually have to thank Melissa for that original blog concept too, because if it weren’t for her “Tiny and Daily” teachings (which you can find out more about in her book The Creative Sandbox Way), well, if it weren’t for the “Tiny and Daily” concept, I don’t think I ever would’ve started the Photo and 100 Words Project.   I needed a way to regularly get my art out into the world that wasn’t too overwhelming. Writing 100 words wasn’t a huge deal… but the idea of doing it daily was still a bit scary for me, especially because I was creating art AND writing a complimentary story to go with it. (sounds familiar huh?) So I decided to go with tiny and weekly instead: one photo and one short story of less than 100 words. It was 2014 when I started blogging weekly, writing mostly narrative nonfiction with a poem sprinkled in here and there, and I kept that up for well over a year.   Even back then I wanted to get other artists involved, though. In fact, I started an Instagram account for the Photo and 100 words project, too, though I never actually posted to that account.   A few years into it, around the time my new-found fascination with capturing tiny reflections spurred an abstract series of photos on the blog, my stories started to stretch past the 100-word mark, and the Photo and 100 Words Project evolved into Artsy Reflections.   By the time my blog trickled out to a standstill, I knew I wanted to give my stories an actual voice in the podcast medium, but it was too scary to put the whole focus on my own art and personal stories… it just seemed too selfish. But the spark for Art Ink was there… and if you listened to the very first episode of this show, you already know that story.   So today’s featured photo came from my Reflection series… let me recreate it in your brain before we move on:   [Art Description:]   If you squint at this abstract photo, it could pass for a yellowed map. It’s mostly blue and reddish-brown, with slashes of coppery gold hovering above and blending into the rest of the piece.   Imagine you’re on a boat in a Caribbean sea, approaching a red-brown desert island as you sail between two tan sand bars. Now imagine you’re in the middle of a sandstorm. Wet clumps of sand cling to your eyelashes, creating coppery vertical haloes as your watery eyes squint against the wind, distorting the scene ahead of you.   Sandstorm at Sea is what I call this photograph, and it’s this same title that sparked the following memory…   [Story:]   What are you more afraid of: a stranger’s opinion of you or death? The answer might not be as obvious as you think…   It was day three of our seaside vacation and we were just hitting the beach for the first time. By some miracle, the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds; despite the 10-day forecast that showed nothing but dark clouds and plentiful rain.   I had been under the covered balcony, starring out at the ocean, when it finally happened, and I wasted no time in trading my pjs for a tankini and digging my toes into the sand. Okay… I did make everyone pose for photos first, you should just assume that’s a given.   The waves were pounding the shore and most of the boys didn’t hesitate to jump in. I wandered along the wet shoreline feeling the warm water sweep over my feet. They were calling for me to come in, but I wasn’t so sure I could handle the stormy seas. I can swim, but I’m far from a mermaid.   It took a lot of convincing and a bit of daring me to get me to walk out any further. My boyfriend at the time insisted that he would protect me, and I only had to get past where the waves broke and into the safety of his arms.   Cautiously, I ventured deeper into the ocean. I was knee deep one second, but then, suddenly, white water was washing over my entire body and I found myself butt down back on the beach.   You’d think that my fear would give me some instinct to brace myself, I mean, I must have braced myself, but I had no idea how powerful those waves were.   I went back to wandering in the safe zone for a while. I don’t know exactly how long it was before I noticed… but I’d been strutting my stuff in front of strangers for more than a few minutes, when I finally brushed my hands over my butt to find a heaping pile of sand that had been scooped into my bathing suit bottom as I’d been pushed up the beach.   I rushed back into the ocean, instinctively, to rinse my bottom out. Apparently, the fear of people seeing me in something that resembled a saggy diaper, and the connotations that came with that, were much more threatening than drowning.     [Conclusion:]   Yup, that’s the true story of one of my first and, understandably, last experiences at the beach. Shout out to the power of the ocean to help me face my fear of public embarrassment AND my fear of being pummeled into a pulp all in one day. Hmmm… maybe I should visit the shore more often.   Well I do love the ocean, the sound of waves, the feel of the soft sand on bare feet, and the salty wind whipping inland… it’s all so magical, isn’t it? That must’ve been why I was distracted for so long. I’m giggling even now imagining the scene from a strangers point of view: look at the smile on that girl’s face, she seems intoxicated by sunshine… or perhaps self-satisfied? Oh, wow, yeah, probably self satisfied, because it looks like she just relieved herself… took a dump right in her bathing suit!   Ok, I know I’m letting my imagination get away with me… but I hope that gave you a laugh. My embarrassment is your entertainment.   And if you’re antsy for more entertainment you don’t actually have to wait two weeks. I’ve been hesitant to put this out there because I didn’t want it to seem like Art Ink has this ulterior motive… but the fact is that I’ve actually been on Patreon sharing my work since 2014, and before I go any further I have to send out my heartfelt gratitude to Yadira, Alice, and Margie for being my longest running supporters. Yadira and Alice have been there from the very beginning which means they’ve given me a whopping 55 months of support! And Margie has been supporting me for 44 months! Thank you ladies for always believing in the work I put out into the world, whether that means my work as an animal activist, my art, or a new podcast, you have been there all along. I so appreciate that, more than you could ever know.   So I’ve been on Patreon for almost 5 years, and patrons have trickled in and out as my work has evolved, and I’m thrilled to let you know that I’ve revamped my offerings once again. So getting back to how you don’t have to wait to get more entertainment, I actually recorded the first 100 blog posts from my Photo and 100 Words Project, AKA Artsy Reflections, and turned it into an exclusive audiobook that’s available only on Patreon! Not only that but I also added in some behind the scenes commentary, which again, is something you won’t be able to hear anywhere else.   For as little as $1 per month you’ll get instant access to all 100 chapters of my Artsy Reflections audio book, and you’ll join my small community of Patrons that get early access to all of my content, including new episodes of Art Ink.   There are even more rewards if you’re feeling more generous like a blooper reel of my first few audiobook projects, free copies of all newly released audiobooks I narrate, and, here’s a big one, access to digital copies of all of my fine art photography in my Patron-Only Art Library.   There’s actually a whole lot more, but seeing as my intro and conclusion this week are far surpassing the story, I’ll leave the rest for you to discover on your own. Visit rebekahnemethy.com/patreon to get the details on all the fun bonuses you can get your hands on. You’ll find a link in the shownotes.   Alright my friends, I’m off to my creative retreat so I can write you some more art-inspired stories. Love ya’ll! Thank you for listening!

