Life is fluid, and while we are given a say through our gift of choice, very rarely do we have any control over the speed, the direction, or the details in the eddies of that fluid movement. The notable moments in our life can be rooted in the personal, or the societal, or even the environmental realm, and the impact to those life experiences may run the gambit from joyful to heartbreaking.
Our joyful or serene moments often bless us with a slower pace to fully enjoy them and can be exhilarating, calming, or heartwarming, even bordering on spiritual. It’s not lost to me that we are gifted the pace, the ability, to bath in the details and celebrate the positive emotions that these great moments afford.
The harder moments, however, often strike like lightning, and we must spring into fight mode immediately. My logical mind tries to sort and compartmentalize so I can put those occurrences in proper perspective. My passionate spirit wants none of the calm rhetoric but instead wants to scream out in anger or distress at the inequity or stupidity that appears to be directed at our precious world or the innocents who we share it with. My faith stands in a precariously balanced place between these two.
Faith is rooted in trust. Perhaps it could be argued that the word faith is synonymous with trust. I often need to remind myself that I have less say or control over the more egregious events and must depend on prayer. I must have faith that the greater power will intercede. I have had a lifetime of evidence that it is not mine to fix, but to trust the process. So I pray.
This 10” x 20” oil on canvas painting is my prayer … my pause to reflect.
You have seen me struggle to navigate some of life’s speedbumps over the last year ‘plus’ but I am in the process of wrapping up the last loose ends. Finally! And boy am I SO ready to kick up the rpm a notch or two and move ahead with things.
I got my eye cataracts issues (the last speedbump on the list) resolved last month and have now resumed the ability to paint without holding a magnifying glass between me and a canvas. It is glorious. I still need to go have a new set of glasses made with whatever my prescription is at this point so I can stop wearing an outdated (maybe 6 years old) pair of glasses I scrounged out of the bottom drawer.
So… what is on the docket now? That’s a good question.
I am astounded at how far behind I have gotten with day to day ‘stuff’. Maybe I should spend the next year cleaning my house, selling and gifting unnecessary household clutter, finding my gardens again, and overhauling all my business footprint. BUT, summer heat is upon us and life is far too short to be so myopic as to miss another precious moment with misdirected priorities. So, I am going to try and fold the catching-up and the new adventures together.
There are new marriages to honor, birthdays to celebrate, historical lectures to give on northern shores, fish to be caught, campfires to contemplate, and art to make.
Oh, as for what these pictures allude to, I am framing up a modest collection of work for a one-woman show coming up. Stay tuned and I will pop the announcement up here — probably tomorrow. Whee ….. and we’re off!
This last year has been a bit complicated both in my personal life and in the world, to be sure. By its very nature, our lives have a tendency to protect us by prioritizing our choices. The choices being made on my behalf certainly impacted my painting production, among other things. I might even say last year was my least productive year all around.
But it is now 2026, and I realize that we can’t always see the bigger picture but only the mess immediately in front of us. This time of pausing my plans, learning workarounds for activities, and the overarching lesson of patience was actually pretty important for me. The challenges are not gone but my response is shifting. I am finding that there is a calmness now that is rising out of my core and instead of wasting time and energy pouting, I have been evolving.
This is going to be an awesome year. I say that not with false bravado but with a certainty that has become louder inside. I cannot forecast the how, the why, or the when. No one can. However, there’s no denying the build-up of positive pressure that anticipates all that is about to unfold.
I’m quietly discarding old grudges; forgiving myself for mistakes I’ve made or achievements that I didn’t pursue (basically ditching the “what-if thinking”); and coming to a calmer acceptance of who and what I am now. I am beginning to embrace my uniqueness with some grace and peace.
In a few short weeks I will be in Oshkosh, Wisconsin with some of my older, historical genre works repriced to move. My work is evolving as well. This summer I have a one woman show that I have begun to prepare for even now. It will reflect an entire new body of work, although those that know me well will see reference to a transitional element.
