- Published on
"Dreams and Maps of Memory" - mixed media on cradled wood panel, 24" x 18" x 1". Ready to hang. Available here and at Artfinder.
This week's painting took a little side road into the peculiar. It happens now and again when my heart is wide open and my inner critic and director are banished to the sidewalk. Let's find out what she's whispering...
"The deepest place on Earth is not a physical place, but the stillness we enter at the bottom of our pain, at the bottom of our fear and worry." MARK NEPO
I imagine you have been to this place, dear reader. The place from which there is nowhere to go except to sit still and feel. Something about fall - shortening days, dying blooms, chilly nights - acts like a high-speed elevator to this place, dredging up memories and ghosts of feelings; maps of where we once were.
In the stillness of this deep place, Nepo says, "too tired to deny that there's nowhere else to go" we find the spaciousness of joy.
This week's painting took a little side road into the peculiar. It happens now and again when my heart is wide open and my inner critic and director are banished to the sidewalk. Let's find out what she's whispering...
"The deepest place on Earth is not a physical place, but the stillness we enter at the bottom of our pain, at the bottom of our fear and worry." MARK NEPO
I imagine you have been to this place, dear reader. The place from which there is nowhere to go except to sit still and feel. Something about fall - shortening days, dying blooms, chilly nights - acts like a high-speed elevator to this place, dredging up memories and ghosts of feelings; maps of where we once were.
In the stillness of this deep place, Nepo says, "too tired to deny that there's nowhere else to go" we find the spaciousness of joy.
Dreams and Maps of Memory
This place help us grow both softer and stronger, says Nepo. Holding these opposing concepts in my two hands, I see the truth of it. As in the painting, strength and softness can (and must) co-exist for us to be ourselves in the world. Lifting the mask, unfiltered, knowing we are strong enough to be soft, and soft enough to feel the joy in everything.
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Holding Opposites
"Holding Opposites" - mixed media on 300 lb watercolor paper, 15 x 15. Available here and at Artfinder.
Sometimes I just have to stop, take a breath and say whoa. When wrestling with life (who is a slippery, strong sparring partner, by the way) I am just giddy when a friend, a book or a bit of wisdom drops into my lap just like the universe was listening in on my whispered thoughts. And, of course, it is. :)
This week it was a worn and heavily underlined book loaned to me by an artist friend. The Five Things We Cannot Change and the Happiness We Find By Embracing Them, by David Richo. From the first page, it was my life in print and some very profound (if challenging) wisdom for, well, NOT controlling it.
In a chapter called "Everything Changes and Ends" (ACK! Stop showing me my life!) there is instruction for a two-handed practice in which you hold your fear in one hand and your commitment to no longer act in a fear-based way in the other. As in a Buddhist practice, you sit in your fear and breathe into it (not denying or pushing away) and then, simultaneously have awareness that you can handle whatever it is and get through it without becoming devastated. Richo says "One hand is serenely mindful; one is courageously working. When I hold both realities this way, I am agreeable to things as they are, and I am doing all I can to change them for the better as well." Relinquishing control and still doing your best. Saying "yes" to things as they are and holding hope they will be better. Reality plus hope = serenity and courage.
So I am practicing this holding of opposites in my thrice-daily walks (thank you, Wonder Mike, for keeping me moving). And I am watching the fear fall away as the self-empowerment grows. Yes to all the things. Yes to all the hope. Leaving a trail of cast-off control urges in the gutter with all the pretty red and yellow leaves.
So I am practicing this holding of opposites in my thrice-daily walks (thank you, Wonder Mike, for keeping me moving). And I am watching the fear fall away as the self-empowerment grows. Yes to all the things. Yes to all the hope. Leaving a trail of cast-off control urges in the gutter with all the pretty red and yellow leaves.
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Freed Beyond the Telling
"Freed Beyond the Telling" - mixed media on gallery wrapped canvas, 16 x 20. Ready to hang. Available here and at Artfinder.
Women are appearing in the studio. Pushing out from the canvas, telling stories with their eyes. I sit quietly with them, listening with something other than ears.
"All we want is to be freed beyond the telling of what went wrong or how we failed. All we want is to be freed into living the one song that keeps lifting through our hearts. Sometimes I think that what we call coincidence, what we call obstacle, what we call the miracle or surprise ---are all notes of the one song bringing us alive, throwing us into each other." MARK NEPO, Things That Join the Sea and the Sky
The one song throwing us into each other...echos of Hafiz (a Sufi poet) "God and I are like two fat people in a small boat - we just keep bumping into each other and laughing" (my favorite poem of all time).
