seeking antidote for information overload

"a river runs through it"  mixed media on canvas  36"x12"

do you ever feel overwhelmed

by the barrage of information

or sheer amount of words,

images upon images,

(even the relevant/beautiful/powerful ones)?

overload.

do you struggle

with the weight and worth

of your additions

to the massive pile to sift through

as i do?

self promotion seems to be

a necessity of our craft these days...

yet, even when done humbly and respectfully

it feels a little bit like

pulling a bandaid.

and throwing it in the pile.

doesn't it?

"a river runs through it"  mixed media on canvas  12"x36"

my attempt at a respite:

step 1: unplugging.

a walk through the fields.  playing in the dirt.

picking fresh vegetables.  making a child laugh.

jumping in a bouncy house. sipping my tea slowly.

sitting around the fire with loved ones.

leaving the camera at home.

step 2: simplifying

my own input.

editing the heck out of my thoughts.

ruthlessly cutting out unnecessary words.

really digging

to get to the heart of things.

visually,

if i must paint

(and i must),

this is not a joke:

i paint everything white.

i use mostly materials

others would consider trash.

i wash them in white

(paradoxically, covering them in paint

actually reveals their essence to me)

and hesitantly proceed

to add my contribution.

then i feel that even

this entire last paragraph

was perhaps not

entirely necessary.

forgive me.

then i add a few more images,

not even ironically.

and finally i say good night,

without further editing.

"a river runs through it"  detail

would love to hear your strategies for dealing with information overload!  please do share!

our lady of foreseeable risk

everything is new around here.

new life. new color. new adventures.

found confidence. renewed joy.

it starts off with feelings

of being overwhelmed,

fear, inadequacy, so little sleep.

then, bit by bit,

you do the work

and find that love sustains you.

you stop sweating the little things,

you lean in

to the built in moments of just being...

you grow into your true self,

without even noticing,

now that your focus is outside yourself.

welcome to motherhood.

"once we believe in ourselves 

we can risk curiosity,

wonder, spontaneous delight,

or any experience

that reveals the human spirit."

- e. e. cummings

"our lady of foreseeable risk"  30"x40" mixed media on canvas

the mixed media artist

if you don't know seth apter, you are missing out.

he is a delightful human, wonderful artist,

passionate community gatherer,

and generous promoter of other artists.

his new book,

"the mixed: art tips, tricks, secrets and dreams

from over 40 amazing artists"

is coming out this month.

i had the humbling privilage

to be featured amongst this incredibly talented bunch.

it is quite surreal seeing my work

and fumbling thoughts on the creative process

printed and in such great company.

i am unspeakably grateful

for the thoughtful soulful direction

in which seth's questions and prompts

catapulted my work.

the artists were invited to create two new pieces

inspired by specific prompts.

the prompts that inspired me were

"my shadow side" and

"below the surface".

i am including a couple of in progress detail shots

of that second piece and my thoughts

on what it evokes.

crash curse in thoracic surgery
the bits and pieces will fit.

take great care not lose even one,

torn and bruised as they may be.

hold them up to the sun,

one by one,

while whistling a familiar tune.

as far as the mending itself goes,

use what you have on hand.

it will do.

pause often for tea breaks.

in time, healing is sure to take its course.

eventually,

a new song will bloom,

just below the surface. 

_________________________________________________________________

to learn more about the brilliant artists

showcased in the book,

check out seth's blog for the series of spotlights

he is featuring in the month of october.

for a chance to win a free copy of the book,

leave a comment on any of these posts.

july. part 2.

 countdown to eternity & waiting on forever.  a diptych.

a month's worth of work.  a pictorial.

anchor for my wondering soul 12"x24"

lost and found 20"x30"

all the king's men  18"x30"

love story 12"x24" custom piece

on fire  32"x24"  custom piece

more daily poetry

 “may my mind come alive today
to the invisible geography
that invites me to new frontiers,
to break the dead shell of yesterdays,
to risk being disturbed and changed.”

