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~ Because demented people need love, too.

The Perks of Being an Artist

Tag Archives: jazz

Meet Hinton

11 Sunday Nov 2018

Posted by emilypageart in cats, humor, Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

cat names, cats, jazz, jazz musicians, kitten, kitties, tuxedo cat

So, if you know me, you know I have little to no impulse control when it comes to furry critters. Within 24 hours of Dizzy’s death, I was ready to find another kitty to add to our family. Luckily, S was on board, so we headed out to our favorite shelter, Second Chance Pet Adoption, to get our snuggle on. Within seconds, we found a floof who was perfect. We looked at a few others for awhile (I thoroughly enjoyed sitting in a room and having kittens climb all over me, and if I could have just moved into the room with them, I totally would have), but kept coming back to this one little tuxedoed-up guy.

Hinton

Clearly, it was love at first sight for both of us. It’s scientifically impossible to say “no” to this look.

So we put in our application to adopt him and went home to fight over what to name him. So far, I’ve named all of my cats after jazz musicians (Ella Fitzgerald, Louis “Satchmo” Armstrong, Frank Sinatra, Dizzy Gillespie, Keely Smith, and Madeleine Peyroux) , so I was pushing hard to continue the tradition. S kept suggesting random, old-fashioned names that had nothing to do with anything: Barnabus, Thaddeus, Elridge, etc. But I held out for a jazz name, and the more he pushed for some rando-name, the sillier I got with my suggestions. Here is a list of the names I suggested that S shot down:

1. Thelonius Meownk
2. Charlie Purrker
3. Jelly Roll Meowton
4. Artie Paw
5. Wynton Meowsalis
6. Sonny Pawlins
7. Bing Clawsby

In the end, though, we settled on a name that S suggested that he didn’t know actually had a really great association for me: Hinton. For me, I associate that name with 2 things: 1) Milt Hinton, the jazz bassist and photographer who I met in high school and whose calendars I used to buy every year, and 2) my favorite cocktail from a restaurant in Charlottesville (bourbon – of course – spicy ginger ale, and muddled mint). So basically, we named our new kitten after booze and jazz. Seems appropriate for our house.

Hinton 3

Did he get into the bourbon already?!

Thus far, Keely is maaaaaaaaaad and Maddie is slightly miffed. Keely was not on speaking terms with any of us for awhile, but has already decided that it’s okay to speak to US as long as HE isn’t anywhere around. Progress. And Hinton is settling in nicely. I had forgotten how hard kittens play and then how hard they conk out, all floopy and floppy:

Hinton 2

This is some grade-A floopage.

I had also forgotten how much they fart. If he wasn’t so damn cute, I’d be tossing him from my lap every half hour.

I’ll get back to posting tattoos soon, but for now caaaaaaaaaaaats, because really:

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This little guy. We've named him Hinton. I'm in love. The other kitties are not. #cats #catsofinstagram #tuxedocat

A post shared by Emily Page (@emilypageart) on Nov 8, 2018 at 1:19pm PST

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Trumpet in Red

19 Tuesday Sep 2017

Posted by emilypageart in art, culture, humor, music, painting, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

art, artist, artist Emily Page, Emily Page Art, jazz, music, musical, musical instrument, musician painting, oil on board, oil painting, painter, painting, realism, realist art, trumpet

I finally managed to organize my studio enough to paint again. It still has a ways to go as I try to find places to store all the crap I brought home when we closed the paint and sip studio, but at least there’s enough table top/easel space to do a little arting. And since it’s International Talk Like a Pirate Day, I thought I’d make today’s post about “arrrrrrrrrrrt.” You’re welcome for that.

I’ve been working on this painting for over a year, and by “working on this painting,” I mostly mean it’s been glaring at me accusingly for long stretches of time while I avoid making eye contact with it. It’s the largest piece I’ve done that is this detailed (and at 16″ x 20″ it’s not even that big, but still), and it was not a happy process for me. Too many straight lines and confusing reflections. Too much thinking required. But I finally took a couple days and powered through and finished the asshole. And now we’re besties. It’s been sitting happily on my easel for a couple days drying and cooing at me and telling me how grateful it is that I finished it.

