Seems a little strange

Yesterday I finished painting for a show at East Stroudsburg University that is a full month away. This is unheard of for me! Anyone who knows me knows that I’m usually still painting on my way to hang a show, and that I should be putting up signs on the wall that say “Wet Paint” instead of labels with the titles.

Not this time.  I have to send the work to PA next week and it has to dry first, and so I had to stop working.  I really should have stopped on Sunday, but there was no way.  So I pushed it to Monday and then Tuesday and finally Wednesday.  Two friends came over to look at the paintings and said, “We think you have a show!”  And so it is.

I’ve been on such a roller coaster ride of emotions this past month.  Up and down all the time with lots of curves.  Some days I felt that I wanted to cancel the whole thing or give in and show old work.  Other days I was just so happy to be in my studio painting that I didn’t care if the work was good or not.  Other days I cared way too much and felt inadequate to every other painter on the face of the earth.  I just wanted to crawl back in bed and never touch a paintbrush again.

Did I say days?  No, my feelings could change drastically in the space of five minutes.  I could go from ecstatic to depressed and moody in a moment of time.  From feeling totally in the flow and joyful about what was happening to totally disconnected and insecure.

The eleven paintings are a product of all those emotions, and I have to say that as of this morning, I am feeling pretty good about them.  But catch me in an hour or two….

Pictured is a detail from one of them.

A Milestone of Sorts

 

Time to let it all go already – this first chakra stuff – loosen up – connect to the earth.

Pay attention – move – breathe – be aware – have some fun.

Sixty five – and how to thrive.

Once Again

I’m remembering what it’s like to be in my wonderful studio. To have six paintings and six paintings on paper and two sketch pads going at the same time. To see drips of paint on the wall and the floor and my clothing.  To come back into the house with paint-smeared hands.   To connect with the work in that way that can only happen when I’m in there every day.  It is so powerfully motivating to have a show coming up once again.  But I want to be thinking ahead in that same way, beyond the show and to keep remembering, and not to get so mental, and not to think too much about what it is that I’m going to paint, but to get out of my own way and out of my own head and just paint.  And work in the garden and paint some more.

The Big and the Small of It

 

Last week on a mini-trip through the Northern Cascade Mountains, we stopped at Washington Pass. After a short, steep hike to the lookout, we were greeted by an awesome view of snow capped mountains.  What could be more glorious than to see that great expanse and to feel the power and the grandeur of those huge craggy peaks!   Seeing that panorama, I felt a bit overwhelmed and inspired at the same time, a teeny part of something so much bigger than I could possibly imagine.

Then we left the path (and the other people) behind and started climbing even higher on smooth, gently slanted rocks.  Relaxing on those warm rocks, I became fascinated with the patterns and shapes created by their natural pink-tinted color and by the green moss that had formed a thin layer over their surface, creating endless swatches of color and light.  So much beauty!  The vast mountains contrasted with the microscopic formations on the rocks.  Seeing the mountains from afar, while touching and feeling into the rocks.

Sitting there and looking back and forth between the two, it came to me that I wanted to recreate that feeling of contrast in my studio.  The big and the small of it.  To look deeply within at my own feelings and my own creative process and at the same time to reflect the state of the world surrounding me.  I confess that I am much more comfortable with my inner world.  But the desire to tackle the larger issues that confront us all is there.  The rocks and also the mountain.

 

Perfection

This jellyfish was so beautiful!  Hanging out on the clear, cold water on a semi-cloudy day.  It could change almost instantly from a deep pink blob to this glowing circle, this flower from the sea.  A mandala made by nature, so beautiful in its soft pink perfection, its petals softly being moved by the water all around it.

There’s a part of me that wants to be able to paint that jellyfish exactly.  To capture each detail, even though that is not my style and I’d never capture what my eye could see.  It was so fascinating to look at and seemed to say come closer, come closer.  Look at me.  Let me entice you. Please enjoy my beauty.

But I remembered that the jellyfish could sting me.   This perfect circle could be deadly.  So I kept my distance.  This was not my mandala.  It didn’t belong to me.  I think that I’ll paint the essence of it.  I’ve felt into its perfect world and transformed just a little part of it into my own.  It’s color and form are part of me now.  Both the blob and the lovely under water  flower.  All one.