the scent of water

Unfurling

I've mentioned Misty Mawn's book before; it was one of three that inspired me to finally pick up a brush and start painting. I bought myself a copy today, having spent most of the week longing to pick up that brush again, but too unsure of myself to try. I am fully aware of the ridiculousness of this position. Nevertheless.

I get tired of trying to figure things out, which 1) should probably teach me something of the futility of trying and 2) won't stop me trying. Days like these I would like to let the all the tangled threads of my fears and failings go and dedicate my life to something completely beside any kind of point. To quote the wise words of Douglas Adams: You live and learn. At any rate, you live.

Where angels live.

Thank you. Your overwhelming support of my little painting was so encouraging. The kind of pictures I have in my head I am not yet skilled enough to execute, but all that means is the sooner I get practising, the sooner I will be able to execute them.  More likely, I will never be able to execute exactly what is in my head - who can? - but that doesn't matter either. 

Art is so many different things to different people, but what I feel when I paint, when I take pictures, is a shift towards my better self. If we all have our metaphorical demons, then perhaps there are also places where our angels live. I don't know where that place is for you,  but I hope you visit there as often as you are able. Oftener. Me, being able to define what is beautiful for my own self and then doing what I can to make that visible to others, that's when I hear the hallelujahs.

In their book, Art & Fear (from which I unashamedly stole the angel metaphor), authors David Bayles and Ted Orland say this:

To make art is to sing with the human voice. To do this you must first learn that the only voice you need is the voice you already have.

I'm a little old to be learning it, but putting your faith in that voice changes everything.

Painting

The family brought me a small set containing some brushes, a half dozen acrylic paints and a canvas board for Mother's Day. I have a few books from the library that have been inspiring me to just pick up a brush and start painting*, and as daunting as it was, that is what I did. I've never painted before, at least not since kindergarten.

It was a lot harder work than I was expecting. I kind of felt sick most of the way through with the fear I would be awful. Somehow it really mattered.  It's not the world's most amazing painting, I know, and heavily derivative, but there is something about that bird (of indeterminate species) that makes me think I could maybe be good at this if I keep going. Good enough, at least.

And I do plan to keep going. As anxious as I was about the outcome, and as hard work as I found it, I was also fully engaged in the process. My bills, my health, my chores, my family, my study; for a few hours my mind was absorbed enough to let it all go. It was a satisfying place to be.

 

*Art Saves, Jenny Doh; Art at the Speed of Life, Pam Carriker; and my favourite, Unfurling, Misty Mawn.

 

Open to change.

For D. and B., who took the time to spend an afternoon of their Easter weekend with me and lightened the weight of my discouragement, at least for a while.  And brought presents! Thank you. 

A calling is not something  you know, it's something you grow into, through trials and mistakes. Work shouldn't just be fun. Work should be like life - sometimes fun, sometimes moving and defined by meaningful events. Attack your fears, rather than shy away from them. Bring what you do in alignment with who you are. Freedom is the confidence that you can live within the means of something you're passionate about. Failure's hard, but success at the wrong thing can lock you in forever. Don't be seduced by artificial love. Be open to defining experiences. Don't mistake intensity for passion. You don't find purpose above the neck, you find it below the neck, when you're transformed by what you have witnessed. You can get good at what you need to, to serve what you believe in. Get your mind 80% of the way there and then go looking for the catalyst. Look backward as much as forward, inward as much as outward. Nothing helps like knowing you're not alone. There's a powerful transformative effect when you surround yourself with like-minded people. Create an environment where the truth is invited into your life. If you develop the character, the odds are pretty good you can succeed. Success is defined as when you're no longer held back by your heart, and your character blossoms, and the gifts you have to offer the world are apparent. Don't cling to a single scenario, allow yourself many paths to the same destination. Give it a lifetime to pay off. Things you work the hardest for are the things you will most treasure.

I used to think life presented a five page menu of choices. Now I think the choice is to be honest, to ourselves and others, and the rest is more of an uncovering, a peeling away of the layers, discovering talents we assumed we didn't have. I used to treasure the innocence of first love. Now I treasure the hard fought. I used to want to change the world. Now I'm open to letting it change me.

~ Po Bronson, What Should I Do with My Life?

Resolutions have been made, decisions taken, a book purchased.

Drawing with Children, Mona Brookes. 

 

I am laid up in bed with a virus.  Nothing major, nothing big, just another flashing neon sign from my body that things are not right between us. I am trying to listen. I don't do it very well. 

Sitting here I am thinking about how, when people claim to hate the things they do, I always wonder why they don't then change the things they do? Even just a little bit? I am, for reasons I feel compelled not to bore you with, unwilling to withdraw from my course of study for this year, but there must be, are, ways I can add a little enthusiasm into my day. Drawing like a child, for instance. Taking part in the Creative Every Day community. Knitting up the yellow socks that have existed only in my imagination for the past year. Folding origami butterflies.

Because, to slightly misquote Danny Gregory, it's maybe a good thing to celebrate life now, as it unfolds.

 

More library books

 

One more skein: Leigh Radford

 

Derek Jarman's Garden: Derek Jarman, with photography by Howard Sooley

 

Timeless Quilts: Designs by Ruth Van Haeff and Janine Flew

 

So.  Someone's feeling a little domesticated...

Style

Style is knowing who you are, what you want to say, and not giving a damn. ~ Gore Vidal

Everytime I visit the library I come out with at least twice as many books I had been intending to leave with.  It's been this way since I was a little girl and it will be that way until I am an old lady. At the last visit I grabbed Romantic Style off the shelf as I flew down the aisle - with a cover like that, how could I not? I would never have that much white, or that many roses, but flicking through the pages does feel a little like visiting a favourite Aunt who wants to sit me in the comfy chair, fatten me with cake, and tell me what a pretty wee lass I am. 

Not coincidentally I had been reading Sam Gosling's book Snoop, in which he explains his research about the connections between people's personalities and their stuff. Bedrooms and bathrooms are the best places to find the truth, apparently.  I loved the book, not least because of how it expanded my understanding of the people around me, but also because of the questions it asked me about my own personality.  What would you say about me if you snooped around in my bathroom, my bedroom?

Not a lot.  Quite disorganised. Decidedly boring. The love of books would sneak in, a teeny slash of colour here and there, but otherwise my house is the house of someone who wishes to make no mark at all. In all the many places I have lived my whole adult life, I have rarely, if ever, decorated anything inside of any of them. Given my love of colour and design, this is pathetic.  Beyond pathetic to pathological. Am I afraid the style police will show up and imprison me for crimes against humanity if no-one but me approves of the shade of green I paint my living room walls? Probably.  It's a concern.

It's a little bit gutless to try and make yourself so invisible that you offend no-one. And, as my friend Deborah likes to tell me, it can't be done anyway. I did know that. I just wasn't quite aware of it.

All of which to say, I quite like certain shades of green and purple, and lots of the pinks, blue in the right spot, and a very little bit of orange and yellow. Off white, some greys, teal for sure, but very rarely red or black. Also chandeliers.  Just so you know. Just to give fair warning.