My Chaos Theory

For the past few weeks, I have been moving through my days at frantic pace trying to meet those self-imposed and life-imposed deadlines, as we all try to do.  For a few minutes every day I could feel the panic rising up inside of me, but as usual, I pushed it down, assuring myself that if I could just get through this week, I would have time to do that which is very important to me – create art.  Then two things came together yesterday – an entry in a book from the library that I have started reading and the state of my studio (sort of my big bang moment). 

My studio is in such a state of chaos, I cannot even find the space to work, so I have not.  Yesterday morning before I attempted to actually clean it, I sat down to read the entry in The Book of Awakening for November 1st, the title being “The Next Moment of Love”.  As Mark Nepo so eloquently writes, “In a deep and subtle way, the want to do it all is a want to be it all, and though it comes from a desire to do good, it often becomes frenzied because our egos seized our goodness as a way to be revered.”  Wow!  That hit home.  I thought about all the times I have said yes to requests to help when I wanted to say no or jumped in to fix someone’s problem when not even asked.  I wanted to look compassionate.  I wanted to be a nice person.  And usually at some point I became resentful and angry at the other person or situation (instead of myself).  Not a fun person to be around and certainly not someone who is compassionate or kind. 

As always, yesterday was a gift.  I made a vow to myself to begin letting go of chaos.  The first step is to clean my studio, to make space to create.  I am sure life will challenge me and those requests to help will pop up.  The question becomes how to respond.  So I will end with two things, both which I need to remember – another quote from Mark Nepo and a picture of my soon to be transformed chaos-filled studio.  “Do one thing at a time and do it entirely, and it will lead you to the next moment of love.”

Getting Out Of My Head

MOTHER EARTH - Plaster, acrylic paints, paper, pastels and charcoal on gessobord

The past few months have been creatively empty for me.  I felt I needed to do something different but nothing was apparent.   I kept thinking, reading, analyzing, but to no avail.  In addition, I was scheduled to teach my Faux Techniques for the Canvas class at the La Grange Art League in September and I wanted a new direction.  Why couldn’t my head just figure it out?

During this time, I attended a Process Painting workshop at Creative Changes in Oak Park.  No techniques, per se, were taught.  It was painting from emotion, allowing intuition and the brush to lead the way.  In addition, no comments were allowed, either positive or negative.  Interesting.  It was an enjoyable afternoon and I left it at that.

After that class, I decided to start my studio time using that process and I slowly noticed a shift.  I found myself working more by instinct and less by formal technique.  I was drawn to colors I would have never used before.  Materials that were so much a part of my decorative painting days were unearthed from the basement and found their way to my canvas.  Then it hit me.  My problem wasn’t a lack of creativity but my insistence on letting my head lead the way.  One of my favorite quotes by Einstein is: ” The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant.  We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift.”  I think that is why I am drawn to mixed media.  Starting with a blank canvas, not knowing what the finished product will be, gives me the opportunity to access that sacred gift.  It’s what keeps me grounded and joyful in these crazy times.  It is something I need to remember.

Back From Hiatus

Wow.  It’s hard to believe that the last time I posted was April 15th!  I wish I had a very good reason such as I went into the witness protection program or broke both my hands and couldn’t type.  But no, I just didn’t blog.  I had good intentions and even wrote a few paragraphs in my mind, but I never put fingers to keypad.  So I asked myself why.  True, I was very busy teaching a paper creating class and doing a rocking chair with my friend and fellow artist, Janet Lewandowski, for the La Grange Summer Event.  But 24/7, no.  I could have found the time.  My friend Arlene Butler says that people do what they really want to do no matter what they say.  And it’s true.  I wanted to - not post.  And the reason is that writing has never been a form of expression that I felt comfortable doing.  Thank you notes stress me out. ( Am I saying the right things?  Do I sound intelligent and witty or childish and boring?)  It took me two days to write three paragraphs for my artist statement.  And when posting on Facebook, I hate to comment because I think I sound lame. (Love the like button!)

