- Published on
"I wish I May, I wish I Might" -mixed media on cradled board, 12" x 12". Ready to hang. Available on Artfinder.
Only TWO MORE DAYS! Another 30 Paintings in 30 Days September is nearly upon us. And in the studio, that means wild chaos and piles of supplies everywhere. Because you never know what you're going to feel like painting, and a girl's got to have art supplies.
So just in case you aren't aware of this particular phenomenon, here is a recap: twice a year, artist Leslie Saeta (check her out here) hosts a creative challenge - create something every day for a month and post it online. Simple, right? An each time this event comes around, over a thousand artists worldwide sign up. (you can peek at what they do each day on the official page: www.saetastudio.com/30-in-30-blog) This is an extra special treat for art enthusiasts, as it's like extreme arting every day for a month. You might need an art detox afterward . So many goodies!
But for artists, this challenge is a game-changer. First, it makes you create every day. Now that is a big hurdle in a busy world. Most people will find the more they create, the easier it is to fit it in. It's like magic that way. Secondly, the challenge makes you post your work to the public daily. This is HUGE! Over time, your fear of what others may think disappears as you rush just to get it done. And once that inner critic is quiet....you art begins to soar. And this leads to number three: by creating every day and putting it out in the world, it changes you whole discipline, your practice, your pace and your approach until you very art itself begins to change into something you never would otherwise have achieved. That Leslie...she's a smart one.
This time around will be a particular challenge for me, as September's schedule includes special events and a bit of travel that will eat up a ton of time. For me, this is ideal. Because it forces type-A me to relax and go with the flow, maybe miss a few days (feel my face freeze in a panic grimace? MISS DAYS? aaaaack!) and be less than perfectionistic. Hmmmmm.
Let's give it a go, shall we? On your mark, get set....PAINT!
Only TWO MORE DAYS! Another 30 Paintings in 30 Days September is nearly upon us. And in the studio, that means wild chaos and piles of supplies everywhere. Because you never know what you're going to feel like painting, and a girl's got to have art supplies.
So just in case you aren't aware of this particular phenomenon, here is a recap: twice a year, artist Leslie Saeta (check her out here) hosts a creative challenge - create something every day for a month and post it online. Simple, right? An each time this event comes around, over a thousand artists worldwide sign up. (you can peek at what they do each day on the official page: www.saetastudio.com/30-in-30-blog) This is an extra special treat for art enthusiasts, as it's like extreme arting every day for a month. You might need an art detox afterward . So many goodies!
But for artists, this challenge is a game-changer. First, it makes you create every day. Now that is a big hurdle in a busy world. Most people will find the more they create, the easier it is to fit it in. It's like magic that way. Secondly, the challenge makes you post your work to the public daily. This is HUGE! Over time, your fear of what others may think disappears as you rush just to get it done. And once that inner critic is quiet....you art begins to soar. And this leads to number three: by creating every day and putting it out in the world, it changes you whole discipline, your practice, your pace and your approach until you very art itself begins to change into something you never would otherwise have achieved. That Leslie...she's a smart one.
This time around will be a particular challenge for me, as September's schedule includes special events and a bit of travel that will eat up a ton of time. For me, this is ideal. Because it forces type-A me to relax and go with the flow, maybe miss a few days (feel my face freeze in a panic grimace? MISS DAYS? aaaaack!) and be less than perfectionistic. Hmmmmm.
Let's give it a go, shall we? On your mark, get set....PAINT!
- Published on
"Some Pig!" mixed media on paper, 22" x 30". Ready to frame. Available on Artfinder.
My studio has gone to the pigs. Not just any pigs, mind you, but the kind who feel unlimited by their earthly bodies, who never give up hope of being gracefully airborne and gliding through clouds. This piece, inspired by a professor at NSU, is my new favorite. She is SOME PIG!
