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.”

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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!

The piece I had been creating ground to halt during this time, but thanks to deadlines, it was finally completed.  The door took on a whole new meaning with my present challenges and lead me to the next quote on my art journey.  Below is the completed work presently titled: Door Uncharted.   Check back next week for my new quote, the beginning of my new piece and the story that inspired it.

Before heading off to Florida last month, my friend Melinda suggested I check out a great art store.  Driving from the airport to my sister’s house, we passed by the location and my sister pointed out the place.  Now I was expecting this mega wonderful retail location, in one of those Florida shopping areas filled with palm trees and lots of parking.  This store was in a small strip mall with limited parking and from the street it looked as though there was very little square footage inside.  I was somewhat disappointed and suggested we not make the trip back the next day.  But since Melinda recommended it, we decided to check it out.

The following day our time was slipping away and we had yet to go to the art store.  Again I suggested we just forget it because I was sure that it would not be worth our time.  Didn’t it look small and dingy?  How great could it really be?  But we were close, so we stopped. 

Walking in the front door, the first area was filled with all kinds of paints, brushes, pencils, pastel crayons and more.  I was amazed.  As I looked down the small flight of stairs leading to the lower level, there was a multitude of frames.  I saw stairs up to another level, so I followed them to see where they lead.  As I looked around I realized that this was truly a fantastic store, filled with every type of art supply one could want.  As I continued towards the back of the store I saw a room for art classes, easels for children and adults and something that really caught my eye.  There was an entire area with racks and racks of amazing papers.  At this point I felt like a kid at Disney World.  I couldn’t wait to look at every sheet thinking of the possibilities, touching all the textures and soaking in all the colors.  This place had exceeded my expectations!

After my purchase (it took great restraint not buy out the store) I thought about the fact that I almost missed this opportunity because I had prejudged it.  I had this preconceived idea that the store should look a certain way and I had made up my mind that since it did not live up to the image in my head, it wasn’t worth my time.

I often do the same thing with my art.  At some point I will look at what I am working on and decide that it really isn’t that good and certainly not worth continuing.  This is where I was with this piece last night.  I was ready to put it with the remains of my art unfinished, when I remembered the “Lesson of the Art Store.”  Maybe I am judging too quickly.  Is it possible that this is a great piece but I just can’t see it quite yet?  Is it worth my time to find out?  And that is what I love about life’s lessons truly learned.  They provide the answers when needed.  Hmmm…..I wonder if the glass bead gel medium would be good on the lower corner across from the door?

A little like the stages of grief, my first reaction was “Really?”  I was in denial.  Then panic and fear jumped in.  “How are we going to get home?  When will we get home?  I cannot believe this is happening.  Why would the airline cancel before the snow even started falling?  I know we can get in before the blizzard.”  As I turned to look out my sister’s sliding glass windows that looked out onto the Gulf of Mexico on the island where her home sits, I was pissed.  Thankfully, I was surrounded by calm, sane people and my husband and I were able to schedule a flight out for later in the week.  Now I had an extra two days to relax, walk the beach, sit by the pool, etc.  

Now most people would be thanking the universe for their amazing good fortune, but not me.  I moved into worry mode.  I started thinking about our cats and if our sitter would be able to care for them.  I fretted about the snow and pictured our roof caving in from the sheer weight.  I pictured the power being out for hours, our pipes freezing and then bursting, flooding the basement.  I was able to envision every calamity that could possibly happen.  My brain was running amok!  And yes, I WAS IN FLORIDA!!

This train of thought stayed with me until the next morning.  The local news predicted the warmest day yet in the region and still I was unhappy, worried about what might happen back home. And then it hit me.  While my body was in Florida, I was not.  I was wasting time being miserable about things that didn’t even exist, things that were beyond my control.  And, I was just plain nuts.  

Thankfully, I decided to let go of all the worry and accept that this is where I was and that all would be just fine.  Every time I found myself mentally back in Chicago, I smiled and turned my attention to what was right in front of me. (Thank you yoga practice.)  It was a wonderful two days and I am so grateful for that extra time.

Today, I returned to my artwork with a different perspective.  The door now represents the opportunities for change.  When I choose to open and walk through it, events present themselves that allow me to break old habits and do things differently, if I choose.  Instead of being angry and anxious in Florida, I chose to let go and enjoy.  I think it is time to start doing that with this piece.