"Summation of Dreams" - mixed media on canvas paper,  16" x 12".  Ready to frame.  Available on Artfinder.

I've been having some wild dreams lately.  The kind of dreams that make me wonder what the heck my brain is doing in there.  Apparently the muse stays active even during sleep, and she is quite inventive.  So I let the dreams flow through my hands into an intuitive piece this week.   Incredible, ethereal landscape created by scrubbing away layers of paint, leaving suggestions of buildings, hills and a metropolis.  Adding and taking away, time and again, leaves the canvas paper leathery and soft.  I am enchanted by this process.

My hubby and I had a Valenversary evening right out of a sitcom last night.  Complete with eerie technology snafus, which included a smoke alarm going off randomly for several hours (and the two of trying desperately to disconnect it) and followed by the most awful meal we've had in ages.  One thing after another until we were both laughing pretty uncontrollably.  Even during a long night of belly aches, we continued to roll our eyes and laugh at the universe, who had apparently decided to throw the kitchen sink at us.  

I suppose that's what we want, at the end of nearly two decades.  The ability to laugh at life's adversities and wake up smiling.

Fortunately, my daughter called and reminded us of an anniversary long ago, when we danced in the living room and snow began to fall softly outside (in Texas, no less), making her believe marriage was magical.  Indeed, it is.  And comical.

I don't think there will be any snow falling here in Florida today, but the balmy breeze and swaying palm trees will do.  Now where did I leave that bottle of Tums?

"Sisters of the Moon" - mixed media on aquabord, 16" x 20".  Ready to frame, or can be leaned upon a shelf.  Available on Artfinder.

What a weekend!  A lunar eclipse, snow storms in the north and an incredibly brisk 81 degrees here in Florida.  (ok, that last bit was just me rubbing it in)  Anyway, there is something about any full moon, but this one seemed full of malarkey .    I had a little chat with said moon several nights in a row, as she illuminated my bedroom at 3 am even through the blinds.   All she said was "this little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine" and went back to keeping me awake.  There is just no reasoning with the moon.

Last week I was delighted by the bonds of sisterhood.  Not my own familial sisters (though they are the bomb diggity and I wouldn't trade them for the world) but the sisterhood of artists, writers, musicians, dancers and creatives in general.  When a gaggle of girls are gathered together, given food, art supplies and a couple of hours, it doesn't take long before laughter and mischief follow.  Add a full moon and...well, you can see what might happen, right?  A good reminder to make time for group art, as it is often just the balm we need in a stressful world.  We leave the group recharged, feeling lighter and more connected.  Ahhhhh. 

So back in my own solitary studio (well, it's solitary if you don't count the bossy queens, mischievous cattle and a huge pink alligator) it was no surprise when a pair of girl figures bathed in moonlight appeared in an intuitive abstract.  They made me smile, and were a welcome, calming influence on the mayhem that is normally my studio

A friend recently chuckled at how I am so often delighted by my own creations (it's true).  It was no coincidence then when this sentence appeared in Clear Seeing Place: "A painter must fall madly in love with absolutely everything.  The instant that work becomes labor, you're dead."  I love my job, because it never feels like work.  Now off I go to play - there are worlds to create!

"The Narrow Path to Nuptials" - mixed media on panel

Oh, what FUN!  This project, part of the World & Eye Arts Center - Telling Tales: Stories of Home exhibit, was two days and no more.  Two days to paint 6 feet of panel, hand print papers and design fabulous clothing for the characters.  Well, and to listen to the story and figure out what to paint!  

Follow the journey of Gerri Sant - listen to her story of home here. 

I was tickled by Gerri's wry sense of humor, so the concept came quickly and the characters came ALIVE for me, demanding exactly what to wear and where to pose.  I am gaga over these two!  It was sad to see them leave my studio and head off to the World & Eye Arts Center. I've instructed my husband to begin looking for doors or panels at the curb, in addition to reclaimed wood. I can just see a series of these couples hanging out in my house.

"Sowing Hope" - mixed media on canvas paper, 16" x 20".  Available on Artfinder.

Is it Wednesday already?  As soon as I decided to re-enter the world, someone said "GO!" and the pace multiplied exponentially.  This week I am working on a nearly 6' panel based on a personal story recorded by the folks at World & Eye Gallery (check them out here).  What's the catch?  I have exactly two days to generate a story-inspired piece of art.  Ok, so you know me, I launched right into it, came up with a righteous idea, and then decided to hand print papers to collage 60% of the panel.  So it has been gelli printing MADNESS in my studio.  But I have made huge progress and will get it done.  But for now, a lovely pause to reflect on the piece featured here, which I finished a few days ago.

