In following with the theme of play that I have been talking about for the last several posts, I wanted to say that for me, play in the studio does not always mean taking paint to canvas. Working with miniatures is something that I have always enjoyed but it has been years since I’ve truly played with them. I had taken today off work and it seemed like the right day to do something just for myself.

A couple of months ago the wall clock in my office at work finally died completely. No amount of tinkering or batteries or anything could make it run, and all 3 of the hands joined each other down at 6 o’clock. Just as I went to throw it in the dumpster I stared at it and thought, “gosh, but that’s a great circle with a nice cover… I wonder if I could do a little diorama in that?” There you go. That’s the spark that you need to play. I brought it home and it sat in the studio until yesterday when I looked over and thought, “maybe I should just go ahead and pitch that thing?” No, I needed to follow through.

So instead I pried off the cover, ditched the clock mechanisms, and traced out the cover on a piece of art paper. Now I knew how big I needed for the backdrop. It was an 8″diameter clock so it’s quite large but when I actually took the clock apart I discovered that I only had a shallow depth of about a 1/2 inch. That was surprising and not as deep as I would like but this was, after all, just play.

This process is really just like what they do in museums. First I painted the water color back scene. Museums paint the backdrop first to add setting for some kind of 3-D image in the front, like a taxidermy animal to focus on, and then add a 3-D environment to bridge the space between the animal and the scene.

I sculpted the little critters from skulpy and baked them in the oven along with the potatoes last night. The weeds and realistic growth are actually just plucked off of one of the dried weed arrangements scattered throughout my house. So I blocked, glued, painted the little figures, and just dithered this fantasy landscape into being. There is nothing here that is rendered perfectly, nothing makes any political statement, and nothing has the validity of a story… but you know, sometimes you just need to relax and play. Instead of ending up in a dumpster it will have a second life as a diorama of a fox on some little hilltop overlooking a lake and some distant hills. As for me, I remember how much I loved playing with things that are small, painting things that are small, and crafting.

Never hesitate to play. It is through play and creativity that we awaken all those places in our mind that are necessary to do the good work in all the other areas of our life. Find something fun to do that isn’t tied to work, chores, or revenue. Just play.

From the time we begin to engage in our world as a small child, and then start school, we find those who will admonish us if we spend too much time daydreaming. We’re told to be practical, pay attention, focus, make a plan, and develop stick-to-it-tive-ness. These are all quite admirable of course and necessary traits for success in life. I would say, however, that there is an equally vital component for success… imagination.

Imagination is born in play; unscripted and spontaneous play. It is also a skill developed over time that gives our life both foundation and wings, equally. Most importantly of all, it is not exclusive. Absolutely everyone has the access, and the capability to play and grow their imagination. It can become the unpredictable element that lifts the successful to the notable, and the admirable to the extraordinary in the most incremental action or creation.

Over the years there have been those who have growing concerns over the level of scripted creativity now found in play. The images are prescribed, the dialogue is written, the songs are complete, and little is left to the imagination. The concern is that if we do not learn how to fill in enough of the images or stories from within our own imagination we will not learn how to create our own. It could also be said, however, that by giving us stories and images as seeds – however complete – they prime the pump for future creativity. Perhaps both are accurate?

We need to dream. We need to write and draw and build and imagine beyond what we know, absolutely. Dreams are how inventions are made real. Dreams are how we reach beyond our perceived limitations. Dreams are our freedom from confines.

Today’s painting in the ‘Play’ series is an 8″ x 10″ oil on canvas of a dog who is the main character in a children’s story, one of several I will publish someday.

So as I think about what I need to do to sort things out I immediately remember something my dad used to tell me over and over when I would get overwhelmed. If I had a lot of tasks at hand looking like insurmountable challenges, he would quietly say, “… just stop. Take your time. Rather than look at everything you have to do all at once, break it down. Look at things one piece at a time.”

That particular approach is not unique to my father. I have heard the concept repeated a number of ways over the years but having someone I respect remind me of that has continued to help me my whole life. I can get overwhelmed by the appearance of magnitude. I need to be reminded to stop for a moment, and take my time.

