Category: Art Journey

The local weather folks are having one of those days they live for. Tornadoes, it seems, are likely. Any time now.

The big dogs have been out and are safely back in, jockeying for prime real estate on the bathroom floors after an uncomfortably warm night in which our air conditioner decided to take a break.

The first rumbles of thunder are muttering in the background. The wind is picking up.

I have hot water in a stainless thermos, lest we run out of tea.

It is another storm, though, that occupies my mind for yesterday I took my Black Madonna painting to the amazing digital arts studio for her turn to be scanned so that giclee images on paper can be made.

She was painted in a storm, that one. While my dear friend was in the hospital, hurricane Irma raged on and I couldn’t get to Florida. And so, I made dots.

Prayed, literally, in dots.

I do mine with the handle end of the brush. You’ve heard the routine before. Dip. Dot. Dot. Dot. Dot. Dip. Repeat. Lots.

And with each dot a prayer. A word. An intention. In this case, names. Friend. Daughter. Mom. Irma (for all the folks in the path of the storm.)

Friend. Daughter. Mom. Irma. Hours at a time.

And now, as we wait and watch, I am preparing to set my first ever painting, the Black Madonna, free into the world where, maybe – just maybe – she will help others through their storms.

It was actually a pretty big trip to see my friends at digital arts studio yesterday, for we were picking up as well as dropping off! I have, right on my desk, the first few museum quality prints of my work!

With lots of help from Barry and Bill, the paperwork is close to done and my online gallery should be open this coming week. (Watch for more information!)

In the meantime, I’m contemplating entering my first juried show. The timeline is pretty tight and there’s some potential overlap with dropping off and picking up and Luther’s upcoming eye surgery. There’s part of me that just wants to paint, which sounds like a Muse thing but may actually be whispering from the inner Critic. I’m sorting.

Yesterday, though, we did a bit of celebrating progress and stopped at Ponce City Market for lunch. I’ll bet you can guess what I ate. (The Muse was very happy!)

For now, more tea, and a painting who wants green hair! A few dots for my kids who are skiing out West and quite a few more dots of thanks.

We made it through the storms with a bit of water in the basement and no trees on the roof. May it be so for all.

Dearest all,

This is one of those posts that is both literal and metaphorical. On the surface, it is about painting. Beneath (or above) that, it is about… well, you decide!

The “stunning” artwork pictured above is my beloved practice canvas. It started out very early in my Intentional Creativity journey as a small painting of something I couldn’t make work. It made me feel frustrated and inadequate and in way over my head.

And then, somewhere, one of my paint sisters posted in one of our Facebook groups about her practice – or compost – canvas. A place where she went to doodle and plant seeds and see what would happen if…

I was so new that I hadn’t begun to sort out names or initials or who belonged where or to whom.

All I knew was that the frustrated, shaming, blaming embodiment of what felt like failure was redeemed!

That 18×24″ level 2 canvas became my compost heap. (This from a gardener who does a lot of composting!)

I tried out colors and brushes and glazes. How to write in Greek (with a toothpick) or Hebrew (with a stiff liner brush). How to make dots, and collage (which I’m still working on) and what different brushes will do.

No shame. No blame. Just layers and layers of learning.

Pretty soon there will be so many layers that it will seem to be a level 3 canvas!

Contemporary astrological glyphs. (Who knew???)

The dry, scrubby brush things that bring streaks of light – and life – to whatever you’re painting.

More dots. More glazes.

And all of it, layer by layer, teeming with new life out of old stuff that might not have worked or has given it’s obvious gifts.

It works for writing, too.

And soup, in a different, way less germ-y sort of way.

It also works for trying new things, bringing me face to face with proof that I’ve been building this life all my life.

This is what I wish for my girls. And our world.

And for you, new COW and Muse sisters, and all of you just finding your way into the magical realms of Intentional Creativity or quilting or apple pie or music or quantum physics.

If, perhaps, you are a painter, get yourself a practice canvas. Possibly one that you have that just has never clicked. Or maybe a new one. (Michael’s is having a big sale!) Pick a size that feels friendly. Even one like mine that you can hold like a sketchbook if you need to.

Paint an intention on it, for it is a real part of your journey. And then just play with a couple of layers of color and glaze. Make friends with it.

And when your garden, of whatever sort, needs a bit of a boost, turn to it for energy.

It will help you bloom!!!

ps…. if you’re intrigued but not sure you’re a painter, check out https://events.intentionalcreativityfoundation.org/red-thread-guide/ for information on becoming a Red Thread Circle guide… class starting really soon!!!

 

 

 

One of the basic principles of Intentional Creativity is that the leader is working on her own work while the participants are working on theirs.

This is essentially the opposite of the old notion of psychotherapy which went something like There are two of us in the room but only one of us has any junk!

One of the things I learned in leading my early workshops was that it is not as simple as one might suppose to talk and paint at the same time! Of course, silence has its hugely useful place but if one is demonstrating, some commentary is useful.

At the same time, my Color of Woman sisters and I are also listening and observing and adapting to what we hear and see as our own work unfolds. Just as we’re encouraging our participants to do.

Claim an intention and then let go of expectations and the tyranny of talent.

