Running With Scissors

 

scribbles, dabs of paint

b&w line exploration—
add, subtract, freeze

oh! snip, snip!

Loosen the Story Knot
5.5 x 7"; acrylic, ink, gelato stick, oil pastel, and collage
on paper
abstract floral
2022

Dynamic Decor

Another addition to my three-finger floral series inspired by a free class offered by Amanda Evanston some weeks back.

Nothin' like having a fresh flower arrangement to create some dynamic energy in the otherwise barely-noticed landscape of everyday clutter passing as decor!

A Splash of Noise and Cheerful Garishness
4 x 5.5"; acrylic, ink, oil pastel, and collage
on paper canvas mounted on card stock
abstract floral
2022

Everything in Good Time

Frozen is the word that's coming to mind. I knew I wasn't broken but I sure wasn't flowing.

At all.

There were externals that kept me from moving forward with the stuck-ugly painting in my studio—tasks having to do with settling my dad's estate, appointments to fulfill, our wallpaper guy here working on our stairway which meant no access to the upstairs for three days—but, really, were externals the holdup? I think not.

I know not.

But, boy oh boy, I couldn't punch my way out of a paper bag any which way. 

I can't claim to be calm or at ease under these conditions—at least not yet nor consistently, but I am coming to know, bit by bit and more and more deeply, that the mind-created bag in which I thrash will eventually fall away of its own accord when I least expect it, the internal ice will melt, the pitiful mixed metaphors will evaporate.

This morning, suddenly, with no obvious rhyme nor reason I could detect, I felt expansive and open, walked into my studio, and started playing again.

Sorta Cock-Eyed and Shaky
and Grateful to Be All in One Piece
4.75 x 6"; acrylic, ink, oil pastel and collage
on paper, mounted on card stock
abstract floral
2022

Stuffed With Cotton

Just spent I don't know how long reviewing, printing, highlighting, annotating, and reconciling legal brouhaha related to my father's estate. Comin' down the home stretch but, omg, really? My head feels as though it is stuffed with cotton to the point of near bursting.

Enough already of that.

Still Crazy in Love After All These Years
3.5 x 5"; acrylic, ink, oil pastel, and collage on paper,
mounted on card stock
abstract floral
2022

Late Bloomers

We're nearing the end of garden season here in New England, but I picked some more metaphorical late-blooming flowers today and plopped them in a vase! 

I still have much to learn from Amanda Evanston about the art of floral arranging, late bloomer that I am myself.

Heading Off Into a Day Packed With Appointments
5 x 7"; acrylic, ink, fabric ink, oil pastel, and collage
on paper
abstract floral
2022

First Finish

Made eight energetic bursts off the starting blocks yesterday, and now the first one has zipped around the track to cross the finish line! Had fun running!

Fleet of foot, light of heart, barely winded.

Basic art supplies, scraps, and scribbles.

Daddy's Flannel Shirt, Mommy's Nightgown,
and Meg's Tatutina Tee Shirt
5 x 7"; acrylic, ink, oil pastel, and collage
on paper
abstract floral
2022

Call and Response

My prayer this morning: I need to be in the presence of someone who paints freely and from within without fuss, finick, or fancy-pants preciousness. 

Answer: Amanda Evanston shows up in my inbox with a Free Painting Class for Awesome People! by early afternoon. Holy moly!

tape and gesso on a sketchbook page

color

more color

8 starts

Breaking Up a Logjam

I notice what catches my attention today.

These words:

To fall into that

which is unidentified,

untethered,

undefined by phenomena,

for one brief moment,

allows the possibility

of knowing—

that knowing 

that is already inside you—

knowing that which you are

as awareness,

open awareness

prior to the arising 

of phenomena,

prior to the arising

of identity.

It’s in this that you see clearly.

You see beyond opinion,

position taking,

narrative.

You see beyond the matrix

of conditioning,

the matrix of the world.

—Amoda Maa

I notice what art catches my eye as I scroll through a feed online.

The logjam inside me breaks up and I begin making marks and changes on my previously-dubbed 'work in progress paralysis.' 

Grateful for movement!

work in progress

Otherwise

Elizabeth sat outside, 

working in the garden 

in the late afternoon sun. 

There was a lot to do, 

a lot of cutting back and weeding, 

cutting off dead heads in the rose bushes. 

You need a garden you can fuss with, she thought. 

Otherwise, what is the point 

of having a garden?

    —Anne Lamott, Crooked Little Heart

Well, I found me a garden to fuss with. It was my intention to go in and get out in mere minutes with this creative venture but that is not what took place when I gave my inner self paper, pens, and paint to play with. 

I need a painting to fuss with, I guess.

Otherwise, what is the point of painting!

