I’ve been going crazy for textures and patterns lately. Upon stumbling onto my cache of digital photo collages from my undergrad days (which I uploaded to the gallery, go look!) I found a renewed sense of interest in collecting and squirreling away some of the surfaces I find on my day to day travels. We’ll see what comes of them, but for now, here are a few I’ve found of late..
Sacred Temples of Mind and Body
Weddings and a Halloween prep shenanigans
I’m so ready for fall. It snowed on us at a beautiful wedding and we were just thankful for green trees and wet streets and warm coffees and fires. I love this time of the year.
Roots.
It's all about balance, lately.
How to balance weighty expectations with the fleeting desires of the heart? How to balance that which seems to pull in opposition, as solid as the dug-in, earthy toes of great trees and as light as their cotton seeds borne upwards on the shoulders of the pressure systems surrounding. We are all storms and the roots that drink from them. How do we slate our thirst?
The trees have the necessary knowledge to manage their growth and their resources. Deep rings of wet wood show seasons ripe with dripping opportunity, ready to be absorbed and transformed into flesh. Drier years; (for there will always be dry years,) there are rough round remembrances of thin energy and budgeted time. Just another lap around the sun. Just another skin strung up to the canopies. But there is always the green. The little buds in spring that push forth from brown bark and stretch their little fingers towards the skies. Little curls of leaf open like mouths to drink from the air around them and they shake, slightly, under the weight of cold morning dew. A deep freeze reminds that water embodies more than life itself but also time, and we thaw in relief at the touch of the dawn sun. A slow stretch, upwards, and a big gulp of fresh mountain air. (Will I have to describe the smell of fresh air to my children someday, when we are sneaking sniffs of bottled atmosphere from tin cans in the midst of murky cities?)
I miss the forest, clearly.
Sweet Chaos and Sticky Little Hands
Wildflowers and sweet lavender
Bright starbursts and wildflowers
Salt Water and Fresh Tracks
Get it done. (Feed the fire)
No better time than today to dive into what fuels you. Fire consumes; and you must supply the sustenance to your fire. Do you feel burnt out? Go deeper. Find something to (ful)fill you. But tickets to a show. Go to the botanic gardens. Take a drive. Eat some cake. Listen to music you loved ten years ago. Poke the sore spot in your mind until you figure out why it isn’t healing. Sit with the exhaustion. Go to the bookstore. Remind yourself that this too is a part of the process.
🖤
Sometimes the hardest days to show up are the most important.
(I'm posting this from last night. Spoiler alert, I'm in a much better mood today than I was then. I hope you all have a great day!)
One of the most memorable critiques I've ever received was one concerning my studio practice; it came from a man I deeply respect and whose influence I am continuously grateful for (especially when that influence pops up so unexpectedly, like this). Having observed my studio rituals for years, and understanding exactly where I need to get myself mentally before I begin to work, he told me that I had to learn how to paint when I am upset. He knew that part of my creative process was to first mentally arrive at my "happy place", and that getting to that state of mind propagated my focus and productivity. He also knew that there would be days like today, when I can't pay attention because I'm feeling everything, when I'm distracted by negative energies, when I'm preoccupied by anxiety over things I can't change. (Damn you, full moon, ripping me open again! **shakes fist in the air**) I have tried to learn how to do this with equally occurring successes and failures. . . but the truth is that I'm not very good at being a "tortured artist". I'd much rather paint happy. But I'm sure many of you fellow creatives can attest that sometimes angst manifests itself as a thoroughly muddied mess- but more often it produces master works of art, and without some connection to that level of emotion, the majority of artistic endeavors would be banal displays, void of any humanity. Either way. . . on a day like today, where it's hard to get in there at all, and I can only focus a little at a time, I'll take any successes in the studio.
I've been working on a painting that was originally intended to be an autumn piece. I'm impatient for my damn pumpkin spice and jacket weather to get here, for sure . . . but after seeing this little man yesterday, I haven't been able to get the image out of my head. It wasn't an intentional perspective whatsoever; I didn't have the photo open while I worked, I didn't color match the palette, and I wasn't trying to make a political piece or statement. I was just SO preoccupied with him today. With all of it. As always, the painting isn't dry or done, so it will change from here. I just wanted to highlight how easily influenced autonomous abstraction can be and why I usually have a ritual to clear my mind before I paint. It all goes in there.
Here's a list of charities that provide aid to Syrian Humanitarian Relief. Proceeds from the sale of this painting will go to one of them.
I've also been floored by photos of floating caskets in the flood waters of Louisiana- another image I can't get out of my head. I'm happy to hear that people down there are helping each other out so much, but it's a terrible shame that the media wants nothing to do with it. Seems like good press isn't even good press these days.
Sorry to get all doom and gloom on ya, kids, but that's just where my head was at today. I assure you all is well, please do not worry. It's just the cycle of things. <3 Tomorrow will be a bright day indeed!