10 – Sandstorm at Sea - Narrative Nonfiction Inspired by Rebekah's Photography

I have a special treat for you in this episode of Art Ink, because today’s featured artist is not only a painter, and an art therapist, but she’s also author of the Storm of Ages series, which I am lucky enough to have had the opportunity to narrate for her. Ellie M. Jalbert is an amazing storyteller, so I’m absolutely thrilled to have her permission to share the first chapter of her book, Nightmare, with you today. What’s interesting about Ellie’s painting is not just the fact that it doubles as Nightmare’s book cover, but that it was…   [If your podcast app isn’t showing the featured art for this episode above visit rebekahnemethy.com/artink9 to check it out.   Castbox and Podcast Addict are both apps I recommend that do show episode specific art.]     Links from the Show at a Glance:   Artist: Ellie M. Jalbert Title of Art: The Girl in the Red Dress (painting that doubles as the cover of Nightmare, the first book in the Storm of Ages series) Artist’s Website: stormofages.com Instagram: @storm.of.ages Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/StormofAges/   Listen to Storm of Ages: Nightmare (Book 1) for free with a 30-day trial on Audible   Listen to Storm of Ages: Metamorphosis (Book 2) for free with a 30-day trial on Audible   And if you want more when you’re done with those, the third book in the Storm of Ages series is available to read on Amazon.   Read Storm of Ages: Origins (Book 3)     Art Ink Submission Guidelines: rebekahnemethy.com/artinksubs       Art Ink Podcast Transcript:   [Intro:]   Hello my friends! I have a special treat for you in this episode of Art Ink, because today’s featured artist is not only a painter, and an art therapist, but she’s also author of the Storm of Ages series, which I am lucky enough to have had the opportunity to narrate for her. Ellie M. Jalbert is an amazing storyteller, so I’m absolutely thrilled to have her permission to share the first chapter of her book, Nightmare, with you today.   What’s interesting about Ellie’s painting is not just the fact that it doubles as Nightmare’s book cover, but that it was created long before the Storm of Ages saga hit bookshelves. She painted it for an art class, and it was her professor who dubbed it The Girl in the Red Dress.   Let me try to paint with words what Ellie has created:     [Art Description:]   You can only see the back of The Girl in the Red Dress. Her left arm is wrapped around a white pillar. The elegant dress is tight at the top; it’s held up with three thin straps, fanned out around each of her shoulders, revealing two triangles of pale skin. She sits on the edge of a balcony or window sill, and so the rest of the flowing gown is bunched up at the base of the image. She wears a 5-pointed tiara, and beneath it, golden yellow waves of hair flow down, where the longest strands come to rest at a point in the middle of her lower back.   The scene she’s looking at takes up the rest of the space: a wavy, turbulent sea that’s frothing up around the edges of brown patches of earth, some of which hold tilted stone-colored buildings and temples.   Ok, with that picture in mind… I hope you enjoy this sneak listen of the Storm of Ages saga…   [There’s no transcript for the story this time, but you’re welcome to purchase the kindle or paperback version of the book on Amazon if reading is more your thing =)]       [Conclusion:]   So, what did you think of that? Do you want to hear more of Ellie’s book? Well, if you do, I have awesome news for you, you can download the first book for free by signing up for a 30-day trial on Audible… which is also free. So what do you have to lose? I’ll have a link in the shownotes for easy access to your free copy.   Storm of Ages will eventually be a 7-book series. The first 3 books are out in paperback and for the Kindle, and the first 2 are available to listen to right now.   Thank you so much for listening. If you enjoyed this chapter and especially if you go on to hear the full audiobook, make sure you follow Storm of Ages on Facebook or Instagram to be updated on the latest releases and behind the scenes fun.   And, of course, a huge shout out goes to Ellie for letting me share this sneak listen with you today. If you haven’t heard the last episode of Art Ink (episode 8) you can listen in on a conversation between Ellie and I discussing the inspiration behind the art AND the books. But, be warned, we do share a few things that might be spoilers… so listen to the books first and come back to that while you’re waiting for us to record book 3… which might be my favorite book so far!   Anyway, enough gushing from me, that’s all we have for you today. But check your podcatcher in a couple of weeks for a fresh story in your ears. Until then… ta ta for now!

9 – Storm of Ages: Nightmare - A Sneak Listen of Chapter 1

Today’s episode, is not your typical Art Ink episode. And… I’m going to be honest with you… experimentation is definitely in the cards for the future of this show, so get used to it. But, before you go anywhere thinking you got screwed out of a story this week, I want you to know that you're getting two episodes today...   [If your podcast app isn’t showing the featured art for this episode above visit rebekahnemethy.com/artink8 to check it out.   Castbox and Podcast Addict are both apps I recommend that do show episode specific art.]     Links from the Show at a Glance:   Artist: Ellie M. Jalbert (She wrote, AND painted the covers for, the Storm of Ages series!) The first 2 books are available as audiobooks via Audible and narrated by yours truly (and you can get them for free with a 30 day trial on Audible)!   Listen to Storm of Ages: Nightmare (Book 1) for free   Listen to Storm of Ages: Metamorphosis (Book 2) for free   And if you want more when you’re done with those, the third book in the Storm of Ages series is available to read on Amazon.   Read Storm of Ages: Origins (Book 3)     Follow Storm of Ages on social media:   Instagram: @storm.of.ages   Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/StormofAges/     Art Ink Submission Guidelines: rebekahnemethy.com/artinksubs       Art Ink Podcast Transcript:   [Intro:]     Welcome back everyone, I’m your happy pappy host, and I’m so excited to let you all know that I finally have my elevator speech down. Go ahead ask me what I do for a living?   ::in robotic text to speech:: What do you do?   What? I don’t have a co-host and my boyfriend refuses to get behind a mic.   Anyway… the next time I have someone trapped in an elevator with me and they ask me what I do for a living I’m going to say: Well I work in a padded room and I talk to myself all day… can you guess what I do for a living?   Then they’ll either move to the farthest corner of the elevator assuming I must be schizophrenic, or they’ll be intrigued and ask me for more.   Oh, what am I if not schizophrenic? I’m an audiobook narrator.   I know, I crack myself up… and I don’t often find myself in elevators talking to strangers so I just felt the need to share here. You’re welcome.   But yeah, it probably shouldn’t surprise those of you listening that I’m an audiobook narrator, the truth is reading another writer’s work is so much more fun and less stressful than writing my own books. But I’ve also been a writer my entire life; journaling, blogging, and dabbling in fiction here and there.   So far all of the stories you’ve heard have been written, and obviously, performed by me, but today that’s going to change a lil bit.   Today’s episode, is not your typical Art Ink episode. And… I’m going to be honest with you… experimentation is definitely in the cards for the future of this show, so get used to it. But, before you go anywhere thinking you got screwed out of a story this week, I want you to know that you’re actually getting 2 episodes today.   In just a few minutes I’m going to dive into a conversation with an author friend of mine, and then you’ll get a chance to listen to the first chapter of book 1 in her Storm of Ages series, narrated by yours truly. And I’m telling you this because after editing our conversation I noticed that there may be a few spoilers up ahead - so before you move on, you might want to pause this, listen to the next episode (episode 9) and see if Nightmare pulls you in, and if it does go download the audiobook, listen, and then come back here for some behind the scenes about the inspiration behind the book! The best part is you can get it absolutely free by signing up for a 30-day trial at Audible and as usual, you can find that link in the shownotes.   Ok, now that you’ve been warned… or are returning after you took my advice and listened to the book (wasn’t it awesome!?!) I can now lead you into our conversation.   It’s been almost exactly a year since I met Ellie Jalbert, and it’s taken me nearly as long to learn how to pronounce her last name (did I get it right Ellie?!). Ellie was one of the first authors I got the chance to work with when I impulsively quit my day job and decided to launch myself into audiobooks full time. She was also the author I’ve bonded with the most. I think if you printed and stacked our emails back and forth to one another we’d have at least a novella, if not a novel.   She lovingly signed books for me and mailed them to me along with a pile of Storm of Ages bookmarks. I feel fortunate to say that my job feels more like play than work most days, and with Ellie’s books I felt that even more so, as I got to read the physical copies while I was all snuggled up on my couch.     So even before I officially launched this podcast, and despite the fact that I didn’t want this show to be interview based, I knew I’d have to have Ellie come on the show, not only because she’s an excellent storyteller, but also because I just had so many questions for her… and how fun would it be, I thought, if I recorded the very first conversation we ever had?!     [Story: Our conversation is not transcribed… guess you’ll just have to listen =P]       [Conclusion:]   Ellie and I have a lot in common. Those of you who have been listening from the beginning of this show know that it took me 2 years to bring this podcast to your ears, so I think it’s safe to say that I get in my own way too. So I want to take a moment to thank those of you out there who support us fumbling creative geniuses. If it weren’t for Ellie’s supportive family and friends Storm of Ages might never have been created and what a tragedy that would be! So thank you to Ellie’s Mom, Pop, her brother Tony, Sister in Law Sarah, and at least one of her BFFs Maggie. I’m sure there are many more of you I don’t know by name, but ya’ll are awesome! By supporting Ellie you also ended up supporting me… doesn’t it feel good to know you all are such gracious patrons of the arts?   To those of you who haven’t supported us yet, but really want to you can download your free copy of Storm of Ages: Nightmare by clicking the link in the show notes… and even though it’s free for you, Audible still pays us, so you can support us without even having to open your wallet. Again, you can hear the entire first chapter in the very next episode of this podcast right now, so give it a shot… what do you have to lose?   Alright, that’s a wrap… thank you for listening!  

