Release and remember

A lot of my work lately is about two things:

1. the tactile nature of creating with my hands rather than a brush.

(Ok, I do use a brush once and awhile, but not for spreading paint!)

2. the self-reflection and pep-talks needed to get through the Tough Shit.

Sitting on the floor is not the most comfortable position, but I now have a better understanding on how Frida was able to paint while in bed, or a wheelchair. I always wondered how she mustered up the energy and passion needed to create despite terrible pain. She's been an idol of mine for years, and helped with creating my couch box for art while in bed/on the couch. Still, I'd be tired, and in pain, so I would just look at my phone or watch TV.

When you have a real passion for what you're doing, when you *must* express your inner self, pain becomes fuel, not the blanket that smuthers it out.

Somehow, once I get into the flow of things, I forget myself past my thoughts and hands. I allow myself to stay in the moment by focusing on the feel of paint between my fingers, the way chalk sticks, the little bits of glue I habitually peel off (getting glue off my fingers is one of my favorite quirks). When I need a moment, I wash my hands in my water jar. Leaning over, leg going numb - none of it matters when I'm playing on the page or surface.

Honestly, I've been painting on the box an Amazon order came in a few weeks ago. It's just cardboard, so there's no pressure to make anything nice or perfect. I can work without thought, letting the colors I've spread inspire me for the next step. Little bits, big swaths of color, details, paper. One leads to the next. Over and over.

And there comes a moment when I stop. The colors aren't inspiring any more. The space is filled. Call it magic, call it the unconcious, but I get to a moment when I *know* what I need to write. What I need to get out to help clear my mind of distractions. Most of my pieces are pep talks or kind suggestions to myself.

You see, I've yelled at and hated parts of myself for years and nothing ever got better. So I decided, why not treat myself with love instead? Just try it out for a week, see if it helps. And it does! Yes, I still struggle, but I'm so much more gentle with myself.

So I add these words. They just...come to me. Like they're coming from an unknown source that knows *exactly* what I need to hear/read to help calm whatever's rubbing me the wrong way. And no, I don't just create when sad or depressed. Sometimes, I create to help someone else' pain. Or something I feel people need to hear. I don't really question it, I just *do it.*

(And yes, when I got up last night to put my sheets in the dryer since Edie threw up on them...ugh...I had to walk hunched over because my back had frozen and straighten was not something I wanted to do. I shuffled to the dryer. It isn't far. And I was able to tolerate that because I'd just created art I liked, art I've always wanted to make, so...so what if I can't stand up? Or that my leg goes numb, my knee flares up. The reward of art created, of feelings processed, that makes it worth it. I also relax and watch tv or read to loosen up before bed.)

There is so much more I could write about, or share. For now, I'll just show you the art and the details I love.

Where the Magic is Happening

​I've found that these days, the backing paper, spread out to protect a rug quickly bought at IKEA, is where most of the magic is happening. There's something about not being restricted to the side of a journal page or spread, yet the art, the process, and eventual journaling are all an echo of the work I've done inside books for over a decade. When you can spread out, you have more room to move - get the paint on your hands and get your body involved in the motions of spreading paint or ink. The layers on my hands resemble the layers of Fordite, the "stones" created from years of paint being spread on the floor of an automobile assembly plant, and I wear them with pride for about half of my work day.

Despite the physical issues I've been having with my spine, I now paint kneeling or sitting cross-legged on the floor, my palms spreading paint. There's no pressure - this isn't an art journal page to post, or expensive paper. It doesn't react the same way as mixed-media or watercolor paper would, but that's ok. It's just an inexpensive roll of drawing paper. Make a mess and move on. Experiment. Let every little "what if...?" in your head come to life: what if I spread glue over chalk pastels? What if I draw simple faces? What if I layer this paper or that piece of trim? All of these thoughts get expressed on the floor in front of me, and as of now, I am making the kind of art I've always wanted to create.

Just took a decade to get here.

And that's what I want you to remember: art is just like anything else; the more you practice, the more you improve.

I mean, look at me. I've taken one art class in my life, a drawing course at the community college years ago. Everything else I've learned by observing others or experimenting myself. And I keep at it, even if I feel like what I'm making is terrible. You have to battle through the years of not measuring up to your own taste (watch this short video of Ira Glass explaining the gap - it will change how you look at what you're creating). Do I see the way things aren't quite right due to perspective? Sure I do! But do I care? No! Because this is MY art - my shaking hands, my overactive nerves, my colors and faces and process. I love getting stuck in the flow of creating because the pain goes away. The grief flutters above me like a beautiful butterfly. The Divine is able to help me express my heart - the same Divine that crafted stars and nebula and you and me. Whenever I feel the muse has left me, I allow the Divine to use my hands - if they can create the beauty of the stars and the moon and the sea, it can definitely help me paint.

