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| Finding God in a Tangle of Meadow detail |
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| detail |
Thursday, April 30, 2020
Finding God 5
Ongoing tour of Finding God, up close and personal:
Wednesday, April 29, 2020
Finding God 4
Ongoing tour of Finding God, up close and personal:
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| Finding God in a Tangle of Meadow detail |
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| detail |
Tuesday, April 28, 2020
Finding God 3
Ongoing tour of Finding God, up close and personal:
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| Finding God in a Tangle of Meadow detail |
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| detail |
Monday, April 27, 2020
Hindsight Is 20/20 (Finding God 2)
Way back* in the thick of our busy family life, we lost an auto insurance claim check. What the heck? Where could a check we were so grateful to receive and so eager to deposit have disappeared?
We searched everywhere. Twice. Three times. Four. Logical places, illogical places. No check.
I knew it was likely to reveal itself eventually, at which point its path would make complete sense.
In the moment, though, I knew we were not going to locate that check. We had to let go of searching, we had to embrace not knowing.
We contacted the insurance company; they issued a new check.
Two years later, I went to tidy a small drawer in which we kept the Kodak envelopes that held negatives from photos we'd sent away to have developed (*As I said earlier, this was way back!). In retrospect, I could suddenly see what had happened, even though I had no ability to imagine the scenario at the time. The mail delivery that included the insurance check also included envelopes of photographs. We opened everything, set the stack of mail down, and later brought the Kodak envelopes upstairs to their designated place in the desk drawer in our bedroom, never knowing the stack of envelopes also included the envelope containing the insurance check.
Similarly, my painting process for Finding God only made sense to me retrospectively, after I'd found what I was looking for and could look back.
While creating my painting I was searching, looking everywhere, but couldn't find what I was looking for. Tried this, tried that, did logical things, illogical things. No discovery. Had to let go of searching, had to embrace not knowing.
Then, suddenly, days and weeks later, there it was—a compelling tangle of meadow! I found what I was looking for, and the whole process made sense.
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Want to take a closer look?
For the next few days, I invite you to join me in ignoring the security guard who will surely reprimand us for putting our faces just inches from this painting to find God in the tangle.
We searched everywhere. Twice. Three times. Four. Logical places, illogical places. No check.
I knew it was likely to reveal itself eventually, at which point its path would make complete sense.
In the moment, though, I knew we were not going to locate that check. We had to let go of searching, we had to embrace not knowing.
We contacted the insurance company; they issued a new check.
Two years later, I went to tidy a small drawer in which we kept the Kodak envelopes that held negatives from photos we'd sent away to have developed (*As I said earlier, this was way back!). In retrospect, I could suddenly see what had happened, even though I had no ability to imagine the scenario at the time. The mail delivery that included the insurance check also included envelopes of photographs. We opened everything, set the stack of mail down, and later brought the Kodak envelopes upstairs to their designated place in the desk drawer in our bedroom, never knowing the stack of envelopes also included the envelope containing the insurance check.
Similarly, my painting process for Finding God only made sense to me retrospectively, after I'd found what I was looking for and could look back.
While creating my painting I was searching, looking everywhere, but couldn't find what I was looking for. Tried this, tried that, did logical things, illogical things. No discovery. Had to let go of searching, had to embrace not knowing.
Then, suddenly, days and weeks later, there it was—a compelling tangle of meadow! I found what I was looking for, and the whole process made sense.
---
Want to take a closer look?
For the next few days, I invite you to join me in ignoring the security guard who will surely reprimand us for putting our faces just inches from this painting to find God in the tangle.
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| Finding God in a Tangle of Meadow detail |
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| detail |
Sunday, April 26, 2020
A Tangle (Finding God 1)
I get tangled up in process more than once while painting this canvas.
Then when I complete the piece, the tangle is precisely where I find God.
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| God Shows Up in a Tangle of Meadow (after 60 days!) 30 x 40"; acrylic, pencil, oil pastel, ink, latex, and collage on canvas abstract floral 2020 |
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| in situ |
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tickler file: humble beginnings
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| day 1 |
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| day 1, detail |
Thursday, April 23, 2020
Surprise Party in My Studio
How funny is it that I can be surprised by what I see on my canvas when I'm the one who chooses the paints and uses the brush?!
But looky where this is going now!
Who knew?
But looky where this is going now!
Who knew?
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| work in progress, 43 days in, 4/2/2020 30 x 40" canvas |
Wednesday, April 22, 2020
Another Then and Now
I take such pleasure in pawing through old pieces, looking to discover what will catch my eye for reinvention as a birthday card. I find an exercise I did as part of an interactive online Jane Davies class four years ago. I trim it down to a 4 x 6" size for a renewed composition, I fuss and fiddle happily with print collage, I rotate its orientation.
