I Could Tell You...

I could start by telling you how sorry I am that I have been missing in action for months.

I could offer all kinds of excuses.
 

I could tell you about my 50th birthday coming and going and my resolutions for the next 50.

 

Blowing out the candles before the smoke alarm goes off.

 

I could tell you about the items I checked off of my bucket list -

like going white water rafting and hot air ballooning.

 

Watching the large balloon deflate after floating over the vineyards of Oregon.

 

I could tell you about my trip Sedona, AZ where I sat in a vortex and meditated on my birthday as the sun rose.

A woman meditating on the edge of a cliff in the vortex.

The beautiful rocks of Sedona - oh! The colors.

I could tell you about standing on the edge of the world at the Grand Canyon, where I joined with strangers and meditated and sent out a collective "om" across the wide chasm.

an awe-inspiring experience.

 I could tell you about my trip to Ashland, Oregon for the weekend to see a wonderful production at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and to visit with amazing friends.

 

Friends in Ashland, OR exploring the park.

I could tell you about my adventures (or nightmares) in the dating world - in fact, I may even dedicate an entire post to that comedy of errors.
 

I could tell you about the death of my sweet aunt and the effect that had on me.
 

I could tell you about the family dinners I had.

 

Family dinners are a family affair - Uncle and Auntie helping grandson learn how to do the dishes.

 

I could tell you about the beautiful fall we have had here in Portland and how I have enjoyed absorbing the colors of the season.

 

Oh the colors of the leaves this year.

 

I could tell you about new friends that I have met and welcomed into my heart.
 

I could tell you about tears that have been shed and laughter that has been released.

I could tell you about sleepless nights and lazy days.

I could tell you about the phenomenal miracle of welcoming a life into our family with the birth of my sweet granddaughter.

 

Just hours old...

 

Big brother sharing secrets and pledging to protect her...

 

I could tell you all sorts of stories ...

 

Instead, I will just tell you that I have missed spending time reflecting on life and art on these pages and I am glad to be back.



Belly Art

In 1986, I was pregnant for the first time.

I was 23.

I gave birth that year to a beautiful baby girl.

That beautiful baby girl is now pregnant with her 2nd baby.



 

I remember when I was pregnant.

The enlarging belly was considered something that made us "glow" but was to be covered.

All of the choices for maternity clothes were large and tent-like -

billowing out just below the breast line.

And if we were lucky - you might be able to find something that did not include a large bow tied around the neck.

Maybe that was meant to "move the eye upward" so that the belly was not the focal point.

All I know is that our options were quite ugly.

 

Society had us thinking that our expanding belly was unattractive.

That we were fat.

That we were frumpy.

Or worse - that, although a baby was the ultimate reward, that belly was a reminder to all that we had engaged in ....dare I say it? ...sex.

 

I remember several years earlier, when I was a teenager -

my sister in law was pregnant.

She had the audacity (according to the older matrons of the family) to show up at a family function during a hot summer day and wear a bikini.

Now mind you - it was 90 degrees and we were by a large lake.

But how could any self-respecting woman put that large belly out there for everyone to see?

The whispers went on for days after.

 

When I was pregnant with my oldest, I was anxious to jump into the rite of passage and wear the obligatory maternity clothes.

The irony was - that until I was almost 7 months along,

you could barely tell that I was pregnant.

I was so disappointed that people weren't asking me when I was due.

But beneath the tent of fabric, my tight, compact belly was not even visible.

 

Oh how things have changed.

Thank goodness.

 

I have always thought that the female form, when filled with life, is exquisite.

To watch a belly grow.

To touch it.

To feel the life inside.

What is more miraculous and beautiful than that?

I am so happy that we no longer insist on it being hidden in the name of "dignity".

 

A few nights ago, my daughter came for a brief visit.

I had been working in the studio on "have-tos".

Orders and such.

I wasn't ready to put away the art supplies for the night,

but I was ready for a change.

Something free.

Something mindless.

 

I looked at my daughter and her growing tummy.

I had just been laying my hands on her to feel the movement of my granddaughter.

My box filled with markers were just a few feet away on the floor.

A smile began to emerge.

I asked her to lie down and pulled out the markers.

And I doodled.

It was quick.

It was mindless.

It was free.

 

And we marked the passage of this portion of her pregnancy.

 

Another art session will occur in late October as she nears her due date.

Perhaps with some henna next time so that it can be a part of her as she labors.

 

And I must say that this was truly the most beautiful canvas I have ever worked on.

