Upcycled Trunk

 

After my last post, which was a bit of a rant -

I figured I would get back to "art". :)

 

This is a piece which I recently completed.

A wonderful commission piece for a co-worker.

It is a box - a mini foot locker.

It measures about 18" square on all sides.

 

This client called me one day and said she had this box...

"it's kind of ugly", she said.

"I really don't want it in my house...but my grandfather gave it to me and I can't bear to part with it."

 

I agreed to see what I could do with it.

When she brought it to me, I was a little doubtful.

It is made of chipboard.

The outside of it had been covered with a heavy paper that was decorated with really lovely blue geese.

Can you say "1980s?" LOL

Not pretty.

Once finished it would be residing in her library room.

 

A good priming coat of black, some bright colors and design and...

it has been given a new lease on life.

A sun and moon and the admonishment to enjoy all that a good book has to offer.

 

And some day - if those lovely geese come back in style -

she can remove the paint and let them come back out to play...

or not.

 



Over the Rainbow...

I can't remember the first time I saw the movie "The Wizard of Oz".

I just remember that it was an annual event.

Of course...

I am of the era that grew up with no dvd's or big screen plasma tvs or cable television.

If we wanted to see a movie, we went to a movie theater or

we waited for it to be played on television.

If we watched it on tv, the disclaimer that it had been "edited for television" always preceded the start.

This meant that minutes had been shaved off the movie to allow for plenty of commercials.

But there were no other options, so we endured the commercial breaks.

 

The "classics" were usually broadcast once a year -

"The Ten Commandments" was always played around Easter.

Sometime in the winter, they would play "Gone With The Wind" - over two nights!

"My Fair Lady" was usually a holiday movie.

And then there was "The Wizard of Oz".

Life stopped and schedules were planned around these special movies.

The whole family gathered with large bowls of popcorn sitting in our laps.

 

And the movie about the wonderful land of Oz was always a favorite.

The music.

Dorothy and Toto.

The witch.

Glenda.

But the best part...the transition from black and white to color.

Magic.

 

I remember, when I was in my early 20's,

a local movie theater that was known for playing only "classic" movies

had a showing of "The Wizard of Oz".

On the big screen.

I went.

And the movie took on a whole new feel for me.

 

Let's face it - today's movies are much more spectacular from a technical standpoint.

My children have a hard time appreciating some of the older "classics" because they are so used to the perfection that is achieved through computer technology.

But for me, the magic of the "Oz" remains to this day.

 

One of the most enduring aspects of that movie is "the" song....

"Somewhere Over the Rainbow"...

In my humble opinion - one of the greatest songs ...EVER!

The melody.

The simplicity.

The complexity.

The message.

 

I don't know what it is about that song in particular.

But being a music person - and a music person that really appreciates great lyrics -

this one speaks to me on a deep, almost spiritual level.

The idea of a land where everything is perfect;

the feeling of possibility, of longing, of hope, of dreams...

 

The song was magical to me as a child.

As a young mother, I sang the song to my children as a lullaby.

As an adult, I have sang the song for weddings as young couples began their new life together.

I have sang the song for funerals as family members have said their last goodbyes.

As a recently seperated married woman, I sat at my piano and sang the song with tears running down my face, as a way to find solace in my new uncertain world.

And now - as a divorced woman looking to the future,

I sing the song with an eye on possibility for greater things to come.

New adventures, new dreams, new roads to travel, new destinations...

anywhere my wings will take me.

 

Birds fly over the rainbow...

and so can I.

 

 

 



I Am....

I came across this quote by CS Lewis the other night.

It YELLED at me...

And I created the drawing above.

Then when I was saving the photo, I noticed I had another photo saved with a similar name.

Obviously I love this quote because I did another drawing with it very recently - back in January.

Is the universe trying to teach me a lesson here?

 

 

So it got me thinking...

What do I believe I am?

I remember sitting in a workshop many years ago.

We were supposed to find a partner and introduce ourselves.

We were then instructed to write down who we were.

We took our pens and began scribbling quickly.