So why am I posting today?  Well, my friend and blogger extraordinaire, Karen Hanrahan of Best of Mother Earth blog fame, emailed me and said she missed my blogs (Thank you, Karen).  And during these past two months, I came to the realization that what I write doesn’t have to win a Pulitzer.  All I need to do is just speak from the heart and share what I love to do – create art.  That’s all that’s needed.

Just so you know that my rocking chair excuse is not a fib, below are two pictures of the finished piece created for Meadowbrook Manor, a nursing facility in La Grange, Illinois.  Their building is celebrating its centennial this year.  Janet and I collaged using numerous articles from the La Grange Historical Society and pictures from when the building was the Illinois Masonic Orphans Home until recently.  Finally, I painted a plumeria flower, their logo, on the seat.  If you live in the Chicagoland area, stop by downtown La Grange, check out all the amazing chairs and rock out!

Making Changes One Risklet At A Time

A few weeks ago, I blogged about changing my beliefs, fully believing that once I started down a new path, so to speak, there would be no backtracking to old habits.  Again, I was delusional.  This past week, I found myself reverting back to my old need-to-control- everything self.  I sunk so low, I found myself leaning over my completely competent husband, as he sat dumbfounded at the computer, and typing in what I thought he should be typing to get the information needed.  Thankfully, he did not call in the family for an intervention, but kindly pointed out my crazed behavior.  After much contemplation, I realized that my action was driven by the need for some security during a period of time when I felt none.  I now had the opportunity to really change one of my go-to behaviors.   But how? 

As I was searching the internet for some non-related info, I came across an interesting article regarding taking risks.  The author talked about her need for security and her unwillingness to change routines.  It struck a chord.  And it led to my decision to take a “risklet” a day.  I would like to think that I would go out there and actually learn to skydive or sign up to run a marathon, but those would just be plans not followed through.  Way too ambitious.  If I really wanted to change and make it stick, I had to do it slowly and completely my way. 

So, starting today, I will do one small action that I normally do not do.  I will shake up my routine.  It could be brushing my teeth with my left hand or sitting on the loveseat instead of my usual couch or even letting my husband figure out his own computer challenges instead of rushing in to fix things.  The point is to take a leap, even if it seems like only a hop.  I am planning on keeping track of my daily risklets for the next month and using them to inspire my art. 

So, there is no photo of any artwork.  Not even a sketch or an inspirational quote.  Just picture a blank canvas, because today, that is where I start.

Framework 2

As I sit at my computer typing this post, I am amazed at the speed at which life moves.  It has been over two weeks and I finally have found a chance to share my completed piece.  During this time, life has presented many challenges - getting ready to teach a three-week class at my local art league, my husband at home working hard at finding a new job and a heart breaking tragedy that affected my daughter, son-in-law and his family.  But there have been simple joys, too, which thankfully have outnumbered the challenges.  And through all of it, I have had daily opportunities to remember that I don’t need to be perfect, people are genuinely wonderful and I will never have all the answers, though I would really like to come close as possible. 

So here it is – Framework 2.  I was tempted to explain the meaning of each layer, but I think I will let you draw your own conclusions.  If you happen to live in the western suburbs of Chicago and would like to see this work in person, as well as 55 other mixed media pieces from a group of amazing artists, stop by the Downers Grove Library and check out the exhibit from the Midwest Collage Society titled “Construction/Deconstruction.”  It’s worth the trip.

Mental Shifts

“Step on a crack, break your mother’s back.”  I still remember the sing-song voices from my childhood repeating this phrase.  I am not sure I really believed it could happen, but tempting fate was not something I was comfortable doing, so I avoided sidewalk cracks whenever I could.   So imagine my surprise, while out walking recently, when I found myself unconsciously avoiding said cracks.  Was it possible that I still believed, even though my childhood was long gone and my mother passed on during my adolescence?  Why do I still believe the things I do?  Do some of my beliefs really enrich my life or are they security blankets I am unwilling to release?  Those are questions I have been asking myself recently and they have taken me on an art and personal journey that has found expression in my current piece.  It was actually inspired by the following quote - This is how humans are: we question our beliefs except for the ones we really believe, and those we never think to question.  Orson Scott Card

I have begun writing my assumptions, both “positive” and “negative”, in my journal in order to better understand the foundations that create my thoughts.  My husband and I have even begun to share our journal entries.  Slowly, I have started to realize that those beliefs that I was so sure were true, when carefully examined, leave room for doubt.  And if I doubt their validity, would letting go of them allow me to be happier?