This one calls to me every time I walk past the studio door.  It whispers, beckons, gently waves me over.  It is an intuitive piece, in the style of Stan Kurth.  The figure appeared about two layers in. Everything felt organic, connected and pure.  One of those rare moments when a painting feels like an extension of my arm instead of a foreign object which I must tame through aggressive paint throwing. :)

What was the secret to this one?   I listened to the painting this time.  Tuned out my own expectations and just sat with it.  But I was also good and relaxed after a little solitude and rest.  I'm sure that is a part of it, too.

I've started the second book recommended by Kurth.  You are going to want this one.  Clear Seeing Place, by Brian Rutenberg.  It's like an autobiography mixed with art philosophy, techniques and career advice.  And it flows.  Easy like he's sitting right next to you having a casual conversation.  But juicy and packed with treasures, like this one: " A landscape by Paul Cezanne isn't a statement but an invocation; it whispers, 'Come closer, let's twist nervous systems around one another and construct a place that wasn't there before.'"  Ahhhhhhh. 

And now, there is a behemoth panel yelling my name from down the hall.  Nothing gentle about that one.  I'd best go before it comes looking for me...

"Hearts A-Flutter" - mixed media on wood, 18" in diameter.  Ready to hang.  Available on Artfinder.

It is lovely to be back in the studio on a relaxed schedule, free to pursue whatever the muse whispers.  Several months ago, I picked up this piece of circular wood and sketched out a concept, but hadn't had a pause to paint it until now.  I've painted several girls in circles, and find them to be calm, a bit dreamy and always soothing to paint.  One more, larger than all the rest, sending little hearts out into the universe.   A little love mojo for the world. :)

After a week hiding in my studio and recovering from travel, I am ready to peek my head out and see what's going on out there. It seems many folks have tucked their heads under their wings recently, and who can blame them?  Hibernating is good for the soul.  But I recently read an article (I cannot remember where) which recommended perhaps we all need the opposite of hiding right now - the author suggested we need to "crash into other people's lives until we connect."  Perhaps the wording was a bit startling, but somehow it resonated.  I don't plan to crash, but perhaps to gently bump into other humans and find the common ground in a polarized world.  

During my hibernation, I finished Art & Fear.  It is now dog-eared and highlighted, underlined and starred.  I think I could read it ten times over and get something new with each repetition, so this one will go on my "keep forever" shelf.  The last paragraph was the perfect balm for fearful, introverted creatives of all kinds: "In the end it all comes down to this: you have a choice...between giving your work your best shot and risking that it will not make you happy, or not giving it your best shot - and thereby guaranteeing that it will not make you happy.  It becomes a choice between certainty and uncertainty.  And curiously, uncertainty is the comforting choice."  Holy mackerel!  I could apply that to everything I do.  And now I can set out into the world this week feeling comforted by uncertainty - words I never imagined saying out loud.  I am also determined to give things my best shot, even if it is a little (or a lot) scary. 

"Push and Pull" - mixed media on aquabord, 11" x 14".  Ready to frame, or can be leaned upon a shelf.  Available on Artfinder.

Ahhhhh bliss.  Back in the studio, hard at play!  The daily painting discipline instilled by biannual 30 in 30 challenges has taken a firm hold.  There are three paintings in progress this week.  This one emerged from listening to the art, following the trail of shapes and emotion.  Continuing to experiment with the chalky-ness of gesso mixed with paints and the exquisite satisfaction of mark-making and carving into paintings.  Aquabord is particularly adaptable for all of these layers and for allowing the little surprises underneath to peek through.

There is a lot going on in the world. Words, emotions, actions...all trying to get a foothold in my thoughts.  I am working on manifesting a bouncer in the dance club that is my mind - a big, burly tough guy to give unwelcome thoughts the heave-ho.  A little cloistering and hermiting helps, too.  Along with hours and hours in the garden.

Moving right along in Art & Fear, now in the chapter called "Conceptual Worlds."  Yum.  What a fabulous title.  It begins with a quote from Henry James (the writer) about how to question an artist's work by asking three questions: "What was the artist trying to achieve?  Did she succeed?  Was it worth doing?"   Ouch!  That last one is tough.  But it resonates...I will ask myself this last question about my own art going forward.

There was one more sentence in the chapter that truly made me smile: "Where the scientist asks what equation would best describe the trajectory of an airborne rock, the artist asks what it would feel like to throw one."  I am not suggesting we should throw rocks today.  But if I happen to have a pocket full of them, I might at least imagine the feeling of launching one or two at whatever frustrates me. :)

The day after...a day for reflection, rest, recharging batteries and digesting all I've learned over the past thirty days.  

It's always a shock to see all thirty pieces together at the end of the challenge.  Even though the styles and subjects are varied, I can see cohesion - more so than in prior challenges.  But what I really look forward to is seeing the sum total of other creatives at the end of this month.  I have learned so much from them and their shared processes.  So I will leave you with one more quote before I dive into a few days of hermit mode:

​"...what we really gain from the art making of others is courage-by-association. Depth of contact grows as fears are shared - and thereby disarmed - and this comes from embracing art as a process, and artists as kindred spirits."  From Art & Fear.