When I was two through four years old in Minneapolis, we had a babysitter called "Wessie". Her last name was "West", and I couldn't pronounce her first name, so she was always just Wessie to me. She was quite old even then, and took me for walks in the neighborhood on a harness and a leash (oh yes she did!) because I was known to run at the sound of thunder. Just so you know, I don't do that anymore. :) We moved away shortly after that, and I never saw her again.
But every year, on Christmas and on my birthday, she sent me a book. I believe those books came until I was twelve years old (which would have made Wessie very old indeed). Charlotte's Web, The Trumpet of the Swan, The Pilgrim's Progress...it didn't matter what my actual reading age was, she sent books to challenge and delight. We didn't have cell phones, color t.v.s or the internet then, so reading was part of every day. I never would have willingly picked out the books Wessie sent to me, but I read every one of them anyway. And thank goodness I did! Wilbur and Charlotte were my favorite pair of characters, and remain forever the gold standard for an example of encouragement, friendship and the power of words.
I was too young to know whatever happened to Wessie, and also too young to ask why she was so kind, all those years after we moved away. Other than writing a perfunctory thank you note for each gift, I never asked about her, about our odd and lasting connection and about her choice of books. I wonder if she knew how magical those books became, how lasting the impact on my life, and how that kindness lingers as a sweet memory all these years later?
Today I am going to pass it on and send someone a book. Who knows? It might even be a book about magical pigs.
My studio has gone to the pigs. Not just any pigs, mind you, but the kind who feel unlimited by their earthly bodies, who never give up hope of being gracefully airborne and gliding through clouds. This piece, inspired by a professor at NSU, is my new favorite. She is SOME PIG!
When I was two through four years old in Minneapolis, we had a babysitter called "Wessie". Her last name was "West", and I couldn't pronounce her first name, so she was always just Wessie to me. She was quite old even then, and took me for walks in the neighborhood on a harness and a leash (oh yes she did!) because I was known to run at the sound of thunder. Just so you know, I don't do that anymore. :) We moved away shortly after that, and I never saw her again.
But every year, on Christmas and on my birthday, she sent me a book. I believe those books came until I was twelve years old (which would have made Wessie very old indeed). Charlotte's Web, The Trumpet of the Swan, The Pilgrim's Progress...it didn't matter what my actual reading age was, she sent books to challenge and delight. We didn't have cell phones, color t.v.s or the internet then, so reading was part of every day. I never would have willingly picked out the books Wessie sent to me, but I read every one of them anyway. And thank goodness I did! Wilbur and Charlotte were my favorite pair of characters, and remain forever the gold standard for an example of encouragement, friendship and the power of words.
I was too young to know whatever happened to Wessie, and also too young to ask why she was so kind, all those years after we moved away. Other than writing a perfunctory thank you note for each gift, I never asked about her, about our odd and lasting connection and about her choice of books. I wonder if she knew how magical those books became, how lasting the impact on my life, and how that kindness lingers as a sweet memory all these years later?
Today I am going to pass it on and send someone a book. Who knows? It might even be a book about magical pigs.
- Published on
"Out on a Lamb" - mixed media on reclaimed wood, 18" x 30". Ready to hang. Inquiries.
It's time for some mid-week malarkey. We've got a ton of transitioning going on over here...baby boy is off to school, husband is off to start a new job. Except, wait...he's still here. That's right, he's working from home. Holy bumping into one another, batman! Fortunately, his new office and my studio are at opposite ends of the house. We can meet in the middle for lunch and a friendly (or not so friendly) game of backgammon. He now has the ultimate commute.
We are in the countdown until 30 Paintings in 30 Days begins on September 1st. Which means it is time to prep some substrate, clear the decks and get ready to double down on studio time! And choose a theme. Hmmmmm. Meanwhile, the fall and winter art calls are slamming into my in-box and someone had better figure out where she's going to be and when. Am I stressed out? Nope. The fun is just beginning.
