Finding peace by turning to my passion.

It’s not easy to be creative when you are under a lot of stress, especially the uniquely complex stress connected with this virus. I sure know that.

Our natural tendency is to worry about our health or the health of our loved ones. We worry about our jobs. We worry about the immediacies of food and home and long term destruction that we can’t even predict yet. Worry, however, is destructive. It has been too present for me lately, although really hard to identify.

I have been taking my energy over the last 3 weeks and trying to channel it toward my job in this new ‘work from home’ environment. I try to think about how I can reorganize my work flow within the new parameters and somehow balance the Home Office and the home. I keep trying to keep everything smooth and reach the same high standard that I always have, but now realize that everything needs to be allowed to shift and find the new standard.

Gratefully, there comes a point when you finally start realizing that zombies are not storming the doors, Spring is starting to bloom in the yard, the days are getting warmer, and you’re doing well at your job. It’s different, but good. You wake up one morning and realize you’re getting sleep and you’re eating fine and it’s gonna be OK. I’m grateful right now that my husband and I know how to be pretty self sufficient and are really having no trouble distancing ourselves.

As I have begun to relax I realized that I have completely neglected that creative part of me that needs nourishment too. Today I sat down at the easel and flipped through my vacation photos from our trip out West last spring, right after graduation. When you still work full time vacations are often just done at a dead run, zooming too fast through places that are awesome and gorgeous. You don’t have time to sit there and paint for a long period of time so you take lots of photos with intent to bring them back to the studio and make the paintings later. Unfortunately, I actually don’t do that as often as I should. Now as I find that balance – the true life balance – I know I need to begin to paint plein aire from these photos from trips. This morning’s offering is a lovely rock outcropping from Yellowstone.

It feels good to paint again and spend some time seeking my peace.

Difficult times.

We could have never imagined the scenario that we are currently living through. The world is under siege from an unseen virus and from a rigor of our own self realizations that we are actually flawed and fragile creatures that survive only because we are part of a larger whole and overseen by a higher power.

It is a time when many of us, even those not inclined to do so, are slowing down and becoming introspective to some degree. We spend time alone and think about our place in the world. We think about our priorities of family, work, and life. We come to realize what truly brings us joy, and peace. We identify what our physical needs truly are such as food and shelter, and what our spiritual needs also truly are.

The gravity of a worldwide pandemic certainly disrupts our routines, scares us, and rattles our trust – sometimes making us lash out in fear. It breaks normal patterns, and makes new ones. It creates new priorities and we discover our new, evolving normal. We also begin to realize that mankind cannot thrive without creativity. It is in fact, the dreamers and creative thinkers who not only provide us with the visual arts, dance, music and more to sustain our spirits, but it is they who find workarounds to sharing resources, who discover the vaccines, and who find ways to sustain us quite literally like humanity’s connective tissue.

When creative people are quarantined they reach for the knitting, and they reach for the guitars, and they reach for the paintbrush, because they know that it is just as important as the sustenance of food. Just as Kandinsky found correlations between music and color, we too must find correlation between the lovely quiet that has started to emerge from stay-at-home directives and a sub level of sound where music and wind chimes and children’s laughter and our own voices become the light and color of our souls. Those who don’t remember how to hear that level within themselves are the ones that are panicking by not being out in the public. They need us to help.

I am thankful every day for my life. I am thankful every day for those people that I have surrounded my heart with for they are the thinkers, and the musicians, and the painters, and the knitters. They are the ones who carefully steward mankind’s spirit during times of crisis and share it back to those in need like fabulous little morsels when the world is starving.

Despite the fear and the anxiety that is prevalent right now, I know that we will emerge from this as humans with a greater love for each other, a greater tolerance of each other’s flaws, and a stronger mankind overall. We must never let the louder voices be the voices that we follow blindly. We must instead be quieter and follow the much more subtle voices of silver thread networked between each other.

Warmer days and the promise of Spring thaws.

This is that time of the year when we can celebrate warm and beautiful days, and small yellow flowers sneaking up through the leaf clutter in our garden beds. When we walk along great lakes shorelines here in the north we can see the ice melting, the snow banks fading, and any piled snow lurking in a shadow is dwindling to melting runoff. The Sun has a uniqueness as it comes up every morning that bespeaks a moisture laden atmosphere, and the changing trajectory of its spring solar path. Clouds create patterns of indecision revealing that they can’t decide whether to rain or snow, and but instead choose to sparkle with a glistening light. It is virtually impossible not to become enamored with these vignettes and want to paint them.

As a painter I try and confine my work to either live (plein aire) or painting from my own photographs in the studio so the work is infused with my own memories and experiences. Rarely do I stray from using my own photographs. Last summer, however, I met a photographer in Kenosha, Wisconsin on the shore of Lake Michigan who has very similar visual tastes to my own. With that shared taste, I find references to my own experiences, and I can draw from those, remembering being there from her pictures.

The piece that I finished in late December (called Christmas Morning Sunrise) was painted from a photograph that this new friend took as she walked the shore of Lake Michigan on Christmas morning. I had written her and asked her if I could have permission to paint from that photo and she agreed. Then, a few weeks ago I saw another shot that spoke to me and asked if I could paint it as well and she agreed. I appreciate so very much that she has been kind enough to let me paint from her images. The painting at the start of this post is my newest work, Early Spring Thaw.

Photo credits to Linda Plaza, photographer.

Happily Superstitious.

When I was growing up we would go on long car rides and my mom would always say, “Oh look, there’s a white horse! Quick kids, make a wish.”