We created our personal resumes on our paper.

We then shared our answers...

Wife, Mother, Sister, doctor, lawyer, assistant, teacher, student, volunteer, etc., etc., etc...

 

The teacher thanked us all and told us that not one of us had answered his question.

We all looked around in confusion.

We had long lists stating who we were.

 

"Those are the roles that you fill each day. They are not 'who' you are...", he said.

"Now - write down "WHO" you are".

 

We took our pens in hand and .....

Sat in silence.

No pens were moving.

We were all stumped.

We looked around the room hoping that the answer would find us.

How do you answer that question?

 

If I couldn't state my roles - then who was I?

This question wasn't about what I did or how I spent my time -

but it was about those things that we hold so close to ourselves, deep down inside.

The things that we feel uncomfortable speaking out loud because it may be interpreted as being

egotistical or vulnerable or afraid...

The ever-thriving personal internal debate...

"like yourself just the way you are - but don't brag about it or you are conceited."

or

"don't show your fears and vulnerabilities or someone will take advantage of you".

 

So "who" am I? Who do I believe I am?

I'm still learning the answer to that question.

I may never fully know the answer because I am always growing and changing and evolving.

I hope I never stop.

 

But let me share the words of Marianne Williamson -

 

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
― Marianne Williamson, Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of "A Course in Miracles"

 

This quote gives me goosebumps every time I read it.

This is who we are -

it is who I am...

 

And I hope that, as I let my light shine as bright as I am able, it will "give other people permission to do the same." As I am "liberated from my own fear", I can "liberate others".

 

 

 

 

 



Taking a Time Out . .

 

I started this girl about two years ago -

I liked her, but wasn't fully happy with her.

The colors were off - she just didn't feel right.

But the message spoke to me. I set her aside and was going to come back and finish her.

At some point, she ended up in a file, half completed.

It was almost as if I couldn't finish her because I didn't believe the message.

I wasn't committed.

I believed everyone else deserved that infamous "time out" -but I wasn't allowing myself that.

I had too much to do.

Hmmmmm.

 

Recently, while sorting through files and boxes of stuff that I couldn't deal with before my move,

I came across her again.

I stared at her and thought -

it's your time to come to life.

And as I thought that - I wasn't sure if I was saying this the girl in the illustration or to myself.

I put her in my "active" file of pieces that I am working on.

 

Last weekend, I escaped to the Oregon Coast for a short visit.

My weekend was very, very busy -

filled with long walks, naps, reading, meditating, sleeping and drawing.

OK - maybe busy is not the right word - but it was the kind of busy-ness I needed.

Other than the long walks, most of my time was spent in a rocking chair in front of a fire.

I took a short nap and then got up. I sat in the chair.  I pulled out my drawing supplies.

I opened my pack of paper.

And there, sitting on the top, was the original drawing of the "time out" girl.

I didn't realize I had her with me.

 

I didn't feel right working on the original version.

That was drawn during a different time and I was in a very different mind-set.

So I started from scratch.

I drew the girl above, attempting to capture the essence of the weekend I was having.

Kicking my feet up and spending all of my energy on .... ME!

 

I posted this on Facebook to share with friends and I was amazed at the response form my women friends.

 

Obviously - I'm not the only one that needs to be reminded to take a "time out" for ourselves.

 

We spend almost every waking minute doing for others -

our jobs, our families, our friends, our pets, our homes, our chores...

it's hard to know where to slip in some time for ourselves.

 

But the lesson that I have learned over the last year - and have to keep relearning -

is that when I take a few minutes and give to myself -

I am far more productive on the have-tos.

So - I plan on taking this particular piece and sharing it with my friends -

I'm also going to make a copy for my own walls.

 

So here is the question - what are YOU doing to take care of you?

Is it time for a time out?

Coming Out of the Dark . . .

It's Winter. . .

The darkness is beginning to lift slightly.

The days are trying to get a little longer.

The weather is going through a variety of personality changes which have included cold, blustery winds, freezing temperatures, thick, dense fog, sunshine and pounding rains.