Which brings me back to this painting. Full-on malarkey. Inspired by a video about rabbits hitchhiking on sheep (no, really! check it below) and an artist friend challenging me to paint it. Apparently, these characters were a little put out by posing for this scenario, which they called "a ridiculous stretch of the imagination" despite the video proof. If you've ever argued with a rabbit, you know how impossible they are. And don't get me started on grumpy sheep. But the really interesting thing about this story is that rabbits are considered pests in New Zealand and are being eradicated. The farmer thought these scrappy little wild ones were so ingenious, however, that they deserved to live so he let them surf on. Awwwww. Lucky rabbits.
It's time for some mid-week malarkey. We've got a ton of transitioning going on over here...baby boy is off to school, husband is off to start a new job. Except, wait...he's still here. That's right, he's working from home. Holy bumping into one another, batman! Fortunately, his new office and my studio are at opposite ends of the house. We can meet in the middle for lunch and a friendly (or not so friendly) game of backgammon. He now has the ultimate commute.
We are in the countdown until 30 Paintings in 30 Days begins on September 1st. Which means it is time to prep some substrate, clear the decks and get ready to double down on studio time! And choose a theme. Hmmmmm. Meanwhile, the fall and winter art calls are slamming into my in-box and someone had better figure out where she's going to be and when. Am I stressed out? Nope. The fun is just beginning.
Which brings me back to this painting. Full-on malarkey. Inspired by a video about rabbits hitchhiking on sheep (no, really! check it below) and an artist friend challenging me to paint it. Apparently, these characters were a little put out by posing for this scenario, which they called "a ridiculous stretch of the imagination" despite the video proof. If you've ever argued with a rabbit, you know how impossible they are. And don't get me started on grumpy sheep. But the really interesting thing about this story is that rabbits are considered pests in New Zealand and are being eradicated. The farmer thought these scrappy little wild ones were so ingenious, however, that they deserved to live so he let them surf on. Awwwww. Lucky rabbits.
- Published on
"Love, Sweet Love" - mixed media on gallery-wrapped canvas, 36" x 36". Ready to hang. Available on Artfinder.
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
It's the only thing that there's just too little of
What the world needs now is love, sweet love,
No not just for some but for everyone.
- Jackie DeShannon
Contemplating eclipses and the perfect timing of this one today. In the Lakota tradition, the eclipse is called a "fire cloud". According to one source, "a great creature in the sky swallows the sun, and the sun...with his headdress, burns through the cloud...and is victorious." A time for quiet meditation, and asking for the return of the sun. Not just in the sky, but the light and love within ourselves. What a perfect pause in a world of heightened emotions and unrest.
In Navajo traditions, viewing the eclipse, or even being outside and partaking of activities in it, is taboo. Instead, it is a time for reflecting on the sun and the moon. Their beliefs stem from watching animal behavior during eclipses, which was to stop eating, huddle up and rest. Some schools in western U.S. are closed in respect for this tradition.
The Batammaliba people in Africa believe the sun and the moon are fighting, and people are to join together and ask them to stop. It is a time of resolution and healing of old feuds. Hmmmmm. I think they are onto something.
This piece is one I've painted versions of again and again. Something mystic and magical to me about this girl in the sky, whether she is reaching for stars or for love. It is a large piece this time, three feet in each direction. A piece of art from the heavens on a day when the heavens perform art.
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
It's the only thing that there's just too little of
What the world needs now is love, sweet love,
No not just for some but for everyone.
- Jackie DeShannon
Contemplating eclipses and the perfect timing of this one today. In the Lakota tradition, the eclipse is called a "fire cloud". According to one source, "a great creature in the sky swallows the sun, and the sun...with his headdress, burns through the cloud...and is victorious." A time for quiet meditation, and asking for the return of the sun. Not just in the sky, but the light and love within ourselves. What a perfect pause in a world of heightened emotions and unrest.
