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Start. Stop. Hurry up. Wait. Start a project. Get interrupted. Start something else. Everything goes wrong. AAARRRGGGHHH!!!
"Some days are like that... even in Australia..." ~Judith Viorst (from Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad, Day).
I used to read that book to my own children as well as to my elementary class each year. When I have these kinds of days, I try to remember that it's just a day...
I am working with a writer in a collaborative project with the Hoffman Center. She wrote a poem and I am responding to it through a painting. This is one concept sketch I've done for it. I have a good image in my head, but haven't completely committed to this idea. I'm going to play with another idea today and see what happens.
Someone posted on Facebook a photo of a human heart covered in fat, saying that fat is not beautiful. I wanted to reply that an anorexic heart probably doesn't look much prettier. I think the issue is that we're trying to make oranges in to apples. Overweight women have as much right as any magazine model to feel beautiful because beauty shouldn't be defined by our body shape. Beauty is an entire package of personality, integrity, self-worth, and kindness. Fatness isn't beautiful because it's unhealthy. And that's a different issue than beauty.
They are linking, however, because if we are not taking care of ourselves physically it's probably because we don't feel beautiful already. I personally can't address my weight issues until I'm comfortable with who I am, as is. Any effort I put toward it prematurely will only backfire in the end. I've watched this same cycle with many women in my life. However, when I understand my invite worth a s human soul, I also understand my inmate beauty and the sire to be healthy becomes intrinsic and possible.
If we, as a society, could stop trying to make oranges into apples and simply look at each other heart to heart, then we could all feel more beautiful and the fat would begin to melt away.
I've never been able to tread water. Even though I learned to swim as a child, I was never a very good swimmer. Several years ago I decided to overcome my fear of the water and worked hard to do it. I went to the pool and practiced - not swimming - but not being afraid of the water. After a few months I was swimming like a fish in the deep end and loving every minute of it. And now, even though I can't get enough of the water, I've still not been able to tread water.
A few months ago I started taking a water aerobics class. One lady does the exercises without a float belt. After class the other day I decided to try doing the exercises without a belt. It was hard, but I found myself quite able to do it. Suddenly I realized I was basically treading water. I quit focusing on the exercises and started focusing on simply staying afloat. I soon realized that all the other times I'd tried to tread water I had failed because I had done the "panic stroke". As soon as I realized I could do it, and believed in myself, my motions settled into a rhythm. My heart rate evened out and I was able to treat water for 15 minutes. I could have kept going but I needed to get on with my day.
Typically when people talk about treading water they are using the phrase in a negative connotation to indicate that someone isn't moving forward in their life. On this day, however, treading water meant I wasn't drowning and it became a true life saving skill. I think often we are hard on ourselves when all we are doing is treading water. I think it's good to give ourselves credit for staying afloat and not drowning until we can get the resources we need to move in a healthy way.
Here's a sketch of the same general scene as "Preparing the Kayaks". The angle and activity is a little different, but definitely the same time frame. I really enjoy the quick sketches - gesture studies - because I only have a few seconds, or minutes if I'm lucky, to capture something that takes me hours to paint. I'm not nearly as good at drawing as I am at painting, but every time I draw I become a better painter. And every time I take a photograph, I become better at drawing. It's all about learning to see. I have a student who, when I point out a trouble area in her painting will say, "Oh, what was I thinking?" and I often reply with, "It's not about thinking, it's about seeing."
I ended up with a few extra hours on my hands so I went to Netarts Bay to check out an area where I'd never been. It was low tide and there were several people clamming and playing in the water. There was a family with boys who were having fun testing the water... in and out... in and out. It was fun to observe their interactions and the pure and simple joy that comes from playing in the water.
You can't unsay what has been said. The following story is one I heard many years ago. I like how it illustrates this truth. The other truth is that you can't un-hear what you are told. I work hard at avoiding gossip. I can control what I do and don't say. The worst for me is hearing something I don't want to hear. It affects how I see someone else and I can't undo what I heard.
There was once a woman who went around her village telling a story about her neighbor. She loved the shock she saw on everyone’s faces and she especially loved all the attention she was getting herself. A few days later, however, her neighbor confronted her and told her the truth about the situation. Now the woman felt terrible and wished she had never said anything at all.
Not knowing how to solve her problem she went to the wise man of the village. She explained what she had done and asked him how she could fix it.
He told her to go home and get her feather pillow. Then, when the evening wind began to blow, she should toss all the feathers into the wind. Then she should return the next day.
The woman went home, cut open her feather pillow, and tossed all the feathers into the evening wind. The next day she returned to the wise man. He told her to take her pillowcase and go out and gather up all the feathers. She went and spent the entire day gathering feathers. At the end of the day her pillowcase was not even half full. She returned to the wise man with her pillowcase and explained to him that she had done her best, but that she simply couldn’t find all the feathers.
The wise man looked at her and said, “And so it is when we tell a story. We cannot know where it has spread and we cannot call it back again.”
