I had this idea way back in October, and I’ve worked since then to prepare for this day.

I’ve wanted to create a way to share my stories and my images from my daily painting practice with you. A little brainstorming with the amazing Jen Lee and a little design work from the lovely Liz Kalloch has helped to make this a reality.

This portable gallery showcases 100 of my favorite paintings and stories for you. You can flip through the pages and read each story, or choose one of your favorite images to display on your desk, or beside your bed. The unique binding allows the book to stand upright like an easel, so it really is like a gallery you can take anywhere.

I’ve chosen 100 paintings from the past two years of daily painting projects and this project has me giddy with anticipation. Sticking with my theme of the year, I’ll ship this out on Leap Day, February 29, 2012.

There’s much more to do, and a few pieces that have to fall in to place, but I couldn’t wait to tell you any longer.My newsletter subscribers heard last week, and I’m looking forward to offering all of you the chance to hold many of my paintings in your hand in this form. I’m spending this weekend working on editing and details, and as soon as I get the all clear, I’ll give you a chance to order. But for now, celebrate with me as I leap in to something completely new.

The year started with a trip to Alabama that ended with my bolt to the airport in a desperate attempt to get out of the South before snowpocalypse hit. I made it on the last seat of the last flight allowed off the runway in Atlanta. When the time the captain turned off the seat belt sign he announced that there was 3 inches of snow on the ground in ATL. Airports were closed for more than 9 days and I could only breathe a sigh of relief that I made it back to Portland, warm weather and my marvelous husband. It seemed like a good omen for the year.

Love these girls. Photo by G.

And I guess it was. Three weeks later I got the call from Jeopardy that I had qualified for an audition.  I went to Salt Lake City in March, where I spent three days with marvelous friends, and rocked that audition. Despite my knowledge gap in sports and science, I managed to do pretty well. I went straight to the airport and flew home  to Portland to set up that evening for the Buckman Show and Sell. It was an amazing event and a big turning point for me. I realized that I had been pretending to be professional long enough that I actually felt like one. (Another example of “Fake it ’til you make it!”)

Then I went to NYC for an incredible girls’ weekend in Brooklyn. Months later, I’m still thinking through how good that weekend was for my soul. I long for more weekends where my only focus is taking care of myself and the people around me. Times where we remind one another to take our vitamins and check in with “Is everyone having fun?” Weekends of shoe shopping and sunglasses swapping and soy hot chocolates. Weekends of making dinner and sitting for hours around the table. Weekends of understanding one another. And merit badges just for making it this far in life. Weekends of being seen.

In between all of this, I was painting faces. 100 of them. It was hard. But so worth it.

And I was moving in to the house of my dreams. With a studio just for me. And a fireplace. And a kitchen worthy of all the pastry I was making. And painting in public. And I was turning 34.

From there, the year moved in to the all consuming World Domination Summit. Preparing and planning and stuffing gift bags and hanging hammocks and navigating the tangle of bureaucracy that comes with inviting 500 people to town.

No wonder I was tired all summer. And of course, then there was the hurt. Summer 2011 will be known forever as the summer of betrayal. People I trusted let me down. In big and unexpected ways. But I came out knowing my own boundaries a bit more and being willing to trust my gut. I learned to say yes to what I needed. I learned to take care of myself and made decisions based on what I really value.

I also got to paint for some really fun projects that I’ll finally be able to tell you about in January.

I packed and went to Squam. I told a story on stage! I returned stronger and braver. I started a new painting series. I learned to accept compliments.

I taught knitting and accepted a few more private students in to my schedule for painting and drawing. I had good days and bad days. Sometimes on the same day.

I recognized my own worth. I built connections. I trusted myself. I made paintings that excite me. I made 2011 a year to be proud of.

Photo by Jen Lee

This project is personal. And stretches me. My ideas about my paintings, my self worth, my writing, my purpose as an artist have all evolved because of this project. That’s why you haven’t seen much of my work here on the blog. So many of the stories I’m sharing are personal and I’ve been much more comfortable sharing this work with my newsletter subscribers– it seems a bit safer for me somehow. Maybe it’s because they’ve told me they like my work already– they’ve signed up to get that daily painting in their inbox. Maybe it’s because I needed to commit to a small step and this space on the internet still just seems to leave me a bit too exposed.

Over the next few days, I’m going to add a few of my favorite paintings from this project here, but the idea of putting all fifty up still freaks me out a little. So if you’ve been missing me, you can find me here.

I’ve been clearing a few cobwebs of my own these days. Every year around this time, I find a few more things I need to let go. Sometimes it’s clearing out a closet, and sometimes it’s letting go of ideas that entangle me.

One of the best ways to do that comes from writing, and I’ve been surprised that writing here has clarified so many things for me. For example, I’m realizing that my words here are entwined with the painting. It’s why l love painting and writing these notes to you. They belong together.

And I realize that not everyone appreciates that, but I really feel like my real work is emerging from this series and I’m letting go of a few cobwebs around that. Like the idea that abstract work isn’t “real” art. Or that people aren’t interested in my stories. Or that my work is validated by how many people read these words every morning.

The truth is, I’m doing good work. I know that. And those pesky cobwebs holding ideas that get in the way of that truth need to be swept away.

Carrie wrote me this week, with perhaps the best compliment of all 2011.

“Jolie, in a world of Rice Krispies, you are a bowl of Fruity Pebbles.”

I’m saving this quote forever. Thanks, Carrie.

And yesterday was one of those days. You know, the kind where the cat wakes you up hours before the alarm goes off and you can’t get back to sleep, then you realize the bike basket you ordered is never going to fit the new bike, and things are hectic all day long, and you get a headache, and then you realize that headache might be because it’s 6pm and you’ve eaten nothing all day but some cinnamon raisin toast and a soy latte. So you decide to go for sushi by yourself and the waitress messes up the order and leaves you waiting for nearly an hour when all you want is a measly avocado roll.

But then again, yesterday was one of those days. You know, the kind where you wake before the sun and watch the light slowly fill the sky, then jump on your beautiful new bike and zip down the hill in the sunshine, and fill so much of your day with things that you love to do– like knit, and teach art and paint– that you forget to eat. And then you get to spend an hour reading a book in peace while waiting for someone else to make food for you. And the avocado roll is amazing.

The reality is honestly somewhere between those two days. But I like the second version better. The line may be blurry, but my glass is always half full.

There are three types of tangles in my world.

1. The tangle you see coming and you’re able to prevent with a quick flick of the wrist.
2. The tangle that delays your project for a few minutes, but makes you feel smart when you restore order to the yarn.
3. The tangle that takes hours to untangle and makes you cry or stamp your foot in frustration at least once.

When faced with a tangle like number three, I have to decide– is it worth the untangle? See, if it’s a $60 skein of silk, then maybe I’m willing to spend hours. But if it’s $3 acrylic fun fur, I doubt I’d invest more than a few minutes.

It’s a bit like relationships. Sometimes a relationship that needs to be untangled. Maybe words are twisted, or webs have been woven and you have to decide if it’s worth untangling, so that you can knit things back together.

And if I call them fairy lights, I can hang them in my studio all year, right?

Today as I was thinking about what I wanted to paint, my alarm went off and I was thinking about my spine. So I decided to sit up straight and paint what I was thinking.

Over the past year or so, I’ve realized that those boxes are pretty fuzzy.

So I’ve been working to think more of the whole. Each of those pieces is integral to who I am, but they aren’t distinct. They blend together.