In Navajo traditions, viewing the eclipse, or even being outside and partaking of activities in it, is taboo. Instead, it is a time for reflecting on the sun and the moon. Their beliefs stem from watching animal behavior during eclipses, which was to stop eating, huddle up and rest. Some schools in western U.S. are closed in respect for this tradition.
The Batammaliba people in Africa believe the sun and the moon are fighting, and people are to join together and ask them to stop. It is a time of resolution and healing of old feuds. Hmmmmm. I think they are onto something.
This piece is one I've painted versions of again and again. Something mystic and magical to me about this girl in the sky, whether she is reaching for stars or for love. It is a large piece this time, three feet in each direction. A piece of art from the heavens on a day when the heavens perform art.
- Published on
"Bovine Malarkey" - mixed media on paper, 22" x 30". Available on Artfinder.
Upside down
Boy, you turn me
Inside out
And 'round and 'round
- Diana Ross, "Upside Down"
Mercury retrograde is back! Can you feel it? Is your technology wonky? Are you struggling to be on time? Is your car acting squirrelly? Does accomplishing the smallest thing seem just a wee bit harder than it has to be? We spent 36 hours without internet as soon as the retrograde began. Then the world went crazy with nuclear bomb smack talk and racist rallies. This is shaping up to be quite a doozy. So what's a girl to do?
The best thing about being unplugged is not hearing the news. It allows a little space between hither and yon. But eventually the lemons pile up, and it's time to make the lemonade. When I can't control the wide world (which is every day, of course, but some days it seems more significant than others) then I just control my own world. I start cleaning out closets, organizing, making labels, sorting files and making sense of little things. Several trips to Goodwill later, I find myself saying "What's next?" and looking for projects.
Upside down
Boy, you turn me
Inside out
And 'round and 'round
- Diana Ross, "Upside Down"
Mercury retrograde is back! Can you feel it? Is your technology wonky? Are you struggling to be on time? Is your car acting squirrelly? Does accomplishing the smallest thing seem just a wee bit harder than it has to be? We spent 36 hours without internet as soon as the retrograde began. Then the world went crazy with nuclear bomb smack talk and racist rallies. This is shaping up to be quite a doozy. So what's a girl to do?
The best thing about being unplugged is not hearing the news. It allows a little space between hither and yon. But eventually the lemons pile up, and it's time to make the lemonade. When I can't control the wide world (which is every day, of course, but some days it seems more significant than others) then I just control my own world. I start cleaning out closets, organizing, making labels, sorting files and making sense of little things. Several trips to Goodwill later, I find myself saying "What's next?" and looking for projects.
In the meantime, this quirky bovine marched right into my studio and commanded several of my days. It is hard to take life too seriously when this guy is staring you in the face. He's actually quite good company, and doesn't mind if paint get splattered on him while I work.
And the universe, with it's uncanny sense of timing and humor, decided to deliver my newest back therapy to the house this week. An inversion table, which allows gravity to give my compressed discs a little relief. It also requires that I hang upside down, which seems absolutely perfect in a topsy-turvy world. Care to join me?
And the universe, with it's uncanny sense of timing and humor, decided to deliver my newest back therapy to the house this week. An inversion table, which allows gravity to give my compressed discs a little relief. It also requires that I hang upside down, which seems absolutely perfect in a topsy-turvy world. Care to join me?
Selected works up to 40% off on Artfinder this month as we make way for a menagerie of new characters in the shop. Grab 'em before they get away!
- Published on
"Homage to Van Gogh" - acrylic on reclaimed wood, 7" x 13". Ready to hang. Available on Artfinder.
"Each time that a student who devotes himself to painting arrives at school for the first time, he should be given a volley of blows by a stick and after to lead him back to his home and he will see if he wants to begin again. If there was a test like that there would be a great many who would not return. "
- Henri Matisse
I was struck by this quote while reading a transcript of an interview with Matisse. It made me chuckle. Not because I believe artists should be beaten with sticks, but because life already delivers "a volley of blows" to creative people on a regular basis. I think that's a part of the whole process. Leave it to Matisse to suggest additional beatings for new students. (Read the full interview here.)
