big magic

Shattered. 32 x 29. Mixed media on paper

"Big Magic" by Elizabeth Gilbert is a book I should have read two years ago.

Two years ago, much in my life was upset and my creative energy leaked out. Two years ago, I felt empty. I also felt desperate to get back what was lost. I tried to go back to old ideas and disciplines that used to get me going artistically, but what used to work, no longer did.

It's possible that Gilbert's book would not have resonated with me two years ago. The frantic chatter in my head could have drowned out Gilbert's quietly insistent words.

I hear it now:

Trust
Persist
Take courage

She has much more to say than that, but for now, it's enough for me to hold on to these pieces and to feel them expanding inside of me.


Elizabeth Gilbert, interview on "Q" about "Big Magic."

spring forward

Sketch. Ink and watercolor. 9 x 9.

The best part about Spring in the Pacific Northwest is the abundance of flowers. The signs of new life after the dreary stillness of winter is welcome to me."Winter" does not just describe the time of year, but, also describes seasons of life. I feel like I am coming back to Spring after a very long Winter.

Did you know that when the conditions are right, it's possible to see a green flash at sunset? It felt like a beautiful gift to see the green flash last week as I watched the sun set over the Pacific Ocean in Southern California.If you look closely, you can see the shimmer of green just around the setting yellow sun in the photo above.

I did not do anything to earn the green flash. I just waited with patience and hope. And I watched carefully. My patience was rewarded.

The creative journey is different for every artist. My journey has been interrupted for a while by life. Nothing I planned, but hugely distracting. Aging parents. The arrival of grandchildren. Heartaches. Illnesses. Legal challenges. Economic hardships. Good things and bad. Distractions all.

I feel agitated and frustrated by this, but I know that I cannot force creativity back in to my life. Instead, I have been out in nature because I trust in its healing power. I am doing things like watching the sun set.

Ridgefield NWR

I've taken trips to watch birds at the Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge.

Snake River, Idaho.

I watched the slow movement of the Snake River in Idaho and mourned the loss of the huge salmon runs.

Snow outside of Burns, Oregon.

I played in the snow in southeastern Oregon and watched the white snow turn blue and violet in the fading light.

Nevada

I walked the buttes of Nevada and studied the paths of the waterways in the soft rock.

I am finding my way back to my creative path by going deep into nature. Slowly, I feel myself healing and sorting out a new way. I think I can see the way up ahead.

Monotype. Katherine van Schoonhoven

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,

There is a rapture on the lonely shore,

There is society, where none intrudes,

By the deep sea, and music in its roar:

I love not man the less, but Nature more.

Lord Byron "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage"

Deadman "When the Music's Not Forgotten."

monotype

I have been experimenting with monotype and oil-based inks ever since I got my press up and running. "Trial and error" in my case means a lot of errors, but a few good results, too.

This small piece (5 x 5) comes from beach memories. I love the feel of hiking through the oat grass to the rise of the dune. Just beyond the path is the endless horizon of the Pacific Ocean. And, as I stand there, I can feel my worries shrink and drop away. Life is good at the beach.

de-cluttering

Whenever we return from a long trip, I savor the fresh perspective I have when I return home. My vision is clear and I see things more as they are rather than how I wish they were (or how they used to be). Our four months of driving to, from, in, and around Alaska in a motorhome gave me new eyes for looking at home and life.

The first thing I noticed was how much stuff I have. My closets, drawers, shelves, and rooms are full of it. When I tried to put away the first load of clean clothes into already full drawers and closets, I knew I had to do something.

I started to tidy up. Clothes were just the beginning. Then foodstuffs, kitchen utensils, art supplies, all of it. Assess, discard, and clean it up. I have used a modified version of the popular KonMarie method. If you haven't heard of it yet, you can read more about it here.

As I simplified my stuff, I noticed that my drawings were showing signs of simplification, too. Spare and clean, and mostly just pen and ink, my sketchbook drawings look different these days.

It's just possible that in de-cluttering my life from too much stuff, I am also de-cluttering my mind. It shows in my drawings. The spaces and simplicity delight me.