Women are appearing in the studio. Pushing out from the canvas, telling stories with their eyes. I sit quietly with them, listening with something other than ears.
"All we want is to be freed beyond the telling of what went wrong or how we failed. All we want is to be freed into living the one song that keeps lifting through our hearts. Sometimes I think that what we call coincidence, what we call obstacle, what we call the miracle or surprise ---are all notes of the one song bringing us alive, throwing us into each other." MARK NEPO, Things That Join the Sea and the Sky
The one song throwing us into each other...echos of Hafiz (a Sufi poet) "God and I are like two fat people in a small boat - we just keep bumping into each other and laughing" (my favorite poem of all time).
Coincidence, obstacle, miracle, surprise as musical notes of the one song. These things that thread us together and bring us alive. There have been some obstacles - oh yes. But the coincidences (serendipity, synchronicity, magic) have lead to some surprise miracles that lift me into the one song and set my heart soaring.
In this painting, the layers are built and then heavily washed again and again and again. Each washing leaving a little of the layer, but also moving some of that paint in an uncontrolled manner. The telling of our stories, even the "what went wrong or how we failed" washes away some of the hurt but leaves a little shadow of what was, blurring into other stories until, one day, we are freed beyond the telling into living the one song.
In this painting, the layers are built and then heavily washed again and again and again. Each washing leaving a little of the layer, but also moving some of that paint in an uncontrolled manner. The telling of our stories, even the "what went wrong or how we failed" washes away some of the hurt but leaves a little shadow of what was, blurring into other stories until, one day, we are freed beyond the telling into living the one song.
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Full of Beautiful Mistakes
"Full of Beautiful Mistakes" - mixed media on 300 lb watercolor paper, 15" x 22". Available here and at Artfinder.
Another of my favorites from the Freedom in Watermedia workshop with Stan Kurth, this strong woman appeared early in the workshop, and continues to speak volumes in the studio. She's declared herself done, and that's good enough for me.
I don't often talk about what I see in my own paintings. Letting the viewer decide without my input is better, usually. But this one speaks loudly to me, so I'll share some thoughts.
- She's facing the dark - holding a shield, horizontal lines stopped by her boundary...the shield is part of her and yet a separate shape. And she's relaxed - confident her shield will protect her.
- She's scarred - her thigh, her knee, her face. She's taken some hits, but they are now a part of her person, beautiful markings.
- She's inscrutable - no expression to interpret. Or to misinterpret. She doesn't care what we think.
- Her legs are large and tree-like. She supports herself. No weak-kneed schoolgirl, this one. She's formidable
So as I contemplated this painting - this warrior woman - I spent an afternoon listening to all the songs I think of as power anthems for women: Janet Jackson's "Nasty", Joan Jett's "Bad Reputation", Alicia Keys' "Girl on Fire", Beyonce's "Run the World",, Lauren Hill's "That Thing", Ariana Grand's "God is a Woman" - to name a few. (I didn't require any coffee after that. Whoa! There is a lot of powerful energy in these songs!)
But there was just one song for the woman in this painting. And it isn't just a song for women, but for all of us imperfect and beautiful humans. Dear reader, this song's for you.
But there was just one song for the woman in this painting. And it isn't just a song for women, but for all of us imperfect and beautiful humans. Dear reader, this song's for you.
No matter what we do (no matter what we do)
No matter what we say (no matter what we say)
We're the song inside the tune (yeah, oh yeah)
Full of beautiful mistakes - CHRISTINA AGUILERA
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"Get Under It" - mixed media on cradled wood panel, 20" x 20". Ready to hang. Available here and at Artfinder.
I took a break from abstracts to paint a portrait. Which lead me to scrape the excess portrait paint onto a board. Which got my eye to seeing a landscape. Which turned into a full meander into the Columbia Valley River Gorge. Which became this painting. Where the muse points, I must go.
Which can sometimes lead to jumping off the deep end. Especially when the both post office and the department of motor vehicles are involved. Two government agencies in one big kerfuffle. Either the problem was getting unraveled or I was. Ok, sure, you and I both know the muse didn't send me into a tantrum. But I am blaming her anyway.
I took a break from abstracts to paint a portrait. Which lead me to scrape the excess portrait paint onto a board. Which got my eye to seeing a landscape. Which turned into a full meander into the Columbia Valley River Gorge. Which became this painting. Where the muse points, I must go.