 

The foggy mornings have been . . .beautiful.

I leave the house early in the morning, just as the morning light is beginning to creep up -

still a little hesitant.

It's as if the daylight is still trying to shake off it's evening slumber just like I am.

I leash up my trusty companion, Redford, and we trudge out to stretch our legs.

The last several mornings, I have been greeted by flocks of little birds flitting around the trees and singing their song.

I can see buds on the ends of the tree branches bulging with the hope of bursting out in the future.

The ground is beginning to swell in spots as bright green shoots are starting to push skyward.

The whole world looks as if it might explode.
 

And I am filled with hope and anticipation.

And as the fog clears, we are left with bright blue skies and a light that is unequalled during any other time of the year.

 

Once Christmas is past, I find the heaviness of the winter a little too much to bear.
The colorful lights of the Holiday come down and we are left with gray and darkness.
 

But when I see the little hints of what is to come . . .I feel a sense of lightness begin to creep in.

And I remind myself to relax and enjoy the coziness of the remaining winter months -

it won't last forever.

Spring is coming.

New life. New growth. New Light. New color. NEW.

And with these things in mind . . .

the morning fog begins to remind me of a blanket wrapped around the cold trees,

offering warmth until Spring returns and clothes the trees with their bright green foliage.

 

I have felt the same sensation building up in me lately.

The feelings of emerging from a very long winter.

 

When I was young, I had cousins who were living in Alaska.

They came for a visit.

It was early Spring and although the weather was ok in Oregon -

it was still cold.

We were wearing our coats and still dressing in our sweaters.

My Alaska cousins, having been raised in a much colder climate,

showed up and were wearing short sleeves and shorts.

They were outside continually.

They said it felt like summer to them.

Their version of "normal" was much different from mine.

 

For the last several years, I lived as if everything was fine.

Life was "normal".

I had adjusted to the way my life was -

I got up every morning and kept myself in motion.

I played the role of wife and mother, business owner, artist . . .etc., etc., etc.

Whatever was required at the moment.

When my husband lost his job and said he needed to find himself,

I moved through each day and picked up the extra duties as needed.

I adjusted my version of normal.

 

With the changes that have taken place in my world,

it is as if the cloak of winter is beginning to lift.

I am begining to see that I was not living . . .I was surviving.

I was existing . . .but not thriving.

I laughed. Sometimes.

I smiled. Sometimes.

I slept. Sometimes.

I created art and used color and shared words of hope.

But I wrote the words of hope to save myself.

Now I write them because I want to share the joy that I am feeling in myself.

I feel like the buds of the trees that I see on my walks -

bulging with a joy and hope and anticipation that is just waiting to explode.

 

The fog is lifting.

I am seeing what was and what is to come with a brighter light.

 

I have felt like I have been standing on a cliff but was too afraid to jump because I couldn't trust where I would land.

I couldn't see the bottom through the thick fog.

But now that the light is returning and the fog is lifting -

my view is brighter and I can see that there are wonderful things at the bottom of the cliff.

Things that make me laugh and smile.

Things that make me believe that my dreams are truly attainable.

Things that make me excited with anticipation.

I am no longer existing . . .I am living.

I now laugh . . .often.

I now smile . . .often.

I now sleep . . .often.

 

My own personal Spring is emerging and I welcome this change of season.

 

 

UPcycled Table

I met Mary Jane over 2 years ago.

She came to one of my shows and picked up a few items.

She then called to have me help her with a project -

To redo an old chair that had been her mother's.

The idea was to cover the chair with images that reminded her of her mom as a tribute to her.

 

Several months ago,

she called again.

This time to do another chair - but for her sister.

The chair was just like the first one - it had come from the same set that had been their mothers.

We covered it with images that reminded her sister of her children.

 

Then came the table.

The table had been mom's as well.

However, it had been subjected to quite a bit of abuse and didn't look very nice.

The finish was peeling off.

There are a few cracks in the wood.

It had been left out on a porch and exposed to the elements a bit too long.

But it was moms and Mary Jane could not bear to see it tossed out with the trash.