The Freedom That Was There Right Along
8.5 x 11"; ink, watercolor, gouache, and oil pastel on drawing paper
bottlescape
2022

Blind-sided Still Life

While Emmy was in residence earlier this week, in addition to populating a watercolor-and-ink barnyard, we gathered vases from a kitchen shelf, snipped flowers and greenery from Dave's gardens, cleared a space on top of a file cabinet, and set up a still life. Emmy then perched on a stool and followed the example of a member of Amanda Evanston's Insider Studio.

The exploration exercise: create a blind contour drawing of an arrangement of vases and garden clippings; add pops of color.

Emmy went home with a spectacular portfolio, I tell ya!

Noticings

I step into each day with … well, with steps! 

The ditty on Dave's phone gently nudges us from rest to wakefulness, we move out from under the covers and make up the bed, and I dress and head outdoors into the velvet of predawn for my daily prayer walk of 5,000-6,000 steps. 

With my feet in motion, I set intentions, open my heart to listen and notice.

From there the rest of the day unfolds, with all its colors and layers and surprises and mistakes and excavations and accomplishments and inadvertencies. 

I notice where my attention is as often as I'm able.

The following passage by Myla Kabat-Zinn in Everyday Blessings catches my attention a few days ago. It is exactly what I need to hear.

My ten-year-old daughter, in bed, lights out, says to me:

“Mommy, I feel so confused.”

I reply: “What are you confused about?”

She says: “I don’t know, I just feel confused.”

I struggle with my urge to make it better … “It’s okay to feel confused.”

She says: “It is?”

I say: “Yes, it is.”

Phone Conversation on a Snow Day
4 x 5.5" postcard; acrylic, collage, and oil pastel
on card stock
abstract
2022

 

Attending, Befriending

OK, let's roll with unanchored, distractible, impulsive, unfocused, droopy, in a fog. Let's see what that-all looks like if I situate myself in my studio.

work in progress
adding new layers to layers added in October
on top of a painting originally done in 2015 
6 x 6" canvas board

 

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?

work in progress, 43 days in, 4/2/2020
30 x 40" canvas

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.

work in progress, 43 days in, 4/2/2020
30 x 40" canvas

What Does She DO All Day?

I have a vivid memory of coworker Mary Jane's stopping by the supervisors' office at Landmark School over forty years ago with her weeks-old son. She was the first of my group of colleagues to have a baby. She reported that she couldn't get anything done—could barely get to the bathroom or take a shower or eat. We cooed over her baby's soft skin, took turns holding him, admired his cute little outfit.

Several of us scratched our heads after Mary Jane left, asking each other, "What the heck does she do all day with that baby? How hard can it be?"

hahahahahahaha.

Not only did we find out soon enough on our own what she was talking about, but also …

here I am at Lyme Camp, scratching my head again at how a life situation can turn a previously orderly, intentional, productive, and in-control modus operandi upside down, inside out, and sideways.

Control?

An illusion.

We're never in control.

We just suspend disbelief.

Or forget.

The Thresholds Where Dualities Meet Each Other
acrylic, color sticks, oil pastel, and pencil on a book page
abstract landscape
2020

How We Roll

Polly Berends again (I think)(and maybe paraphrased):

     Do what you need to do 
     until you know what you need to know.

That's how we roll at Lyme Camp.

That's how I roll with painting at Lyme Camp.

They Don't Know Where They're Going and, My Friend, Neither Do I
acrylic, gelato color sticks, pencil, and oil pastel on a book page
abstract landscape
2020

Teeter Totter

Treatment of Lyme disease involves Bad Days and Good Days, with symptoms in constant flux. The symptoms of bad days are often worse than doing nothing to combat your disease symptoms in the first place. They lead you to question your own sanity. But they're worth it, difficult as that is to trust when in an extremely debilitated stage of recovery. What is taking place in your body is the death of spirochetes that don't go without a fight, a fight that is exceedingly clear on bad days.

But I'm not here to talk about bad days.

Bad days? Been there, done that, we have. Just yesterday, in fact. Here at Lyme camp, bad days come with the territory.

As do Good Days. And that, my friends, is the song we sang today.

work in progress—good day

Surrender's Strength

With my paintbrush, I ground myself by sinking roots deep into the earth, uplift myself by stretching to my fullest height towards the light.

With gratitude.

No Longer at a Distance from Life Itself
6 x 6"; acrylic, latex, and oil pastel on gessobord
abstract landscape
2019

---

art history:

Little Neck Road, 2015,
lies underneath No Longer at a Distance, 2019

Negative Space, Positive Space

Just have to post this next step in a piece that is still in process—as I played for a few minutes in my studio creating negative and positive space on my canvas, I moved from a negative internal space to a positive one! Grateful!

work in progress
6 x 6" canvas board

Wrapping Up

Soaking up stillness as 2018 wraps up and ties a bow around itself.

5 x 7" work in progress

A Certain Quietness of Mind
9 x 11.5"; acrylic, latex, and collage
abstract
2018

A Certain Quietness of Mind
matted and framed, 12 x 16"