Experience. Learn. Right there in the room. Be surprised!

I believe. Help, thou, my unbelief. 

Yesterday was one of those fake it ’til you make it days!

My young friend was over for our weekly painting time, which usually includes a lot of rolling on the floor with the dogs and emptying of squirt bottles.

I started by asking for his help with a particular project.

Luther’s still having a bit of trouble adapting to our recent game of Furniture Yahtzee. And Luther loves the kid next door. So we began our conversation in what is now becoming known as the library. Luther hadn’t quite managed to make it in there yet.

I think the vibes are lots better, but Luther has remained skeptical.

One kid parked in a recliner chair changed all that in about 2 minutes flat and then everybody was, as is the norm, rolling on the floor and rubbing bellies.

Luther was brave. And a certain young man was pretty pleased with his contribution.

Then, it was time to paint.

My buddy was painting away, flames in the area of his canvas labeled anger.

Sometimes he and I do the same thing. Sometimes we don’t. Yesterday, to give him a bit of privacy, I was trying to do some selective glazing on Our Lady of Living Waters.

My first effort was, shall we say, less than entirely successful. As was the second and the third.

Every now and then, I made a comment about how it wasn’t working out just the way I wanted, but I could try again, while James Taylor kept us company in the background.

Then I showed him how I was experimenting on the edges to see what might work better.

He asked if I was angry.

Gulp! I replied that I was not. Or maybe just a little frustrated. Mainly, I was  curious about what would work.

The great thing about acrylic paint is that you can always paint over it!

And curiosity is well known amongst many of my gurus as the primary mindset for learning!

Eventually, the time came to finish for the day. He was planning a bit of touch up work for next time when the paint would be dry.

I had figured out what the next right thing would be for my glazing challenges.

Admittedly, it felt a bit vulnerable to gently share my struggles while not interrupting his journey.

And then, after petting all the beasties goodbye, his parting comment:

We learned! 

So be it. Please.

ps… Many of you prayed with me for a dear friend recovering from a heart attack. My work-in-progress painting prayed, too, offering a hand raised in blessing and lots of space for dots. Dip. Life. Life. Life. Life. Dip. Repeat… He’s doing great. Hallelujah!!!

 

If you’ve been reading along for a while you know that Bill and I play a lot of an old game we call Furniture Yahtzee. I sketch. He moans. I’m solving problems. (At least in so far as possible in the moment.) He’s being supportive. On a relative scale, Cribbage has it’s advantages!

Here’s the thing. Bill and I live with three enormous dogs in an early 1960’s brick ranch with more than half of the house in the basement. The dogs and I aren’t so good at stairs. We also run at least three businesses out of this house, raw feed the dogs, and boil bones in a huge cauldron, often.

This was, apparently, not what the builder, in Leave it to Beaver time, was imagining.

Historically, our adventures have included moving the bookcases over here and the sewing table over there. Or moving the bed from this wall to that, depending on what Feng shui book I’d been reading at the time.

This weekend, we’re swapping the small third bedroom in the front of the house, which has most recently been our family room/my study with our comparatively large bedroom in the back. That means enough room for a queen sized bed and a couple of night tables (plus three dogs on a rug) in the front and an actually functional library in the back with room for writing, making art demo videos, lots of books, and massive rubber mats for the three enormous dogs.

We’ve done much of the work ahead of time. Well, enough of it to actually be able to move the furniture. The paintings are all off the walls so they don’t get bashed which is no biggie as most of them need to be re-hung anyway but it looks surprisingly bland in here right now.

Blessedly, we have strong friends coming to help!

Luther’s going to be a bit weirded out but will actually have more open space as soon as he gets used to it. We’ll put a lead on and do a tour just as soon as the big pieces are moved.

This is nothing if not a massive Intentional Creativity project!

What are we trying to accomplish?

What do we have to work with?

And do we care, anymore, what it’s “supposed to” look like?

No.

We care that a side effect of this game will be more room for our kids to visit. And a bit less stress. And, perhaps, even enough space to catch up with my Giddyup class!!!

I need one more rolling chair for painting, possibly one more shop class bookcase from my friends at Kudzu, and, I suspect, a couple more big rubber mats. I am nobly waiting to actually measure before I start shopping!

Oh, and did I mention that we need to be able to deal with soup and a Codex paint buddy by, you know, Monday???

Honestly, it’s exhausting.

And also oddly empowering.

Making what we need, mostly out of what we have.

For now, though, pulling sheets off the bed, crossing my fingers that the dog food is thawed, and being as ready as possible for our helpful friends to show up.

All the while, remembering my dear cousin, Chris, and all the family and friends gathering in Florida this afternoon to hug each other and tell the old stories.

If she were still with us today, she’d tell us to make the most of what we have while we can and live the lives we feel called to.

(Chris was good at Furniture Yahtzee, too!)

Oh, today I ordered a canvas to paint “our” farm. I’m hoping it will help tell the stories my girls and all the generations of grands and great grands and on and on need to hear. It’s the life I feel called to.

ps… the photo is the Observer from a 13-moon painting called Codex. (Give it a minute!) It is, essentially, me seeing me. What do you see when you see you?