What'll I Do?

What To Do When You’re Blue

One of the things I like to do (besides paint) when I am feeling sad or down, or just plain bored is to make a “Things I want to do” list. This gets me out of dwelling on what went wrong in the past or worrying about the present, and gets me into looking forward to projects for the future.

So here’s my partial list:

Live in a beach house
Improve my Italian
Paint 100 great paintings before I die
Make love again
Learn how to do my hair
Stop saying I told you so
Go back to Italy
Learn to salsa
Find my soulmate or at least fall devastatingly and totally in love with someone devastatingly and totally in love with me
Get a massage
Ban tattoos

Plant more flowers
Find a job I love
Loose weight for good
Care for myself better
Paint my walls sky blue
Design my own furniture
Go to the Greek Islands
Learn to play the piano
Get my teeth whitened
Find a cure for arthritis
Make more books and journals
Not have to retire until I’m 70 unless I want to
Write a book
Go Kayaking
Sing on stage
Teach Abroad
Draw better
Get a pedicure

You get the idea. What would be on your list?
Sharon

The Art of Becoming

The Art of Being Myself

This summer, more than any other, I have become conscious of my age. Up to this point, I have had a few aches and pains, noticed the passing of time, but have always felt young at heart, busy living life, and on the go. I am a late bloomer, not going back for my advance degree til I was past 40 and changing careers. I have always looked toward the future as a bright happy place where I can continue to fulfill my dreams, work toward finally becoming accomplished at my craft, and having a feeling of ease. I still think of myself as becoming, not having arrived yet.

Slowly, that is changing. A lot has happened to me this year. I quit my teaching job and moved across the country to get out of the heat of Arizona thinking I could easily step into similar patterns here in Washington State and be closer to my family, and my grandkids, find another teaching job and keep going down my planned path. It hasn’t exactly been that easy.

This summer, I have struggled to find my niche. I have not found a permanent teaching position, but am to be an adjuct art professor at the local college. So I have been applying for part time jobs to tide me over until my teaching job starts up again. One can starve on an adjunct’s pay. I am luckier than most since my salary is supplemented by a partial government retirement pay that I receive from being an ex Navy wife of 20 years, and I also have my medical needs covered. So I am better off than most. But more than financially, I feel raring to go, ready to be a real professor, to be the expert I worked hard to become. But finding a new job with the perfect combination of security and benefits, along with enough challenge and interest is tough. I am beginning to suspect some ageism. Not overt ageism, that would be illegal of course, but there are subtle hints. The committee member who calls me Ma’m…a longer than usual discussion of their retirement plan….my daughter’s hand on my elbow going up stairs. Subtle.

There’s nothing that will make you feel older quicker than being around grown children and grandchildren to remind you that THEY are the young ones, and I am at least middle aged. I’m slower, noise bothers me more, I wear out before they do, and I can’t run after them effortlessly like I used to.

Now you say, well, isn’t that normal. Of course. So I don’t know why it came as such a shock to me that I am aging. We baby boomers do tend not to go quietly. But on giving it some though this summer I realize I do have something they don’t. Wisdom and experience. It sort of comes as a shock, but a welcome one.

I realized this when my granddaughter was in the hospital. My daughter Lori, who is such a competent person and a wonderful mom, needed my help and advice. She didn’t know what to do, or who to turn to. Being there, even without all the answers was kind of nice. Feeling needed, depended on, secure about my answers, and feeling valued means a lot.

My Celtic ancestors would have been better prepared. Being a Wise Woman of some age was a truly honored position in that culture. Even my own Scottish granny, a healer and wise woman extraordinaire, was revered for her knowledge of herbs, healing, and practical wisdom. She was a woman who allowed herself to acknowledge her age and her wisdom and yes….even her power. I never thought of her as old, although she had snow white hair done up in a bun. She was always lively, quick witted, and very entertaining with her stories and antecdotes. She was revered by all who knew her, and she lived to the ripe old age of 93 – sharp as a tack right to the end.