Thank you JuJu for humoring this grandma.

Have You Seen This Artist?

I knew it had been a while since I had been on here.

In fact, I knew it had been so long, I was feeling embarassed at the thought of writing a post.

And then I realized that I was actually avoiding writing a post.
And then I realized that part of the reason I was avoiding writing a post is that my "writer brain" seems to have taken a vacation.
I don't know what to write about or where to even begin.
 

But - if there is one thing I have learned over the years it is this...

when you don't want to do something that you need to, the best approach is to just

 DO IT!

 

So.
I am.

 

But lest you think that I have been just lying around and eating bon bons for the last,

oh dare I say it...

six weeks!

A brief run-down of what has been occupying my time...

1. I have been attempting to stay cool in my new home. Although the incredible insulation served me well during the winter months - the lack of air conditioning has made for some very warm temperatures during the summer.

2. I came to the realization that I can't really call my "new" home my "new" home anymore since I have been there for 7 months. How did that happen???
3. I have been working on many art pieces including special orders, purchase orders for retails stores and inventory for summer art festivals.

Mirrors lined up and waiting for final touches - words and detailing.

4. I had my work move into a new location of the Made In Oregon Stores.

5. I've been trying to find ways to enjoy the days of summer.


Warm, fresh blackberries...just waiting for me to taste them.

6. I was a vendor in the Salem Art Festival - a large, wonder festival featuring the art of some amazingly talented people. I was humbled to have been juried in.

A new "old" chair . . .heading to a summer art festival. It found a new home that weekend.

I have attended some wonderful summer concerts -
including Prarie Home Companion, featuring Garrison Keillor.
We even got to enjoy him leading the audience in a sing-a-long. What a treat.

 

Garrison Keillor meandering through the audience and leading us all in a sing-a-long.

 My day job has kept me very busy with projects and meetings.

Meeting doodles - it was an all day meeting.

I took time to go "glamping" with friends for a weekend.
What defines "glamping"? Among other things - enjoying prime rib for dinner!

 

I promise I have been busy.

I promise I have been making art.

I promise I have been enjoying the company of friends and family.

 

And now - I have conquered the beast by writing a post on the blog.

Maybe not the most noteworthy post,

but it's done . . .

the dry spell has been broken.

You can stop looking for the lost artist -

Maybe.

Afterall -

summer isn't over yet and there are still more adventures to be enjoyed.

 

COLLABORATION

Collaborate -

Merriam Webster defines it as "to work jointly with others".

 

A few months ago I received a call from a client.

I have done several pieces for her in the past.

When we talked she expressed that this was an odd request.

 

Yes.
It was.

 

She had been shopping in her favorite consignment shop and found a freestanding cupboard.

(Oooh - I began to get excited. I love working on large furniture pieces.)

It was a piece that had originally been unfinished.

(Originally? hmmmm...what does that mean?)

She bought it and had it delivered.

She wondered if I could paint on it.

(Of course!)

She continued . . .

Someone had started to paint on the cupboard.

(What? It's already painted?)

There was some very intricate, detailed artwork.

(So what do you need me for?)

But they evidently gave up before finishing the project and it was only half-done.

(Oh - so I am repainting the cupboard. OK, I get it now...)

She wanted the cupboard painted -

BUT she did not want to paint over the art work that was already there.

(What??? - ok, WHAT?...)

Someone had obviously worked very hard on this and it just didn't seem right to paint over it.

(OK - I can accept that...in fact, as an artist, I respect that - but...WHAT???)

She did not want me to try to copy the artists work or even her style.

But could I finish it in my style, in a way that would compliment the original art.

(I have no way of understanding what I am being asked to do!)

Sure!!!, I say...

But....maybe it would be best for me to come and see the piece before we commit to this.

Oh, she says - I hope you can do this for me. I so love this piece and want to finish it. And I would hate to think I wasted my money on it.

(Well, now I have to do this....)

 

I drive over to look at the piece.

I have no idea what to expect.

What I find is a very basic wooden cupboard.

It stands at counter height.

There are two drawers and three cuboard doors underneath.

The top of the piece is fully painted. The drawers are in various stage of completion.

The rest of the piece is primed with some pencil marks.

This was a huge endeavor that someone undertook and it appears they lost their motivation.

 

The detail was exquisite.

The quality of the paint used ...not so much.

The composition beautiful.

I am fascinated and I look and study and touch and wonder.



A partially completed drawer



A portion of  the "counter" top - or top of the cupbaord.