This is the first of February and they say there is a correlation between that date and the full moon in Leo as it relates to light. I have always had a special relationship with light in my paintings. My new works are going to step even deeper into that analysis and attempt to capture light in every aspect of our surroundings.
The painting that I’m sharing today is the first foray into that thinking with a playful juxtaposition between the lowly vegetable and the sublime light.
So, I realized after my last post that I am moving forward again. I had told myself that part of the reason I’ve been grumpy is I couldn’t paint. I also realized that my art has come to a grinding halt this year, as have most of my creative outlets. That just can’t sustain.
Somehow I had allowed my mind to dictate false narratives because I yoked my art and my eyes to my self worth. I had fallen out of rhythm. The part that really surprised me was that I was clearly resisting change, again. After I drew that little sketch of the horse a couple of days ago and talked about it here, I had that ta-da moment that springs out of self conversation or mindfulness. Several friends also reminded me that they still want to see what I’m up to, even if it’s just a sketch.
I have been thinking about what I call mis-assigned importance for quite some time, because I process everything slowly. Not all work that I do is wonderful, nor does it need to be. That little sketch made me realize I’m in the next phase of my growth. We are each, after all, an evolving and learning, spiritual being.
I cannot deny who I’ve been my whole life. I am eccentric, habitual, passionate, self critical and obsessed with attention to detail in everything. My first real job out of high school was illustrating manufacturers’ products for their catalogs, and it translated quickly into a 20 year run as a pre-cad industrial illustrator. I worked for a little desktop publisher but also spent a lot of time drawing nuts, bolts, screws and subcontracting whatever the big name graphic artists didn’t have time for. It was pure visual processing – specific, black and white drawing, and I loved it until CAD programming came along. At that point I wandered off to get a degree in fine art … and discovered color.
As I began to paint, even my oil paintings were more ultra realism than they were impressionistic. The last growth spurt I had entailed trying to loosen up that crisp illustrative style and become quicker and more gestural so that I could do Plein Air – think and work quickly and loosely in the field.
That was difficult with my background. I was resisting change even though I liked what I was incorporating. Now, my temporary vision restrictions are making me realize I need to move ahead once more.
I’ve done some reading and studying over the last year about the effects that vision might have on an artist’s color theory and style. I understand this now. There are active conversations on possible implications of nearsightedness and cataracts to perception of color and clarity of image for several of my favorite artists from various centuries, even impacting and possibly giving rise to movements like impressionism.
Observing the detail and simplicity of the canna bulbs I dug this week.
I think doing these little impromptu sketches are my way of thinking mindfully – a functional tool for me to continue my processing of where I am and what might lie ahead. Functionally it’s good exercise and good use of these little sketchbooks while I’m waiting to get scheduled for the surgery. It certainly will make me easier to live with for the people I care about around me. I’ll keep you posted.
It’s not always easy to do what we want to do, and we get complacent when it is easy for a while. I need to remember that easiness is a gift and I dare not forget that.
This last year has been especially challenging for me just because of the little bits that happen, often tending to come together in one of life’s bottlenecks. That convergent timing can make somebody feel a little picked on.
None of these occurrences that I call bits are insurmountable, but in fact are the kind of challenges (aka speed bumps) that everyone has. When health-related, and more frequent as we get older, they are also something we are resistant to look at objectively. We don’t want a steady diet of harsh reality, even if our reality is gentler than someone else’s. Case in fact, while we know that everyone has something going on that the rest of us don’t know about, we are ‘sure’ that ours is bigger and badder than someone else’s.
One of my speed bumps, and my current bane, is the simple wait for overdue cataract surgery. We knew I had cataracts growing, but when some other priorities had to step up for attention this year, cataract surgery got bumped to the back burner. As a very visual person, indeed an artist by passion, waiting to be able to see the world around me unencumbered hit harder than I expected. My color pallette was altered, let alone being able to translate and reproduce what I’m seeing effectively on paper or canvas is … let’s say “eye opening”. I’m finding myself impatient to be scheduled, and downright cross because I can’t paint effectively.