I am a list maker and that can be good or bad. On the good side it’s a very organized way to articulate and identify all the things I need to do, and as I finish something I can make a check mark next to it. That’s satisfying and encouraging. When it gets hard is when your list grows expotentialy, becoming unwieldy. It begins to grow out of control and each day you just add to the list, try to pick up speed to get a handle on it, and you may not get to make any check marks. Well that’s no fun! It can be suddenly overwhelming.

Tonight I am sitting on my back screen porch looking out at the last rays of today’s sunlight. It is the first sun we’ve really been able to enjoy in some time and it is uplifting. I was thinking last night about what my father had said about stopping and taking my time, and realized that I needed to do that.

I need to stop the inertia. I need to be self aware. Painting has the duality of both catharsis and illustration, the latter sometimes giving the captured negative bits too much traction. So when I put a canvas in front of me last night I decided that I needed to paint something that was defusing and positive again. I needed to take my time.

So what I painted last night is simply a portrait of a cow. There is no cloaked message, no statement, and no internal angst being processed. It is a step towards my inner peace. It is me calming down and hitting a reset button. It is an exercise in pushing paint around. It is play. It is art. It is honoring the other part of Kelly that sees joy and beauty in absolutely everything. That is the person that I need to feed and nurture and protect because that is the person who will persevere.

I hope you enjoy this 11″ by 14″ oil on canvas called “Cow”.

In less than a week we will begin a new year. We are always hopeful that somehow this invisible line in the sand caused by the flip of a calendar will somehow cause a miraculous shift to the better. The excitement and hope that we all experience causes us to make a plan, make a list, make amends, and universally go into the New Year with a tremendous level of optimism and determination.

Tabula rosa, the clean slate. I, myself, am right there with plans like that each year. In this approaching year it feels even more necessary. I suspect there’s not anyone reading this that won’t be happy to see 2020 in our rear view mirror, but I wonder why we’re so focused on a singular, set date to begin?

Yes, this has been a hard year for a myriad of reasons, all slightly different for each of us depending on our own circumstances and emotional state. I struggled, as many have, but am determined to be grateful for all of the blessings I have received. I enjoyed my Christmas Day with my husband and cooked and ate and watched some television. I also started this painting. I had begun to think about the year ahead and sat down at the canvas to push some paint around while I thought.

Sometimes the years are mundane, only becoming as good as we pre-determine them to be. Oh, I know, there are those things we have no control over (like illness) but we inadvertantly set limits based on our limited vision. What if we truly start over and remove the ceiling? I have to say that by this point in the year I am positive that the next year will be better than ever, and I feel the most control. Maybe that’s where I make my mistake. I’m not in control and really shouldn’t try to be because I will always aim low based on my limited vision.

As I started to paint I was thinking about my love for the dramatic sunrise, sunset, water reflection or shine and I realized that in all of those scenarios the light is already fully engaged and somewhat predictable. I enjoy painting light in full splendor. However, there is something truly amazing and inspiring to view emerging light that begins when you are in the darkness. If you’re in the woods, especially in the middle of the Winter when it gets very dark early and stays dark later, that darkness can be very deep. When dawn starts to grow the first little bit you are literally thrilled to be able to differentiate between solid and the space between limbs, branches and voids. Then, there is that magical moment just before you actually see the source of the light, but you can begin to see the effect of the light. The limbs and the edges of the branches begin to reveal because of what you can’t yet see, and wherever the light hits new snow it becomes almost luminescent in a joyous response to the light. As light increases, so does color. It is … awesome.

I must admit that I don’t believe I fully captured on canvas what I had in my head but it was good practice and good to think. I will no doubt try to capture this predawn time of day again sometime because the hope of this first light is very much like the first day of a New Year. It does not, cannot, and should not attempt to predict the weather for the day, the temperament of the month ahead, or the forecast of events for the year but we forgive the beginning of a day or the beginning of a year because we know that noone or nothing can see the future. We forgive because it did, after all, start out with pure hope like we do.

It’s up to us whether we sustain that new hope, impact the next month with our stockpiled supply of new hope, and potentially set a good course for the rest of the year. Moreover, we are not limited to one calendar day and doomed to wait until we start again. New beginnings are repeatable. Despite what looked like a disastrous year, we have done good things both large and small. Whether you’ve stayed healthy, calmer or resiliently upbeat, you have a proven record of successes every day to show for it. You have endured. You have loved. You have become stronger.