 

So she brought it over.

She wanted it to have the look of the outdoors since it will eventually live in their mountain cabin.

Mountains, a river, fish, a cabin, ferns -

 all of the things that they love about their cabin were to be included on the table.

 

A little sanding.

A little priming.

A lot of color and . . .

Mary Jane's sad and unloved table has been given a new lease on life.

 

 

This little table is still a work in progress.

There is still some detailing left.

And of course - a good finish to protect it for years to come -

But I think I was able to capture the feel of the love and joy that they experience at their mountain retreat!

DANCE

When I was five, my mom put me in the car one day and told me she had a surprise for me.

We drove for a while - really just a short distance - but to me it felt like forever.

We arrived at an old school and went inside.

I was confused and nervous.

What were we doing?

We stood in a really, really long line.

And then it happened - she signed me up for ballet lessons.

We then went and bought tights, and leotards, lots of bobby pins and the best part of all . . .

ballet slippers.

I went to dance lessons and learned to plie, and releve'.

I learned about first position and all of the other positions.

To this day - over forty years later - I tend to turn my feet out when standing.

I learned about working at the barre.

We practiced during each class to a live piano player who spent her afternoons playing classical music for us to point and kick to.

And then in the winter - the best thing of all happened -

we got dressed up in our costumes, had our hair pulled back into a tight bun, had our faces smothered in thick make-up and performed our routine on a large stage in downtown Portland.

This was the same stage that the best theatrical performances were given on, and concerts and all the best talent in our City performed on.

And I got to do my simple ballet routine on it.

The lights were so bright and hot.

The audience applauded for us.

It was magical.

And I became instantly addicted to performing.

 

I continued dancing for years to come - all the way through college.

Besides ballet -

I experimented with jazz and tap.

I played around with ball room.

If it was performed to music - I tried it.

And as I grew - I discovered my love of theatre and my favorite thing of all was to perform in musical theatre.

There, I was able to satisfy my love of acting, music and dance.

There I found my bliss.

To this day - If I hear wonderful music, it is next to impossible not to move in some way.

 

But somewhere along the way -

I stopped dancing.

I had children.

The family came first.

Money was tight.

Time was short.

Patience were stretched.

I gained a few (ok maybe more than a few) pounds.

And I stopped dancing on stage . . . in public . . .even in front of my family.

The few times I danced, I confined myself to the safety of my own home when no one was around.

 

Recently - I watched a movie on dancers.

It was a documentary about young ballet dancers who are driven, and passionate and desperate to dance every minute of their lives.

I watched as they stretched and practiced.

I watched as they extended their legs.

They made it look so easy and fluid. Yet - having been a dancer, I understood the dedication and hard work involved. The ultimate athleticism.

I found myself longing for the bloodied toes and the aching muscles. Those things were almost like "badges of honor" to us dancers.

My heart and muscles almost ached for the feel of dance while I watched the movie.

And the feeling lingered for some time afterwards.

 

We all have that thing that makes us ache inside -

maybe for you it is music, or a sport, or writing or . . . .?

It was that thing that you loved to do more than anything else when you were young.

It's that thing that makes you feel restless when you ignore it.

It calls to you. It drives you.

 

Do you answer the call?

Do you still do it?

Do you still pursue that passion on a daily basis?

Why do we let these things go as we become adults?

Somewhere along the way, we become convinced that working on those passions is a sign of immaturity.

Or worse yet - it's a sign of being selfish.

 

Really? Being true to ourself and doing that which makes us the best that we can possibly be is selfish?

As I have grown and changed, I have developed new passions - my art and writing. These

 are passions equal to performing and music and dance.

Does that make me greedy to have more than one?

And if I have such strong desires for my art and writing - am I being greedy to want to pursue the old and forgotten ones?

Does that make me selfish? Or self-absorbed?

 

I am beginning to challenge that thought in my own life now.

I am wanting to reclaim those lost passions.

I want to DANCE!

 

Fearless Warrior?