I am embarrassed because I never completely understood the impact this has had on other people. Cataract surgery is relatively common as we age and I know more older people who have had it done, than don’t. Once again I am humbled by deferred empathy.
So I will keep playing with little sketches and watercolor and use my magnifying glass when I struggle to find my mark. It isn’t really important if the work is great. It will be more important to keep reminding myself that this is temporary and patience, is indeed a virtue.
Sometimes we make a promise to ourselves, to a family member, to a friend, or to a new acquaintance with the very best of intentions. Then something gets in the way and we don’t fulfill that promise – at least in the timely manner that we intended.
I am embarrassed to admit that happens more often than it should. Life gets in the way. Excuses grow as we are distracted. The letter that I meant to write goes unsent. The coffee date I had been meaning to have doesn’t get scheduled. The painting I started remains on the easel unfinished. When I realize that I’ve done it yet again, I am humbled and more determand to behave better in the future, and I ask that friend or new acquaintance or even my own heart to forgive me and allow me to begin again with grace. Life is too short to carefully pack all those little guilt nuggets into a bag and carry them.
I occasionally do historical events where I take my paintings to show and share. It’s one of my greatest joys to work on a painting in public and talk with the people who come through.
Recently I had begun a painting at home right before one of my events. (see process images 1-5 above) I took that painting and worked on it there. (see process image 6 above)Typical of an event where there’s a good turnout with a lot of people, I get less painting done and more talking done. Ordinarily it’s not a problem. I know that when I get home I’ll finish the painting and go on to the next one. This time, however, I started a conversation with some wonderful children from a family about the painting. The little girl in particular kept coming back to see how far along I had gotten. I was not progressing very fast and I even apologized that I was talking more than I was painting. She was very kind and patient and when it was time for her family to leave the event I said, “I tell you what! I will finish this painting when I get home and I will make a comment in my post just for you.”
Circumstances have not allowed me to get that painting done and fulfill that promise the way I should have. A couple days ago I got an email from her mom asking if I had finished it. It was said with such kindness and grace and reminded me the very great importance of promises kept.
The place I chose to paint is of a particular shoreline on Madeline Island, Wisconsin. This is one of the Apostle Islands in Lake Superior. I have personally enjoyed going there after a hot day talking about art and history at the Madeline Island History Museum in LaPointe. There is a peace and a sense of renewal at this place that reminds me of all the peace that comes from forgiving ourselves for falling short of our intentions.
I hope you will enjoy today’s 40″ x 16″ oil on canvas painting, entitled ‘Promises Kept’ in honor of Rose.
Snow this time of the year, be it a bit or a blizzard, melts and freezes in quickly cycling patterns making exotic light shows each morning with the tardy sun’s emergence. Bushes hold up the ice offerings and if we’re really lucky there is a variety of textures in twig and leaf. Frost adds an extra sparkle that I truly love.
Holly lends an extra visual style with spiked deep green leaves said to represent a spirit of prosperity and focused strength. It is also said to remind us to believe in ourselves and to connect with our inner strength as we move through difficult times in our life. By knowing that everything eventually comes full-circle we can see the potential that lies ahead.
Druids believed Holly possesses protective qualities, such as guarding against evil spirits and bad luck. Legend has it that bringing the leaves inside during the winter months would provide shelter from the cold for fairies, who in return would be kind to those who lived in the dwelling.
A year ago I took a photo of the sun drenched ice in mid winter. Now, looking back over the year just closing, I am feeling the same wonderment, clarity, and even excited apprehension that the photo first prompted.
In honor of this year passing and anticipating the year to come, I painted the light in the photo of that day. I added Holly to represent the strength and confidence to face this coming year with joy and not fear; the leaves to lend resilience and red berries for a spark of color.
Merry Christmas and peace and light to you all in the year ahead.