8 – Bonus Conversation with Artist and Author Ellie Jalbert

I’m thrilled to be able to introduce you to King Saul’s art today. On his website he writes that his philosophy is: “to dig deep into the subconscious and build new worlds through art by tearing down the walls between beauty and horror, reality and fantasy, the hearing of pictures and the seeing of sounds. Intrigued?”…     [If your podcast app isn’t showing the featured art for this episode above visit rebekahnemethy.com/artink7 to check it out.   Castbox and Podcast Addict are both apps I recommend that do show episode specific art.]     Links from the Show at a Glance:   Artist: King Saul AKA Saul Bateman Title of Art: Smell Artist’s Website: https://www.king-saul.com/ Instagram: @kingsaulart   Art Ink Submission Guidelines: rebekahnemethy.com/artinksubs       Art Ink Podcast Transcript:   [Intro:]   What’s up everyone? Welcome to a brand new episode of Art Ink!   So, many of you may not know this about me, but I think I’m far enough away from my high school years to share it without getting too embarrassed. I used to be a gothic chick. There, I said it. There was a brief period in my life when I wore black lipstick, jeans that could fit my entire body in one pant leg, and one of those ridiculously thick ball chain chokers. Back then I was fascinated with all things horror.   I’m telling you this because when you go visit our featured artist’s Instagram page, you may wonder why his art is so different from the art I have been featuring. Lately I’ve been drawn to brightly colored abstract art, but there is still a place in my heart for creepy dark art too, and I thought you might like to know where that comes from before I introduce today’s artist.   If you’ve ever seen a book called Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, which was one of my favorites growing up, you might remember the epically creepy artwork. And today’s artist has a style reminds me of these illustrations from my childhood, which brings with it memories of slumber parties and readings under blankets by flashlight. I used to love to be scared. And I’ve often wondered why I stopping seeking the thrill of a good scary story.   Anyway, this introduction might be a bit anti-climactic… because it’s only as I’ve been writing this that I realized my story doesn’t exactly match the mood of the majority of our featured artist’s work, although a scan through his Instagram page will certainly give you Edgar Allen Poe and Nightmare Before Christmas type vibes, today’s story is not scary at all and I’m doing my very best not to apologize for that… because I have a horrible habit of being sorry for everything AND because inspiration works in mysterious ways and that’s ok.   The things that inspire us don’t always show up as perfect reflections in our work. That’s what makes art so awesome, because the trip this drawing took me on, may not be the same one it’d take you on if you didn’t have me here influencing you with my own perspective.   Back in my goth chick days I was very afraid of the unknown, and over the years, while my fascination with the so-called supernatural hasn’t died down any, my fear has transformed into awe and wonder. I still ask why, all the time, seriously, I’m kinda like a 5-year-old, but I don’t automatically jump to the worst-case scenario anymore. And, so I guess that’s just my long-ass explanation for why I’m not sorry for writing today’s story. Haha.   Well, I’m thrilled to be able to introduce you to King Saul’s art today. On his website he writes that his philosophy is: “to dig deep into the subconscious and build new worlds through art by tearing down the walls between beauty and horror, reality and fantasy, the hearing of pictures and the seeing of sounds. Intrigued?”   I don’t know about you but that’s a mission I could get behind, because, yeah, I am intrigued! Aren’t you?   Let me try to paint with words what Saul’s created:     [Art Description:]   I’m not 100% sure, but to me this sketch looks like it’s done in pencil and pen. A disembodied nose hovers in the center of the design. On the bottom left a rose rests just below the nose, and there are other flowers scattered all across the bottom of the page. Swirls of scent rise up from all of the flowers, but while most of the scents float midair, the rose is sending its swirls straight into each nostril of the floating nose. On the far left a stick of incense releases a swirl of smoke that intermingles with the steam rising from a hot beverage just behind it.   Saul calls this piece “Smell,” and it’s this sketch that inspired the following ghost story I’ve titled, “The Sweet Scent of Roses.”     [Story:]   Mark sat straight up in bed. The scent of roses was so strong, it was like a bouquet of flowers was in his face. He inhaled deeply, exhaled, inhaled again.   The last time Mark had smelled a real rose was at Jasmin’s funeral. Though, before that, he couldn’t step into their home without being overwhelmed by the sweet smell.   A few more deep breaths confirmed that the scent hadn’t faded away. Over the past few years this had happened before, but it had always faded away quickly, leaving Mark to believe that the sweet sensation had been a trick of his imagination, a memory so strong his mind created it as a sort of comfort food for his soul.   He wasn’t imagining it this time, though. There were roses infusing his every breath.   Mark glanced around the room. “Jasmine?” he whispered. He didn’t think it was possible, but the scent suddenly seemed stronger. “Jasmine,” he sighed, “I knew it was you.”   Something urged him to get out of bed. He imagined Jasmine giggling in a cloud above him, a mischievous smile that thinned her big blue eyes just enough for it to be seductive, the way a thong somehow sexifies a butt cheek. Mark knew she’d laugh at that analogy if she were still here. In fact, she’d probably make it up herself. He couldn’t see her at all, of course, but it was as if she were luring him through the darkness with a rose in her teeth, always just out of reach. That was his own imagination though. If she was here it was probably more like Lakitu (lah-KEE-too), that pesky cloud guy in Super Mario Bros., but instead of flinging Spinies down to the Earth below, she had a bouquet of roses on a fishing line.   He followed the smell all the way into the hallway and it suddenly disappeared. Mark nodded his head back and forth sniffing the air, but it was gone. He turned back toward the bedroom and suddenly he was smacked in the face with sweetness. He followed his nose to the closet and walked up to his own naked body reflected in the mirrored sliding doors. Did Jasmine want him to get dressed?   The smell wafted in and out as Mark pulled on jeans and a hoodie, but never fully disappeared. He imagined Jasmine bouncing excitedly, like the moments before they got on a new rollercoaster, a fun cocktail of fear and excitement bubbling out of her heels, lifting her up and down.   As soon as his socks were on the scent led him to the front door. Then it suddenly dissipated. Mark opened the door, sniffed the air; nothing. It wasn’t until he turned around that the faint scent of roses once again seeped into his septum.   Mark was beginning to wonder if maybe the spirit leading him around might be a fairy, or some other type of tiny, flighty being, judging from the way it kept spinning him around the house.   He walked back through the hall toward the kitchen. Jasmine seemed to pause for a moment midway, and so did he until his eyes fell upon the unicorn horn kaleidoscope she’d impulsively bought in Sedona on their honeymoon. It was way too much money and he hated it, but he’d never even considered getting rid of it after she was gone.   Mark wasn’t sure if the pause was a happy, proud pause or a sad, sentimental one. Perhaps it was all of those feels. At least those were the emotions he felt.   Wandering wherever his invisible incense wanted to lead him, Mark found himself in front of the refrigerator when all of the floral tones suddenly vanished from his senses.   “Really, Jazz?” Mark asked. “I’m not hungry.”   The roses didn’t come back, however, until he’d opened the fridge door.   “How about we compromise?” he said, “I’ll have a glass of orange juice… I really haven’t been that bad, have I Jazz – that you think you need to come back and nanny me.”   The scent bounced in the air, like back in the closet. Jasmine was giggling, at least that was his interpretation of the strange way the smell tickled his nostrils. He didn’t know how to read it, though, without being able to see the expression on her face. Jasmine laughed at everything in life. Laughter was her energy, her defense mechanism, her medicine.   As soon as Mark put his empty glass down the roses vanished until his nose was pointed toward the front door. Midway back through the hall, a breath of hot, moist air brushed up the skin of his neck, “don’t forget your keys,” Jasmine whispered-or did she?, and the scent suddenly strengthened. He stopped abruptly, grabbed the keys, and headed to the garage.   As he drove the mile that led out of their private drive the roses remained as an undertone. When he got to the stop sign Mark asked, “Which way?”   