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The Pallet

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an artists pallet tells you quite a bit about his personality

the color choices and mixes and the way they are mixed on the pallet. the brush strokes on the pallet are as distinctive as they are on the canvas.

you can tell people by their shoes their hairdo their choices re telling . furniture, clothing choices, car, watch, you used to be able to tell a lot about a person by their hat, now its their baseball cap the writing on their shirt the shine or lack of it on their shoes. it is interesting how we all have our own way. i had a friend in the massage and body work business who knew patients by the way they moved. everyone moves differently and distinctly the way you like your eggs, your speech pattern. pick one. which one. how is it the same, how is it distinctive. how is it the same as everyone elses. is it different in minnesota than it is in austrailia or germany or north dakota?

what is your signature?

what was you moms?

48 thoughts on “The Pallet”

  1. I’m confused! This post is by verily sherrilee? No caps and punctuation? This piece screams “TIM,” although, as a ruse, most of the typos have been removed. I scanned the piece for the word “form,” but didn’t find it. I think this is fake news. Has to be. Either that or my head cold, which has turned into a nasty sinus infection, has affected my brain. You just can’t rust anyone anymore. And now you want my signature? And my moms? What do you think I am? Stupid?

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    2. Sorry. Here’s the deal. When you enter the piece yourself, WordPress automatically knows who to attribute it to. If I add it for you, then I need to remember to write a tag line at the top saying who wrote the story. My bad.

      Obviously this is our tim!!

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  2. My winter signature includes Norwegian and Aran sweaters worn with corduroy pants and turtle necks.

    My mom’s signature was an immaculately kept house with lots of fake but tasteful flower arrangements.

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    1. my daughter bought us a silk flower arrangement when she was 8 because it would last forever and it costs the same as the ones we throw away in a week
      i smile every time i look at it in the guest bathroom

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      2. Grandma Boom (that was her moniker and it suited her personality) was pretty random about the placement of those flowers. She was quite short, and would tape them up where she could reach and where her whimsy led her. I remember a single stalk of a red, plastic rose once, of the thickness typical of plastic flowers you put out on graves for Memorial Day. She just liked it, and taped it up. She also someimes wore anklets with her pumps and dresses. She dyed her hair with blue rinse.

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      3. She also cut out the pictures of children and kittens from the Northern Bathroom Tissue packages snd taped them to the walls, too. She thought they were pretty.

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  3. Casual style in everything – language, clothing. I like brighter colors and although I profess to have purple as my favorite color, a quick look at my closet says it’s really turquoise. Turtlenecks in winter. Zorries (flip flops) in summer. Binders for all projects!

    Got the organizational flair from my mom.

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      3. When I retired I threw out over 30 3-ring binders of stuff: all my sermons, all the text books I wrote, all my tests and assignments, my college notes, collected ideas, etc. It took me two years to have the guts to do it. Last week I threw out five binders of collected stuff for art, such as pictures and articles, and my two novels in binders. I forced myself to be this way. It was not my nature.

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  4. Rise and Sign Baboons!

    Taking this question literally, my mother’s signature was a beautiful representation of the Palmer Penmanship method with her name. It was admirable. Her other life signature was “being in control.” I used to tell her that she missed her calling as a Marine Corps Drill Sergeant. She was, predictably, offended. And it was true.

    My professional signature has become a sloppy scrawl of my name and credentials. My art signature is my entire first name and my last initial with a Morning Glory vine. I hope I get to use that a lot more in the near future, as I fantasize about art projects. Meanwhile, I am really struggling with the transition back to MN and the transition to non-owner of the practice. Lots of grief and loss and growing older pains. This may be the source of a next art project to move myself through the transition. I will sign it, of course.

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    1. are you getting a percentage of the practice or just sticking your head in out of moral or contractual agreement?

      thin of your practice like trump taking over the white house

      take obamas lead and go scuba diving except do it in your art room with that funny clay

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        1. just realize that when the contract portion of the deal is done and they haven’t done what you suggested and they need more help then you go back as a consultant and consultants get to charge whatever they feel is necessary in order to get the job done

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    2. I have terrible handwriting, and now that I have arthritis in my hands, it is even worse. My mom had beautiful handwriting. She was a Grade 3 teacher. She said I learned writing from one of her colleagues who had terrible penmanship. She is right.

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      1. People used to now and then tell me I should be teaching penmanship. One night at a conference with the parents of about the best family we had for wonderful students the wife raised this issue. The father rolled his eyes. He was a neurologist. He said she refused to read the research that says your handwriting–your daily business of writing thoughts on paper, not necessarily your signature or doing callgraphy–is innate. No one taught it to you. Your neuropaths determine it. he sent me the research. Pretty clear stuff. Handwriting is innate. I used to tell this to people, educators in particular and often get the answer “I don’t believe in research.” Then I would ask them if they insisted their doctor practice ancient medicine. Now I would say, “So you voted for Trump.”

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  6. In the large senses of my style/signature/MO–sloppy.
    Getting sloppier with age, pain, and loss of muscle control. (I see the surgeon today to get this @#&%>@# bandage/brace off. I am betting the surgery did not do much good.)

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    1. I do hope you’re wrong, Clyde, but if you’re not, and it didn’t in fact do much good, I guess the silver lining is that there’s no point in doing the other hand.