This realization has actually allowed me to be more comfortable with my slower pace. I am ready to consciously define myself as wiser and stronger, and yes, even more powerful. Turning down the Art Nazi job was an exercise in that power, and being able to come to terms with the process of resettling at a slower pace than I had anticipated are good examples of becoming more secure in my ability to care for myself, and find the right niche here in the Northwest for myself. This blog has become a way for me to teach, speak, and quietly inspire myself and others – all women – all people who wish to embrace that inner quality of resting with uncertainty, while having faith that life will be kind to us. This inside knowing feeling is one I have finally begun to listen to and trust.

My life will still be full of blessings and challenges in equal measure, no doubt, but I am happy for now just to tell my stories, one-to-one, to name my blessings, to treasure my truths, and share the harvest of life experiences. I am beginning to feel strengthened by your stories as well, like my friend, Karen, of my last post, like others who are going through their own life changes whether it’s divorce, a new job, becoming a parent or grandparent for the first time, traveling to far away perhaps unsafe places, dealing with aging parents, or illness or whatever challenge life throws at us.

Empowered from within and strengthened by our connectedness, I claim my place as a wise woman in my family, my community, and my world. I encourage you to do the same. I’d love to hear your stories, and I promise to continue to share mine – as long as there’s an audience.

Take care,
Sharon

The Heart of Recovery

I just got off the phone with my dear friend Karen who survived the Katrina catastrophe and we were talking about getting things back to normal. We decided there is really no such thing. All of us go through stressors in our lives and she was saying that she was still finding it hard to cope with some things, and that many folks who were so optimistic a year ago, were now showing signs of depression and weariness over the everyday challenges they are still facing.

No doubt. Stress on that magnitude is hard for most of us to imagine. And for most of us, after a period of high stress, life moves on and we “get back to normal”. In New Orleans, things are much improved, but still a long way from normal. She was saying that she really thought she had been OK right after the storm because their house and her studio were still intact, and other than some shutters, a balcony, and a column on her porch, their losses were minimal. I suppose by comparison, those things were small, but that doesn’t mean that she and her husband didn’t have to deal with the problems all across a city with not much infrastructure. She said she felt a bit of survivor’s guilt as well. It’s hard. I cannot believe the amount of post traumatic stress that many of NOLA’s citizens must feel. Some will come back eventually, many never will.

Her husband is a doctor, a surgeon, and I actually watched with the rest of the country on CNN as they were airlifted from the hospital roof days after Katrina hit. They relocated to Tennessee close to their daughter temporarily, and her husband continued to practice there, and volunteered back in NOLA as well. She said many people came back to NOLA two months later, after the electricity came back on, but they were in Tennessee until January. And have been trying to get things fixed, redone, repainted, repaired, etc. and get on with their lives ever since. NOLA has become the murder capitol of the world with not enough law enforcement either. She says there are no such things as “handy men” in NOLA, and that the psychiatrists are so stressed they need psychiatrists! Even after almost two years later, some people still aren’t back in their houses, there is no insurance to be had, not nearly enough readily available building supplies, not enough workers, not enough anything,

Even though the French Quarter was not severely damaged, the tourist trade is still off (my friend jokes that surely folks would want to come to the murder capitol of the world!), but it is a black humor. But she said even though most of the city is still like a third world country, you can still eat at a fine restaurant, stroll down Bourbon Street and pop into a jazz club. She says it feels more like a small town with people you hardly knew hugging you in the grocery store saying things like “Oh you’re back. It’s so good to see you again”.

Although some people appeared to go through the hurricane rather unscathed, symptoms of post traumatic stress can sometimes move them into a deeper darker crisis. Disappointment, restlessness, and dread still tiptoe in on little cat feet, and can turn into elephants if steps to avert the depression aren’t taken. My friend Karen seems to be able to recognize when that happens, and anniversaries of the event can sometimes trigger some strange feelings. So on August 29, 2007, please keep New Orleans in all your prayers and encourage those you know who suffered from this terrible event in our shared history to continue to take good care of themselves and to feel free to still be affected by it.

Fortunately, my friend Karen is an artist, so she has some creative outlets that help her deal with stress in very healthy ways. Keep making art, Karen, and know we love you.

Love,
Sharon

The Heart of Creativity

The Creative Heart

Contrary to some opinions, artists are not necessarily
talented or different from ordinary folk. We are all naturally creative and have unique qualities that are authentically ours just waiting to be expressed in some form. Whether you are a writer, a singer, a painter, a cook, an entrepreneur, or a parent, you have a unique way of bringing your ideas to the world.