Which can sometimes lead to jumping off the deep end. Especially when the both post office and the department of motor vehicles are involved. Two government agencies in one big kerfuffle. Either the problem was getting unraveled or I was. Ok, sure, you and I both know the muse didn't send me into a tantrum. But I am blaming her anyway.
Get Under It
Mark Nepo says "It doesn't matter what splinter the Universe gives us to stop us in our tracks". Oh really? Couldn't MY splinter be something meaningful and elegant in a universal metaphor of brilliance kind of way? Nope. I can handle the really big stuff. But those little splinters....ooooh they get under my skin (and cause bad puns). Nepo says "...it's no one's place to judge or say that what unhinges us doesn't make sense or that our heartbreak is too much..." The only thing that matters is that we trip into...what matters. Or, in my case, fall headfirst while having a tantrum. "The truth is that we are here precisely to fall off the deep end..." (Nepo again).
Ok, here is where that pesky Universe gets tricky with helping me learn something when I'd rather blow a gasket. "Our work...is to investigate what these sharp incidents are opening in us." (Nepo) Well other than wishing it had opened up a can of whoop-ass specially designed for government bureaucracy, it did help me realize some things about how helpless I felt in certain aspects of my life. And how that helplessness was really messing with my inner peace. Nepo calls this getting under it instead of getting over it. Which is apparently exactly what we humans are supposed to do.
And once more, my very, very dear reader, you've spent a few moments reading my musings and looking at a piece of art. I hope you get under whatever is harshing your mojo today. If not, I've got some unused whoop-ass you can borrow. :)
Ok, here is where that pesky Universe gets tricky with helping me learn something when I'd rather blow a gasket. "Our work...is to investigate what these sharp incidents are opening in us." (Nepo) Well other than wishing it had opened up a can of whoop-ass specially designed for government bureaucracy, it did help me realize some things about how helpless I felt in certain aspects of my life. And how that helplessness was really messing with my inner peace. Nepo calls this getting under it instead of getting over it. Which is apparently exactly what we humans are supposed to do.
And once more, my very, very dear reader, you've spent a few moments reading my musings and looking at a piece of art. I hope you get under whatever is harshing your mojo today. If not, I've got some unused whoop-ass you can borrow. :)
- Published on
"Lady of the Loch" - mixed media on gallery wrapped canvas, 16" x 20". SOLD
Let's take a departure from abstraction and experimentation this week and make a deep dive into the loch, where dark blue-green falls into the murky void and the cold waters harbor all manner of secrets and mysteries.
This piece is many weeks in the making. More layers than I can count. More mystery than I can unravel. She is loch and lock and Locke.
I have always thought the actions of men the best interpreters of their thoughts. - John Locke
She is watching and seeing and interpreting. She seems knowing, but our conversations have been one-sided: me asking her questions, her looking away knowingly.
Let's take a departure from abstraction and experimentation this week and make a deep dive into the loch, where dark blue-green falls into the murky void and the cold waters harbor all manner of secrets and mysteries.
This piece is many weeks in the making. More layers than I can count. More mystery than I can unravel. She is loch and lock and Locke.
I have always thought the actions of men the best interpreters of their thoughts. - John Locke
She is watching and seeing and interpreting. She seems knowing, but our conversations have been one-sided: me asking her questions, her looking away knowingly.
Lady of the Loch
Though she is wearing away, she appears solid. I wondered what that meant. And then, well, not Nepo, but someone Nepo quoted (see how tangled this web is?):
With each passing (and passage), there is a further wearing away of the layers or coverings that obscure our essential selves. And so, as we say "goodbye" again and again, we feel thinner, narrower, more naked, more transparent, more vulnerable in a palpable, holy way" - ELESA COMMERSE (as quoted in Mark Nepo's Things That Join the Sea and Sky)
Just like that, I can see glimpses of her essential self revealed under the waters of the loch. Not quite unlocked, but less obscured. And so are we, dear reader, with passing and passage, more vulnerable in holy ways.
With each passing (and passage), there is a further wearing away of the layers or coverings that obscure our essential selves. And so, as we say "goodbye" again and again, we feel thinner, narrower, more naked, more transparent, more vulnerable in a palpable, holy way" - ELESA COMMERSE (as quoted in Mark Nepo's Things That Join the Sea and Sky)
Just like that, I can see glimpses of her essential self revealed under the waters of the loch. Not quite unlocked, but less obscured. And so are we, dear reader, with passing and passage, more vulnerable in holy ways.
- Published on
The Brush Off
"The Brush Off" - mixed media on 300 lb watercolor paper, 22" x 15". Available here and at Artfinder.