This week the universe is whispering about gifts. Finding gifts in suffering. Seeing gifts in problems. Diving into adversity in search of treasure. Not running from pain because there is gold in them there hills. Alright. Message received. Sometimes leaning in to what pains us brings us closer to aha moments.
Outside my studio door is a painting by my dad. A Van Gogh tribute (nearly 99% of his paintings were inspired by Van Gogh) filled with spritely brush strokes and vivid colors. And I have the book of paintings dad consulted before sketching his designs. So I grabbed it and paged through. Tucked in the middle was one piece he hadn't touched...a darkened forest with a vague couple in the trees. It beckoned. Seeing the painting through my dad's eyes, I can understand why he dodged it. He was a widower, and the shadowy couple likely made him miss my mom.
But now, skewing this Van Gogh painting, I feel a lightness and sense of completion. A full-circleness. Like my parents reunited in a painting that foretold things to come. Painting in the style my dad revered, touching a piece that was still waiting for him - an homage to the master and to his devoted fan.
"Each time that a student who devotes himself to painting arrives at school for the first time, he should be given a volley of blows by a stick and after to lead him back to his home and he will see if he wants to begin again. If there was a test like that there would be a great many who would not return. "
- Henri Matisse
I was struck by this quote while reading a transcript of an interview with Matisse. It made me chuckle. Not because I believe artists should be beaten with sticks, but because life already delivers "a volley of blows" to creative people on a regular basis. I think that's a part of the whole process. Leave it to Matisse to suggest additional beatings for new students. (Read the full interview here.)
This week the universe is whispering about gifts. Finding gifts in suffering. Seeing gifts in problems. Diving into adversity in search of treasure. Not running from pain because there is gold in them there hills. Alright. Message received. Sometimes leaning in to what pains us brings us closer to aha moments.
Outside my studio door is a painting by my dad. A Van Gogh tribute (nearly 99% of his paintings were inspired by Van Gogh) filled with spritely brush strokes and vivid colors. And I have the book of paintings dad consulted before sketching his designs. So I grabbed it and paged through. Tucked in the middle was one piece he hadn't touched...a darkened forest with a vague couple in the trees. It beckoned. Seeing the painting through my dad's eyes, I can understand why he dodged it. He was a widower, and the shadowy couple likely made him miss my mom.
But now, skewing this Van Gogh painting, I feel a lightness and sense of completion. A full-circleness. Like my parents reunited in a painting that foretold things to come. Painting in the style my dad revered, touching a piece that was still waiting for him - an homage to the master and to his devoted fan.
- Published on
"Calvin Was Curious" - mixed media on reclaimed wood, 7.5 x 18. Ready to hang. Available on Artfinder.
We took a mini "staycation" at a spot near the beach this week. A couple of days, a couple of nights, just enjoying each moment without an agenda, a phone, a computer or a task list. Sometimes just sitting near the water, feeling the breeze, squinting against the sun is effort enough for one day. And it is mighty refreshment for the brain.
It is easier to hear soft undertones in the world when you park your brain for a while. Repeated phrases. Recurring themes. This week, it has been weight. Women (mostly), including myself, who find their aging selves softer, rounder, more Rubenesque than they wish to be. Slowing metabolisms, menopause, pharmaceutical side effects, global warming (I threw that one in to see if you were paying attention - ha!) - our bodies begin to turn into rounded Weebles with time and circumstances. One incredibly beautiful woman described herself as a "jiggly meat cocoon" (thanks for that visual, which is now stuck in my head, btw). Good gosh. We need a new way of thinking.
It doesn't really matter what we tell each other. Or what our lovers, children or friends tell us. Our thoughts and feelings about our bodies are internally generated. And what I see and hear is women verbalizing the negative, but not the positive. Which makes me wonder how much more negativity is nattering about on the insides of those minds. Hmmmm.