It is not uncommon, however, to feel blocked or stuck sometimes. Usually this means we are not taking time for creativity. We tell ourselves we don’t have time, or that it is self-indulgent. We don’t feel justified in making creativity a priority in our lives. Sometimes our “inner critic” gets in the way telling us we are not good enough, or that we shouldn’t be wasting our time.

Usually this is counter productive. We should be listening to our hearts, not our “shoulds”. Allowing ourselves to be creative has a lot to do with our passions. If we are daily involved with something we love, we grow our passion. And passion leads to doing something about it….whether that is creating a special space to work on your scrapbooking, or making every Wednesday night Gourmet Night, or starting a blog…it’s important to express your creativity on your terms.

Doing something that satisfies the creator in you is like it sounds. It can be akin to a religious or mystical experience. Indulging your creativity can often take your mind off your troubles, give you a sense of accomplishment, or help with loneliness or even fatigue. People even say it is “healing” to get lost in their creative process. And it is a process. It takes practice, time, and a fair bit of dedication to get really accomplished with your creativity. So don’t get discouraged if your first few attempts at whatever you’ve decided to do aren’t as “stellar” as you’d hoped. Just keep going and see where it leads you.

Primarily most artists work to please themselves. They express something within them that needs to come out and see the light of day. Some artists never show anyone their work, some can’t wait to share it with the world. Both forms of expression are equally valid. Whatever you do to express your creative side should please you first. If other people are also interested in it, then it is a bonus. But the primary pleasure you derive from being creative is in the “feeling” it gives you. It’s all about the passion.

So don’t just sit there….create!

Have a happy day.
Sharon

Tips

1. I have found that I like writing and drawing with water color pencils in the journal. That way if I want it to have a bit more of a "painterly" look, all I have to do is add the water, and all those hard edges soften.

2. I also like using a mix of watercolor and acrylic.

3. If I gesso the plain pages first, I can paint/stain over it and the pages have wonderful texture. If I paint gesso in swirls, it makes a swirly raised pattern with ridges to catch the stain. If I "comb" the gessoed pages, I get a "linen" look to the pages.

4. I like to paint over or stain black and white photos, or images to give an aged appearance to the pages.

5. I've mixed typed messages with handwritten ones for a variety of looks.

6. I also like to sew fabrics and papers together to let the stitching shows. I also tried adding buttons, ribbons, small metal ornaments, and next week I am going to try embossed metal sheeting to see how that works.

Sky's the limit when it comes to creativity!

Journal Update

Here are some new pages for my friendship journal that I have been working on lately.

These pages have the letter I wrote to my friend suggesting the project. I treated it like it was an invitation complete with fancy stationary and a frosted envelope. We are all about making life beautiful, so she got the "beauty" treatment. Other times we're wild and woolly, but not today!

This is the actual letter that goes inside the envelope.

This page is about the first time we met in art school at the University of Kansas. Can you see the easel I drew over the writing? The clock and references to time are both about it being some time ago, and about us being a bit older when we both started. We hit it off right away since we both felt a bit out of place in a studio full of 18 year olds! It was nice to find a friend!

Better today!

Little Livy is doing much better today. Thanks to all of you who asked about her and prayed for her. She is going back to school for a 1/2 day today and is keeping liquids down well. Nana (that's me) brought her one of my special green tea blends flavored with cinnamon (her favorite) and made dinner for the family last night since they have been run off their feet with work, moving into a new house this weekend, and a sick child in the hospital. What are Nana's for? Livy has decided she likes Miso soup, and it has some remarkable ingredients in it to help heal stomach linings, so that is her lunch and sometimes her supper for a few days, along with the pedialite, jello, juice, and any clear liquid we can get down her. If she toleraters these well, her Mommy says she can go to applesauce and maybe a few noodles in her soup. Trying to avoid doing an endoscopy which is pretty invasive just to find out that she has gastritis...which would be treated as we are now. They have already ruled out anything major, except maybe an ulcer, so we are trying to let the body heal itself. Always a good idea in my opinion. I say "we" but it is mostly her mommy and daddy making the decisions of course, and I am the support. Keeping her hydrated and nourished is a challenge at home without an IV, especially when food makes her nauseous, but the soup and the green tea seem to be working.