 

 

"For the warrior, the experience of a sad and tender heart is what gives birth to fealessness. Conventionally, being fearless means that you are not afraid or that if someone hits you, you will hit him back. However, we are not talking about that street-fighter level of fearlessness.

Real fearlessness is the product of tenderness." Chogyam Trungpa

 

A short time ago, a friend gave me a book. . .

 a self-help book, which normally I would run away from.

I'm just being honest.

But this one is different.

It's written for a real person. By a real person.

It's full of wonderful life experiences and I have found myself sucked into it -

reading little bits every day and feeling uplifted, inspired and stronger.

In fact, it is full of little sticky notes where I have read passages that jump off the page at me.

 

The above passage jumped off the page at me today.

 

I have a another very good friend - who teaches martial arts.

He refers to this craft as being a "peaceful warrior".

 

Peaceful warrior.

 

Now normally, I would have heard that phrase and I wouldn't have given it any attention.

But the word "warrior" is not one that I think of or use in my daily communications.

It has a connotation of someone who is fierce and scary and who likes to fight.

Some like the street fighter that Trungpa refers to.

Someone who gets pleasure out of fighting.

 

Or it conjures up images of Melk Gibson in Braveheart.

And if you know me very well . . .you know that I have never watched that movie because, again -

the idea of a warrior makes me uncomfortable.

In fact - it scares me a little.

 

So why am I hearing this word so often lately.

Seriously - it seems like I keep hearing and seeing this word.

What I am supposed to learn from this?

 

Hmmmm -

Then today, I read the above quote in my book.

And there is that warrior word again.

And Chogyam Trungpa states that a true warrior is tender.

A true warrior has experienced sadness and has a tender heart.

 

And as my friend stated - a warrior is peaceful.

Wow!

OK - obviously, I meant to learn a lesson here.

 

 

I have expereienced a lot of sadness this last six months.

I feel like I have been in a battle every day.

 

I have also experienced a lot of joy.

Big, little and medium sized victories -

 

I like to think that I have a tender heart.

Heaven knows - if I am in your presence and you begin to weep over something that is weighing you down . . .

I can guarantee I will be sharing your tears with you.

I tend to be very empathetic to others.

And as I continue to emerge from the experiences I have had over the last year,

I find that anger is one of the few emotions that I am NOT feeling.

Oh don't get me wrong - I have moments of being upset . . .even mad.

But anger is not an emotion that is dominating me right now.

I'm not angry with my circumstances or my ex husband or the universe . . .

quite the opposite.

I am curious as to what I can learn and share from this experience.

I am filled with compassion for my ex husband for the struggles that he is going through.

Does that mean I am being a doormat and am willing to not hold him accountable for his actions?

NO.

But I am filled with compassion and empathy.

I am filled with tendernes.

Through this experience I am learning a deeper sense of compassion and tenderness . . .

and I am learning to be more compassionate and tender to . . .

wait for it . . .

-

to MYSELF.

 

Yup.

Me.

Myself.

I.

 

Oh boy - is that ever new for me!

Compassion and tenderness and empathy -

those are emotions you have for other people - not yourself? Right?

I mean - as a wife, a mother . . .a woman -

we have a tendency to put everyone elses needs before our own.

To not do that is selfish.

But how many of us keep doing that and then one day we wake up, look in the mirror and find that we are no longer in there?

We have lost ourselves.

I have looked back on all of the things that I removed from my life in order to be the perfect, selfless woman -

I gave up on friendships, interests and passions.

But those were all things that made me who I was.

So - I became lost.

 

It's almost a new year.

And I have never been one to spend a lot of time lamenting over resolutions.

I don't really see the point in looking at ways to improve myself based on a date on the calendar.

But this year is different.

And I have already been working on those resolutions.

And my number one resolution? -

to put myself first.

 

Not in a selfish way - but in a way that allows me to be a better person in order to give those around me what they need.

To allow myself to continue to grow a more tender heart.

And I can't emotionally do that without caring for myself first.

I will be more tender with myself.

I will forgive myself for my faults and take responsibility for them so that I can improve.