He flicked the turn signal up and the green arrow blinked towards the right. Jasmine pulled her roses back out of his world. When he pushed the lever to signal left the floral smell invaded his nostrils times ten.   “To the left it is then,” Mark said.   Several turns and miles later, Mark found himself turning into the Whole Foods parking lot. He’d never shopped here himself, but Jasmine used to come here weekly.   “Are you trying to make me eat healthy, Jazz?” he whispered softly, “because we both know that’s about as unlikely as a rabbit pulling a magician out of her hat.”   That bouncy tickle hit his nose again and Mark mentally checked himself. Either she thought he was hilarious, which was doubtful, as she’d heard that one at minimum a dozen times, or she was excited about what was coming next. And despite Jasmine’s constant stream of healthy meals, she’d never been that excited about food. That she tolerated cooking would be a nice way to put it, it was an obligation. No, whatever Jazz was excited about, it must be something else.   The sweet scent of roses led Mark into the store. “Do I need a cart, Jazz?” He whispered, hoping no one noticed him seemingly talk to himself. All sweetness dissipated immediately.   “I’ll take that as a no,” he said spinning in a 180 from the corner of parked carts to face the produce section. He walked slowly along the chilled wall of leafy greens as the smell seeped back into his senses. He passed the spinach, a bit surprised that Jasmine hadn’t stopped him… she used to sneak a handful or two into his smoothie every morning, he remembered the look on her face when he caught her a year into it… surprise, but then smug satisfaction as she informed him he’d been drinking spinach for at least a year already and if he tasted it now it was all in his head.   Mark was so caught in the memory that he didn’t see the puddle he was approaching. As if a “too little too late” warning as his feet slid out from under him, the tiny sprinklers above the fresh herbs and broccoli misted the left side of his body as he went down. Just before his head ricocheted off of the low shelf and onto the hard floor, the strongest smell yet smacked him in the face. Jasmine was giggling again… she always did find it funny when his clumsiness got the best of him, often apologizing and uncontrollably cackling at the same time. Why would any of that change after death? That’s the last thing Mark thought of before everything went black.   ***   “Are you ok?” a concerned voice asked.   The voice brought Mark back to reality, back to the grocery store, but it did nothing to tame the ghostly remnants of his late wife.   In fact the sweet smell was so strong now, it was starting to sicken him. He couldn’t escape it. It was as if he were dropped into a densely packed pool of potpourri, unable to swim to the surface, petals stuffed into his mouth and nostrils.   Mark’s head was throbbing, the pulse pinching the back of his left eye. He slowly parted his lids, letting the light in cautiously, luckily the silhouette above him blocked most of the light. Long, dark, curly hair made a sort of cave around the woman’s face.   She spoke again, “Can you hear me?”   “Yeah… I’m ok,” Mark managed after a minute.   The woman grabbed onto his forearm and pulled him to sitting. The mist still spritzed the air and clung to her curls like glittery morning dew. Behind her an abandoned cart stood askew, empty except for a single bouquet of red roses. Another bouquet lay abandoned on the floor somewhere between where she knelt and the path back to her cart. “I keep telling them about this puddle,” the woman said, “I almost went down myself last week. Do you think you can stand?”   “I think so.” Mark said and then tried. The woman helped steady him as she got to her own feet. As she rose her face was revealed from the shadows. Worried turquoise eyes darted around his face.   “I’m fine,” he assured her, though, truth be told, Jasmine’s floral infusion was still at full power and his queasiness was on the rise.   Mark’s lie did nothing to calm the stranger’s features, though, so he headed towards the scattered flowers on the floor to prove himself.   “Thanks,” she smiled as she accepted the now disheveled bouquet, shifted the unruly flowers to one arm, hugging them to her chest, and extended her free hand. “I’m June,” she said.   “Mark,” he replied taking her hand, and he couldn’t believe it, but the scent actually got stronger, and he involuntarily gagged.   “Are you sure you’re all right?” June asked, her features back on high alert, “you don’t look so good… are you nauseated?”   “Yeah, just a little, but it’s the smell of those flowers doing it, not my fall.” Mark said weakly.   “Really?” June said. She glanced at the flowers in her arms and then back at him. She didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know, nausea is a common side effect of a concussion,” she said as she turned to place the flowers back in her cart, “you should really get yourself checked out.”   “I’ll be fine,” Mark managed a smile as he said it. Jasmine had let up on the perfume since he’d voiced his problem aloud and his stomach was settling.   “Ok, Mark,” June said, “but if you change your mind, I’d be happy to give you a ride to the emergency room.”   “Nah, I’m good.”   “Ok… well, good luck,” she said somewhat awkwardly and pushed her cart down the aisle.   As June got farther and farther away, so did Jazz’s scent. Had he been imagining this smell the whole time? Was it just June’s flowers he’d been smelling since he’d entered the store?   Unsure what to do next without his floral guide, he headed back outside and sat on a bench.   “Jazz?” He whispered.   Nothing.   “Jasmine, are you there?” He tried again.   Still nothing.   “What was that all about?” He muttered to himself this time. “Am I going crazy?”   Mark sat there for a while, reimagining the day he’d had so far. To his left, the automatic doors slid opened and closed, popping out people like a factory line of grocery Barbie dolls. A seemingly endless stream of blondes in yoga attire walked past him.   He attempted one more time to prove his own sanity. “How do you drown a Whole Foods Barbie?” he paused. “Put a scratch and sniff sticker at the bottom of her kombucha cup!”   That did it, and he could faintly sense the roses bouncing in his nose again.   Through the glass doors he spotted June checking out, she was like black beauty in a herd of palominos. The invisible incense ramped up again, and suddenly, he finally got what Jasmine was trying to say.   “Jazz…” he whispered, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know if I’m ready yet. I still miss you so much.”   She was still there, but she was pulling back, as if to say, “don’t be ridiculous, Mark.” It was easy enough to imagine… she’d said it plenty of times before.   He looked up and to the left and saw that June was heading toward the double doors. “I love you Jazz,” he said. “Thank you.”   Mark rose just as the doors parted and when June locked eyes with him, a broad smile spread across her face.   “You change your mind, killer?”   “Well the thing is, I kind of hate doctors,” Mark confessed, “but maybe you can keep me company? Ya know, just in case I take a turn for the worse?”     [Conclusion:]   A big shout out goes to King Saul for being so kind as to share his art with all of us today, I’m so grateful for your generosity, Saul! If you’re interested in the cover art used for this episode you should know that a slightly altered version of “Smell” is actually available as a linoleum print. This is 1 of the 5 pieces that are a part of Saul’s Synesthesia Series.   In case you don’t know what synesthesia is, it’s described as a “condition” in the dictionary, but I’m going to call it an ability… I might even go so far as to say it’s a superpower, and it’s when someone’s senses connect in ways that allow them to perceive things most people can’t. For example, someone with synesthesia may be able to hear colors, see sounds, or taste words. It’s truly fascinating to me… I remember reading awhile back that some people with synesthesia are able to see a wider spectrum of colors, but that’s when I got a little jealous and stopped reading.   So, now on top of wanting to write a scarier story to pair with Saul’s work, I’m also wishing my main character had synesthesia. Ugh… well there’s always another story to tell. You know that cliché about how a picture is worth 1000 words… well honestly I think that’s a vast understatement… maybe 1000 stories is more like it. And that reminds me, I’ve been putting together a long list of writing prompts for any of you artists out there who struggle with writing about your art. I have no idea when it’ll be done, but I do know that it’ll be super helpful when it is, so I’ll be sure to let you know as soon as it’s available.   So, anyway, please do make sure to check out Saul’s work on Instagram @kingsaulart or you can visit his website at king-saul.com.   Alrighty, my friends, that’s a wrap! Thank you so much for listening! Don’t forget to check back here in two weeks for the next episode… or better yet subscribe to the show so you don’t have to worry about missing out. I’ll catch ya next time!