"Calvin Was Curious" - mixed media on reclaimed wood, 7.5 x 18. Ready to hang. Available on Artfinder.
We took a mini "staycation" at a spot near the beach this week. A couple of days, a couple of nights, just enjoying each moment without an agenda, a phone, a computer or a task list. Sometimes just sitting near the water, feeling the breeze, squinting against the sun is effort enough for one day. And it is mighty refreshment for the brain.
It is easier to hear soft undertones in the world when you park your brain for a while. Repeated phrases. Recurring themes. This week, it has been weight. Women (mostly), including myself, who find their aging selves softer, rounder, more Rubenesque than they wish to be. Slowing metabolisms, menopause, pharmaceutical side effects, global warming (I threw that one in to see if you were paying attention - ha!) - our bodies begin to turn into rounded Weebles with time and circumstances. One incredibly beautiful woman described herself as a "jiggly meat cocoon" (thanks for that visual, which is now stuck in my head, btw). Good gosh. We need a new way of thinking.
It doesn't really matter what we tell each other. Or what our lovers, children or friends tell us. Our thoughts and feelings about our bodies are internally generated. And what I see and hear is women verbalizing the negative, but not the positive. Which makes me wonder how much more negativity is nattering about on the insides of those minds. Hmmmm.
So this made me curious. What happens if we make this next part (or something like it) our internal dialogue today?
All you bellies, butts, thighs, wrinkles, stretch marks, moles, scars, bunions, gray hairs, crooked teeth, eye bags, chicken necks and saggy bits: you are PERFECTLY FORMED....a miracle, a spirit house, a warrior, a gorgeous human, a kind soul, filled with love, playfulness, curiosity, street smarts, wisdom, sweetness, sass and humor. You are a shining star! You are BRILLIANT!
Now go out there and shake your groove thing.
All you bellies, butts, thighs, wrinkles, stretch marks, moles, scars, bunions, gray hairs, crooked teeth, eye bags, chicken necks and saggy bits: you are PERFECTLY FORMED....a miracle, a spirit house, a warrior, a gorgeous human, a kind soul, filled with love, playfulness, curiosity, street smarts, wisdom, sweetness, sass and humor. You are a shining star! You are BRILLIANT!
Now go out there and shake your groove thing.
- Published on
"Estelle and Eunice" - mixed media on reclaimed wood, 16" x 48". Ready to hang. Available on Artfinder.
August is upon us. The weather grows more dramatic, the yard transforms into a steamy jungle. The pile of dorm supplies in the spare room tells me fall transitions are coming. A batch of newly hatched ducklings in the yard lures us outside into the sauna. There is both a hurry up and a slow down happening simultaneously. I want to dig my heels in.
Still reading Mark Nepo's Seven Thousand Ways to Listen. I've been reading it off and on for over two years, and still am only halfway through. It isn't a book you can rush. Too many intricate thoughts, too many delicious words which demand savoring. This week, I got stuck here: "I had grown weary from trying to sort out my lot of catastrophes, from trying to make sense of events and turns, from imagining plans and backup plans. Out of exhaustion, I finally just opened myself to everything; not trying to draw any conclusions but to receive it all the way the mouth of a river receives all the river carries, letting it mark and groove my bottom."
There was sweet relief in these words, after an endless stream of my own plans and backup plans, more planning and endless conjecturing. Combine this with August heat and slow water in the lake and it just beckons us to float along, letting life shape us. And so I lift my heels out of their well-worn grooves in the ground and allow myself to drift along this week.
This piece required a complete letting go of outcomes. The wood is the most heavily textured and unpredictable of all the reclaimed pieces piled against the wall. There is a sweet connection between Estelle and Eunice. I'm going to stop while and see if I can hear their whispers.
August is upon us. The weather grows more dramatic, the yard transforms into a steamy jungle. The pile of dorm supplies in the spare room tells me fall transitions are coming. A batch of newly hatched ducklings in the yard lures us outside into the sauna. There is both a hurry up and a slow down happening simultaneously. I want to dig my heels in.