One of my favorite pieces emerging from the Freedom in Watermedia workshop with Stan Kurth - the story behind this one begins with a Johnny Cash song:
From the backdoor of your life you swept me out dear
In the bread line of your dreams I lost my place
At the table of your love I got the brush off
At the Indianapolis of your heart I lost the race
I've been washed down the sink of your conscience
In the theater of your love I lost my part
And now you say you've got me out of your conscience
I've been flushed from the bathroom of your heart
In the garbage disposal of you dreams I've been ground up dear
On the river of your plans I'm up the creek
Up the elevator of your future I've been shafted
On the calendar of your events I'm last week
I've been washed down the sink of your conscience
In the theater of your love I lost my part
And now you say you've got me out of your conscience
I've been flushed from the bathroom of your heart
One of my favorite pieces emerging from the Freedom in Watermedia workshop with Stan Kurth - the story behind this one begins with a Johnny Cash song:
From the backdoor of your life you swept me out dear
In the bread line of your dreams I lost my place
At the table of your love I got the brush off
At the Indianapolis of your heart I lost the race
I've been washed down the sink of your conscience
In the theater of your love I lost my part
And now you say you've got me out of your conscience
I've been flushed from the bathroom of your heart
In the garbage disposal of you dreams I've been ground up dear
On the river of your plans I'm up the creek
Up the elevator of your future I've been shafted
On the calendar of your events I'm last week
I've been washed down the sink of your conscience
In the theater of your love I lost my part
And now you say you've got me out of your conscience
I've been flushed from the bathroom of your heart
Now if you've ever been dumped, rejected, kicked to the curb, left by the wayside or broken up with, you know there is nothing quite like a country song to help you wallow in your feelings. But not being much of a wallower, I find Cash's song country enough but also dang funny. A song that mocks songs like itself. And that makes me smile.
So the painting, which is strongly emotional and a wee bit intense, softened heaps and loads when it connected with the song. The body language of the figure now explained, we can move on to enjoying the catchy tune that accompanies a song about bathroom flushing. :)
So the painting, which is strongly emotional and a wee bit intense, softened heaps and loads when it connected with the song. The body language of the figure now explained, we can move on to enjoying the catchy tune that accompanies a song about bathroom flushing. :)
- Published on
"Lion, Skewed" (Inspired by Rufino Tamayo) - mixed media on 300 lb watercolor paper, 15 x 22. Available here and at Artfinder.
Taking a walk on the WILD side in the studio this week with a study of Rufino Tamayo's "Lion and Horse", which became a lonely lion in my sketch version and final painting.
Tamayo's oil painting is dark and rich and saturated, the characters highly geometric. The face of his lion was the inspiration for my skewed version. His is almost cartoonish!
Taking a walk on the WILD side in the studio this week with a study of Rufino Tamayo's "Lion and Horse", which became a lonely lion in my sketch version and final painting.
Tamayo's oil painting is dark and rich and saturated, the characters highly geometric. The face of his lion was the inspiration for my skewed version. His is almost cartoonish!
Lion, Skewed
With a focus on the face, and with adding some depth and interest to the background, my own mixed media version became a little more ferocious. Are those cage bars behind him? Has he escaped?
And once more the chant of RESIST RESIST RESIST in my head when I felt the urge to smooth, soften, accentuate.
And once more the chant of RESIST RESIST RESIST in my head when I felt the urge to smooth, soften, accentuate.
Lion and Horse - Rufino Tamayo 1942 oil on canvas
small sketch
small sketch, crayon, watercolor
We live in magical times...where we can often hear the voices of artists gone from the world. Take a listen as Tamayo discusses the sources of his color inspirations in this short video clip.
- Published on
Grandmother Moon
"Grandmother Moon" - mixed media on 300 lb watercolor paper, 22" x 15". Ready to frame. Available here and at Artfinder.
Another piece from the Freedom in Watermedia workshop with Stan Kurth. This one much more abstracted, yet still a figure. I've been gazing at this one daily since the workshop, and this week, during the full moon, she decided to speak. And given I've been thinking of my grandma recently, the title feels just right.
"To be alive is the biggest fear humans have. Death is not the biggest fear we have: our biggest fear is taking the risk to be alive ---the risk to be alive and express what we really are. Just being ourselves is the biggest fear of humans." DON MIGUEL RUIZ
Once you reach a certain, ahem, age (shhhhhhhhh - no need for numbers!) thoughts of mortality are more prevalent. Along with the preparing of wills and other documents which we'd much rather postpone until they are really necessary, by which time it will be too late. While watching my thoughts (don't you do that? It's like stalking your own mind...) I recently noticed way too many were about being old, passing away, fleeting time. So I wondered if I might be having a little anxiety or fear about death. Until I read the quote above in Ruiz' The Four Agreements and had a little epiphany. AHA! I am not afraid of dying. I am afraid of being REALLY alive and being EXACTLY who I am. Wow. Now there is a little something to sit in awe about.
