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!

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.

simplicity and possibility

“emptiness 

which is conceptually liable 

to be mistaken for sheer nothingness 

is in fact 

the reservoir of 

infinite possibilities.”

- d.t. suzuki 

'nothing to lose'. mixed media with quote by pablo neruda.

i've taken to

emptying

these gray days.

finding life in simple things:

the pouring of tea,

the richness of silence,

the light in the studio,

the mystery in the blank canvas.

 

'on longing.'  mixed media on canvas board. 24"x20".

“for artists,

like the rest of us,

sooner or later notice

that the power of longing

is more durable than

the thrill of possession.”

- francine prose

new painting, findings, studio notes

the days are flying by this gray season,

yet not without leaving a mark.

it has been a week of:

- painting, drawing, gluing, stitching, burning

8 paintings at once

- wearing big cozy sweaters

- finishing a novel in 24 hours

- adding whiskey to my tea

- hunting for treasure at the resale shop

(is there anything more wonderful than

digging up unique luxuries for under $10?)

- reflecting, journaling, dreaming & scheming

- making visual studio notes mapping out work in progress

(directly on the canvas,

using materials and tools rather than words)

- simplifying my closet

leaving only things i love wearing and wear to death

- ruthlessly slashing at the shoulds in my schedule

leaving only essential and life giving items

a season of no compromises. no half measures.

no kind of sort ofs.

only full-hearted work

and full-hearted rest.

savoring the luxury of simplicity.

cashmere sweater, rabbit fur scarf, 2 pairs antique leather gloves, vintage dress patterns - lovely lovely resale shop finds

like tissue paper but 1000 times better

visual notes for works in progress

 
 i leave you with a sparkle of rumi via

ode 314:

those who don't feel this love
pulling them like a river,
those who don't drink dawn
like a cup of spring water
or take in sunset like supper,
those who don't want to change,
let them sleep.

this love is beyond the study of theology,

that old trickery and hypocrisy.

if you want to improve your mind that way,

sleep on.

i've given up on my brain.

i've torn the cloth to shreds

and thrown it away.

if you're not completely naked,

wrap your beautiful robe of words

around you,

and sleep.

the ethereal quality of tea filters atop of black

autumn wonderings and lingerings

 crisp & mellow days are taking turns.

gray days weeping

with the melancholy of fleeting moments.

golden days dripping

with honey

and the fragrance of dying leaves.

only two ways to respond

to the miracle of these new days:

venture out

through the wonderland of golden arches

set against a silver sky,

the streets gilded under your foot steps,

until your heart explodes

of so much beauty.

or

venture in

through the wonderland of your heart

spilling its treasures 

on the crisp pages of your journal.

listen to what the rain has to say

over a cup of strong black tea.

eat golden foods

dripping with the sweet nectar

of the dying sun.

butter

maple

bourbon

caramel

pears

melting into

chewy oats.

sojourn.

meander.

dillydally.

how the light gets in

 "there is something in october

sets the gypsy blood astir,

we must rise and follow her

when from every hill of flame,

she calls

each vababond by name."

- william bliss carman

so it is that october beckons me.

i put on my boots

and an epic audio book,

grab the camera,

and venture out into the snappy,

musty, earth scented air.

no plan,

no expectations,

no thinking even.

just walking

and watching

where october takes me.

and what an alluring

companion she proves to be

under fragile arches

that trap the essence of the sun,

over gilded rustling carpets,

through forgotten alleys

teeming with the magic

of the derelict.

i am once again drawn

to the broken things,

to the cracked, the neglected, the forsaken.

 and once again i find inspiration

by the bucket loads.

 

 "forget your perfect offering
there is a crack in everything
that's how the light gets in."

-leonard cohen

progress

 “all there is to thinking 

is seeing something noticeable 

which makes you see something you weren't noticing 

which makes you see something 

that isn't even visible.” 

“one of life's quiet excitements 

is to stand somewhat apart from yourself 

and watch yourself softly becoming 

the author of something beautiful 

even if it is only a floating ash.”

“my father was very sure about certain matters 

pertaining to the universe. to him 

all good things-trout as well as eternal salvation-

come by grace 

and grace comes by art 

and art does not come easy.” 

 

"on some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. 

under the rocks are the words, 

and some of the words are theirs.
i am haunted by waters.” 

all quotes by norman maclean 

what is left and how to move forward

well, the wedding came and went,

beautiful as it could be,

hectic, joyful.

and so the guests,

leaving behind

acute silence.

followed two days

of proper hibernation,

blacked out windows blocking

any trace of summer.

contentment, tea, pjs.

enter a wave of unwanted guests:

 confusion, dismay, paralyzing fear.

a slow season for the sale

of my works has me disheartened.

the bread and butter thing

looms, threatens... and

it seems i am unable to get side work.

stuck. 

balancing on the edge of screwed.

 but wait, my knight in shining armor

is here to kick my butt.

he tells me the work is good,

good enough to help us survive.

if only i poured myself into it.

no distractions, no excuses.

he is brave enough to tell the cutting truth.

i have not given it my all.

bare before his knowing eye,

i bleed and nod. 

(if nothing else, i know how to pick

a good lover)

 today, exactly four years since

vowing to,

he chooses patience, though it costs him anxiety,

he embraces me, flaws and all,

he helps me up on my horse

and hands me the sword...

he fights for and alongside me,

unafraid.

 oh, and all this stuff?

random piles of junk

i found strewn around the house

when the dust settled.

i believe something beautiful

can come of them.