We spend time talking about who the artist might have been.

Male or female?

Student or professional artist?

What was this for?

A gift? A school project? A special place in their home?

Was the artist of hispanic descent or were they trying to capture a "feeling"? - Perhaps to preserve the memories of a cherished vacation? Or was it to fit a certain decor?

Why did they not finish? Why was it given to the consignment shop?

So many questions - it felt like a great mystery and we so wanted to know the "rest of the story".

 

We arranged for the logistics of the project.

I was only going to work on the cupboard doors and finish the partially completed drawers.

I took the parts I would be painting home.

I brought them into the studio.

I put the undercoat on them.

And then it sat there.

And I stared at it every day.

I was clueless.

What had I gotten myself into???

 

Finally - I picked up the first cupboard board and started to paint. I had no idea where I was going with it.

I was really stumped.

I just started.

I let the brush do the work.

I started with some leaves.

Once I began, the rest began to follow.

 

I deliver it today.

I am anxious to see how it all works together.
New door pulls will be added and it will all be reassembled on the piece.

 

Collaboration...
to work jointly together.
 

An interesting term.

A process of pushing, pulling, negotiating, juxtaposing and coordinating, compromising, creating.

Sometimes easy - but often times rather difficult -
especially at the beginning.

Especially when you don't know who or what you are collaborating with.

But eventually, when you surrender to the process, the collaboration can yield some pretty amazing results.

 

Hmmmm..... 

Once again - ART teaches me about LIFE.

 



ROLLERCOASTERS

 

 

I. Love. Rollercoasters.

Ever since I was young.

I remember going to an amusement park  -

a big amusement park for the first time when I was about 15.

We had driven to California for a church trip.

We were going to spend one entire day at the amusement park.

I had died and gone to heaven.

There were three rollercoasters at the park -

one had a full loop in it.

A full loop in a rollercoaster at during this time was a big deal.

 

I remember panicking as I waited in line and I slowly moved forward.

I just knew that even though no one else had plummeted out of their seats to their death -

I would be the exception to the rule.

I was terrified.

But I didn't step out of line.

It was my turned. I climbed into my seat.

The protective bars lowered down and I felt pinned.

I think that bothered me more than anything.

I was trapped.

We pulled out of the gate and started to ascend an incredibly high hill.

The steeper we climbed the slower we moved.

It felt like we would start to fall backwards.

We crested the top of the peak, paused for a brief second...

And then we took off.

Full speed ahead.

It was almost instantaneous.

 

The screams were uncontrollable - the panic consuming.

 

When we pulled back into gate, I got out, steadied my legs,

and ran down the stairs and around to get back in line.

I was scared - but I knew that I needed to try it again.

 

The second ride was truly fun -

I still felt the apprehension at the ascent, but as we descended and gained speed,

I felt pure excitement.

I knew I was not going to die.

I was still startled at the fast turns, the rapid descent down the hills -

and the feeling of being flipped upside down and out of control was a little scary -

but it left me wanting more.

 

This was fun!

 

I rode the coaster over 20 times that day.

With each ride, I relaxed into the experience.

I raised my hands high above my head and closed my eyes.

I loved the ups and downs - the extreme opposites.

 

I felt free.

 

I was flying.

 

Last year for my birthday,

my kids surprised me with a day trip to a small amusement park about 3 hours from here.

My oldest daughter recognized the fact that life for me would never be the same.

My birthday was 3 months after my husband had left.

She wanted me to remember that life could be fun.

The park we went to is nothing like the big theme parks -

but it had a couple of small rollercoasters.

I ushered my birthday and new life in with multiple rides on the coasters.

It felt symbolic and empowering.

I embraced my inner child and let loose.

It was good.

 

So here we are.

June 4.

I am at my one-year anniversary of my new life.

Exactly one year ago, a significant member of my life announced that he did not want our lives to remain connected anymore.

It was as if I was dragged to the front of the line,

me pulling and fighting all the way,

and I was forced onto the biggest rollercoaster of my life.

No engineer could have designed this coaster.

It seemed like the scariest ride ever.

My "screams" were loud and long.

I barely was able to breathe.

There have been very large hills to climb, fast plummeting descents that seem to never end, turbulent turns and spins that left me dizzy and wondering if I would ever be upright again.

This rollercoaster locked me into my seat and it has yet to come to an end.

 

But something has happened...

I am raising my arms in the air.

I am closing my eyes and leaning my head back.

I am enjoying the feeling of flight.