I will learn to say no to those things  and more importantly - those people -  that make me feel like less of a person - or who seperate me from my true purpose.

 

I am going to work on becoming FEARLESS.

 

And - here is where I am going to go out on a limb -

I am going to work to become a WARRIOR!

CHANGE

Change.

Does any word create such a wide range of emotions?

Excitement. Fear. Dread. Fear. Happiness. Fear.

Anticipation. Fear. Pressure. Fear. Joy . . .oh and don't forget FEAR!

 

Yet - how often do we avoid the change -

and often the wonderful rewards that come as a result of change?

 

Right now -

I am going through all kinds of change.

Some of it by my choice.

Some of it as a result of other's choices.

Most of it very exciting -

All of it scary.

 

But the main lesson I have learned from this is to be open to the change.

Overall - change can be very good.

 

Years ago, I remember learning that life is constantly in motion.

We are either moving forward or we are moving backwards -

we are never stagnant.

If we aren't changing and growing for the better . . .

well . . .we are going in the opposite direction.

 

And the only way I can find to make sure that I am going forward is to keep dreaming . . .

keep reaching. . .

keep changing.

 

Which, of course, then brings us back to the subject of fear.

 

Right now

my art business is going through a major change.

It will be good.

I feel confident that it will be great!

It started as a dream.

And the dream is beginning to become a reality.

But it is scary.

Because it has caused me to make some decisions to let go of things that I feel confident about.

Things that I am comfortable with.

 

But I am choosing to let go of the comfort and continue this journey forward.

 

Stay tuned - I promise to share details when I can.

But in the meantime - I will keep dreaming.

And envisioning where this journey of change will take me.



What is Fear Preventing You From Doing?

 

Remember when we were kids?

We would sit in our grade school classes and the teacher would ask us -

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

I don't know about your class -

but in my class, the answers were BIG things.

No one said - I just want to be ordinary.

We had BIG dreams. BIG hopes. BIG desires.

We didn't think about how much money it would make or what others would thin of our choices -

We lived by our dreams.

 

As for me. . .

I fantasized about being a ballet dancer.

I wanted to twirl on my toes and wear flowing skirts or sparkly tutus.

 

I wanted to be singer - not with a rock band -

but with a big, full swing orchestra.

And even when I was young, my dream would have been to dress up in 40's style vintage dresses and sing classic American dance standards for a band like Duke Ellington or a jazz band like Ella Fitzgerald.

(Truth be told - I still have this fantasy!)

 

I dreamed of being a Broadway actress.

Doing that meant I could combine all of my passions together.

I wanted to perform in classic musicals like West Side Story or 42nd Street.

The more dancing the better -

and I did get to perform in some amazing musicals when I was younger - just not on Broadway.

But I miss that part of my life and will find a way to return.

 

I dreamed of working in the Peace Corps -

living a life of poverty in a remote village in a jungle and selflessly helping others.

 

I dreamed of being a police woman like Angie Dickinson was on tv.

Or a lawyer like Perry Mason.

I dreamed of being the perfect mom who had a whole group of children and never got ruffled like Mrs. Brady.

I dreamed of being a cool, hip musician mom like Mrs. Partridge. . .

 

But I never, ever dreamed of being an artist.

I tried art in grade school.

I tried it in high school.

I thought I had no talent whatsover and that feared stopped me from even taking a class.

If I drew something or tried to be artistic, I would cover it up and not let anyone see.

I would only try if I was hidden in my room - and it almost always ended up in the garbage.

I didn't get the courage to try to really explore art or painting until I was well into my 30s.

And even then - I was scared to really try.

I used patterns or only painted in solid colors and let someone else do the detailing for me.

 

I didn't even utter the phrase

"I am an artist"

until 10 years ago.

It took me that long to say to myself,

"I don't care what it looks like - I am going to paint for myself."

And when I lost the fear - life began.

 

What is preventing you from trying to do . . .?

It's time for a fresh start.

It's time to explore those dreams and make them happen.

It is time to LIVE.