7 – The Sweet Smell of Roses – A Ghost Story Inspired by King Saul’s Art

6 – Beautifully Broken – A Short Story Inspired by Alisa Burke’s Art

5 – Orion’s Metamorphosis – The Story Behind my Tattoo

   [If your podcast app isn’t showing the featured art for this episode above visit rebekahnemethy.com/artink4 to check it out.   Castbox and Podcast Addict are both apps I recommend that do show episode specific art.]     Links from the Show at a Glance:     Artist: Danielle Krysa Title of Art: untitled Artist’s Website: http://www.krysa.com/danielle/ Instagram: @daniellekrysaart Danielle’s Podcast: The Jealous Curator   The first episode of Art Ink to hear the story of how The Jealous Curator podcast helped me solve a problem with this show   Art Ink Submission Guidelines: rebekahnemethy.com/artinksubs       Art Ink Podcast Transcript:   [Intro:]   Welcome back everyone! I’m thrilled you’re here to listen because I have a really fun story for you today.   Today’s featured artist is Danielle Krysa, and if you listened to the very first episode of this podcast, you’d know that her podcast, The Jealous Curator, had a hand in helping me figure out a problem I was having with this podcast and so I figured I just had to include some of her work in this podcast because, I mean, karma, right? She did me a favor, even though maybe not intentionally, so I figured I should pay her back somehow.   I found this piece on her Instagram and… let me just give you a little description to start us off:   [Art Description:]   This is a minimalistic mixed media piece with what looks like watercolor and acrylic paints with a splash of collage. A sailboat cutout is resting atop a cloud of aquamarine blue paint on the bottom right of the image. Pink and metallic bronze paints hover above and to the left of the sailing ship, resembling a distant sunset.   On Instagram, Danielle captioned her art: “some guys promised ‘sailing off into the sunset,’ but cap’n carl f’n delivered.” And so both the art and the caption had a part in creating the following story which features the cap’n carl I imagined.   [Story:]   I was NOT dreaming. I’d already done all the tests: pinched myself, read the same sign twice without scrambling the words or letters, I’d even closed my eyes, spun around, and opened them again to see the same scene.   I looked over the edge of the bow. The ship was floating on a shimmery, blue cloud of water so shallow it was translucent. I was on a magical journey, about to leave everything I’ve ever known.   Cap’n Carl had a skullet, you know, the balding man’s version of a mullet, and black holes where teeth used to be. The top of his head was like a dandelion, when the breeze would pick up, and the sails caught the wind, so too would large petals of peeling skin. They’d flutter and flap in the wind and, eventually release into the sky. I wondered if I might have a wish or two come true if blew on his head and managed to unhinge all the dead skin in one breath.   According to Cap’n Carl, though, my wishes were about to come true anyway. I was going to a place where time was infinite and money non-existent. It was still hard to believe, though, just as it would have been hard for anyone else to believe I’d be on a sailboat that soared through the sky… yet here I was, living that dream; passing clouds, chasing the sun’s bronze rays as it painted the clouds in our path.   Forever was a scary premise for most people, but not for me, there were too many stories inside me that still had to come out. And if I didn’t choose forever, I’d be choosing death. I’d be choosing to let my stories die with me. With the cancer that was cooking inside me, doctors estimated that in six months I’d be done.   According to Cap’n Carl, there was still time to change my mind. We had until sunset before there was no going back; all we had to do was walk the plank, metaphorically and literally speaking, and we’d instantly regress into our old lives.   We’d set sail with about a dozen other passengers. Most of them were also terminally ill, death-fearing people like me. But apparently, infinity was much scarier to them than death, because there was only one woman left aside from me. She was peering over the edge, her gaze switching between the setting sun and the sparkling sea below.   I looked back at Cap’n Carl, his smile was eager, but bordering on maniacal.   A splash sounded and I followed the Cap’n’s gaze to where the last passenger had once stood. I knew she was already gone by the time I’d turned my head. I’d watched many of the others jump ship before her, and once their bodies were fully enveloped in the shimmering plasma, they’d simply vanished from sight, leaving nothing but sparkling splashes erupting into the air like fireworks, fizzling out before they fell back into the ethereal substance below.   “Go on,” he called, “you know you want to follow them. Go back home to mortality.” He looked sad.   “Do so many people usually jump ship?” I asked, nervously glancing at the sun’s dwindling light.   “All but you, so far, dearie,” he said.   “No one’s stayed on for the entire journey?” I asked.   “Not since I’ve been Captain.” He said.   “How long is that?” I asked.   “Oh, nearly a century…” he said, “I make the journey every year, hoping to find a soul brave enough to face eternity.”   The sun was nearly gone, just a soft, dark orange glow, rapidly descending into darkness, the captain quickly becoming a silhouette against the twilight sky.   “What do you get out of this?” I asked, and all I could see of his frightening smile were the few teeth left in his mouth, glimmering in the moonlight as my eyes adjusted to the dark.   “I get to die,” he whispered… “I finally get to die.”   And just like that he was gone. No splash. Just a million, billion tiny particles scattered by the wind. Gone.   The ship sailed on through the night… I wondered what would happen if I tried to jump now, tried to change my mind. I figured it was too late.   I thought of how the sunset was always the perfect ending of every story, but for me, it was just the beginning of forever.   [Conclusion:]   So that is it for today. As you could hear, Danielle’s art took me to a literal place, or I guess a figurative place, haha. But the thing is, her art although so simple and minimalistic, I mean, take a look at this in the cover art of your podcast player app. There are just a few brushstrokes, it’s so simple but it transported me to another place in my imagination and this is the story that came out.   Remember to check out Danielle’s art on her Instagram @daniellekrysaart to see more of her awesome art.