Make this New Year like that of the first new light of the day; full of new hope. If we stumble out of the gate, start again.

I share this image with its flaws and struggles much like the passing year as an excercise in pondering – a 16″ x 20″ oil on canvas entitled, Dawn in the Dark Wood.

Gosh, I miss spontaneity. I miss road trips to wander off grid with little pre-prep. I miss unrestricted play. I suspect I will never take those things for granted again.

Until this year many of us struggled to make time in our busy schedules to set up a weekend play date with friends, or pencil in a vacation on a company calendar. We made do with the quick picnic or bike outing. We hurriedly gathered for a campfire and guitar evening or a luncheon date with friends because we understood the balance that we needed between our work and our play. It’s a hard thing to do under normal circumstances.

Now, in this year of extra complicated challenges, it feels astronomical to plan and even harder to pull off the simplest event. We’re constrained by shifting business environments, by demands to our overtaxed financial status, and by a strange fuzziness of what is considered time off work. We mix going to the office and working from home and go through daily gyrations to figure out how much of the time working from home can be verified. It all feels like the ‘if a tree falls in the forest and no one hears/witnesses…’ conversation. It all feels hard.

Dining with friends has become more than the spontaneity of picking up the phone and saying, “what are you doing tonight?” Now it becomes, “where should we meet… when can we meet… what has your behavior been for the last 10 to 14 days… what’s the temperature outside… is your sitter in quarantine?” The novelty of strict discipline has worn off and the Christmas holiday is coming. Even though we know we need to think about any time spent with others, it comes at the same time that we are tired and wanting to go rogue and gamble. Consideration of others over self is certainly being put to the test now.

I yearn for the luxury of coming home from work and saying “gosh let’s just go out …who feels like cooking”. For the spontaneity of “let’s just go camping this weekend.” “Let’s go see our friends.” “Let’s get in the Van and drive for 2 weeks knowing that we can get gas, can be at a hotel if we want to, can eat at a greasy spoon off some interstate if we want to, can go into a little shop and walk around for distraction or buy some sundry that we forgot. I miss the spontaneity of sitting beside a lake or river and finding the mental and emotional stimulation that resets our priorities.

Any envy of retired friends that tell me that they’ve been walking along the lake shore, biking through the woods, or strolling on a beach is short lived because I know they are only slightly less impacted than I am since they don’t go to a workplace. Self motivation, self entertainment and even the determination to stay positive is a genuine struggle for us all. It is hard not to throw up my hands and say I’m done, but in truth I am way too stubborn to get this far around the track, see the finish line out ahead of me, and quit!

I appreciate the humor people share. I appreciate the uplifting memes they send. I appreciate the photography of everything from kittens to cabins to stare at. We all get it. We all mask our emotions along with the lower half of our faces to everyone except family, and coworkers in zoom. It is not easy to be spontaneous with Zoom and not all friends and family have the capability, inclination or hardware. Some of my snow bird friends have flown South, and others are putting up their Christmas decorations now. We cannot just go visit and the holiday cheer feels a bit less festive in Brady bunch configurations.

I sat down at the easel yesterday and struggled to find a photo that I wanted to paint. This ‘tired to the core’ feeling is a hard one to stare down, but I felt calmer when I started to look through my phone photos. I do look forward to the day when I can go out and breathe fresh air and see the abundant loveliness in nature but scrolling these I recalled moments that Ray and I just pulled the van over beside a lovely meandering river and felt the peace that this brought. Many of these photos had nothing dramatic about them such as a colorful sunset, rock formation, waterfall or unique creature, but were just what they were, a snapshot of a peaceful moment in afternoon sun.

Perhaps I am numbed by too much drama in my every day. Perhaps I have reduced the importance of how a quiet, spontaneous moment allows you to you look and see subtle beauty. I don’t need a big plan or a long drive, all I need is the impromptu glance out my kitchen window at the birdfeeder. I’ve got to remember not to amplify what I cannot have right now, and focus instead on what I can have. This challenging time will pass and we can go back to our adventures. That spontaneity of a road trip will be worth celebrating, but in the meantime we can endure.

This is a 16″ by 20″ oil on canvas called ‘Roadside Break.”