I am looking forward to the day when I have my active little girl back again.

Olivia

My life has been consumed since last Monday with one sick little granddaughter. She started with flu and it just lingered on and on. She has been throwing up for 10 days straight. She was on an IV and in the hospital after 5 days of it, when she got dehydrated, and even then kept throwing up bile or anything we managed to coax her to eat. She wouldn't even suck on a popsicle. The doctors have run every test known, poor little pincushion, and still she languishes. She went home for a night or two thinking her own bed and familiar surroundings might help her get back to normal, but she had a dreadful night of throwing up again, so it's back to a specialist today. She is going to a pediatric gastrointerologist....how much more specialized can you get? We are all flummoxed as to what is causing it since she has no known infection, no fever, blood cells are normal, and her bowels are OK. It's just a mystery. And in one so young, to see this little girl who is normally a firecracker, lay in bed and just stare into space scares my heart. Those of you who pray, please do. I'll keep you posted.

Sharon

Color Personalities

As you can see from this stock photo, color makes an impact in any art work. I have a strange way of looking at color. I have always associated certain colors with the people in my life. I guess it's because they are so evocative of personality or mood.

For instance, my mother, aged 87, is a bit prickly. I think of her as bright orange, or maybe lime green like cactus. Depends on her mood.

My son-in-law, Mr. Calm is dove gray, almost serene blue sometimes, but rarely.

My daughter, who is a lawyer, but also the mother of two, ages 4 and 2 is purple to me, always an energizing color.

My grandkids are rainbows, although Olivia loooooooooves PINK. Cooper is just everywhere.

When I think of myself, I see turquoise. I love this color. It makes me feel alive.

My red-headed friend Judy is golden. She always looks sunkissed.

My son is in the doghouse right now, so he is sort of muddy green in my mind. When he's on his best behavior, he's more lively - then he's bright blue, like his eyes.

Do you have a color?

Art Nazis

Today I interviewed for a part time job teaching art at a local private art school. It is not necessarily a prestigious place, but the adults and children I saw on their website looked like they were having fun and producing some decent art work. I thought it would be a good summer part time job while I waited for my classes to start at the University. I had an electronic portfolio of my work which I gave them on disc, but they had asked to see some originals besides. I hate to brag, but I don't have a lot of pieces lying around my house, as I have sold a lot of them recently and some are in storage or loaned out to the University. but I did have a few abstract landscapes I've been working on this summer and some fresh watercolor florals which I laid out in front of them.

"Hmmm,...interesting. Yellow skies, heh? Interesting. Is that a sunflower? "

I knew I was in trouble. I hate it when people say "interesting", that's critic speak for "I don't like it".

As the owner continued to interview me, she peppered me with questions about my work, my teaching methodology, my stance on "concept art" (said with a curled lip) and before I could answer any of her questions, she launched into a soap box speech about how "true art" was being able to draw or paint something realistically. I quickly got the idea that, in her opinion, there was only one way to look at art - her way.

When she came up for breath, I mentioned that I had taught "Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain" - Betty Edwards' method of helping students perceive drawing without the filters of how things "should" look and said I thought Betty's methods freed up a lot of beginners to experiment and gain a sense of joy and play in their art work. That was obviously the wrong thing to say. She told me they taught "real" art at her school, not learning to draw things upside down (one of Betty's methods to get you to look at positive and negative space rather than the lines).

E-X-C-U-S-E M-E!!!!!!

This is the same woman who wanted to know what my MFA stood for. When I told her, she said, "Well just because you have a degree in art, doesn't mean you are a good artist". True, but what training had she had? None it seems. She proudly told me she is self-taught. Also perfectly fine, I don't think you necessarily have to have a degree either, but it's good to have an appreciation for different styles of art. She proudly showed me her own art on the walls of the classrooms, and those of her students and other teachers. All the other teachers were former students of hers. I realized I'd be the maverick if I got hired. Their paintings were technically very good. Proper proportions, well integrated color harmony and good compositionally, but they were all a bit stiff and lifeless - much like their teacher in my opinion. She explained that they learned from copying photographs down to the last little detail.