— john o’donohue, from “a morning offering"

all the secrets to the universe 24"x12" diptych

poetic therapy

'healing with words' mixed media on canvas 11"x14"

 tired? worn out? in pain?

lost? hopeless?

just a bit confused?

need a break?

 things that heal:

lighting a candle

listening to the music of the rain

the warmth of another

writing it down

a cup of tea (with honey and lemon for extra points)

morning sunshine

water (drink it in, immerse yourself in it,

jump in the puddles)

time with your lovely self - intentional

playing in the studio - no purpose, just fun

that juicy piece of fruit

a piano and cello playing together

getting your hands dirty

giving without expecting anything in return

a good stretch

walking barefoot in the grass

the smell of camp fire in your hair

a glass of red wine

kisses - lots of kisses

a good cry

a good laugh

time

words

 

 quite exhausted 

after an intense week of work on the house.

we made room for the baby,

organized and cleaned everything in sight,

and are now ready to open our home

for lots of visiting friends

for a whole week.

a reminder of the things that

refresh and restore

is in order.

amongst these,

developing a new daily art practice,

loads of stitching,

playing with small abstracts,

finding poetry.

have a wonderful weekend, friends!

'give up' -daily poetry

'little things' -daily poetry

'words to fall' -daily poetry

market days

 lovely market days.

for the last time before baby comes,

i got to have a booth

at the wonderful randolph street market

in chicago.

the weekend flew by

as i ogled gorgeous antiques,

met beautiful people,

and talked about art.

filled 

with preparations for the market,

live music,

and road trip shenanigans,

may is taking off.

now june.

officially 3rd trimester.

time to fully anticipate

the arrival of our sweet evelyn.

on to the joys

of preparing an inspiring space

to welcome her in.

 

 i leave you with

a glimpse at my newest large abstract.

and details.

love your life today!

"making a life"

out of hibernation

 hello, world!

i'm alive and well once again. 

"everything is blooming most recklessly"

and i'm inhaling the miracle of it all

in big gulps.

loads of life are blowing up all around me,

deep within,

my days are overflowing with loads of life.

isn't spring simply wonderful?

in this season when so much needs to be done,

i've been reflecting

on how to make the non-art work

meaningful, artful, poetic...

how to infuze every living moment

and every bit of work

with joy, creativity, beauty.

"you are worried and upset about many things"

jesus says to martha

"but few things are needed -

and indeed only one.

your sister has chosen

what is better

and it will not be taken away from her."

in reaching for the one thing,

i breathe through my work.

i take out the trash gratefully,

i do the dishes lovingly,

i grocery shop creatively,

i hold on to the joy of the studio

 as i go about the million little errands

that make up life.

back at my workbench,

i let go of what i think should be,

and play with textures,

keeping it light.

here is a glimpse at details

of a new work in progress.

"but listen to me for one moment.

quit being sad.

hear blessings

dropping their blossoms

around you."

-rumi

 

outside inside

the view from my studio window

granted, from two weeks ago.

yet this has been the look,

the mood,

the tone,

the feel,

the temperature.

and here it is reflected in my work

(which there hasn't been a lot of

since shaking off hibernation

takes its toll)

ask seek knock. detail

ask seek knock

 what there has been a lot of:

freshly squeezed orange juice

(substitute for sunshine)

long walks,

meals with dear friends,

learning to listen

to the madium,

to the process,

to the little voice within,

to my body,

to the little person within.

and finally,

a new painting

bursting 

with yearning for spring.

yielding to grace

back in the studio and grace

echoes of spring. mending with sunshine.

it's been a season of taking it slowly,

of learning how to rest

and offering myself grace. accepting it too.

instead of pushing

when i come to the end of my strength,

napping.

instead of beating myself up

for not getting it all done,

books.

let me tell you,

there have been lots and lots of books.

and movies.

and long slow walks with a dear friend.

tea and art museums and more naps.

back in the studio today

i eased myself in

with some playful abstract work.

echoes of spring.  detail.

but the important work

is taking place on the inside

these days.

i just have to conspire with grace

to let it take its course.

something old. something new.

our lady of perpetual incertitude

something old.

an icon.

that familiar feeling.

being the person you've been growing into.

exploration on a beloved theme.

worn out, yellow pages.

comfortable in your own skin.

this and that and other secrets

 something new.

assemblage.

lost in play.

exploration of fresh materials.

the joy of discovery.

that fluttery new feeling.

the miracle of life. 

 

hearty apologies for such a severe

absence of updates in the past month.

we've had life altering news,

joy,

overwhelment,

extreme exhaustion,

overwhelming

joy.

i will do my darndest

in the next few months

to update regularly

with new work

in the midst of sequels of elation

as we prepare for the arrival

of little baby gray.

cheers!

and a wonderful - if belated- new year!