Trumpet in Red_compressed

Trumpet in Red 16″ x 20″ oil on board 

But all that cooing is starting to get on my nerves ever so slightly. So maybe someone should buy it, like, right now. You can do so here. You can also get prints and other fun stuff here and here.

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Blame It On My Youth

09 Thursday Mar 2017

Posted by emilypageart in death, dementia, family, Fractured Memories, gratitude, music, singing, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Blame It On My Youth, gratitude, jazz, music, Nick Page, Red Hot Smoothies, regrets, singing

I was going through old files on my computer, and stumbled across this. I had forgotten all about it. It’s one of only a couple recordings my dad and I made together (Dad on sax, me on vocals). I don’t know why we waited until after he had been diagnosed with dementia to sit down and record some music together. We had performed together with his band, The Red Hot Smoothies, a couple times, but we never took it seriously. I guess we always figured there’d be time for that in the future. Plus, as much as I do love it, I’m kind of shy when it comes to singing in front of people. And I looked up to my dad and I think I was always just a little bit afraid that my talent wouldn’t be quite good enough to merit performing with him. That was all me, not him. I know he would have been thrilled if I’d asked earlier. Regrets, y’all. Anyway, blame it on my youth. (be patient, it takes a couple seconds to start)

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Thanks so much for reading my ridiculous thoughts! If you’d like to see my ridiculous thoughts translated into art, visit my website, or follow me on Facebook and Twitter. Know a caregiver, or someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone who knows someone else who’s a caregiver? Or heck, do you know a person? Well, you should tell them about my book, Fractured Memories: Because Demented People Need Love, Too. Part memoir and part coffee table art book, I recount my family’s heartbreaking and hilarious journey through my father’s dementia. Available to purchase here (this is my favorite way if you live in the U.S.), here or here if you’d rather get the eBook than a print copy, and here (especially if you want a hard cover copy).

book-cover-1

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The Funny Side of Death

30 Wednesday Dec 2015

Posted by emilypageart in death, dementia, family, humor, music, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

engraving, funny side of death, gravestone, headstone, jazz, lyrics, things you don't want on your grave

As Dad starts to wind down, my mom and I are trying to prepare for his actual death as best we can. This includes talking about the tough stuff like what cremation service to use, what kind of memorial service to have, where we want to inter or scatter his ashes, etc. We are slowly lining things up so that, when the time comes, we won’t be overwhelmed. This is good, and is helping us emotionally prepare, though I am a little bit concerned that we’ll have taken care of everything and we won’t have anything to do to distract us when his death actually happens. When someone dies, historically, I go into “do” mode. I help plan the service, I clean out the person’s closet, I contact the people who need to be contacted. It keeps me occupied and not wallowing in pain, helping me to cope and to allow the grief to come in a little bit at a time, not as an onslaught. But we’ve been grieving for so long in this instance, that that distancing by “doing” may not be necessary this time around.

As a part of our preparations for my dad’s death, we’ve purchased a grave site and ordered a bench where his ashes can be interred, and that has 3 other spaces for our own ashes someday. We have the option of having something short engraved on the bench. Since Dad will be “getting the most use” out of the bench, it seems appropriate to choose something like lyrics from a jazz tune since Dad was a jazz musician. I’ve been going through my song books looking for options. Here are some of the lyrics I’ve rejected so far:

“I’m a glum one”

“The lady is a tramp”

“I’ve got you under my skin”

“Don’t you know, you fool, you never can win”

“Out cattin'”

“Doo wah doo wah doo wah”

“My heart does not stand still just hear it beat”

“I keep wishing I were somewhere else”

“When you are with me it’s worse”

“I’m limp as a glove”

“Blow your job”

“My new lovers all seem so tame”

“Mental deficient you’ll grade me”

“You’ve cooked my goose”

“I’m suing for damages”

If you have other suggestions from song lyrics (jazz or otherwise), please share them!!

 

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Emily Page

Emily Page

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