4 – Infinite Bravery – A Short Story Inspired by Danielle Krysa’s Art

    [If your podcast app isn’t showing the featured art for this episode above visit rebekahnemethy.com/artink3 to check it out.   Castbox and Podcast Addict are both apps I recommend that do show episode specific art.]     Links from the Show at a Glance:   Artist: Kathleen Clemons Title of Art: Still Dancing Artist’s Website: http://kathleenclemonsphotography.com/ Instagram: @kathleenclemons   Art Ink Submission Guidelines: rebekahnemethy.com/artinksubs      Art Ink Podcast Transcript:     [Intro:]   What’s up everyone?! Welcome back to another episode of Art Ink! I’m thrilled to introduce to you today, one of my favorite fine art photographers, Kathleen Clemons. I’ve been a fan of Kathleen’s beautiful work since I had the opportunity to meet her at the Macro Photo Conference a few years ago.   The best way I can describe her work is to have you imagine what it would look like if Georgia O’Keefe’s florals and Monet’s soft texturized paintings had an art baby. Of course that doesn’t even touch on just how gorgeous Kathleen’s art really is. The word that comes to mind when I see her work is sensual.   Of course, that’s just my take on it. But you can can decide for yourself by looking at the cover art for this podcast episode… when you have time, of course, please don’t fiddle with you’re phone if you’re driving my dear. As usual I will start off by trying to capture the beauty of today’s featured piece in a brief description, before we dive into the story it sparked inside of me.     [Art Description:]   A red dying tulip diagonally poised against a pale pink background with abstract white brush strokes here and there. The pale green style and stigma stand tall in the center of the flower, wearing drooping petals like a modern dancer’s skirt. They are windswept, as if she were leaping across the photo.   When I first saw this flower, I immediately saw a dancer… but it’s the title of the photo, “Still Dancing,” that made me ask the question, why is she still dancing? This fictional story is the answer to that question.     [Story:]   If you only considered her face, the old woman looked peacefully confident. It was the thin, blue nightgown and even thinner, red-tinged hair, pointing in all different directions, that gave her sanity a question mark.   Her expression was intent as she scanned the bar and then, suddenly, her eyes widened in recognition, briefly, before they thinned to squinty slits, balancing her broadening smile.   She walked to the bar and hooked one of her thin, fragile arms onto Tom’s elbow. “Ricky,” she said, “ask them to play our song.”   “Alright, Mrs. McGillicuddy,” Tom said as he patted the top of her hand with his free one, “Tina,” he said directing his attention to me, “can you play Only You by The Platters please?”   I searched the music library, as Tom led the confused old woman to the middle of the floor. Surprisingly it popped up. I hit play.   Only after the music had started and the odd couple was gently swaying on the dance floor, did I dare to whisper to one of the other regulars. “Who is that? And why did she call him Ricky?”   “That’d be Mrs. McGillicuddy,” Billy answered, “and you’re going to want to call that number next to the phone.” He pushed his Bud Light into the air, in the general direction of the wall-mounted phone.   I turned around to find a Post-It note scrawled with the name Moira. I’d noticed the number before, but in the month that I’d been here, I’d simply assumed it was some regular’s unfortunate wife. Guess not.   I picked up the phone and started dialing.   “That’s her daughter,” Billy clarified, “just let her know her mom made her way over here.   I didn’t have to bother, though. She answered before the first ring had fully rung. “My mother’s there?” Moira rushed out.   “Yes.”   “I’ll be right there.”   I hung up the phone, and turned back to the bar.   “I suggest you put that song on repeat until Moira gets here.” Billy said, “It’s best to let her break the spell.”   I did as he said.   “Alzheimer’s.” he said, as if the period to his sentence.   Nobody spoke as the song ended and then began again. Mrs. McGillicuddy pulled away from Tom in the brief silence; peering up at him a bit perplexed, but as soon as the first notes filled the air once again, her face relaxed. She was back inside her comfortable dream.   Before the second instance of the song was halfway over, a middle-aged woman appeared in the doorway. She was a younger, sadder version of her mother, and her clothing was equally unsuited for the bar scene. She wore pink flannel pajama pants and a black, baggie, v-neck tee, but unlike her mother, at least she had shoes on.   Moira sighed, hugged herself with her arms, and leaned her head against the doorframe as she watched her mother dance.   Despite losing her husband, despite losing her mind… Mrs. McGillicuddy was still dancing. We let her dance.     [Conclusion:]   So that was the story that eventually came from Kathleen Clemons’ photograph of a wilting tulip. I say eventually because this wasn’t a case of inspiration at first sight, although I think many of us expect that kind of light bulb moment in order to dub ourselves inspired. But no, this inspiration was like racing as a tortoise, there was a finish line somewhere up ahead, but I had no idea how I was going to get there or when. I was struck by the beauty of the dancing tulip, and I knew I had to have in on this show, but it took me a long time to figure out why she was still dancing. Which, now, as I say this aloud, seems silly… because who really needs a reason to dance? Here’s to aging gracefully and dancing through life at every opportunity along the way.   My gratitude goes out to Kathleen Clemons for allowing me to share her art with you today, and I do recommend you follow her work on Instagram @kathleenclemons (that’s Kathleen with a K and all one word – but of course you can just click into the shownotes to get the link if you need it). Thank you Kathleen, without heartfelt artists like you, this show could never exist!   That’s all for now my friends. Until next time, keep on dancing!

3 - Still Dancing - A Short Story Inspired by Kathleen Clemons' Fine Art Photography