Most of the time, the words just come to me. I can't explain where they come from. I just feel them in my heart and write them down. And that's when the breakthrough happens - the emotions spill over and are given voice. I am often surprised by the words that are written, and feel, sometimes, that the unconscious mind is giving me a glimpse of what's under the surface.

It's a release, to be sure. Of movement, of existing in my body, of being mindful in the present moment. I'm sure I sound like a madwoman, cackling and laughing as I play, but I wouldn't have it any other way. 

How do you get through a creative block? How does art allow you to be present in the NOW? How can working big or on "cheaper" paper change your creative process?

the finished piece. As seen above, it now hangs, framed above my bed.

The Unexpected Joys of Dreaming

About a week ago, I tried a new medicine to help me sleep. Being able to fall asleep has been an issue of mine for the past 15 years or so, and I’ve spent many a nigh wide awake late into the witching hour. Three years ago, I found something that helped, but an unknown side-effect was losing dreams. I can’t say for sure if I dreamt or not, but I never remembered anything. It was always just before and then waking up.

One morning, after changing things up, I spent my sleeping hours searching for my phone with my father. When I woke up, I could hear a TV playing softly in the background and my mind, freshly awake, recognized the sound and thought oh, Mom and Dad must be up watching TV.

(If you are new here, my Mom passed in 2015 and my Dad passed this last March.)

My mind fully woke up and realized it was my roommate, that my parents were not here, and that the search I just finished was a dream. It was a gift, a blessing, to see him once again, if only while sleeping.

I’ve been feeling better lately, and combined with recently finishing an online class with Sabrina Ward Harrison (so worth the price tag, so amazing - if you have a chance to take her next offering, do it) had me sitting on my floor and painting with my hands as I happily listened to music. I saw my Dad, and Friday night, I saw my mom and brother, too (my brother passed in 2016). This brought me so much joy!

I had a giant piece of drawing paper down to protect my rug and my art journal out. I pulled out a canvas I’ve had for ages and done nothing with and got started.

Now, while I was painting and playing, I was messing around on the paper. We all know how fun it is to play with the paper we’ve put down to protect the surface - my friend Robin-Marie makes such amazing work from her layers of newsprint under her work. But I kept going, playing with paint and chalk pastels and ink, just allowing myself to be free - this is back paper, it doesn’t count for anything, doesn’t have to be a journal page to share or a canvas. No thought needed. I quickly turned my attention to the piece that was magically coming together.

I pasted down trim I’d pulled from a long-forgotten stash, added scraps of painted papers I’ve collected. My drawing could be wonky - I was only trying out a new supply, so who cares how it comes out?

And then I started writing about my dreams, about seeing missed family members again after such a long time without them. I celebrated the new gift I’d been given, how much I missed them, how I was finally finding my footing after such intense grief.

And when I sat back and saw what I’d made, I cannot explain how happy it made me. I was making the kind of art I always wanted to make, that my ability has finally caught up with my taste (watch this video of Ira Glass explaining the Gap; it is so worth it, especially if you’re struggling with the work you make vs the work you enjoy). I showed a friend and she suggested I frame it.

That’s not something I’ve done before. I have canvases hanging in my space, but nothing on paper, no journal spreads. It was an odd but touching suggestion, and I decided I’d grab a frame for it after my NaNoWriMo meetup. My roommate came by before I left and agreed I should get a frame.

I can’t stop looking up at it, frame on my wall. I had to take something off the wall to fit her, And when I showed my friend, she told me she’d never felt the push for me to frame something before. It all lined up, and now I have a special piece about seeing my family in my dreams on my wall.

I’m totally going to use this approach the next time I have a painting party on the floor. Big sheet of paper, art journal close at hand. Art journaling doesn’t have to be in a book. It can be on paper, or canvas. Anything can be art. And no surface is precious! My dog walked over the paper past where I was working. If I hadn’t been playing around on a surface I was using for scratch, this would never have been created.

My joy to create has returned! I’m writing again (obviously) and creating and painting and exploring life again. Still have the day job, but now I’m charged and ready to dive back into my artist self.

When was the last time you made an unexpected piece of art you love? Got paint all over your hands (I only used a brush for the drawing of the girl to spread the watercolor marker)? Dive in and make a mess! And link me so I can come see!