Dream big with god nothing is impossible

 

When I was a young girl,

I learned a song that I sang at church.

I don't remember much of it - but I do remember a line that said,

"And with God, Nothing is impossible."

 

I believed this, I think.

But at that age -

I just took life as it came and it all seemed good.

My goals were pretty basic -

graduate from school, have a date to the prom (and there is a good story with that), get to sleep in on Saturday mornings,

 

As an adult -

the desires are a little bigger.

But as I put this theory to the test -

I'm beginning to think that there is some truth here.

 

So I am going to keep dreaming BIG.

Because I have decided that little dreams don't really suit us.

 

So what are you dreaming about doing?

What big, giant, momentous things do you think about and want and desire?

 

Let's all make a pact to keep our dreams big  -

but more importantly - Let's choose to believe that we deserve them. . .

 

Just a little thought that helps me keep going these days.

Dream while you are awake

 

We all dream. . .

Pretty much every night.

In fact, in College I did a research paper on dreams.

It was fascinating.

The cycles of sleep, the importance of sleep and more importantly -

the importance of dreams.

Did you know that we dream multiple times through the night?

And we only remember our dreams if we wake up in the middle of it?

Things that make you go hmmmmm . . .

 

So what are we dreaming that we don't remember?

And why should all of the good dreams happen when we are asleep and we can't enjoy them?

 

I prefer to save the good ones -

the really wonderful inspiring, juicy dreams for when I am awake and I can remember them.

And that way  -

Maybe I can actually participate and make them come true.

I'm JUMPING

Multi-media painting on upcycled wood with upcycled frame
 

Life.

A crazy ride.

It's been a rollercoaster in my world lately.

Moving at the speed of light.

In fact, for my birthday this year -

my kids surprised me with a trip to a local amusement park.

A good portion of the day was spent riding roller coasters.

I took on that adventure with a sense of symbolism -

life is a rollercoaster - and one hell of a lot of fun!

 

And throughout this experience, I have had the chance to jump and jump high.

 

A few things that have happened. . .

 

I signed papers for my divorce. That was strange and disconcerting.

But deep down, I knew it was the right thing to do.

Full of every range of emotion possible.

 

I was able to participate in "the" show of the year.

This was a show I have wanted to participate in for over 6 years - but I was never brave enough to jury in for it.

This year - I took the leap.

I was accepted.

I participated this weekend.

And it was a tremendous success for me.

I was surrounded by some of the most talented women artists in the region.

I was humbled to be a part.

 

I have been working on a huge PO for one of my wholesale accounts.

The biggest ever.

I was brave and went in and talked to the buyer.

We expanded my line with their stores.

I conquered my gremlin on that one and it paid off.

 

I have reconnected with old friends.

Friends I haven't spoken with in almost 30 years.

And it feels good.

I have rekindled these relationships and wondered why they were neglected for so long.

It has felt like a warm homecoming.

These are people who knew me well and understand who I am, who I was, and what makes my soul leap.

We have shared laughs, tears, and many wonderful memories.

 

I have taken mini-vacations to replinish my soul and feed my inspiration.

I have listened to new music.

Looked at amazing art.

Read uplifting books.

 

I have gone into collaboration with a new business associate.

My work can now be found as a needlepoint patterns at

Kathy's Needlework Creations.

 

I have been putting new ideas out there and experiencing the joy of

reaping the rewards.

 

Now don't get me wrong -

the last four months have been full of a lot of sadness, frustration and a little anger as well.

There has been discouragement.

There has been a constant sense of being overwhelmed.

There has been fear . . .more fear than you can possibly imagine.

But friends and family keep stepping in and lightening the burden.

They have encouraged and lifted me up.

 

But I am here to say -

I have tested the theory.

I have jumped . . .

and I think I have seen a few wings sprouting back there.

Have you tried it yet?

Go on - jump.

And jump HIGH!

 

 

All in a days work!! I love my paint Job!!

First of all . . .

Thank you!

I received some wonderful comments about my last post both here and on FB.

