Sparkling Tidbits
[Beautiful Mess Inside :: To see the progress of this piece, go here.]
"If I'm going to do something that could be provocative or artistically relevant, I have to be prepared to put myself in a place where I feel unsafe, not completely in control. I have no fear of failure whatsoever, because often out of that uncertainty something is salvaged, something that is worthwhile comes about. There is no progress without failure. And each failure is a lesson learned. Unnecessary failures are the ones where an artist tries to second guess an audience's taste, and little comes out of that situation except a kind of inward humiliation." ~ David Bowie
In the midst of all the adventures I'm currently having in the studio, much goodness abounds…
* A feature about the 100 Books Project is in the current issue of Somerset Studio.
* An essay about my very personal foray into collage journaling – and how it led to the creation of Ordinary Sparkling Moments – is in the current issue of Art Journaling.
* My latest essay is up in the Wish Studio.
* Many of my latest creations will be up for grabs at a show at my studio Saturday, July 17th, 2010. The show will be that evening – details forthcoming!
* Have you registered for the Fall Squam Art Workshops? There are still spots left in my Book in a Day class with Marisa Haedike!
* And I apologize for teasing, but an insanely exciting development for the studio is taking shape and I'll be announcing it right here at the beginning of next week. I'm giddy!
100 Books Project :: Amman, Jordan
[Book #52 was left in Amman, Jordan in March 2010.]
In a sea of so many extraordinary stories, this might end up being my favorite. So many threads came together to weave a story I still can't quite believe happened. This 100 Books Journal Entry is featured in the current issue of Somerset Studio. You don't want to miss this one.
Sparklette #50
The kind of things I ask my husband to do:
Driving home one afternoon…
"Ohmygosh! The Chicken Car!!"
I then proceed to make him drive around the block, pull over, and take a photo, because the Chicken Car – it hasn't been around in a while – and I used to love seeing it here and there around our neighborhood.
Not only has it returned, but it has been given a facelift.
The Chicken Car: It's back, baby.
I’m Getting It
[Preparing for a show on July 17, 2010 in the studio.]
After hemming and hawing about Doing versus Saying recently, I attended a day-long meditation retreat led by Karen Maezen Miller this past weekend, where I was told rather matter-of-factly that I don't really need to do anything, that whatever is going to happen will happen in its own way, and my work is to deal with all of these unfoldings as they occur rather than try to bend them to my will. I'm paraphrasing, but the not needing to do anything part I remember very well. Because this wasn't so much entirely new information as it was an affirmation of an inkling that has been quietly growing in my mind for a while, a seed that was first planted by Maezen herself.
I've so often crowded my mind with the idea that I need to go to great lengths to make sure everyone understands where I stand and why. I am this and not that; I value those things but not these things. I have gone through this transformation, which means I must say that out loud, and explain in great detail about all the hows and whys this transformation happened.
But I'm starting to get it now. Bit by bit, day by day.
I am where I am right now, and where this moment and all the moments before it will lead me, I don't know. I might have ideas and I might have desires. There might be needs that must be attended to (for example, I know in less than an hour the clothes that are now in my dryer will need to be folded) and obligations that have to be fulfilled. But beyond these generalizations, I am simply living my days as best as I can, and it really doesn't serve me to get too wrapped up in whether or not this makes sense to everyone else.
I have had to learn – through an incredibly painful loss – how to stay centered in my own sense of self, self-worth and goodness. Because of the stories certain people in my life have chosen to believe about me, I have had to integrate an almost-daily practice of reminding myself who I am in order not to get pulled into the quicksand of believing the ideas these people have of me.
(I am now on the verge of slipping way too far in the Too Much Personal Information category, but in order to avoid anyone reading this and wondering what I'm getting at here – this has nothing to do with anyone who reads this blog.)
I share this little sliver of Too Much Personal Information to explore why I have felt the need to explain, justify and prove myself – and my goodness – to the world. I might have become skilled at avoiding the pitfalls of giving credence to certain opinions, but I see now it is time to face the pitfalls of one of my defense mechanisms against these opinions, which is that I tend to go overboard in the area of trying to make myself seen, heard and understood. On this blog. In letters. Over email. On the phone. With my husband. At my friend's house.
But I'm starting to get it now. Bit by bit, day by day.
I don't need to do anything. It isn't necessary to go out of my way to express something that most people likely aren't interested in. I can rest in the truth of my actions, and find solace in the knowledge that they will speak for themselves. And hopefully, if I stay true to my intentions and live mindfully throughout each day, these actions will speak of the peace that never leaves us, and the freedom in letting go of our fears.
“Sitting quietly, doing nothing, spring comes, and the grass grows by itself." ~ Zen Proverb
Five Things
2. Scoutie Girl: The Blog with a Penchant for the Passionately Handmade
3. DeeDee914: Uber Hip and Cool!
4. The Art of Gift Wrapping: 50 Innovative Ideas Using Organic, Unique, and Uncommon Materials
5. Nowness: Recommended by one of my grooviest friends evah
Progress
The crazy part? This series of photos showing the progress of this piece is missing the entire first half of its story. I began working on this piece in my studio at home many weeks ago, and it started with my pulling off layer after layer after layer from an entirely different piece until I had a deconstructed composition I liked, which was the top image.
That is what it looked like when I brought it into the other studio earlier this month and I have since added many new layers. I can't really explain why, but this piece has a hold on me, and I don't think I'll have the heart to hang it in the show I'm in next month. I rarely get attached to my creations – most of the time I am happy to release them. But every once in a while I want to keep something for at least a little while, so I've learned to just go with that and not obligate myself to let go of anything I've created before I'm ready.
This piece hangs in my studio and reminds me to go as far as I can with every creation, to never shy away from the pursuit of creating something that makes my heart sing in order to play it safe so I can create things I merely like.