   [If your podcast app isn’t showing the featured art for this episode above visit rebekahnemethy.com/artink2 to check it out.   Castbox and Podcast Addict are both apps I recommend that do show episode specific art.]     Links from the Show at a Glance:   Artist: Susan Proctor Hume Title of Art: Untitled Abstract Eye Artist’s Website: https://susanproctorhume.com/ Instagram: @susan_proctor_humeartist   Art Ink Submission Guidelines: rebekahnemethy.com/artinksubs     Art Ink Podcast Transcript:     [Intro:]   Susan Proctor Hume’s abstract eye was insta-inspiration for today’s episode! Not just because I discovered this piece on Instagram, but also because the story that sprang from it came almost instantly. Listen in to hear a short sci-fi story on the verge of dystopia I called tie-dyed eyes.     [Art Description:]   An abstract gray eye with a black pupil is decorated with tie-dye style splatters of pink, red, orange, and yellow. It’s a monotype print on cotton paper.     [Story:]   “I’m not angry,” she said, but her bright pink and yellow eyes were betraying her. Red exploded in the whites of her eyes like the spray from tiny gunshots, it was if I were spraying her with bullets as I spoke.   No one upgraded with TD eyes was capable of lying. If you could successfully lie after the upgrade, you were either criminally insane or a monk, and Sara was neither.   The red had completely stained the whites, had begun to envelop the pink, and was bleeding into the yellow, spreading out until the area around her pupils was totally orange; glowing like embers. Her eyes burned into mine. This wasn’t how I wanted to remember her.   I tried to hold onto the picture of Sara before, as she had glanced up at me just a few moments ago. She was holding an open book in one hand, and her other was wrapped around a full cup of steaming hot chocolate. As I had entered the café, her eyes left the pages and her face tilted toward me.   Those eyes were the ones I wanted to remember: all pink with love and yellow with joy, not the firey orbs that were burning holes into me now.   “Sure you are…” I said, “I can see it– ”   “In my eyes?!” She glared at me hard, and there was no pink left… no love; just red anger and black fear. “Well at least I have the courage to live in my truth.”   I said nothing.   I couldn’t say anything that hadn’t been said before. The development of TD eyes had come from a place of love, but that didn’t mean that love was still the main priority. Billie Bobs, the technology’s creator had a vision to reconnect the millennial generation to each other, it was meant to undo the damage that social media and smart phones had done to the development of common social skills.   The first group of kids to get injected with the mood bots got a free college education in exchange for their participation in the research. The trend caught on. The kids thought it was cool. Teachers loved the polygraph like qualities built into their student’s eyes with the upgrade and it wasn’t long before the government caught on to the potential for control.   Billie Bobs was loving, but he was naïve too, and he was easily bought out.   The propaganda was so widespread. The incentive for the poverty stricken to get an education they could never afford was so rose-colored that it reawakened the “American Dream.”   Within four years, as the college graduates sporting TD eyes hit the workforce, employers began to favor these applicants over their coworkers. It wasn’t long after that when companies everywhere were paying to get their employees upgraded.   Now, you can’t get a job without them, and pretty soon you won’t be able to keep your citizenship without the truth telling eyes… so I was forfeiting mine. No one could convince me that injecting tiny robots that lived in my eyes and gave away all my secrets was about anything other than control. Unfortunately most of the country was blind to that fact, and even more unfortunately, Sara was among them.   “It must be nice to know everything about me, it must be nice to keep all your selfish secrets all to yourself!” She started sobbing, burying her face in her hands. Big teardrops pooled on the black surface of the table and soaked into the pages of her closed book, swelling one corner.   “Please…” I said, “come with me, we can – “   “We’ve had this conversation, I’m not leaving. I can’t just wander around the world with you, no plan, banned from ever coming back, from ever seeing our friends and family again.” Her purpling eyes were wide, pleading, darting back and forth, searching for any answer they could find in my own. That the blue sadness had begun to blend into the red confirmed what I already knew: this was goodbye.   “I just don’t understand what’s so goddamned scary about honesty, Tyler…” she said with a sigh, “what are you so afraid of?”   It was a question she’d asked many times before, but my answer conflicted with her cultural programming and never satisfied her.   “I need my freedom.” I said. I was being honest. I was trying to prove that honesty could exist without force, but it was too little, too late as far as Sara was concerned.   Her violet eyes reddened a bit, she threw her hands up in the air, “and you’re telling me this now? You’re telling me this one hour before your appointment?! You let me believe we were going to be ok for so long… how could you?”   I wished I could see her sunny yellow eyes one more time before I left, but I was out of time. Once I’d missed my injection appointment, there’d be a warrant out for my arrest. I had to go.   As I got up, I leaned over the table, and kissed Sara’s forehead. She looked up at me. Her blue eyes were full to the brim with tears, and I turned away before she could blink them over the edge.

2 – Tie-Dyed Eyes – A Sci-fi Story Inspired by Susan Proctor Hume’s Art

    [If your podcast app isn’t showing the featured art for this episode above visit rebekahnemethy.com/artink1 to check it out. Castbox and Podcast Addict are both apps I recommend that do show episode specific art.]   Links from the Show at a Glance:   Artist: Melissa Dinwiddie Title of Art: Stitch River Yes Artist’s Website: melissadinwiddie.com Instagram: @a_creative_life Get Melissa's book The Creative Sandbox Way (the 1st 50 pages are free, go download it now, what do you have to lose?)   Art Ink Submission Guidelines: rebekahnemethy.com/artinksubs   Art Ink Podcast Transcript:   [Art Description:]   Melissa Dinwiddie’s mixed media painting, Stitch River Yes is one of three paintings that hang in my studio, and it’s my favorite of the three. It’s made of crackle paste, laid thickly upon a small canvas, painted with teal blue watercolor. One thick, deep, wobbly vertical line, resembling a river, was created by removing various bits of the crackle paste along the jagged edges that the medium creates as it dries. The river is painted darker, and it’s more brown than blue.   The word “yes,” created with an old fashioned typewriter, is cut out and pasted dozens of times, in a strip going down the right edge of the piece, with fewer words at the top of the line, and a thicker cluster of “yes”es towards the bottom. The words wrap around the painted edge of the canvas.   Abstract, cat-whisker-like stitching completes this work. Some of the stitches cross the river, as if holding it together. One tiny, type-written “yes” is pasted atop each stitch.   [Story:]   The wind was blowing through my hair. Birds were singing. The sun was shining, and caressing my skin with a blanket of warmth on that spring day.   I sat on the big rock in my front yard… I’d been planning an inspired day of writing since the day I first set eyes on the natural chair outside my dad’s new house.   At first I just took it all in, the warmth, the rustling songs of nature moving and waking up into spring. I looked out at the neighborhood, and the sky with passing clouds. I was feeling… happy… but I still wasn’t inspired.   I opened my pink binder full of loose leaf. I stared at the blank page.   Why wasn’t I inspired?   I wanted to write but there weren’t any words. There wasn’t anything interesting enough to say.   “Write what you know,” echoed in my head; the common advice I’d heard and read from all the experts everywhere. I didn’t know anything. I was only 13.   What I didn’t realize was that I knew enough… that the experience I was having that day was enough to put my pen down and just start writing.   It wasn’t until I started reading Melissa Dinwiddie’s work, many years later, that I started to realize where I was going wrong.   Number five of the ten guideposts in her book, The Creative Sandbox Way, is to, “Just start anywhere.”   Oh, I could’ve used that advice as a young writer… I shut my pink binder that day 20 years ago without writing a single word. I found it years later, this binder meant for my writing, and it was still totally blank, aside from some yellowing around the edges from all that waiting around.   “Just start anywhere.” I’m so grateful for these three words. In fact, just starting anywhere is how I started writing what you’re hearing right now.   I had Melissa’s painting and the urge to write about how it inspired me. But how? There’s so much! How could I begin to sort through the journey this piece has taken me on?   The river running through Stitch River Yes is like my fear: so deeply etched in my cultural programming, in my human instincts.   Fear: this safety precaution, this emergency brake that stops all except your fight or flight instincts and adrenaline.   Me: I want to start a podcast!   Fear: But what if you’re too busy to release an episode every single week? If you’re not as perfect as a NPR radio show, in quality as well as consistency, well then you’ll just suck, and no one will take you seriously.   Me: I want to tell stories.   Fear: Who cares about your stories? No one will listen. What could you possibly write that will matter?   Me: I want to write stories channeled through the experience of other artist’s work.   Fear: You are not qualified to write about art much less interpret it. You know nothing about art. You’re going to look stupid. People will find out how stupid you are when you interpret things wrong.   Me: You know what, Fear? You’re getting a bit ridiculous. How can an interpretation of my own experience of something be wrong? I think I’ll take the risk… because even if you’re right and all those things happen… I won’t be any worse off than I am right now.   No one can listen to a podcast that doesn’t exist. No one can care about a story that remains unwritten. No one can be an expert without first being a novice.   Fear? You still there?   …   Don’t worry, he’ll be back. His story doesn’t change. He cares about me, so I hear him out, but I can’t let him chase me away. At the same time, I can’t be afraid to face the possibility that he might be right, either. I have to say yes to the risks and move on, because when I really break it down… the worst case scenario rarely happens, and even when it does, I’m usually still alive after it’s all over, and I’ve likely learned something valuable from the experience as well.   I can’t make the fear go away... but maybe I can hold it together, not let it get any bigger, stitch it closed so I can say yes… so I can stay and fight. So it’s not so scary that I have to run from it. So I can flow with the fear, use the current as the force that drives me forward, instead of letting it flood over and drown my creativity.   It’s safer to stay on the banks of fear’s river, keeping the dark, dangerous rapids at bay. But if you want to go places… if you want to get there faster… well than the river of fear is much faster than the safe, slow hike you’ll take trying to avoid it.   Melissa’s painting is my reminder to fight. To say yes to the scary things that won’t stop haunting my thoughts.   I’m saying yes to being messy. I’m saying yes to creating work that might not be perfect. I’m saying yes to facing my fears. I’m saying yes to success AND failure, because one cannot exist without the other. And I believe, the point of life is to experience them both.   Besides, the idea of this podcast becoming the equivalent to my pink binder, with those pathetically blank and yellowed pages, is far scarier to me now than any kind of failure could ever be.   Because the simple act of doing something… anything, in this creative process is worth it.   Why? That’s something Melissa Dinwiddie can explain to you better than me. Her book, The Creative Sandbox Way, is an interactive workbook that I highly recommend for every person… not just quote on quote, creative people, but everyone. Because we. are. all. creative. But since you’re listening, I bet you’ll be thrilled to find out that a lot of the lessons Melissa teaches in her book can also be heard on The Creative Sandbox Way podcast. I will have links to both of these amazing things in the shownotes (which you can access directly from your podcasting app in the description of this episode.)   Now that, that’s settled… yay, I’m starting another podcast. Oh wait… I guess now I’ve officially started this podcast. Would you look at that?   What do I write? What’s the story? Where do I start?   “Just start… anywhere.” I have to remind myself of this every time I sit down to write. Every time.   And I guess this story, like our theme song kind of, but not really sings, is a good place to begin.   That’s it for today! A huge shout out to Melissa Dinwiddie for being a constant source of inspiration, courage, and self love. And, of course, a big thanks for allowing me to feature her work in this episode. Don’t forget to take a look at the image that inspired today’s story. It’s the cover image for this episode.   Find out more about Melissa at melissadinwiddie.com or follow her on Instagram @a_creative_life to see what magical creations she’s making right now.