And without further ado, I must now heed the call of bossy queens in the studio and begin to make the morning tea.

"I AM THE STORM" - mixed media on paper, 11" x 15"

[ALL]
To see-
To sell-
To get-
To bring-
To make-
To live-
To go to the Festival-!
Into the woods!
Into the woods!
Into the woods,
Then out of the woods,
And home before dark!
               From "Prologue Into the Woods", Into the Woods

Is it that time already?  Thirty days have come and gone.  We've journey together through the woods, facing giants and fears and wandering through colorful trees.  We've met the villagers, cavorted with queens, thought some very good thoughts and shared our stories by the fire over tea.   Thirty paintings, thirty narratives, thirty lyrics. 

As we emerge from the woods, are we changed?  Transformed?  Altered?  I am.   It is impossible for me to take a journey (even a metaphorical cyber journey) without feeling stronger, smarter, kinder...better than I was before.  And maybe a little less afraid.

In the tradition I began with my first 30 day challenge (5 challenges ago!), I am ending with a self-portrait.  This one in the style of Stan Kurth.    As I emerge from the woods, a little tired and perhaps bleary-eyed from lack of rest, my spirit feels unfettered, determined, wild and strong.  Tribal, even.  Because you, dear sweet readers, are my woodland tribe.
​

​"Culmination" - mixed media on paper, 15" x 22'.  Unframed.  Inquiries: imajenation@gmail.com.

[NARRATOR]
Deep within the woods, Cinderella had planted a branch at The grave of her Mother,
And she visited there so often and wept so much
That her tears watered it until it had become
a magnificent tree.
                   From "Cinderella at the Grave", Into the Woods


I do a lot of thinking on road trips.  Something about the solitude and being forced to sit still lets my brain wander pathways it otherwise might not.  Mostly I blame the music.  My travel playlists have some real sorrowful songs mixed in with the sing-a-longs.  There is nothing quite like the open highway and Patty Griffin singing "The Mountaintop" to make every hound dog in my heart raise its voice to the sky.  And I can't tell you how many times one of these mental byways on a road trip has inspired a painting.

Stan Kurth said it perfectly: "My work is the collective unconscious and conscious images, dreams, hopes, jubilations, elations, loves, blues, joys, biases, frustrations and thoughts of my life."   As much as I'd like to ignore the sad bits and heartaches, they are  a part of the creating like anything else.  And sometimes they are the best bits in a piece of art. 

During the workshop, Kurth's feedback on this piece encouraged me to look into the work of Rufino Tamayo. I've ordered a big hardcover book of his art so that I may study it thoroughly.  In the meantime, check him out here.  I think he is a kindred spirit.

My mom's birthday was this weekend.  She would have been 78.  As I hit the road tomorrow to travel back to the land of sunshine and humidity, I have a feeling she might be along for the ride.  You never know who you'll run into here in the woods.  

"Off the Beaten Track" - mixed media on paper, 6" x 15".  Unframed.  Inquiries: imajenation@gmail.com


[CINDERELLA]
He's a very nice Prince.
[BAKER'S WIFE]
And-?
[CINDERELLA]
And-
It's a very nice ball.
          From "A Very Nice Prince", Into the Woods

It's the morning of the big launch party! Love is in the air!  But first, day two of my workshop and a little communing with our inner shaman.

I was drawn to the shaman archetype for this class and hadn't a clue as to why.  Following merrily along the path, I bumped into him when contemplating a new workshop, painted him and then painted him some more.  At the time I thought "hmmmm.  I wonder why this guy?"  So I set him aside and skipped along the next path without giving him another thought, knowing the universe would give up his secrets if and when I was meant to know.  That was about two months ago, before the workshop dates were planned.  (ok, this might seem a bit humdrum, but follow along with me just another step or two...)

Fast forward to this week, when I created workshop handouts and a lesson plan.  I am researching both the earth mother and the shaman, when SHAZAM!  There it is.  The shaman is also known as the "wounded healer".  Part of this archetype is the transformative nature of suffering, tragedy, loss and pain.  The shaman endures a major trauma in his life (physical, emotional or spiritual) and comes through it forever changed. He then uses the knowledge and insight he gained from this trauma to help and heal others.  Whoa.  

Think about it: on this workshop day, the 100 Love Notes launch party takes place.  And who is at the helm of this project?  A man who endured incredible loss and turned it into a quest to spread love around the world.  I am gobsmacked by the universe yet again.   

My little painted shamans have new meaning for me now.  And I am so looking forward to seeing who peeks out from underneath the paint in today's workshop.  I know there are stories to be told.