"Control, apparently, is not the answer. People who need certainty in their lives are less likely to make art that is risky, subversive, complicated, iffy, suggestive or spontaneous. What's really needed is nothing more than a broad sense of what you are looking for, some strategy for how to find it, and an overriding willingness to embrace mistakes and surprises along the way. Simply put, making art is chancy – it doesn't mix well with predictability. Uncertainty is the essential, inevitable and all-pervasive companion to your desire to make art. And tolerance for uncertainty is the prerequisite to succeeding." ~Art & Fear
Another One From Grandpa
This photo makes my heart melt. I'm not sure why, I just love it.
Doing ~ Saying
[One of many pieces currently in the works in my studio that began with the deconstruction of an existing piece. This was an oil painting on stretched canvas that was taken off its frame and applied to a new wood panel.]
I know it is not necessary – or even productive – to try to compartmentalize my life too much at all. I scribbled down a few sentences yesterday exploring what it means to to approach my life from the question of What do I want to say? versus What do I want to do?. My brief synopsis was that my actions will always speak louder than any words I say or write, so the question of What do I want to do? will always be intimately tied to the question of What do I want to say? In other words, I can "say" a great deal simply by what I do.
I also know it is not necessary – or even productive – to have any concern over the way my life flows. There will be times when I am quiet and times when I am the life of the party. Some days my attention is buried in my creative work and other days it is focused on getting that work seen. There will be times when my artistic ideas catapult out of me like fireworks, times when they flow gently like honey and times when they are stuck in the mire of self-doubt, exhaustion or simple artist's block. It is all part of the same experience, which is my life. I need not worry that if I spend too much time in one area or another I will be defined as such, and that these definitions will somehow limit me.
[First act of re-building this deconstructed creation: Painting the areas of the panel uncovered by the canvas.]
I say all of this to express where I am right now – which is in a place of expansive observation. Expansive as in I am taking a lot of time to look closely at all the patterns, routines and consistent choices in my life and whether or not they are truly serving me. This is an ongoing process – when am I not over-thinking, analyzing, questioning and contemplating? But this feels different. This is quieter, softer, and inspired by a brutally honest assessment of the fact that much of what I have been doing – particularly with my creative work – has been motivated by many levels of unhealthy grasping. This is not to say I regret anything or that what I have been doing has not been worthwhile – quite the opposite. But I finally had to admit to myself that much of what I felt like I had to pursue was motivated by this grasping, and whenever there is grasping there is tension, and wherever there is tension there is a blockage of the natural flow of things.
I think this blog reflects all of this. I have continued to post regularly, but more of them are tiny snippets of whatever happens to be catching my attention on any given day – dewdrops in Big Sur, snails by my house, my grandpa's travel photos and the daily adventures I've been experiencing in my studio. I haven't known how to precisely express the gentle current that has been sweeping me in unexpected directions. To be more exact, I haven't known how to express it in a way that doesn't sound exactly like so many other internal stirrings I've shared here over the years.
Maybe in my quest to un-grasp, I am letting go of the need to constantly share the stories I am living in the hopes that they are somehow inspiring; perhaps that release is being masqueraded as a fear of sounding repetitive. There are countless stories in me that I know I will eventually need to sit down and write, but I am feeling less like I need to write them in order to say this or that (because this or that might be helpful, uplifting, etc. and therefore recognized, appreciated and acknowledged) and more like I need to write them because they need to be written. I need to create art right now, and I need to continue writing stories. But both are now flowing out of me because I need to do these things rather than because I hope they will give me some kind of recognition, book deal, Amazon rank or validity. Admittedly, this is still an idea I am getting used to and not entirely comfortable with, but in that discomfort I see the signs of a necessary stage of growth.
I read an interview with Ashley Judd many years ago in which she said, "I've lost all ambition," in a discussion of how content she was with her life the way it was at the time, which was less about Hollywood and more about knowing the names of all the wildflowers on her property. That interview has stayed with me ever since, and I often wonder what it really meant for her to feel the loss of a certain kind of ambition and be content with that loss. This idea has continued to intrigue me, and every once in a while I explore my own definition of ambition and whether or not it still flows through my veins.
I find myself, once again, thinking of her interview, and asking myself what it is I really want to do. What ~ Do I Want ~ To Do? I am sharing many of the answers that are unfolding in my studio right now – I want to dismantle, deconstruct, and create with absolute abandon – but some of the other answers are still being mined for and examined. But maybe I will never need to utter a single word about what those other answers are; maybe they will reveal themselves in the things that I do – tomorrow, next month and at the end of the year. And maybe it's time I let that be enough, do the work I need to do, and release my need to talk so much about it as if I need to prove myself and grasp at all those things I think will give it meaning and validity – all those external rewards I have been taught to believe will give me a deep sense of satisfaction and contentment.
Maybe simply living a life that is meaningful to me is enough, and I can let that say everything I might ever want to say.
Sparklette #49
1. The pink dress
2. The Band-Aid by my ankle sock
3. My mother's hands
4. What am I pointing at?
5. Why am I so serious?
Dewdrops
On our recent trip to Big Sur, most of our time there was spent inside reading while the fog stayed close to shore and blocked our view of just about everything. One of these mornings I became obsessed with the dewdrops, and walked all over the place trying to capture their sparkle.
On one part of a trail that went through a small grove of redwoods, I stood still and listened to the water drops plopping down on other leaves, branches and the ground. I realized then that that is one of the most serene and beautiful sounds on the planet.
I loved the way the dewdrops clung to leaves, vines, flowers, branches and stems.
And I loved how pearly and white they looked in certain kinds of light.
"Every dew-drop and rain-drop had a whole heaven within it." ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
