a start?

I have been thinking and thinking (probably thinking way too much) about what Stillness looks like. Challenging enough to feel into it, even for an instant. But having decided to do a mandala about it, I am determined to figure out what it may look like. So with a tormented muscle in my right knee and the weather once again rainy and gray, I am slowed down enough to concentrate on Stillness.  Can I feel into it enough to see it?

Stillness…the Ah of it…the breath of it…being enclosed in the safety of it…the womb…the softness…nothing too bright…nothing too loud.  Quiet, stillness, Ah….  A sense of movement, yes!  Something so very dynamic about it.

A sketch.  A start?  A kind of,  maybe, beginning of a start?

how can this be?

Iris Shoots, February 2, 2012

I look forward to winter for many reasons. And one of the main things I look forward to is the opportunity to have everything stop for a while. And even though I recognize that this is a total illusion, I pretend anyway. Winter seems to give me more time to still my busy mind, to spend lovely days at home, listening to the rain and the wind, letting the beautiful gray tones of the Northwest sky wash over me. In this stillness, I feel that my creativity and my spirituality are being renewed. And in anticipation of this special time, I decided to make a Stillness mandala as my next project. To commemorate the coming around of this wonderful time of year.

But something is going terribly wrong this year. True we had a little snow two weeks ago. But where are the wonderful winter rain storms? Where is the intensity, the opportunity for cleansing, the chance to stay at home, and to snuggle up inside and be warm. To read books, to make soup, to work on mandalas.

Aside from the huge implications for Global Climate Change, how can I be still when the sun is shining?  How can I pretend that things will stop long enough for me to have my winter experience when I go outside my door and see things like the photo I took this morning.  On February 2nd, no less.

 

A Mini Basket Breakthrough

I made this basket last May in a workshop taught by the wonderful basket maker Judy Zugish. She has great designs and amazing willow that she has grown and prepared herself. But what I loved the most was how she encouraged creativity in all the students. No two baskets were alike, and you’d never know they were even made in the same class.

Originally, I left all the spokes at the top uncut and they completely obscured the opening. I thought of it as mysterious and liked it as a design element without quite knowing why. Then I got a critique from another wonderful basket maker Marilyn Moore who juried a show I entered the basket in. She thought that the top didn’t fit the rest of the basket which was more refined and almost classical. I did see that clearly and resolved to trim all the spokes to a uniform length. But something kept stopping me.

Then last night it finally came to me.  I started clipping random spokes at less than uniform length and only clipped the ones that seemed not to fit, or stuck out too much, or were too twisted, or just “asked” to be cut.  Here is the result of that.  It may not be finished yet.  As I looked at the photo, I could see a few more things that I wanted to do.  But it is getting close to where I want it to be.  Still a bit wild and unruly.  But with some light getting into the belly of the basket, the sense of mystery has really only increased.  As you go around the perimeter, some spaces are more open, some are more dense.  There is no regularity, and that is what I am liking about it.

What made me really happy about this process was that it was one of the first times I felt that I was able to make artistic decisions about a basket in much the same way I would about a painting.  Whether it works or not, whether I like it as much in a week as I do today, whether anyone else likes it, none of that matters.  I had fun with the process.  Taking thirty minutes to clip fifteen spokes.  Time well spent, I say!

 

So Quickly Now

Amazing!  I wrote that title just now thinking about how fast time seems to be going.  And only then remembered that I had used the same title for a painting I did last summer.  So Quickly Now is a flower form and to me felt full of movement and growth, but was also symbolic of how short-lived everything is.

January of 2012 is proving me right about that.  It is almost half over already and I am feeling my own internal pressure to have accomplished more.  My quiet (productive) winter time is vanishing before my eyes.  By now I should have painted much more, created a new mandala (or two), made many beaded bracelets, worked on some unfinished baskets, finished knitting a scarf I started last year, read five books, lost ten pounds, organized my office (for real), and cleaned my house.  I am “so quickly now” going to try to set aside my unrealistic goals, have some fun, make some art of some kind or another, and figure out that it’s all OK.  Really!

Beads to Bracelets

My favorite bead store in Friday Harbor is having huge sale this week.  So on Tuesday, I hopped on the inter island ferry and came home with this stash. Clearly one of my winter projects has been determined by this purchase.  But I can’t think of a nicer way to spend the rainy days and nights of January and February in the Northwest.  For me, working with these beautiful, bright colors and with beads that sparkle in the light is clearly a way to fight the winter blues.