As I say, there was some remarkable work shown, children of 7 and 8 rendering landscapes with an incredible amount of detail and precision, down to the needles on the trees, and the cast shadows in the snow. Amazing detail for kids that young. But her teenage students and her adult students' paintings looked about the same as the 8 year olds'. They didn't seem to possess any individual style or verve. they were all a bit flat, no depth of field, and repetitious. I didn't say this, of course, because at that point, I was still considering working there. But it began to sink in that this woman was an Art Nazi.

I had a few of those in school too. They had perfected a particular technique and had it down cold, and they expected their students to imitate their work. In my opinion, these Art Nazis can kill creativity in their students faster than a duck on a june bug. Forget having confidence in your own ability unless you are a good copyist. It's unfair to ask students to imitate a teacher's own style with no regard for individual sensibilities. I once tried to emulate one of my favorite teachers who had an elegant spare oriental style. I failed miserably because I am rococo all the way. But instead of discouraging me, she told me to "lean into it" to see where it led. I always admired her for that. I feel it is the responsibility of a good teacher to encourage experimentation, to allow for an opportunity to try something and perhaps to fail, and to learn from those experiments so that each artist can develop that unique visual literacy I spoke of in my last post. Art Nazis will kill that impulse every time.

So I am rebelling. I am not taking that job even if she offers it (which she probably won't). I think art should be satisfying on all levels, should be fun, and freeing. I don't believe in oppression, drudgery, and drawing cones and spheres over and over to make sure you get it "right". Sure you have to hone your craft. You have make a lot of bad drawings of cones and spheres, some atrocious paintings, and start and stop a million times, but there should be a measure of joy and freedom of expression mixed in too. Throw in an apple or a pumpkin with your spheres, put ice cream in your cone, or set it on a clown's head...have some fun, loosen up, and don't take yourself so seriously. That is the kiss of death for an artist.

So all Art Nazis take notice, the fun police are out to get you!

As I always say...paint from your heart!

Sharon

Missing Italy

One of the things I miss the most about Italy is the coffee. I taught and studied there for a year in 2000/2001 in Florence, and I really loved it. Not only did I get to study art, I also lived in a real Italian neighborhood in the center of the city not far from the Duomo. I tried to learn as much Italian as I could (not enough though) and learned to live like a native! (Well, almost).

I had an apartment on via Alfani just up the street from San Marco and before Sant' Annunziata. My next door neighbor was a sweet Italian grandma that I only ever knew as Nonna, but she came with a dish of food and a friendly smile, and a blurr of shotgunned Italian the first day after I moved in. We could barely communicate, but she became a wonderful friend. My other Mama.

She taught me how to use the funny little coffee pot that came with my furnished apartment, and I immediately fell in love with Cappucino. The pot allowed me to heat the milk at the same time and I got addicted quickly. But Tuscans only drink it for breakfast. The coffee bars around Florence cater to tourists though, so you could get it at a bar any time of the day....often with a beautiful design carved in the foam by the talented (and often very sexy looking) baristo. I was told that if he swirled a heart on top, rather than just a squiggle, it meant he was flirting with you. I am not a young thing, although single, and I don't know if it was true or not, but it was fun to think so. Italian men are huge flirts and they seem to enjoy women whatever their age!

This dedication to customer service was true of all the Italian vendors I met. They all took an enormous amount of pride in their work. Fruit vendors in the Mercato Centrale vied for your business by claiming to have the juciest and the best, hand picking it from their selection, carefully wrapping it in tissue like a small gift and making sure they put in a bit extra or a small sample of nuts or an exotic fruit to insure you came back again. The vegetable vendors did the same, always including a small bundle of aromatics for soffrito (celery, onion, carrot, a little parsley) since every Italian started their soup or sauce with these ingredients. No one hurried, and no one complained. Probably because they wanted the same individual attention when it came their turn.