Happy birthday, Scott!
Happy birthday, Scott!
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| Go Easy, Be Filled with Light, Shine 4 x 6"; acrylic, oil pastel, and collage on cheap drawing paper, mounted on card stock abstract 2020 upgrade of 2016 piece |
Tuesday, April 21, 2020
From Possibility to Palpability
Twenty-seven days of incubation.
Every time I go downstairs in my home—probably two dozen times a day at a minimum—I glance through the door of my studio. Although my legs work just fine going upstairs and down, for twenty-seven days they are paralyzed when it comes to walking through that studio door to pick up a brush.
Nonetheless, I trust the process and keep studying my work-in-progress from the doorway even when doubts and unhelpful self-talk try their darnedest to knock me flat—and, believe me, they try their darnedest.
I don't know what shifts or how.
But today I begin to pull this painting out of the dark woods into the light of day.
Every time I go downstairs in my home—probably two dozen times a day at a minimum—I glance through the door of my studio. Although my legs work just fine going upstairs and down, for twenty-seven days they are paralyzed when it comes to walking through that studio door to pick up a brush.
Nonetheless, I trust the process and keep studying my work-in-progress from the doorway even when doubts and unhelpful self-talk try their darnedest to knock me flat—and, believe me, they try their darnedest.
I don't know what shifts or how.
But today I begin to pull this painting out of the dark woods into the light of day.
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| work in progress, 43 days in, 4/2/2020 30 x 40" canvas |
Monday, April 20, 2020
Doodlebug #2
More playful doodlebug markmaking and bits of collage to create new possibilities.
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| work in progress, 16 days in, 3/10/20 detail |
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| work in progress, 16 days in, 3/10/20 detail |
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| detail |
Sunday, April 19, 2020
Doodlebug #1
Coming in with some playful doodlebug markmaking and bits of collage to create new possibilities.
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| work in progress, 16 days in, 3/10/20 detail |
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| detail |
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| detail |
Thursday, April 16, 2020
Messy and Muddy
Here's where this piece starts to get messy and muddy. Here's where I start to have a harder time trusting the process, especially if I step back.
So I don't step back very often.
Up close, by contrast, the work is grand play—engaging, textural, hands-on, intuitive. I build layers by collaging, stenciling, scratching with hardware store implements, and dragging catalyst tools through soft gel medium.
So I don't step back very often.
Up close, by contrast, the work is grand play—engaging, textural, hands-on, intuitive. I build layers by collaging, stenciling, scratching with hardware store implements, and dragging catalyst tools through soft gel medium.
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| work in progress, 15 days in, 3/9/2020 30 x 40" canvas (rotated again) |
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| enlarged detail |
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| enlarged detail |
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| enlarged detail |
Wednesday, April 15, 2020
Ahead of the Curve
Today, as I post this work in progress as it looked five weeks ago, I have started to listen to a Brené Brown podcast, Dr. Marc Brackett and Brené on "Permission to Feel."
Back on March 7 when I was adding color and building layers on this piece, the podcast probably hadn't even been recorded yet. Happily, I was ahead of the curve—already giving myself permission to feel, using paint as my medium.
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| work in progress, 13 days in, 3/7/20 30 x 40" canvas (rotated) |
Tuesday, April 14, 2020
Stumped
I don't have anything to say with words today.
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| work in progress, 9 days in, 3/1/20 30 x 40 canvas |
Monday, April 13, 2020
Bypassing "Ready, Set"
My attention span, activities, emotions, energy level, perspective, ability to focus: all scattershot these days.
And, by "these days" I don't just mean the past few weeks, I mean the past four months.
Looks like that's what's mine to work with. So that's what I work with!
When I returned from Virginia mid-February I was chomping at the bit to put a big ol' canvas on my easel and paint with broad strokes and bold movement. I work tiny and on paper way more typically than tremendous on canvas but I wanted L A R G E. I was so impatient I didn't even finish unwrapping the plastic from the canvas before grabbing paint and brush.
And, by "these days" I don't just mean the past few weeks, I mean the past four months.
Looks like that's what's mine to work with. So that's what I work with!
When I returned from Virginia mid-February I was chomping at the bit to put a big ol' canvas on my easel and paint with broad strokes and bold movement. I work tiny and on paper way more typically than tremendous on canvas but I wanted L A R G E. I was so impatient I didn't even finish unwrapping the plastic from the canvas before grabbing paint and brush.
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| first pass on new canvas, 2/21/20 |
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| detail, first pass on new canvas, 2/21/20 |
Sunday, April 12, 2020
Shaking Off Stupor
Found myself in my studio.
Now find myself at my blog.
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| Loosening the Linchpin 5 x 7"; oil pastel, pencil, and collage on Aquabee sketch paper nature abstract 2020 upgrade of 2015 piece |