You don't need an eraser

When I was a little younger - say 20, 25 years - I spent a lot of time drawing.  My family liked what I did, of course, and while I was pleased by this, the back of my brain told me that they were supportive because they had to be.  After all, they loved me - didn't they have to tell me they liked my creations?  Ah, the wicked tricks my perfectionistic mind played on me.  Luckily, I never let my doubts stop me from creating for personal pleasure.  I drew, wrote poetry, sewed - anything reflective and quiet captivated me.  But to create to share?  I never thought I was "good enough" for that.

Enter Ms. Gearhart, grade 10 English.  Something about her led me to open up and try things that I don't think I would have otherwise tried.  I wrote most of my poetry during the three years that she was my teacher.  It was a juicy time and I think it was then that I began to question the idea that no one else would be interested in the things I created.  Could it be possible that I was capable?  Her encouragement and support led me to think that I might like to be a writer when I grew up.  As it turned out, I became a teacher instead.  Something great about teaching is the variety of activities we get to plan out and take part in.  I get to teach writing, and I get to write.  I get to teach art, and I get to share my creativity on a small scale.

I have been teaching for ten years this fall.  It seems like a very long time, and simultaneously not long enough.  Each class I have worked with has provided me with the opportunity to grow and learn alongside them.  For many years, one of my mantras has been: "There are no mistakes in art - you don't need an eraser".  It's easy, as the teacher, to talk more than you listen.  It wasn't until two years ago that I really listened to myself.  I am so glad that my ears finally began working.

The freedom I have begun to experience through this idea has offered me a kind of "lightness" that I have never before experienced.  What I needed was permission from myself to make mistakes.

Can you do without your eraser? 

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Zoning In #2

"Make a list," said the book I read on blogging.
("Make your own," say I to you dear reader....)


10 things that inspire me:



10. The yeasty smell of my mom's fresh bread

9. Conversations over tea, lingering and sweet

8. Other artists, daringly sharing

7. The Rockies, majestically pointing heavenward

6. Flowers, vaporous colour in summer fields

5. Weather, which is so fickle in these foothills

4. Trees, to which I feel akin

3. My daughter, who wonders

2. My husband, who is so joyful

1. God, who gives me the ability to be inspired in the first place

Art in action

It's great to watch people on fire. When someone burns with passion for what they do, they exude a kind of joy that people just have to look at. I got to be in a room full of passionate people last night.

The fundraiser for "The Subliminal Rabbit Presents" was packed with people. The passionate energy created by the fiery people in the room was even more fragrant than the appetizers they served. So many people in the community pulled together to donate all kinds of wonderful things as both door prizes and auction items. Incredible hand-painted clothing, original gallery-quality photos, pen-and-ink work, a wine-making kit, gift cards for services like massage - even a brand-new mountain bike! I believe the evening was a marvelous success and surely hope that these folks who believe so deeply in their work were funded handsomely.

When people come together around something they feel strongly about, so many wonderful things can happen. I was honored to participate in something bigger than myself last night. Thanks again, Jean, for involving me in your dream!

Waiting.

It's true! I didn't know what to paint for a few days... Then, out comes this drippy business over there. How did it happen? I waited. Not the kind of waiting where I sat on the couch and twiddled my thumbs, although I have to admit to having done that for at least a few minutes while hemming and hawing. This was active waiting. I got opinions, I leafed through art books, I had some quiet thinking time and some not-so-quiet thinking time. Then, out came 3 new works. (The next two I'll post soon ...)

Waiting is fun! Not the passive kind (the kind I brought up in the beginning of this post), but the assertive kind. So, I wait on my family when I do dishes or cook a meal. I wait on my students when I organize a field trip or spend extra time outside of school listening to them. I help a stranger out by holding the door just because they are there and I was the first one through. Waiting is fun. Hard work kind of fun. The rewards far outweigh the cost.

How much time do you spend waiting?

Merry merry

"A merry heart is good medicine."
Many days in my childhood, my mother used that beloved quote hourly. She even had a little tune that she would sing just to make sure that it really, really stuck with us kids. Usually she'd sing this lovely ditty as we were in the midst of learning some character-building lesson or other. Ironic, no? She was right, though. (It's true! Moms know stuff!)

How do you keep your heart happy even in the midst of trials? Create! Run a marathon! Read a book! Spend time with people you love! Looking at life as a chore is a guaranteed way to clog the arteries of a happy heart. I'd rather avoid a heart attack. I have more than one happy place - here I share with you the evidence of one of them.

Where's your happy place?

Organic and Human

My historical creative journey has been a long, long, long one. If that journey were a string, I am sure it would easily stretch from here to the moon at least 5 times. Now that the string has found it's way back to earth once more, I do believe I have managed to tie a knot that will anchor it properly to my heart. Isn't it lovely when you have someone to show you how to tie those knots and keep them tied? Frederick, you tie the best metaphorical sailor's knots in the whole world.

For my 38th birthday my folks had me, my husband and daughter over for dinner. They man a lighthouse in the middle of their street, lovingly guiding all who enter through life's ocean. I was touched this weekend when a fellow sailor was viewing my work and made two observations - he called it, "organic" and "human". Certainly I think both apply. The creations I have photographed seem hard-done-by somehow, not being allowed to show themselves in their truest forms. They boast wires moving in spirals, lost buttons found and held in hugs of paint, abandoned moss meant for seasonal decoration adopted into landscapes, sunlight and branches bursting from canvas.

I marvel at how fellow sailors in different waters can alter the courses I plot. This traveler certainly can record in her captain's log the day that same fellow sailor inspired me to get my organically human work out of my basement and into some fresh air.
Thanks, Jean.

Zoning In #1

Ever had a passion? Not the kind you read about in Harlequin romances - I mean a passion. It puts a smile on your face when you go to sleep and keeps you company when you wake up, follows you through the house, gets in your car, goes to your work, permeates your conversation when you are talking about unrelated things. I'm uberblessed - I have three. My God, my family and my art.

Arcylic paint is candy for my soul. Wires and buttons and scraps from magazines make my fingers tingle. I get all excited when I find old tins - the innumerable uses! And bits of yarn! I get all tongue-tied just thinking about it... (some of you are wishing I would find more yarn). I come alive after 11 at night - the hour The Zone and I are one. Blessed Summer - the season that brings my Zone and I together. I get to go to my own place - do you? If your zone hasn't found you yet, put out an ad. It's not as dangerous and the personals, and you don't have to kiss any frogs in hopes of finding your prince.

May the force of The Zone be with you always.