Even the the waiters at the local pizzaria treated me like a VIP. I had a favorite ristorante and went there about once a week while I lived in Florence, often times bringing students or visiting family or friends with me. After awhile, they got to know me, called me "professoressa", and argued over who would wait on me. All the waiters were young gods who made my female students sigh, and it was very flattering to be treated as preferred customers. After about two months, two of the sons who worked in the business asked me to meet their parents who operated the restaurant. Mamma was the cashier, Papa was chef in the kitchen and made the lasagna and other fresh dishes in the back, and the cousins tossed pizza dough to bake in the brick oven where we patrons could watch. They tossed dough with a flourish, and served it with a smile. They all gave you personalized service and if they were serving or helping you, no one else existed. You did not get rushed service if they were busy, you got your full measure of attention, and were treated as if you were the most important customer they had. This was not a 4 star restaurant, this was the local pizzaria. They became my "Pizza Boys". They practiced their English, I practiced my Italian. On a quiet night, Guiseppi (the youngest ) would do his homework at my table while I sipped my after dinner coffee and we would talk. His brother Antonio wanted to move to New York and start a Pizzaria there when he got older. He told me he was looking for a rich American wife! They were sweet boys and I felt honored to be included in their little family. Can you imagine anything like that happening here in the US?

Another example of art of the heart - in more ways than one.

Sharon

Passion

Many people have a problem knowing what to write about. Me too, sometimes. So I went snooping to find out what types of blogs are out there and what type of things they write about. Well....some are pretty mundane and boring, but finding a topic you are passionate about helps. I am a teacher, so I am interested in encouraging people to learn new things, and in giving them tips or hints to expand their repertoire.

Here's one: Start a Wish Jar Journal.

A Wish Jar is something you can ask others to participate in, or do by yourself. the idea is to put your wishes and dreams into a jar. Be specific. Don't say....I wish I was happy....say I wish I could go back to Italy again...or I wish I'd bought that snazzy pair of shoes I saw yesterday....or even...I wish my brother would call.

After you have filled your wish jar (or box or canister, or notebook, or desk drawer) with a variety of wishes on a number of subjects (places, things, people, the weather, your home, your work, your love life, your favorite recipes, your pet peeves) pick one out and write/make a journal entry. Use words, photos, scribbles, paint, cut-outs or just a color to illustrate your ideas and your mood.

Ideas often suggest a certain color, so use it in your journal entry. "I was so mad I saw red" "I'm green with envy", "I'm feeling so blue today". Just remember these colors mean so many things. Red could also connote vibrancy and high spirits, green is also serene, and blue is also the color of a bright blue sky and a feeling of euphoria. You will soon develop your own color language. Don't worry if it doesn't make sense to anyone but you.

Simple images can convey ideas and feelings too. Whether they are hand drawn, or cut out of a magazine, or xeroxed from a book, they will also help you express your ideas by creating your own visual language. Again, these don't need to make sense to anyone but you. So what if nobody else gets that to you a tree represents peace and dreams, since you used to day dream and take naps under the big one in the back yard, or that dogs scare you, so you always draw them behind fences with big teeth. A sunflower for sunny France, cypress trees for Italy, white picket fences for home. All of them are part of your own unique visual language.

Art requires you to think outside the box. The objects and elements you select and creatively combine make up your own particular style. It takes a leap of faith to allow yourself to express yourself freely. Remember, there's a story inside you that only you can tell.

Welcome

Welcome to my visual chronicle. I call it that because I find I am writing these days almost as much as I am painting/collaging. I feel that these journals or chronicles are a good way to combine both. I have always been a "hands-on" girl, and not done a lot of electronic art, but this type of publishing seems to accommodate both electronic convenience and allows for some "painterly" applications as well.

I am currently working on a "Friendship" journal with a friend of mine. We have been friends since art school, and wanted to do something that would encourage us to communicate more (since she lives far away) but in a more artful and personal way. We are both avid readers and she is a great listener for those times I need to talk to her on the phone. She's not fond of email or electronic journals, so I've started a hardcover handmade journal that we both contribute to. I keep it for one month adding the events of my life in writing entries and also with pictures, bits of ephemera, and creative combinations of old keepsakes and memorabilia from both our lives. then I ship it to her, and she sends me back a month's worth of her life in pictures and in the journal pages. I have called it our Friendship Journal since it contains all those stories that only we can tell. This is truly Art of the Heart and the Heart of Art.

What are you working on? Share it here and we can all collaborate to make something beautiful.

Sharon