Category: Art Journey

This isn’t the blog post I was going to write. I was going to share some encouraging news about how I understand my art and my work as a teacher and coach, imagining going forward. And I was excited to share some news about new things in my Etsy shop.

Instead, here’s where I started, last night:

Those stories, though, are going to need to wait until a different day for there is another tale insisting on being told. Now. With the full range of who I am. If you’d prefer the art and camp stories, I totally understand. I would, too. And, while I can’t, you can. Just wander back to the first paragraph, click on Etsy shop and have a ball, knowing that you, too, are doing a great deal of good.

Break for something pretty close to sleeping and some starting over…

It’s been, if you’ll excuse the expression, a bit of a bitch of a weekend. Not so much in a world-shattering kind of way but in a bunch of smaller stuff in the context of the larger lunacy.

Saturday, a disagreement with Facebook over something I wanted to share that they, apparently, had a problem with. Fortunately resolved… eventually. If you’re curious, there’s a video on my personal page. It’s worth all 8 minutes. (You’ll need to scroll down a bit.)

Plus, I hurt. Specifically, my left hip is not behaving at all well. It also means that I need help for lots of things which means lots of explaining.

I wrote last night. In the get it all out sense. It had a lot to do with US politics and how I feel about much of it.

My words were articulate and passionate and spelled correctly. I did the requisite fact checking and determined that they were also true, in so far as I could tell, and given the fact that there are way too many talking heads seemingly not concerned enough with truth just now.

I went to bed with the Iron Chef America tournament of champions rolling around in my head. (It’s what I do when I need a break!)

Oddly, my buddies from Kitchen Stadium ran, somewhere in my consciousness, into yet another tournament of sorts.

You see, on Friday night, while I was matting art prints, I was also watching Shrek. The first one. And I woke up this morning remembering that fairy tales, throughout history, have often served as excellent ways for telling truth, especially to grandchildren, while also keeping one’s head.

Which I really rather hope is the reason the station my TV knows as 54FREE has been running an awful lot of Shrek these days. Check it out, if you’re in the mood. Fair warning… you have to watch clear to the end, including the credits.

The other cool thing about fairy tales is that they give the reader space to make meaning. So, I’m going back to art for today. My first act was to choose art for this post. You’ve probably met her before. Or, rather, them.

Tomorrow, Willow and the Bear are going to their forever home.

It was a journey which surprised me in many ways. What you’re seeing is the first four months or so of work on a painting called Codex that was supposed to be a 13-moon project.

A friend and I worked long hours one evening, each on our own Codex canvas. Eventually, I went to bed with all kinds of magical prompts for calling up deep knowing dancing in my head.

The next morning I woke up and, when I walked past my studio door and glanced at my canvas turned just so on its easel, I saw her.

Willow. An image which looked startlingly like a dear friend’s dog who had just made her trip across the Rainbow Bridge. (Left of center, near the top, if you’re curious.)

I knew, in that moment, that I couldn’t loose her in more layers of unknown. Instead, I started a new Codex journey which involved some scrambling to catch up.

It wasn’t until I looked at a photograph of Willow’s canvas that I saw the bear. About centered, blues and blacks. A Koala.

I adore this painting which surprised me so much! And I’m thrilled that she’s headed for a home where she is already loved and understood. And, somehow, with help from a flock of Iron Chefs, the Shrek crowd, and Willow and the Bear, I woke this morning, ready to go on.

It’s not that I didn’t mean all the ranting from last night. I did, with every fiber of my being. It’s just that I meant it so much I concluded that my job was to give you a chance to find your own truth, just as I did.

And, by truth, I mean not political views I happen to hold (Which would, in fact, be okay!) but the truth of your journey and your voice and your art, whatever it might be.

Before I go, I have a favor to ask. Please consider making hearts. Kind of like prayer dots. If you agree, and if you happen to be a subscriber to this blog (which means you got this via email) and you happen to make those hearts in my Etsy shop, “favoriting” one or some of my works, a magical being I don’t quite understand will email you 10% off coupons for items you marked in the shop. (The coupons may take until tomorrow morning to arrive 😉 )

If, however, you’re not yet a subscriber to my blog, you could sign up in the annoying pop-up box, get on the list for some cool welcome emails (which are about to become collectors’ items in their own right) and go do the fav thing on Etsy. The magical being will be delighted to send you coupons, as well.

ps… there is at least one print of Willow and the Bear available now. And, since you know the artist, more could magically be made!

pps… My vote-by-mail ballot arrived Saturday!

Context is, as they say, everything.

A year or so ago, when I shared the following passage in these pages, the magnificent Julie Steelman was teaching some of us about financial sovereignty for women.

In this moment, Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who has taught, and fought for, so many of us through the years has passed on.

Here is some of what she was fighting against…

A man and wife are one person in law; the wife loses all her rights as a single woman, and her existence is entirely absorbed in that of her husband. He is civilly responsible for her acts, she lives under his protection or cover, and her condition is called coverture.

A woman’s body belongs to her husband; she is in his custody, and he can enforce his right by a writ of habeas corpus.