Still reading Mark Nepo's Seven Thousand Ways to Listen. I've been reading it off and on for over two years, and still am only halfway through. It isn't a book you can rush. Too many intricate thoughts, too many delicious words which demand savoring. This week, I got stuck here: "I had grown weary from trying to sort out my lot of catastrophes, from trying to make sense of events and turns, from imagining plans and backup plans. Out of exhaustion, I finally just opened myself to everything; not trying to draw any conclusions but to receive it all the way the mouth of a river receives all the river carries, letting it mark and groove my bottom."
There was sweet relief in these words, after an endless stream of my own plans and backup plans, more planning and endless conjecturing. Combine this with August heat and slow water in the lake and it just beckons us to float along, letting life shape us. And so I lift my heels out of their well-worn grooves in the ground and allow myself to drift along this week.
This piece required a complete letting go of outcomes. The wood is the most heavily textured and unpredictable of all the reclaimed pieces piled against the wall. There is a sweet connection between Estelle and Eunice. I'm going to stop while and see if I can hear their whispers.
- Published on
"Echo" - mixed media on watercolor paper, 22" x 30". Ready to frame. Sold.
A return to my roots in visual journaling, but done BIG! Beginning with scribbled words of strength, love and determination, layers of scratching and buffing and mounds of paint, ink and gesso, then ending with collage, charcoal pencil and more scribbles. This fiercely empowered girl emerges from chaos ready to grapple alligators and bear the weight of worlds on her power-shouldered dress. I love this sweetling.
In recent weeks, I've felt a bit like submerged fabric. Weighted, muted, heavy and a bit slow. Usually, I recognize such a funk and take steps to scramble out of it. This time, I had a "well DUH" moment (thanks to an intuitive friend) and realized I'd fallen in and neglected to do anything about it! Silly girl. So what are the things to be done when kicking off a blanket of yuck?
Pouring out some power moves on canvas or paper is always a good beginning. It gets things moving and shifts internal energy in a big way. But even though art is magical, sometimes it takes art plus other activities to move a stubborn funk. In my case, a massive dose of yard work (or as much as my body can tolerate) including dirt in my socks, mulch dust in my nose and an unexpected downpour to keep me company .
Add to that a new ritual - something purposeful and introspective and different. In this case, I made a trip to Buddha Happy and came home with a singing bowl, 83 tiny green stones and a set of instructions. I've never used a singing bowl before. Selecting one is kind of like the sorting hat in Harry Potter. Some bowls are nearly impossible to play. Others respond right away, filling the room with sound and my hand and arm with vibrations. I can hardly believe the huge sound that comes from this small vessel.
My family may be walking around with noise-cancelling headphones for the next week while I practice. But you, my friends, can enjoy the sounds of experts:
A return to my roots in visual journaling, but done BIG! Beginning with scribbled words of strength, love and determination, layers of scratching and buffing and mounds of paint, ink and gesso, then ending with collage, charcoal pencil and more scribbles. This fiercely empowered girl emerges from chaos ready to grapple alligators and bear the weight of worlds on her power-shouldered dress. I love this sweetling.
In recent weeks, I've felt a bit like submerged fabric. Weighted, muted, heavy and a bit slow. Usually, I recognize such a funk and take steps to scramble out of it. This time, I had a "well DUH" moment (thanks to an intuitive friend) and realized I'd fallen in and neglected to do anything about it! Silly girl. So what are the things to be done when kicking off a blanket of yuck?
Pouring out some power moves on canvas or paper is always a good beginning. It gets things moving and shifts internal energy in a big way. But even though art is magical, sometimes it takes art plus other activities to move a stubborn funk. In my case, a massive dose of yard work (or as much as my body can tolerate) including dirt in my socks, mulch dust in my nose and an unexpected downpour to keep me company .