I truly was speaking from my heart and obviously it was remembering to stay true to ourselves is

something that we all struggle with from time to time.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts and encouragement and journeys.

I know that on a regular basis I feel a great connection to other artists as I jump around and visit different blogs.

What a gift this blogland is!

The last few weeks have been all about finishing up some custom orders.

The first were two saddle stools.

A customer called - she had found 2 black saddle stools on clearance.

Having only paid about $10 each, she decided she wanted them customized.

Could I help with that?

SURE!

Then I was contacked by a lady in Conneticut.

She was searching the internet for a unique wedding gift.

She found my blog and saw the lazy susans.

A version with sunflowers was created for her and shipped out.

I am constantly humbled and grateful when someone asks me to create a piece for them.

Especially when it is to be a gift.

To think that my work is what they are choosing to give someone special as a gift.

It kind of makes me go all gooey inside.

To all of my customers - and to all of you who visit this blog -

Thank You!!!

It really helps make this journey special.

The Birth of a Bridge

This is the story of the birth of a painting.

A while ago, a great friend of mine approached me about a possible opportunity.

She works for a large business in Portland that is part of the Greater Portland Postal Customer Council.

Now - I do not pretend to understand exactly what that means, but trust me - it is important to this story :)

Her company is one of the largest customers of the US Postal service in our area.

Their company also participates in a campaign every year with this organization called

"Bridging the Future Together".

For this campaign, they pick a local artist to produce a painting depicting one of Portland, OR's bridges.

Afterall - we are not just known as "The City of Roses",

but also as "Bridgetown" and The City of Bridges" because of all of the bridges -

12 major bridges in all!

Fast forward a few months - and I am asked to create this years bridge painting.

Cool!

I am excited.

I am flattered and I am humbled.

I go downtown and take photos of Portland's steel bridge.

Just like a "real" artist.

I come home and stare at the photos.

And then I panic!

I mean - upset stomach, can't sleep panic.

I am NOT a landscapey-scene painter.

I am whimsical and unrealistic and playful.

I am NOT a realistic painter.

Bridges are structural and gray and black and steel . . .

After a serious bout of "self-talk" and more encouragement from my friend, I get started.

I blow up one of the photos - I use graphite paper and trace the image.

And I start painting.

I take a few liberties but not many.

And this is what I came up with . . .

Version 1 - blurry image (sorry)

Hmmm - it's ok. Barely.

I show it to my husband - hoping for words of encouragement.

But instead of glowing praises, he says - "I thought it was supposed to be of the bridge. It's a painting of a tree with a bridge in the background."

I am hurt and offended -

and then I am honest and admit - "I do not like it and I am not proud."

Round 2

Concept - bring the bridge forward.

More color.

A sun.

More "whimsy" in the water.

Oh - and I went downtown and took more photos from a different view point.

I finish and stare at it.

I show it to the family.

"Hmmm - nice".

Um - not the response I was going for.

But then - I'm not loving it either - WHY?

I call my friend. I need an honest and brutal opinion.

Seriously - what is with the blurry images? Anyway - version 2.

She is honest with me and says . . .

"It's not you. It looks like you are trying to paint in someone elses style. Be YOU. If we wanted a painting like all the others we would not have asked you. We want it in your style."

I thank her for the reality check.

I take a deep breath and decide that I really don't care what anyone else thinks.

This time I AMgoing to do it in MY style.

I throw away the graphite paper.

I decide I really don't care about scale and structure or any of those cold details.

I want my painting to be warm and bright and full of whimsy.

So here it is . . .the final version:

It may not be the most accurate depiction of Portland's Steel bridge -

but it's me.

And I was much happier submitting this.

It will now be framed and hung in Portland's main post office.

It will be scanned and reproduced onto calendars that are sent to businesses in the GPPCC.

It will be reproduced and matted and raffled off to winners.

And it looks NOTHING like previous year's paintings.

And a lesson was learned. . . .again.

As a painter, and in life - I have to be true to me.

When I am not - my journey is full of angst and stress.

And the outcome is less than desirable.

Thanks for sharing this story with me . . .