What was her personal property before marriage, such as money in hand, money at the bank, jewels, household goods, clothes, etc., becomes absolutely her husband’s, and he may assign or dispose of them at his pleasure whether he and his wife live together or not.

A wife’s chattels real (i.e., estates) become her husband’s.

Neither the Courts of Common law nor Equity have any direct power to oblige a man to support his wife…

The legal custody of children belongs to the father. During the life-time of a sane father, the mother has no rights over her children, except limited power over infants, and the father may take them from her and dispose of them as he sees fit.

A married woman cannot sue or be sued for contracts — nor can she enter into contracts except as an agent of her husband; that is to say, her word alone is not binding in law…

A husband and wife cannot be found guilty of conspiracy, as that offense cannot be committed unless there are two persons.

Now, a couple of questions.

What did you notice as you read? What did you wonder?

I’m betting that one of the things you’re wondering about is the source of this quote. I learned it from Carolyn Heilbrun’s magnificent book, Writing A Woman’s Life. The quote itself is from a pamphlet, Married Women and the Law by Barbara Leigh Smith Bodichon in the USA, 1854.

It’s true that many of us are in a different place, today.

But, just in case you think we haven’t quite made it to the world we’d like our granddaughters to grow up in… or our grandsons, for that matter… what, then, do we do?

I can only speak for myself.

Prayer dots and tears, for a start.

Petitions to the Senate. Several of them, already. Insisting that a nominee for Ginsburg’s Supreme Court seat not be considered or confirmed until the national election is complete.

Working harder even than before for the candidates I trust.

It’s a challenge. I’m having a bit of an orthopedic adventure at the moment and delivering yard signs or knocking on doors or learning to be a poll worker aren’t really viable options for me. And we’re not exactly overflowing with spare cash in the moment.

But I have words. And a way to share the words of others. Kind of my own microscopic news organization. One that I, unlike some of the big kids, freely admit is biased. It’s biased toward the future we are creating in this moment. It’s biased toward upholding laws and norms my girls don’t even know once needed fighting for.

And I have fierce compassion. I’m giving it away. All you need or want, to put to work in your world.

Oh, and I have a painting I’m working on. Collaging names of my grandmothers. And a new grandmother. Ruth Bader Ginsburg. May her hopes and dreams for us and for all the generations to come be so.

Amen. Amen. Selah.

If you’ve been hanging around for a while, or know practically anybody in my family, you’ve probably realized that I didn’t get the Hallmark genes in the crowd. (Though I have been better at cards since I started making my own!)

I’ve been pondering that this weekend. Between the 9/11 anniversary on Friday and Grandparents’ Day, today, it’s felt really hard to find words that will fit on a card. Which might explain all the tears. Tears for big, complex feelings that don’t always have words.

There are times when I envy Phoebe, who has taken to muttering in her sleep, leaving the interpretation to the two footed folks nearby.

And then one of my paintings started asking for things. She’s been sitting on an easel since May or June, dropping hints and waiting for me to catch on.

I think our communication challenge started from the very beginning. Officially, her name in the land of Intentional Creativity® is Hydra’s Flare.

Astrology and Greek Mythology. Not my areas of expertise! Yes, I looked it up when we began but there were lots of other things going on about then and it somehow just didn’t stick for me. Especially the part about cutting off her heads and more growing back.

I painted the constellation. A great excuse for prayer dots. Dots for peace and for learning.

Then, a book I was reading, starting leaving little hints around about symbolism and names.

Then I got engaged in a major genealogy expedition.

Oh, and a friend looked at an online photo of my Work-in-Progress and asked who that was beside her.

You know how, once you see something, it’s really hard to un-see it? Well, that’s how I’ve been feeling about the presence beside the “main” figure in my painting. Once I saw her, I couldn’t un-see her. And I still didn’t know who or what she was.

A week or so ago, I realized that the mystery figure represented the ancestors. My ancestors. Specifically, my grandmothers.

Yesterday, I figured out how to pull it off!

So, digging through the family tree stuff, I began writing names. In longhand. Lots and lots of names. Then I printed them on recycled paper and began to tear the pages into pieces.

Tearing is important, at least for me. It leaves softer edges for collaging than cut edges.

I wondered a bit, as I tore up the names of the grandmothers, about this rather non-typical way of honoring them for Grandparents’ Day.

As I wondered some more, the tears began to fall again. You see, I know enough of the stories of these particular women to realize that many of them lived through days which must have felt a lot like these days feel to me.

Immigrants on well known boats. Wives of Revolutionary War soldiers. Mothers who knew what it was to wake up in the morning and wonder who was going to be in charge. And where the food was going to come from.

They don’t seem to have many answers, these scraps of paper with names of those who came before me. And yet, as they start to come together, I find comfort in giving form to their courage.

And in hoping it lives inside me, still.

I see it even now in my girls. Wise women already, I’m grateful for their inspiration in learning new things. I just wish they were old enough to vote!