Add to that a new ritual - something purposeful and introspective and different. In this case, I made a trip to Buddha Happy and came home with a singing bowl, 83 tiny green stones and a set of instructions. I've never used a singing bowl before. Selecting one is kind of like the sorting hat in Harry Potter. Some bowls are nearly impossible to play. Others respond right away, filling the room with sound and my hand and arm with vibrations. I can hardly believe the huge sound that comes from this small vessel.
My family may be walking around with noise-cancelling headphones for the next week while I practice. But you, my friends, can enjoy the sounds of experts:
- Published on
"Petaled Cloris" - mixed media on reclaimed wood. 6" x 18", ready to hang. SOLD.
It's summer in the deep south, and I'd like to trade in my hair for a bouquet of flowers. Humidity is not a friend to wavy, fuzzy hair. Just stepping outside turns me into a Chia Pet. Wouldn't it be lovely to arrange some peonies on your head and walk about all day feeling gloriously exotic? Almost any flower will do. Even a head full of dandelions would be better.
But you're not here for hair.
The last time we met, dear reader, we were wearing capes of kindness and flying about the world without fear. How perfect, then, that I happened upon this piece of art titled "Playing Superman" on Artfinder.
It's summer in the deep south, and I'd like to trade in my hair for a bouquet of flowers. Humidity is not a friend to wavy, fuzzy hair. Just stepping outside turns me into a Chia Pet. Wouldn't it be lovely to arrange some peonies on your head and walk about all day feeling gloriously exotic? Almost any flower will do. Even a head full of dandelions would be better.
But you're not here for hair.
The last time we met, dear reader, we were wearing capes of kindness and flying about the world without fear. How perfect, then, that I happened upon this piece of art titled "Playing Superman" on Artfinder.
The universe conspires with us on our adventures! A superhero painting on the heels of my cape obsession. There is something about the color in this piece - bold, fearless, brave. And that touch of blue...like our cloak of kindness, it fuels the rest of the painting and makes it soar.
It happens to be painted by one of my favorite artists, Valerie Thomson. She's a Portlander (Oregon, not Maine) who feels color the way others feel music or poetry. Her virtuosity is obvious, but WAIT! There is more.
Like a perfect example rising from the chapters of Brian Rutenberg's Clear Seeing Place, Thomson exudes kindness. Not just toward her collectors or friends, but toward other artists. Recently, she shared a series of social media posts on how to package a painting for a perfect shipping experience. Earlier in the month, she shared a new shipping service which saves artists a bundle.
It happens to be painted by one of my favorite artists, Valerie Thomson. She's a Portlander (Oregon, not Maine) who feels color the way others feel music or poetry. Her virtuosity is obvious, but WAIT! There is more.
Like a perfect example rising from the chapters of Brian Rutenberg's Clear Seeing Place, Thomson exudes kindness. Not just toward her collectors or friends, but toward other artists. Recently, she shared a series of social media posts on how to package a painting for a perfect shipping experience. Earlier in the month, she shared a new shipping service which saves artists a bundle.
And she doesn't hesitate to share links to other amazing artists.
Ok, so clearly I am a huge fan-girl and Thomson enthusiast (and collector - I own two pieces already). But mostly I am an admirer of creative people who are generous with their knowledge, time and inspiration. I hope to be like her when (if) I grow up.
Explore the world of Thomson and other artists (including yours truly!) this weekend on Artfinder , where most shipping will be FREE from midnight on July 28th to midnight on July 31st. A little kindness from the good folks at Artfinder. Yay!
Ok, so clearly I am a huge fan-girl and Thomson enthusiast (and collector - I own two pieces already). But mostly I am an admirer of creative people who are generous with their knowledge, time and inspiration. I hope to be like her when (if) I grow up.
Explore the world of Thomson and other artists (including yours truly!) this weekend on Artfinder , where most shipping will be FREE from midnight on July 28th to midnight on July 31st. A little kindness from the good folks at Artfinder. Yay!
