Showing posts with label jan frazier. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jan frazier. Show all posts

Saturday, April 1, 2023

On My Nightstand, On My Easel 4/1/23

 On my nightstand:

A human being

blessedly

is endowed with a dual capacity:

to experience our

oh-so-mortal physicality

and simultaneously to attune, 

in the stillness of the now,

to the timeless reality of which we partake.

To be incarnate

is to inhabit a body,

even as we can detect—

very nearly feel, 

in a palpable way—

a larger truth enfolding and saturating

our temporal existence.

This means than in addition 

to attuning us to the sensory world,

the body is the ‘vehicle’ 

through which we know

the timeless now.


—Jan Frazier, from a forthcoming book



On my easel:


I look at the letters appearing on the 'page' on my laptop screen as I type, little black marks that represent the Latin alphabetic writing system. They are nothing more than little black marks. Visible to my eye. Visible to yours. 


But what takes place when our very human eyes take in these codified symbols is vast beyond measure. This writing/reading thing, if you'll stop right here right now to be still enough to listen, speaks in its own way to something larger that enfolds and saturates our temporal existence. I type these letters, you read these letters, and we are given to tap into—we are given to know—more than words can ever say.




A Larger Truth
1.5 x 6" bookmark; acrylic, ink, and Stabilo pencil
on watercolor paper
abstract
2023







Friday, February 17, 2023

Stuck, Unstuck

Jan Frazier writes in a recent teaching:

That word reality tends to be surrounded

by unwelcome associations and feelings.

Isn't that telling?

The last thing many a person wants

is to be reminded of reality.

And yet what gets called spiritual liberation

is about coming at last

to rest in what is real.

Imagine:

that relaxing into the truth of things,

without recoiling,

is utterly peace-inducing.


Yesterday, I could not for the life of me relax into the truth of things—the truth that I didn't like the paintings-in-progress in my studio, that I couldn't make sense of what I as doing nor where I was going, that I didn't know what to do to fix the messes, that the paintings weren't going to resolve on their own, that I had to find the courage to take a step, that I had to risk whatever would unfold. I could feel recoil and resistance in my body. Discouragement. Fear. 

I was stuck.

---

And then I wasn't.

I awoke (awakened!) this morning relaxed in the truth of things. By early afternoon I took that peace-inducing relaxation into my studio and began playing.




I'm Saying We Don't Have Forever. For Anything.
7 x 8.5"; acrylic, graphite, pencil, pastel, and collage on paper
abstract scribble inquiry
2023

Tuesday, August 16, 2022

On My Nightstand, On My Easel 8/16/22

On my nightstand:

We sat at the table 

in silence for awhile.

A beam of light from the window 

fell across the table,

and I watched 

little particles of dust

float around in it.

They looked so bright and detailed.

Like some kind of kinetic art.

Beyond that I saw the lemon halves

still lying on the counter.

Not yet squeezed.


—Katherine Ryan Hyde, Chasing Windmills


On my easel:



To Know This Now for the Jewel It Is
4.5 x 6" two-page sketchbook spread; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel
abstract
2022


Friday, August 12, 2022

On My Nightstand, On My Easel 8/12/22

On my nightstand: 

Just hold still. 
Breathe. 
Feel yourself breathe. 
Feel your beating heart. 
If it wants to break, 
let it break.

That is all.

    —Jan Frazier, from a forthcoming book


On my easel:

I circled back to an exercise started ten days ago. In short order my brain shifted from left side to right. Love when that happens. Every single time it happens.



You Do Not Have a Road Map to Guide You
7 x 7.5";  acrylic, ink, collage, and oil pastel on sketchbook paper
abstract landscape
2022


Friday, January 21, 2022

Scrappy

The word scrappy floated up in a hypnagogic moment of partial wakefulness during the night. It popped into my field of attention a second time in the light of day. 

scrappy • made of scraps; consisting of odds and ends; composed of disorganized, untidy, or incomplete parts; disconnected, disjointed

scrappy • having a determined spirit; feisty; exhibiting firmness of purpose and energetic pursuit of results; manifesting moxie or demonstrating grit; stepping into the arena


YES!


Look Around at the Terrain of Possibility
3.75 x 5.5" postcard, acrylic, collage, and oil pastel
on card stock
abstract
2022







Thursday, January 20, 2022

Wide Open

OK, I have to tell you about a collage class I took probably 20 or more years ago. Local live class about twelve minutes from my home. First time I'd signed up for an art class probably since college back in the early 70's. Turned out to be horrible. 

Turned out I didn't really undertstand what collage was and I had no idea that it had any relationship to painting. Turned out the instructor was not a good fit. Turned out I cried driving home from class more than once. 

GOOD thing I had a friend who said, "You can drop the class, you know." Hadn't even occurred to me.

I dropped the class.

Whew! That was a relief.

---

Turns out all these years later: I LOVE COLLAGE! 

Who knew?!

The artist in me has her heart and soul wide open to the fun of it!

I present you with a little light reading here.

A Room Full of Open Windows and Doors
3.75 x 5.5" postcard, acrylic, collage, 
and oil pastel on card stock
abstract
2022

Wednesday, January 19, 2022

He Sees a Bug

He sees a bug 

that is smaller than a period 

on a page. 

He sees the sky, 

bigger than all that's in his head. 

An overwhelm 

from two different directions, 

vast and tiny, 

together.

     —Lauren Groff, Arcadia


---

This pint-sized postcard is nothing I could have envisioned before walking into my studio—and yet it is exactly what I sought.

Aim the Flashlight of Awareness on Your Own Interior
3.5 x 5.5" postcard; acrylic, collage, and oil pastel 
on card stock
abstract
2022





Wednesday, May 19, 2021

Third in a Series


Each Moment Undertaken
Simply for Its Own Self
1.75 x 5" bookmark; acrylic, ink, and collage
abstract
2021



Matchmaker, Matchmaker,

Make me a match,
Find me a find,
Catch me a catch!


Saturday, January 9, 2021

Faces 4

What is it to be kind to yourself?

It’s to rest from wishing 

things were otherwise. 


They aren’t. 


Relaxing into what-is 

brings actual relief. 

Since something in us 

already knows the truth, 

to cease fighting it 

is restful. 


Jan Frazier, Be Kind to Yourself



Relief. 


One face at a time. Post as I'm ready. 


Start lesson two whenever I start lesson two.


Follow Amanda's model in titling my abstract face paintings. She calls her ongoing series Friends With Faces, and each title starts with the words The Friend Who.


Done.


The Friend Who Picks Up Aunt Bett at Logan
9 x 12"; acrylic and ink on drawing paper
abstract face
2021
$45


Tuesday, June 5, 2018

Simply and Fully

All that’s asked, to bring about potent receptivity to what wants to be seen, is to be nowhere but now. No urging forward to the next moment, no mental processing of the current one. No agenda, no vigilance, no avoidance. You’re simply and fully attuned to the outer reality and to the interior one. In this mode of utter receptivity, there’s not the slightest effort exerted. No searching, no expectation or wishing: simply a resting in whatever is here, now.  (Jan Frazier)


Gobsmacked by the Green of a Fine Day in June
1.5x6"; acrylic, ink, oil pastel, and collage
abstract bookmark
[gift]