So Much & So Many

Oh little blog, I know you are intended to be all about art, but my life is such a mix that I feel you will be to. 

I once tried to separate my notebooks in to tidy compartmentalized groups, needless to say it didn't work. Now they are a delightful mix -mostly sketches and prayers but also to-do lists, budgets, floor plans, recipes, important numbers, descriptions of future possible projects, and anything else that I am compelled to download from my brain (sometimes bordering on the indecipherable as I've grabbed a pen in the dark at 2am) My notebooks are sometimes lined, sometimes gridded, and sometimes plain. Homemade, bought, found and gifted. There is no chronological order in my notebooks /journals /sketchbooks. I don't actually start them on the first page, more often than not it is somewhere in the middle. At times, I write upside down or sideways and occasionally on top of previous notes with a writing instrument of another color. There are arrows and stars. Names of blogs I want to visit and medias I want to try out. They are not neat, words are crossed out and there are more mis-spellings that I care to admit. And of course there are Drawings, lots and lots of Drawings.

My notebooks are a micro version of my heart and head. The good, the bad, and the uninspired.

I really started started sketching and journalling about the time my marriage was falling apart. I needed a place of release and retreat. I do have one journal which is primarily writing and actually written in sequence day 1 to day 365. It is bright red and from the first year that my husband moved out. It was such a painful time and I didn't want to contaminate the rest of my notebooks. I still keep a mostly writing diary at my bedside table (along with at least one of my other journals) but its not used that much any more. It is just not as necessary as it was during that time. Funny -I still remember the first line I wrote in it. "It was the best of times. It was the worst of times." (Yes, I know this is plagiarized -but it is ok in a personal journal. Sometimes other people just happen upon the perfect words first)  That line is still so true. Each day is hard and frustrating but each day is also wonderful and amazing. It just depends on what color glasses I've put on that morning.

That first year alone (well, as alone as you ever are with two teenage daughters) taught me so much. That my God loves me more than my mind can even wrap around. That I am capable. That just because my dreams were shattered doesn't mean I can't find new ones. It was hard to let go of the illusions. I am a sucker for fairytales and they typically end .....happily ever after. I had to redefine my happily ever after. (not that I've really figured it out but I'm getting there.) I also rediscovered my art and my passion for creating.

I am still rediscovering what makes me happy, what I want, who I am, and who I want to be. It is a process and I am enjoying the journey. I will live with abandon!

My Happy Place

I am trying to get everything together for the Peter Anderson Arts and Crafts Festival in Ocean Springs first part of November. I still have lots to do and with Dad in the hospital, jury duty, work ...ie life, it is a bit overwhelming. The biggest item I have left is to purchase a tent. I’ve been waiting on payday but I’m a touch nervous on timing. I could just let it all go (except obviously the tent) as I have lots of paintings to offer but I really want it to feel abundant and cohesive with something to purchase at lots of price points. I want it to grab your attention then entice you to come in and fall in love with a special piece.

I am wrestling with insecurities when it comes to being an artist but you know right now I really like my art. Sometimes I get too much inside my own head - Is it too kitschy and crafty? Is it ok to sell fun little ornaments and cards as well as more serious canvases?

I want to evolve and experiment but to also have my own style which is uniquely me. Individual and distinctive. I want it to come organically and not be contrived or forced. I want painting to be fun and joyful because if it isn’t then why bother. Really. There are so many useful things I should be doing. It is my guilty pleasure. Yes, sometimes I do at times feel guilty about the time I spend in my studio. But it is my escape... my dream world... my playground. The outside world with all its pressures and expectations just disappear. I am happy. My art is my happy place.

There is this strange paradox. I create for myself but desire the validation of others wanting my work. I feel like a mom taking her daughter to kindergarten (or maybe Jr. High -even scarier) for the first time. So hoping the other children will like her and befriend her. So hoping she’ll find her niche and be accepted.

Well, we will see. Go little artwork, get out there. Have wings. You can do it.

So with fingers crossed and paint in my hair, I say Farewell for now :)

(Prayers for my beloved Dad, Carey would be greatly appreciated: Pray that the doctors would figure out what is the root to his problems, that is would be treatable/curable, that the doctors would come up with a plan for treatment, and that he would be healed. Thanks)

What Is Authenticity?

Most people would say to be authentic is a positive attribute, but what does it mean. To be Real (yes the disco song is playing in my head right now) to be True, to be Transparent, to be Honest. Why do I aspire to be Authentic? What does Authenticity have to do with my Art?

"Life is A Masquerade"
My Latest Embellished Bit of Artwork

I think to be authentic is to be wholly one's self. There is this deep need inside all of us, to be known and understood. This can be crazy hard since I have no idea who I really am, not to mention it changes constantly. So often who we are is tied up in our roles (mother, daughter, architect, artist, teacher, ...) and sadly our possessions and status. We also take to heart the characteristics that others have put on us (the smart one, the rational one, the fat one, ...) These are just cloaks, bits of clothing we put on or simply forget to take off, not our essence.

The only "true me" and absolute part of my core being is that I am a child of God, undeserving but unconditionally loved. This is my foundation even when everything else is whirling like autumn leaves in a wind gust, or a shell fragment in the crashing surf. This is more than a mere role or personality but the unchanging center of ME. 

We (& by this I mean me but I think it is pretty universal) have been hurt by sharing too much with the world so we build up an armor (strange how closely armor resembles the word amore). It can become almost impenetrable. We put on a face of what we think others will like or accept while keeping our most vulnerable self tucked tightly within. We think we are keeping ourselves safe but in reality we are closing ourselves off from truly experiencing life -an authentic life.

When we feel, feel deeply, we really live. The highs are higher and yes, the lows can be lower but WOW, it is authentic. I am only now learning to feel. It is wonderful. It is why I create.

I am trying to become more open. Let people see me more. I know that I can only be relatable (knowable) if I let the proverbial warts show. It is scary. I am afraid of being judged, being seen as boring, strange, awkward (all of which are probably at least a little bit true) Imagine the Wizard of Oz, I can't help but wanting to be the fancy face in the smoke, mysterious, bigger than life, significant.

But I am embracing all of me, even the crazy bits: black, white, purple, polka dotted, and plain. (Channelling the song by Meredith Brooks at the moment) I am all these things and more. Guess what, not everybody is going to like me (ouch) but it is ok. It is also ok to change, grow, and evolve. I am not who I was yesterday nor am I who I will be tomorrow.

Some masks are fine (even necessary) for a season but we need to know when we have them on and not be controlled or confined by them. So then ... Cheers to Authenticity. May you always be real.