These works represent a time lapse. Longings and dreams fade…the narrative changes…people come and go in our lives and we adapt, we merge, we yield. Nothing is lost… just re-purposed, re-homed, re-fueled.We tell stories to make sense of life. My story Is being assembled as I go.
I’ve been away from my blog for quite some time, but I am emerging…
At the end of August I spent a week in Sonoma, California at a week long intensive designed for participants to move into a multi-modal expressive space in order to access a deeper level of innate creativity. The artwork this week was not about a finished artifact of fine art, but about the process itself. The artifacts are merely participants in the journey and provide a place of dialogue and inquiry. There are six pieces here, from that week. One of the sculptural pieces broke on the journey home and is on the left on the small bench. The four paintings are hanging on the wire in my studio (all are on paper), and reveal a process of discovery throughout the week. that encompasses my process. Much was learned and opened as the week unfolded.
I am enjoying this type of connection to creativity. It was such a sweet thing to have a whole week to journey into it.
My mother passed away last week. I was able to travel to Portland to be with her for a bit before her death, but arrived home two days before she passed. In the few hours we were all waiting as she struggled with breath, I painted two works, which I’ve digitally combined here in a work called, “The Passing”.
Death brings with it so many unexpected changes. Where there was once a life that filled space, there is emptiness. I’m writing specifically about physical space, but there is the emotional as well. Shifting energies and breath lifting her away in the wind. This is for my mother.
Sometimes I feel bound up inside as if there were no escape from my own self defined ideas. Things like beauty and creativity find themselves cloaked or stifled and I struggle to bring forth what I’m trying to say, do or represent. I move about and wrestle trying to free that thing that will change it all, that will finally release me from what’s holding me. I feel inept, unable to execute my ideas or my desires. I guess we never really know what is hidden or what we hide from ourselves, the parts of our selves that sabotage. I can feel their effects, but struggle today to get my bearings and push through to the other side.
This morning Nathan and I are sitting at Mead’s Corner having coffee (this is where my work is up this month). We happen to be positioned in a sunny room right in front of this piece, “Watercolor Rain”, which is a mixed media collage on board. It suites my mood this morning, so I share it here. There’s something about the way she stands, turned away, head down. I experience the piece as a melancholy calm, with hints of passion and memory, nostalgia and wistful remembering, Some of my pieces hit me this way. So much of my experience and way of experiencing are worked out in the making, each artifact a part of an intricate tapestry of being. So I let it ruminate, and allow myself to feel.
Yesterday I posted a process work after cleaning my studio. Today I’m posting one small area of my studio and a close up of one sculptural piece I completed about a year ago. Sometimes it’s just nice to sit back and look, to see things with fresh eyes. It’s gorgeous outside today, clear and about 70 degrees. The sun is shining, I’m home between clients at my office. A breather. We all need it.
IN my own life in relation to art certain things catch my eye. If I’m lucky enough to have a camera handy I can capture that image. The image above, is of my step daughter. It’s an image I return to repeatedly, each time I scroll through my photos, and each time I stop to ponder what it is that she’s thinking. Such a beauty she is. So complex. I’m not sure I’ll ever know what she was thinking, and it’s in this that I relish. To be an observer is a gift. Such is the way of art.