I have since heard that making a wish on a white horse tends to be an Irish tradition. I don’t know how much truth there is in that but I will always believe. Now, whenever I’m going down a road and see a white horse in the field, I happily hear my mom’s voice in my mind and I think of her, smile to myself, and with a slight bit of superstition … I make a wish.

Sharing with you today, my reminiscence of that happy superstition. Make a wish.

Stretching your comfort zone.

We all have our favorite subjects to paint or favorite pallete we tend to use and drifting into those comfortable places when we sit down to paint is perfectly ok. After all, we paint because we love what we do and time is often at a premium. It is easy to just launch and not search for a subject that makes a new statement but is instead a tried and true image or formula.

That being said, sometimes we need to stretch our creative muscles.

Occasionally I will look at photographs I have taken and think of what attracted me to the view or image at that moment. Was it redeemable? Could it be a worthwhile painting? That question is what stops me today and makes me wonder, ‘what is my purpose for any particular painting session?’ And yes, the reason can vary!

If our reason to paint on any given day is purely to relax and have fun then that can be enough. If, however, we decide that we want to expand our abilities beyond the improvement that occurs with practice, we might also be heightening the risk of failure. I wonder how much pressure I place on myself for the time at the easel to be fruitful, and equating fruitful to time wasted and the potential loss of revenue.

Although I may say I am not painting to make my living, I must admit I don’t want to purely paint in my own vacuum and store work or gift it like I did early in my career. Perhaps I am not being genuine when I say it then? I do want to sell most of what I paint. I would like to share what I do with others. It’s gratifying and lucrative and therefor, helpful.

That begs the introspection of assessing why we’re painting in any given day and as a result, the potential censure of painting something that may fail because to fail means it won’t sell. That’s a self defeating loop. We need to continually challenge ourselves and gamble with potential failure. Yes, sometimes we need to paint for the pleasure, and sometimes we need to paint for revenue. Improvement is dependent on challenge so perhaps we should also include, sometimes we paint to stretch.

As for myself, I know I need to continually stretch outside my comfort zone so that I can expand the perimeters of that comfort zone, improve the quality of my work, and succeed more often than I fail by facing the challenges head on. It might actually, potentially, result in more sales.

The captured moment.

This morning has been so relaxing. It has been enjoyable sitting at my easel painting and thinking about friends on the North Shore of Lake Superior. It’s delightful to me that while painting I can transport myself in my mind to particular moments in time. For those of you, my friends, who were in the encampment at the Grand Portage National Monument in August of 2019, you will recall the evening when the storm blew up quickly resulting in a lovely double rainbow. It’s been rare for me to be able to see both ends of a rainbow in my life, and most assuredly I had never seen the rainbow reflect off water like that, almost creating a circle. Circles are everywhere in our lives from repetitian within our visual spheres to our relationships with people, and are most certainly demonstrated in our paths of life.

Thank you for circling back to see how this painting turned out today, and thank you for walking the circles of my life with me.

Feel free to send me a comment about the work, or that day, or our walk together.

Laying out a painting and enjoying the memories.

undefined Laying out a new painting is truly an exercise of craft – the pleasure of color and canvas and paint. When I work I look at the photographs I took and revisit the time, revisit the place, and think about all of the emotions involved in that moment. I can hear the sounds and smell the smells or feel the excitement of the people around me. These things and more help me add the right extra elements to a painting to make it work.

For those who were present at this time and place last summer you might recognize what I have begun to lay out. I’ll post the finished work so comment then and let me know if I captured the moment as you remember it.

Take a deep breath and walk down the new path.

Christmas time. The holiday season. Breaks from work to eat, love, rest, and in my case, also paint. It is a time when we are in the process of finishing all of our tasks and projects, and scrambling to wrap up year-end commitments. With that, we all look to the New Year with some degree of excitement, nervousness, but most of all, hope. 2020 has all of the potential of a new year, a new decade, and a new path.

We may not always have control over what appears to be destiny, for that control I believe remains in God’s hands. We do, however, have a great deal of control over the things that happen to us through the choices we make, and the thoughts we form from our own observations and what we believe of the opinions of others. We must use our wisdom and our soul to choose, for it is why God gave us choice. 

As part of this next step of my walk in faith I am making some changes with the New Year. I won’t call them new years resolutions because in fact, they aren’t a promise because of the calendar but a promise because I need to make the changes.

One of the things that is changing is the look of my website. It will be just a freshening and a rebuild of my interaction with you. It also can serve as a reminder that many other changes are beginning their birth behind the scenes. I thank you all who have followed or are now following my walk in faith toward being a full time artist. 

This painting is inspired by a photograph taken by a friend on the beach at Kenosha, Wisconsin of the Christmas Morning Sunrise. My thanks to her for the permission. I enjoyed painting and contemplating through these last two days.

I would also like to extend the thanks to include those people in my life that surround me with love each day. Each action, no matter how small, matters greatly. Those who reach out with the spontaneous hug, the conversation in the street when I need it, the lifting text on a Christmas afternoon, the visit to my office to say “well done”, the help with the website, and the tender guardianship of my heart…  I thank you, truly.

Blessings to you all In the coming year. I will not be back here until the new look is launched.

Sentimental memories

As an artist, there are times that I choose my subject matter because it’s a dramatic scene, like a sunset or sunrise. Other times I choose my subject because it’s a particular face or lighting that strikes me as unique or stirring. Sometimes I just capture a singular image or an item that helps me remember fondly a visit or a moment in time that warms my heart and makes me smile.

This afternoon I’m wrapping up my weekend with a little time at the easel and remembering a lovely visit from a couple of years ago. It was a relaxing and enjoyable August evening. I hope you enjoy today’s painting, memories of that evening that I will entitle, Porky, in honor of this lovely little free range chicken and the dear folks who cared for her.