For today, blessings. And hugs for some dear friends in Tennessee who have newborn twin grandsons! I’ll report back when my art adventure is closer to satisfied with me.

Rumor has it that there are folks in the world who think change is fun. Exciting. Way better than same.

There are times when I’m one of them.

There are also lots of times when I’m not. A perspective which seems to be more than a bit sub-optimal in this world at this moment.

Here’s an example…

It’s only been a week since I published (with more than a bit of behind the scenes hassle!) a post about my painting, The Co-Creative Soul “hanging” in a virtual museum show.

It really does feel like a miracle!

And, there’s more to the story.

You see, the painting wasn’t quite finished. Technically it was. Thirteen moons worth of steps completed. Lots of paint and journaling and hours just spent listening to the image as it/they emerged. And lots of theological pondering.

But something still didn’t quite fit and I couldn’t figure it out.

At the same time, I was making space in the studio for an art intern. And sorting options for sales. So The Co-Creative Soul went on a vacation to the basement.

Then, last week, she re-appeared. I was so glad to have her energy back in my space!

And, she told me what she needed.

You probably won’t notice the change in the photo and that’s okay. Hint: it has to do with the miracle glaze with the funny name, nicknamed QNAC.

An integrating glaze to be specific. Which means that the part of the painting that didn’t feel like it belonged visually – though it was totally necessary theologically – now fits.

It’s a huge relief… even if it did involve, you know… change.

And here’s the thing… this was one of those changes that worked fine by giving it time to marinate in the basement. Some of them don’t.

That’s when busting out the markers and paper and hooking up with somebody wise in the ways of Intentional Creativity® Coaching gets handy.

Many of you have asked questions about what ICC is and how it works. On Sunday, we’ll answer a whole bunch of those. For today, just hang with the energy of my finished (I think!) painting and meditate on the notion of what you might co-create in your world, if only this or that didn’t feel stuck.

Yes, you!

And, just in case you didn’t have time for the museum show last week, this link works. The whole show is just under 5 minutes long and you’ll recognize mine when you see it.

I have a painting in a museum show!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Unsticking Stuck Stuff is what happens around here!

This is one of those for me. It started with yesterday’s mail. And the sticker you see in the photo above.

My first response was an emphatic YES!

I mean, I’m still appalled by the quick glimpse I got of the pep rally in the last act of the GOP convention. Thousands of screaming people, shoulder to shoulder, not a mask in sight.

Okay, first it was beyond careless in terms of the pandemic. Second, it was happening in a place where such events are not supposed to occur.

And, third, my kids live about half an hour down the road from that massive germ fest.

Yes, I was pissed. I was also crushed by the fires and the hurricane and the tornadoes and everything it’s going to take to help people put their lives back together. Like money. Money being wasted on a ridiculous demonstration practically guaranteed to make people sick.

Fortunately, there were other voices in my head, as well.

The voices of my new friends and fellow virtual pilgrims as we explored France, with its monasteries and caves and legends.

There will be more of this tale as I have time to process. For now, I’m waiting for my copy of The Gospel of Thomas and sending many thanks to Dr. Kayleen Asbo and my new friends at Ubiquity University.

Another voice in my head is that of Master Chunyi Lin at SpringForest Qigong. I have been blessed to learn from Chunyi over the past five or six years and it’s entirely possible that the most immediately important thing I’ve heard him say is this:

That which we resist, persists.

I suspect you begin to see the challenge.

There is the part of me that responded with that major YES! when I opened the envelope from the DCCC.

And there’s the part of me that knows how wise Chunyi’s words are, if only we can try to live them.

Or, as my hypnosis buddies would say:

Where the attention flows, the energy goes.

To be really clear, I have doubts about how much energy to spend resisting the theatrics (and policies!) of the current administration, which evidently is willing to go miles and miles past reasonable in the attempt to be the next administration as well.

At the same time, I don’t have it in me to behave like what’s happening in this country is remotely reasonable.

I have no idea what you may be doing with all this. Here’s what I do know:

PAINT!!!

Literally, if you’re so inclined. Or figuratively if that works better. Here’s the thing, though. Be intentional.

Make prayer dots for all those who matter to you and need them. Prayers for rain. Or no rain. For shelter. And safety. Comfort. Hope.

For first responders. And teachers. And students.

Well, you get the drift. And if you’ve never done it before, trust me when I tell you that you can. (email me at suesvoice@gmail.com if you need directions!)

And then, if it’s possible for you, find a way to make a difference in this world. In this moment.

Here’s mine…

From now, through September 7, 2020, I will donate 25% of all profits from my new Etsy store, FierceArtWithHeart, to Giving Kitchen, an organization which gives real support and resources to individual food service and restaurant workers, and their families, in need.

There are several original canvases on Etsy, large and small, plus new listings for museum quality wrapped canvas or watercolor paper prints. Even if shopping isn’t an option at the moment, I’d be delighted – and grateful – if you could click the little heart and favorite my store. It helps more people find me!

For today, though, I’m trading the temptation to resist and acting, instead, in the direction of hope. It feels like a much better word. You are totally welcome to join me!