
A little robot girl I painted the other day. She’s thinking big thoughts, I can tell. :)

I made this one as a Christmas gift for a friend who likes frogs. I don’t know how to paint a real frog, so I painted a robot pretending to be a frog. He’s wearing a frog costume that’s way too small for him.
Here’s a little robot I painted last night. I wanted it to look like the robot was sending waves of creative energy out into the universe from a calm, safe place, but I feel like the creative energy part of the painting looks a bit too crazed and frazzle-y. I wanted that part to feel nicer somehow. I still think it’s a cute painting, though.
I like that the little robot looks like it’s floating in a tiny swimming pool. That wasn’t intentional — i think it’s just because I used a pool-ish color for the middle.
One thing I love about swimming/floating is that it kind of allows people to escape gravity for a while. I think maybe being creative does the same thing for our souls (or brains or whatever). I like the idea that through creativity, we allow ourselves to float.
Sometimes things (paperback books, mostly) come in the mail with extra pieces of cardboard, and sometimes that cardboard looks up and me and says “Paint something on me, Lisa,” and sometimes I do.

I didn’t make any holiday cards last year (I bought supplies and then got too busy), but I did make a little drawing of my dog in a Santa hat. I picked up that same notebook this year to sketch out some holiday card ideas, and when I saw my little Stitch drawing, I thought “That’s perfect.”
I made two versions of the card. It’s kind of hard to tell in the pictures, but they were both stamped and then sprinkled with glitter while the ink was still wet, so they’re VERY sparkly. The red version is more traditionally Christmasy, but I think the blue version is a little bit prettier.
And here’s the stamp I carved for printing them. (I had to reverse which eye Stitch was missing, so it would come out right on the card.)
In conclusion, I love my dog, and I hope you all have a very lovely rest of December, whether you’re celebrating Christmas or not.
Previous holiday cards (the ones I’ve posted online, at least):
Snowing robots (2008)
Happy snowflake (2004)
Bundled-up robot (2003) – this is one of my all-time faves.
A few months ago (or maybe longer), my friend and I walked by a garage sale that had already ended. There were boxes of stuff marked “free,” and we spent a while digging through them, because, hey… free stuff!
One of the boxes held a bunch of old office supplies (like security envelopes with a retro pattern inside) that sort of made sense to take. I also found some faded little orange boxes that said “Visiting Cards” on them. Inside were small white pieces of card stock, and they seemed to be saying “Paint robots on us, Lisa!”
Tonight I painted on one. This is the first little Visiting Card robot, and he’s headed out to visit a friend’s sister who is having surgery.
I painted this little guy last night. When I was in NY, my sister had a kitchen table delivered that was made of wood from an old cow barn. The table-maker had to adjust the legs a bit so the table stood flat on the floor, and that left a few tiny scraps of wood. I picked this one up and thought it looked like a little robot, so I painted it into one.
So, this guy is from a tree, that was turned into a cow barn, that was turned into a kitchen table, that was turned into a two-and-a-half inch tall painted robot. YAY for recycling!

Doesn't he look cute standing on my art table?
When I saw this shrinky dink tutorial the other day, I knew I had to give it a shot. Believe it not, I had never seen a shrinky dink (real or DIY) in action before tonight. I’m so glad I hadn’t taken the plastic take-out containers from my last trip to Poquito Mas out to the recycle bin, because they were the only #6 plastic I had in the house.
The tutorial calls for permanent markers, so I drew on the plastic with my Sharpies, and then cut them out.
I preheated the oven to 350 and put them on a little aluminum foil tray on the bottom rack.

The first few seconds the shrinky dinks are in the oven, things get pretty crazy, at least for a shrinky dink newbie. Each piece of plastic swells up like a big bubble and then curls around. It happened so fast, I didn’t even have a chance to wonder if I was inhaling toxic fumes!
About two and a half minutes later, I decided they looked done. Not sure why I thought so. Shrinky dink instincts? Even before I took them out of the oven, I could see that something had gone horrifically wrong with this little guy. I accidentally put him on the foil upside down, which melted the marker ink. Poor li’l robot.
The rest of the robots turned out pretty cute, I think:
Here’s a shot of light shining through the blue guy:
And look how tiny and thick they got! They totally lived up to my shrinky expectations.
I’m a bit sketched out by melting plastic in the same oven where I cook my food, so I probably won’t make shrinky dinks on a regular basis, but this was a fun craft using something that otherwise would’ve ended up in a recycle bin. And of course, my inner 7-year-old is thrilled that I finally got to watch a shrinky dink do its thing through the oven door.
If you want to try it yourself, these instructions worked for me. (Just be sure that all your little marker drawings are facing up when you put them in the oven!)
This is a little robot I painted last year for my friend Ken. When I met him, Ken was wearing fuzzy bunny ears with blinky LEDs inside. (We were at a spring-themed rollerskating event, so bunny ears weren’t quite as strange an accessory choice as they might’ve been otherwise.)
This robot’s message for the world: If you ever see a random person wearing light-up bunny ears, it’s probably a good idea to go over and say hi. Ken says we will be friends forever, and I hope he’s right.

I woke up with this image in my head today, so I figured I might as well paint it. A lot of stuff is changing in my life, and it’s got me feeling adrift. I sort of want to embrace that feeling and float free and take risks and see what happens, but then I remember that I’m oversensitive and not very good with change. Sometimes taking risks feels dangerous and stupid, but sometimes maybe it’s stupider not to?
For now I want to finish my novel (step 1: find some time to work on it this week) and then figure out some new goals. This balloony feeling is no good.