Like my art piece, my belief journey is a work in progress.  The ionic pillar represents all the beliefs that have been my foundation to this point.  The background, done with three glaze colors and isopropyl alcohol, expresses the chaos that is occurring as my questions arise.  And the white square in the left corner is the start of an opening to a different way of thinking.

Right now, I am not sure where this piece will go next.  Sometimes in my mind’s eye,  I can see clearly how I want it to look, but as I work on the board it doesn’t make sense.  And so I will allow the art and myself to unfold at our own pace.

The Parable Of The Golf Ball

Please forgive me.  Last week I promised you the quote and beginnings of my new piece, but have decided, instead, to let a guest blogger share his story.  I am sure you will find it quite interesting.  And, so as not to completely focus on words, at the end of this blog post I have shared my work that I normally do not let people see.  Another step through the door and out of my comfort zone. 

It was one of those crisp fall days when the air seems especially clean and the sun touches your skin warmly in the cool air.  My friend Ron and I were getting in one last round of golf before winter arrived. 

On the third hole, Ron teed off straight down the middle of the fairway, but just over a rise so we couldn’t see the ball.  A nice shot!  I set my ball on a tee, took a couple of practice swings and then let fly.  I hit the ball hard and in the air, but sliced.  Thunk!  Every golfer hates “thunk.”  It’s the sound of the ball making contact with a tree.  We lost sight of it immediately, the only clue to its whereabouts being in the light ripping sounds made when an errant ball snaps through crisp leaves.

Ron dropped me off by the ill-placed tree and went to his next shot.  As usual, I started to look for my ball on the rough side of the fairway in the briars and brambles.  I didn’t see it, so I started to pull out another ball and drop it. 

“Hey Jim, are you using a number 4?”  It was Ron pointing to what he just discovered wasn’t his ball in the middle of the fairway, 50 yards past the tree.  Sure enough, it was my ball, which instead of bouncing foul, bounced back into the fairway, setting me up nicely for shot number 2.  Both Ron and I had assumed that when it bounced off the tree, it headed in a bad direction.  But it hadn’t.  This ball headed in a good direction.

I do that often in life.  When things get blocked or when I’m tripped up by fate, I assume things will head in a bad direction.  Do you?  Why?  Perhaps we were raised to “anticipate the worst, but hope for the best.”  Maybe we don’t like change.  “My job was going great, straight down the road to retirement, but then the recession/ layoffs/ blizzard occurred.  It was downhill from there. ”  For whatever reason, I think many of us tend to expect bad to come out of a sudden change in direction.  I have done this often.

But why not expect the ball to head into the fairway?  Or, maybe, something better can occur.

Pam and I are going through a bit of a rough patch right now.  The firm where I’ve worked for six years has fallen victim to the economy, and it looks like it will close its doors.  Thunk!  I can easily follow that sliced ball right into the rough and assume bad things will happen.  But there’s another way.   I can choose to anticipate that good will come from this. 

For example, my friends have been wonderfully supportive.  My wife and I decided that we have flexibility so I can choose the job that is best for me, all things considered.  We can probably even take a little time off.  A more experienced friend has even coached me on how to market myself by building an impressive business plan.  In addition, I have had several job interviews to date with more this week.  And always, always, I run into wonderful people.  How lucky am I?

So let my golf ball teach you.  Next time you smack into a misplaced tree in the fairway of life, be open to the possibility that things will turn out well, and maybe better than ever.

Fore!