1 - Flowing in Fear's River - A Personal Essay Inspired by Melissa Dinwiddie's Painting Stitch River Yes

     Links from the Show at a Glance:   Ashley Longshore's Artgasms Danielle Krysa's podcast The Jealous Curator Art Ink Submission Guidelines     Art Ink Podcast Transcript:   I’m a little embarrassed to say that this podcast has been in the works for well over a year… despite my enthusiasm for the big picture of this project, I kept getting stuck on all the details.   For instance, I spent hours brainstorming titles until I came up with the. perfect. name. I was going to call it Artgasms, with an equally clever subtitle: short, shriek-worthy stories inspired by art. I thought I was soooo brilliant… until I started Googling and discovered that this kick ass artist I follow, you’ve probably heard of her… Ashley Longshore, actually has a series of tiny paintings dubbed by the same name. I knew my subconscious had absorbed this title, and hid it away for future reference, and I was bummed to find out that I wasn’t quite as brilliant as I thought I was. The title search went on.   The next challenge that tripped me up was how I could possibly get other artists to come on the show in the very specific vision I had for them. I was dreaming of a collaborative, inclusive space to share unique perspectives from artists all over the world. I was envisioning a place for art lovers to discover new artists and connect to them through their stories.   The only thing I knew for sure was that this was NOT going to be another artist interview show, this was going to be a short story show and I needed artists willing to write and record their stories. The problem was, that would be a huge ask coming from a brand new podcast with no track record. Not to mention, writing and storytelling comes easy to me, but for a lot of people it’s a big drag to have to write. Some artists can barely tolerate having to name their art much less write about it.   Even the artists I know who are comfortable writing weren’t putting the kind of stories out that would fit the narrow vision I had for this podcast. I Googled the fuck out of this problem, with no solution in sight. The stories I wanted to tell just didn’t seem to exist.   I had plenty of my own stories and my own art to share, but I just couldn’t figure out how to feature other artists without putting them to work.   Then I was listening to a podcast called The Jealous Curator, and the host, Danielle, was talking about a bad experience she’d had in her last year of art school. When one of her paintings was being critiqued by other students one of them asked her what her painting meant, instead of giving an answer, Danielle had each of the 24 students go around the room and offer their own interpretations of her painting. When all of them had a chance to guess, they wanted to know who was right. And Danielle said that they were all right, and I quote, “because that’s the point, right?” she said, “It will evoke something different in every single person.”   Danielle got a C on that painting, and the low grade was because she didn’t have her own solid interpretation to share with the class. That didn’t make sense to me, and it didn’t make sense to Danielle either, she went onto say, and I quote again, “It’s much more interesting for a viewer to have a physical or emotional reaction to something, whether it’s what you intended or not.”   That’s when it dawned on me! I could share my experience of the art I discover. I could do all the work necessary to take listeners on a journey inspired by one piece of art. This was how I could help other artists by connecting listeners to their work through story.   Don’t get me wrong… I’d love it if some of you artists and writers out there would catch the storytelling bug and send in submissions, I’d love it even more if you’d share them in your own voice. That’s how I envision this show growing. That’s the big picture. That’s the daydream I’m having right now.   But, until we start sketching out that big picture, please keep in mind that the following stories are from my perspective, and my experience of each artist’s work will probably be very different from yours, and may also be in contrast with the artist’s original intentions. What can I say? Inspiration works differently for everyone.   That’s why you should also know that you can always access the art that inspired each episode right in the app you’re using to listen. In fact, I encourage it. If you use the Podcast Addict app, like I do, just tap the thumbnail image to see it full size, tap again on the full sized image to access the shownotes, and get links to each featured artist’s website and see more of their work.   So… I hope you enjoy my stories AND the art that inspired them. I also hope some of you artists and storytellers out there will soon be joining me, the world craves your voices, so write up and speak up.   Download the next few episodes to hear…   Welcome to Art Ink.     Are you an artist with a story to tell? We'd love to hear your story on the next episode of Art Ink. Check out our submission guidelines to find out how to make it happen.   

Intro to Art Ink the Podcast

Art Ink's mission is to connect artists to art lovers with story. Each episode features one piece of art and a story inspired by it. Whether you're an artist looking to learn how to tell better stories, a designer searching for a place to discover new artists, a storyteller who wants to contribute to the cause, or even an art lover in the mood for entertainment, this is the art podcast for you.

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Art Ink

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