I was sitting around camp and the wheelbarrow was just begging to be drawn. I enjoyed the weekend and it was fun to just play around with whatever presented itself.
Another attempt to sketch Twilly while she sleeps. How does she know I'm looking at her? She doesn't move a muscle until I want to sketch her. Then she won't hold still. Silly dog...
I was challenged to collect and press five flowers. I imagined gathering all of the fabulous colors found everywhere here on the coast in the spring. However, life offered me a different option while we were camping in a ponderosa pine forest. It was in central Oregon in a high altitude, arid region. I was surprised to find a huge lack of flowers. So, instead of picking and pressing any colorful blossoms, I captured the local flora in a different way. These are life-size or larger than the originals.
This is a quick gesture drawing I did of Andrew playing his banjo. We were sitting around camp at a mountain man rendezvous. A gesture drawing doesn't give you the luxury of a nice life drawing. It has to be done before the subject moves, and you never know how long that will be. It's a fun exercise and one I need to do more often.
I believe it is important to be kind to and serve others. I know there is much joy to be found when we let go of obsessing over our own petty problems and reach out to others. I have many opportunities to experience this joy and I treasure these moments.
At the same time, one cannot be selfless without a self. There are times when we must practice self-care and take responsibility for our own needs - mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual. There are times when we must stand firm and say, "This time is mine. I need it."
Spring has always been my favorite time of year. It is when the world begins to wake up and start over. I love having the opportunity to wake up and start over. There are so many renewal opportunities build in to our existence. We have the opportunity to start fresh every single day. Our culture gives us a weekend so that we can start fresh at the beginning of each week. In my religion I practice spiritual renewal each week.
As an artist I get to start new whenever I want. All I have to do is open my sketchbook and find a blank sheet, just waiting for me to fill it with whatever inspires me. I have a supply of blank canvases anxious for the first stroke of the brush. And I have a stock pile of old canvases willing to be painted over and made new again.
I think it's significant that before I can see the new blossoms in the springtime a lot of work has gone on below the surface. A seed had to soften and sprout and send out its roots. Those roots had to take hold and gain enough nourishment to send a sprout out through the soil and into the sunlight. And the sprout had to grow and develop a blossom.
I so appreciate the opportunities I have to start anew. And yet, if I don't prepare myself for those opportunities how can I expect my efforts truly blossom?
Time management has always been an issue for me. I can't really wrap my brain around time any more than I can wrap it around spacial distance - like how far way 10 feet is. If the world revolved around me (and all too often I forget that it doesn't) I really wouldn't worry about it. But since my choices effect other people, it becomes an area of my life that I'd really like to improve. I've stolen from a couple of other creative sources for this post... the Steve Miller Band gets the credit for my time that most definitely keeps on slippin'. And Salvador Dahli was the inspiration of my melting timepiece. Not only does time melt away, but my energy seems to go alone with it.
My biggest issue is finding a way to manage my energy without wasting my time. If I had the energy to do all that I want, then I'd be going 100 mph non-stop 24/7/365. Unfortunately, I no longer have that kind of energy. So how can I allow my physical body to maintain a balance and still stay productive? As will all things in life, it's a matter of trial and error and practice, practice, practice.
This sketch was done on a day when I was remembering my brother who passed away in 1999. I was struggling and my thoughts and focus were on simply moving forward.
Moving forward isn't necessarily a linear process. For me it rather often starts with just a speck of hope and will from the center of my being. Then, 10 minutes at a time, I act on the promptings of that hope and that will. If I can keep listening, keep acting, and keeping believing, before long the speck has taken on a life of its own and suddenly there is something that I can really see and believe.
I've always, even from childhood, wondered why January marked a new year. What is new in January? I always thought Easter would make a better New Year. As an adult I found my birth father and he taught me about the Persian culture. Their new year celebration is called Nowrooz and is celebrated at the spring equinox. I love it! It seems so much more appropriate!
Springtime is marked first with daffodils who herald the new season like the sun heralds the new day with golden light. Fruit trees burst with popcorn blossoms that seem edible. Calves wobble along, following their mothers. And the sun beats down warm on my skin, penetrating to my soul and reawakening it for a new season of hope.
New beginnings spring from eternity. They re-center the soul and ground us what matters most. Tentacles of hope and joy are sent out to spread the news that life goes on and all is well.
The expression "Attitude of Gratitude" is fun to say, but for me it leaves too much to the assumption. I can have a grateful attitude without ever acting on it. And I can do acts in a full heart of gratitude without anyone seeing a difference in me. I want to focus on acting in gratitude.
Actions of gratitude start from the heart, weave us together, and radiate out.
What lies beyond the horizon?
I see only confusion ahead.
The dark comes at me sideways,
Although there is just as much light.
The dark seems to get to me first.
Every time.
Am I coming or going
On this long road?
Will the seeds I've planted along the way
Continue to grow if I move on?
How will I nurture them
If I'm moving toward the confusion?