We all have those times in our lives when worlds collaborate about things and stress us out. In my case today’s one of those days. There are a lot of small things I’ve been juggling reasonably well but today more jumped on that full plate. I had really hoped to get into this particular art show (the second in as many weeks) and heard back today that I wasn’t selected. Disappointment is stressful. Compound that now with the stress building to the presidential election tomorrow and I was fidgety, pouty, and building up an argumentative head of steam. I am not one to direct that kind of stuff at someone near and dear to me so I turned to my primary cathartic recourse – paint.
I processed how I was feeling for several hours and then decided I really needed to get to my easel.
I chose a photograph from my phone that I took from an afternoon drive Ray and I took a couple weeks ago. We had stopped at a picnic table beside a lake in a park to eat the sandwiches I packed for lunch. It was a beautiful fall day and the light was inspiring so I took a couple of shots. Painting peaceful landscapes tend to pull my troubled spirit back into a calm rhythm that leads to the quiet joy I needed tonight. I am more centered now and things look much more manageable. That makes me back on track for feeling hopeful that everything will work out just fine.
I just need to take a deep breath and trust … have faith that the positive will prevail. I hope you enjoy this 11′ x 14″ oil on canvas … and if you haven’t yet, go vote tomorrow.
Change is definitely difficult, and subtly more complex than expected… always. For the past two years I’ve been going through the typical retirement shift from an established lifestyle to the new ‘simpler’ one. The process is not unique to me, we all do it. We all need to find our own distinct way and learn our own personal lessons.
There are considerations of finance, health, age, and fear of change. I have to evaluate these considerations, tweak habits, and get starkly critical of myself. Identifying and working on shortcomings will help me to move forward in whatever next direction is waiting. Yes, definately difficult.
One of my shortcomings, I am realizing, is my pride. It feels embarrassing and surprising since we strive our whole life to feel good about our choices, actions and successes.
Pride is an odd and duplicital trait. It is a good thing to feel pride in what you can do, to feel pride as you succeed at something, and to feel pride in being good at something. It can make us more confident and adds strength to who we are.
But pride can also be a sign of insecurity. If the pride is springing from insecurity it can be reliant on diminishing someone else to elevate yourself. Pride can be a hollow flaw that takes away your empathetic response and rightly effects how people view you. No one appreciates arrogance and selfish pride will only erode. The true challenge is to have a healthy self-worth without arrogant pride.
Sadly, by the very circumstances of being a woman in the work environment, we are compelled to appear fearless, strong, self reliant, and self serving. Unfortunately, to instead appear empathetic, nurturing, or loving in the workplace is often cause for ridicule. Those traits are equated to showing weakness, so instead we must control the narrative and anything that could potentially knock us from a place of power where we can actually affect change and serve others.
Serving is foundational to my faith and a large part of who I am as an adult. I’ve always loved giving to other people. It brings me great joy. I have had to be subtle and intentionally careful, however, because people can feel uncomfortable receiving blessings. People often feel unworthy of receiving praise, rewards and gifts. I respect that. As I am getting older I am experiencing that firsthand and discovering a surprising level of deferred empathy. I realize one of my greatest shortcomings is the need to learn how to receive gifts.
As I reveal and face my shortcomings in this effort to become the next and better version of myself, I am feeling grateful for this process. I am becoming the truly spiritual and loving servant I was designed to be. I am understanding the complexities of true love of self and others. Real change and growth is uncomfortable and humbling and joyful and peaceful … and vital.
To truly serve I must learn to live in grace, humbly giving and receiving seamlessly and without hesitation. By relinquishing unnecessary control I can finally live at a level of harmony that will be evident in my artwork.
I process through my artwork. My artwork reveals insight to my spirit. I won’t even try to predict where this will all lead but I trust the process and trust is synonimous with faith. It’s all about life and the wonderment of all of the amazing pieces of who we are coming together to become the best gift we can give back to our maker. It’s about coming full circle.
This is a detail of a painting that is 24″ x 30″ oil on canvas and is yet to be named.
Kelly E. James 