 

I have realized that I don't want this ride to end.

The ride on this rollercoaster had been the greatest gift I could have been given.

I will no longer refer to this as the "anniversary of my life falling apart".

 

Instead...it's the anniversary of me getting on the best ride of my life!

 

 

Crossing the Wide Ocean

 

If you know me at all,

it is no secret that I love the ocean.

I love going to the beach.

I love the sand.

I love to look for treasures that have been washed on shore.

I love the sound of the waves and the sea birds.

I love to watch my dog as he explores the new scents and dodges the water.

I love everything about the beach.

 

Except for one thing...

Exactly one year ago I was at "my" beach.

And the beginning of the end happened.

Without belaboring the details,

the bottom line is -

it became evident that my marriage was over.

The official words were spoken a week later by my ex husband.

 

But while I was at the beach, exactly one year ago -

the realization hit.

I have not returned to this section of coastline since.

I have not spent the night.

I have not reveled in the sound and smells of the ocean.

My sanctuary had been robbed from me.

 

I have been to other beaches -

but not "my" beach.

"My" beach had been taken from me.

It was tainted...poisoned...

It was damaged.

 

My annual Memorial Day Art Sale is at "my" beach this weekend.

I have struggled with an internal battle as whether I should participate or not.

Fear has settled in.

Fear of facing the emotinal demons.

Fear of slipping backwards.

The fear has slipped in and poisoned my self-confidence in this sale and in other aspects of my life.
Not ok.
 

I made a comment to a wonderful friend -

"this is the anniversary of my life falling apart"...

If that is the case - why would I return to the scene of the crime?

 

And he responded back by saying -

"this is the anniversary of you reclaiming your life and becoming reacquainted with yourself."

 

Oh.

Wow.

Yeah.

That is true.

Glass half empty - half full.

 

But this is more than just having a postive outlook.

There is deep truth in that -

This does not have to be a weekend of sadness and regret.

It can - and will- be a weekend of celebration.

Beware all of you coast weekend warriors -

I am headed that direction this weekend.

I will be reclaiming my beach.

I will be taking back my sanctuary.

I will be engaging in some symbolic gestures to mark this milestone.

There may be tears.

They may even be tears of sadness - but there will be more tears of celebration and power and gratitude and humility.

 

It has been a wonderful year.

It has been full of firsts.

A few key things have included:

reacquainting myself with forgotten friends, strengthening long-term bonds, reintroducing music back into my life in the form of concerts, piano, singing, choir, ukulele and just good ole' listening, dance, travel, theater, spontaniety, joy, laughter, guilt-free dinners of cereal, the ability to dream without limits and most importantly....LOVE.

Love for others. Love for myself.

I have discovered what love is over the last year.

And I have discovered what love is not.

And most importantly....I have learned the difference.

 

So yes - I will be at the beach this weekend.

My beach.

And if I am lucky enough to be at the beach - I am lucky enough!

And maybe if I am really lucky...I will sell some art.
 



CH-CH-CH-CHANGES...

 

 

LaurieLinnDesigns.blogspot.com

 

It is time.

Remember that line from "The Lion King"?

Simba has left Pride Rock and gone into the jungle.

He is living with Pumba and Timon in their little oasis.

Life is happy and blissful and then...

Nala returns.

And he begins to feel restless.

He knows that change needs to happen.

He needs to return to his home.

But before he makes the decision,

he encounters Rafiki who reminds him of his true purpose.

He hits him on the head with the stick and "knocks" some sense in to him.

And when Simba finally recognizes what he needs to do,

Rafiki calmly, but emphatically states:

"It is time".

 

Well it is time for me...

almost a year ago - my life as I knew it changed.

I didn't run away like Simba, but I knew that it would never be the same again.

Even though I did everything I could to keep it the same for as long as possible.

But life has changed...

and with that - so has my name.

I have gone back to the name I came into this world with...

Laurie Linn

The day that I made that a reality, a friend of mine wished me a "happy birthday" -

and that is exactly what it felt like.

A re-birth.

At first I was going to leave my business name as Laurie Miller Designs.

I have worked hard to establish myself under that name -

but I am no longer Laurie Miller

and I do not want my business name to reflect that name.

I am now

Laurie Linn Designs.

 

So I hope that you will join me as we move to a new blog. 

This blog will remain and you can still come back and visit old posts...

but all new posts will be at the new location of

LaurieLinnDesigns.blogspot.com 

 

Thank you for your support through this last year -

and the years before.

I wouldn't be here without you...