More from Marie Kondo.

press on

Glen Alps Press

It has been a couple of years since I purchased this big piece of machinery, nicknamed "Orange Crush.". It is set up in my garage, adjacent to my studio, and ready for use. Some things are still in progress, like the amount of strength it takes to move the rollers down so that they touch the bed. The wheels are locked now, but when unlocked, they allow me to move it (with three strong people) in and out of this space. The extra height provides some challenges, though. I am excited to learn how to use this press, and how to find my voice with monotypes.

This press is one of about 50 that were created by Seattle artist, Glen Alps. This one was originally used at the Olympic College in Bremerton, WA.

I still hold my breath when I pull a print.

Wishing you all good things during this holiday season and in the new year. Peace. Health. Light.


A Classical Christmas.

arrival

Arrival.1. 20 x 20. Oil on board.

 

 

I am devoting more of my studio time to painting in oil. I enjoy the creamy texture and vibrant color. I am learning the language of oil and playing with how to move it about the painting in ways that interest me.

This painting may be the start of a new series of paintings, but it's still early to tell. Arrivals come in all shapes and meanings. At Thanksgiving, my home was the sight of many arrivals as family joined us to celebrate and feast. Christmas season speaks to another kind of arrival. Much is on my mind, but not organized into words yet. In this case, the images come first.

The Piano Guys "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel."

Thanksgiving

"Company of Women" 25 x 32, acrylic on board

Some of my happiest childhood memories of Thanksgiving include times spent with extended family and gatherings filled with people and food. The women crowded into the kitchen and laughed and bustled, chopped and bumped, and talked and shared. The little girls watched and dreamed of the day when we were grown and knew the kitchen secrets of a happy holiday. The men were often in the den watching football. Later, after dinner, the adults played poker for chips or toothpicks.

Although I did not paint this piece with Thanksgiving in mind,it now reminds me of many good holiday times. In the figures, I women now passed and little girls who have grown into women. Family. I am grateful for the memories.  

I am cultivating a daily habit of giving thanks. I think that a positive, grateful mindset will take me far down the road I want to travel as I age.

Thank you.

"As it Seems" by Lily Kershaw.

listening for the silence

D. oil on canvas, 18 x 18

"D" was one of five band mates I played with about 15 years ago.When we played, "D" held his head tilted, closed his eyes and listened for those spaces between us. We often let the silences linger before we started to fill them with fragments and ideas and building materials for new things.

Making music isn't just about playing notes. It's also about the silences.

As with music, art is not just about what to include, but also what to edit out. I have been thinking about how to include silence in my paintings. Art and Music are good bedfellows, but they don't always share the blankets nicely.

Simon and Garfunkel, "The Sound of Silence."

expressions

Lonely People. Mixed Media

Back in the studio after a "life happens" break. It's a relief to paint and let things happen as they will, without limitations or direction on my part. Not art therapy, but still therapeutic. Not purposeful, but still with purpose. Not self conscious, yet completely expressive.

Scarlett "Eleanor Rigby" cover.

here I am

Cairn, pen and ink

The beach at Seward, Alaska, was mostly rocks from glacier retreats centuries ago. I was on a long walk along the shore, feeling the many miles between where I was and where I was from. Those quiet meditative moments are hard to find in the busyness of a normal day. But, this day was different. There was no rush to go anywhere, no pressure to drive someplace new. Just a day at the beach. And my thoughts on a walk.

When a boat left the marina and motored past me in Resurrection Bay, the wake created small waves that lifted the rocks and set them down with muted thumps and clacks before the water sssssss shhh -ed as it pulled back. That sweet rhythm lasted only minutes and then faded again to the silence of the beautiful landscape.

I picked up a few rocks and rubbed my fingers over their smooth surfaces. And slowly, I built a small stack of them along the beach. When I finished, I sat next to the stack and sketched it. Each step of this act, a meditation. A song. A quiet moment of breathing and being. And being fully awake. Sketching, another meditation, felt good and slow, too.

When I finished the sketch, I took the rocks off the cairn and put them back on the beach. I left no trace.

But, for those moments, I was there, on the beach. In Seward, Alaska.

Sometimes a song can put me into a meditative state. This one does.
Lily Kershaw "Maybe."