I mean, really. How many of us are out there living a bold, fearless, carpe diem kind of life? How many of us spend an inordinate amount of time worried about what others think about how we [insert word here: dress, act, believe, eat, look, drink, decorate, write, drive, walk, think] and less than no time at all about what we'd really, REALLY like?
Maybe, my dear, cherished reader, you already seize the day in a brazen, Pippi Longstocking kind of way. If so, would you comment below with some much needed HOW TO for the rest of us? Though my intern is back at university now, Wonder Mike has volunteered to step in and send a little something sweet to the commenter whose comment is most commendable. Ready? Go!.
Once you reach a certain, ahem, age (shhhhhhhhh - no need for numbers!) thoughts of mortality are more prevalent. Along with the preparing of wills and other documents which we'd much rather postpone until they are really necessary, by which time it will be too late. While watching my thoughts (don't you do that? It's like stalking your own mind...) I recently noticed way too many were about being old, passing away, fleeting time. So I wondered if I might be having a little anxiety or fear about death. Until I read the quote above in Ruiz' The Four Agreements and had a little epiphany. AHA! I am not afraid of dying. I am afraid of being REALLY alive and being EXACTLY who I am. Wow. Now there is a little something to sit in awe about.
I mean, really. How many of us are out there living a bold, fearless, carpe diem kind of life? How many of us spend an inordinate amount of time worried about what others think about how we [insert word here: dress, act, believe, eat, look, drink, decorate, write, drive, walk, think] and less than no time at all about what we'd really, REALLY like?
Maybe, my dear, cherished reader, you already seize the day in a brazen, Pippi Longstocking kind of way. If so, would you comment below with some much needed HOW TO for the rest of us? Though my intern is back at university now, Wonder Mike has volunteered to step in and send a little something sweet to the commenter whose comment is most commendable. Ready? Go!.
- Published on
"Georgia" - mixed media on gallery wrapped canvas, 16" x 20". Ready to hang. Available here and at Artfinder.
A bit of departure from abstraction today. This portrait was just finished; it languished on my easel for nearly a month. I wasn't sure who it was, what it signified, why I was painting it. Until the final few layers, when she decided to become a likeness of my grandmother as a young woman. Funny, because I hadn't been thinking of her. But now, I am. :)
And so I think she pointed me to today's passage in Mark Nepo's The One Life We're Given : "...we're cleansed of stubbornness by the relentless tide of experience." Well, my stubbornness hasn't been fully removed by any means, but it has been worn away to nubbins. And Nepo promises we'll be "deeply renewed" once that stubbornness has had its butt kicked. I wouldn't mind a deep renewal...especially if it includes a pedicure.
A bit of departure from abstraction today. This portrait was just finished; it languished on my easel for nearly a month. I wasn't sure who it was, what it signified, why I was painting it. Until the final few layers, when she decided to become a likeness of my grandmother as a young woman. Funny, because I hadn't been thinking of her. But now, I am. :)
And so I think she pointed me to today's passage in Mark Nepo's The One Life We're Given : "...we're cleansed of stubbornness by the relentless tide of experience." Well, my stubbornness hasn't been fully removed by any means, but it has been worn away to nubbins. And Nepo promises we'll be "deeply renewed" once that stubbornness has had its butt kicked. I wouldn't mind a deep renewal...especially if it includes a pedicure.
Georgia
And I've been thinking about stubbornness quite a bit this week, as Wonder Mike becomes more comfortable in his new shangrala and begins to display his tiny but mighty personality. Which includes an abhorrence of walks. Twice a day, he and I each dig our heels in on opposite ends of the leash and take 45 minutes to go half a mile. He likes to sit and look around. I like to walk fast. I realized after a week of this that he probably doesn't know how wonderful walks really are (who knows if he was ever even on a leash before) and so I've begun wearing away his reluctance with pockets full of treats, the most interesting destinations and a willingness to stop and greet every single passerby and yes, even sit beside him on the sidewalk now and again. Just this morning, he sat by the garage door where his leash hangs, waiting to go. I wonder if he knows deep renewal and a doggy pedicure are coming his way?