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  7. I’m with vs, casual style in everything. The older I get, the more casual. Looking at the weather forecast, it will be warm enough to wear sandals all of

    OT – This morning husband’s former boss dropped off his 5 month old, soft coated Wheaten Terrier, Leo, for us to take care of until Tuesday. Cute as a bugs ear, very friendly, wants to play, but neither Martha nor Bernie are receptive so far. Leo seems to be a smart dog, and he’s doing his level best to entice either of both them to play. Once he relaxes I’m sure they’ll all be fine. It surprises me, though, that Bernie doesn’t seem interested in the least. Martha, on the other hand, is watching closely. Initially from her perch on top of our hutch in the dining room, she has now relaxed enough to watch from the seat of a chair. She’s clearly reached the conclusion that this new critter is no threat, although he is a royal pain in the posterior. This should be fun!

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  8. Never thought about a personal signature before. Now that I have, I don’t believe I have one. ;-( Well, maybe when I sign my name, I make sort of a stylized triangle with the “y” on “Norbury.”

    Chris in O-town

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  11. When I edited a magazine and wrote articles for a hunting/fishing readership the issue of a signature style was crucial and complex. I had taught college writing for six years. I had a master’s degree. But my audience included many guys who had graduated from high school just by showing up for four years. They would easily be spooked by the style markers of academia.

    I could only write by being organized and by attempting to be original. That forced me to invent a style that was more intelligent and orderly than it seemed to be. I wrote in a casual, vernacular way that hid the order and discipline I used to create it. By using humor and casual language I could meet my own standards for being orderly and thoughtful but not frighten my audience by sounding like a college English teacher.

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  12. I don’t suppose you can avoid being accused of having a style. Even not having a discernable style is a style of sorts. I choose clothing for comfort, economy, practicality, and versatility and I wear it until it wears out. Fashion, if that’s what is meant by style, doesn’t enter into my choices. Neither do signifiers of status.
    I’m a little puzzled by “signature”. To me, that suggests an affectation consciously chosen to imply something about yourself. It’s like trying to give yourself a nickname– it’s not organic and it’s a little ridiculous.

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  14. When the late great upside-down Christmas tree betrayed us and gave in to it’s inherently unstable center of gravity, I lost a big piece of my signature. I love unique stuff. I had researched and plotted and saved and debated for several years before I was finally able to order the world’s most amazing Christmas tree. The fantastic properties of an upside-down Christmas tree include, but are not limited to, an unmatchable ability to display a massive collection of carefully chosen and beloved ornaments, and just being the only one anyone had ever seen in person. With the wide part at the top, all the ornaments could hang freely, no resting or hiding on the branches below. My husband was even able to find an old-fashioned red and green metal tree stand to put at the top; the whole concept and execution was a thing of beauty. We had it for five or six years. The first few years were uneventful. We lived in our downtown condo and the tree was a focal point for the whole building. Holiday parties in the building inevitably led to a parade to our unit to admire the amazingness of the tree. The next couple of years were harder. The tree was very awkward, not to mention top-heavy. As we, and it aged, it was harder to keep it stable. We finally had to ask our daughter and son-in-law to come over and help with assembly and stabilization, we still did the decorating, me climbing a ladder to reach the upper branches and it still looked fantastic, but it’s years were numbered. In 2010, it was nearly decorated, heavy-duty Velcroed to the carpet and looking fine, when a sudden shift in the earth’s axis, or atmospheric pressure or some, previously unknown force exerted itself against the tree and it started to sway. I lept from my ladder and held it steady, but it was more than we could muster to expect it to ever be worthy of our trust again. I undecorated it, packed up the massive collection of carefully chosen and beloved ornaments and hauled it to the trash. I felt betrayed and identity-less. To this day, we have not had a satisfactory replacement Christmas tree. Twice we purchased enormous poinsettia trees, which are pretty amazing in their own right, but a Christmas tree that can match the uniqueness and display properties of the upside-down tree has not been found. I’m trying not to be defined by my Christmas tree; I know I shouldn’t be defined by my stuff, but it’s hard. My continuing identity is a work in progress. (I don’t know how to post a photo, but I’ll send one of the tree to VS to post, you’ll see what I mean.)

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  15. I realize I didn’t answer the second question – my mother’s signature (her handwriting was like Jackie’s mom and Renee’s…) would have to Everything Matching – she still has a lovely collection of scarves that her aides help her put together with whatever top she has on, and maybe some earrings.

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    1. I too, forgot to mention my mom’s signature, BiR. She has been called a “theme dresser”, and repeats the term whenever possible. She has well over a hundred pairs of earrings and takes great pride in having remarkable matches to every outfit. She has sweatshirts and sweaters for every holiday, and bins of seasonal clothing that my sister switches in and out of her closet spring and fall. Her giraffe top with matching earrings and neacklace, are the stuff of legend. I could go on and on. She comes by it honestly; her mother made a point of dressing (or at least accessorizing) in red and/or green, exclusively, from Thanksgiving through Christmas, and that was in the era of house dresses for everyday female attire.

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  16. My mother always wore slacks, the polyester kind you could get at JC Penney’s. She wasn’t much into jewelry. She had some clip-on earrings in her jewelry box, but I don’t think I ever saw her wear them. Practicality was her style.

    I guess I take after her, but I do like jewelry. I have a lot of earrings.

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