Experiments In Color & Magic

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I find certain magic happens in those last minutes we're in our art spaces - when there's paint left on the palette that we just can't waste, paper we'd usually never use but have close by, when there isn't much time left and we want to squeeze out the most creative juice we can before playtime is over. 

If you follow my Instagram feed (or Facebook), you get a little peek into my process (and usually the mess I make while playing!); I take a LOT of pictures while working - to gain perspective on what I'm doing, to document the process so I can repeat it, and yes...to have blog photos!  

Anyway, over the next week, I'll be sharing the work I've been giddy over - stuff I look at when I'm done and can't help but smile. It's awesome when we create art journal pages we love, but it's brilliant when we can't stop making more!  

I decided to stick with a set color palette for two sessions. Why? To see all the different ways I could incorporate the colors! I wanted to see how they behave as part of my own little class on color theory and experimentation!  

 

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Here are the colors I used:

neon red/teal green/bright aqua green/yellow ocher/dark titanium white/white

Oh, and to paint with? Catalyst tools! Just the small and medium of the grey tools, and the blue wedge. That's it!  

Here are some progress shots of my first experiments with this all! 

 

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And here are two finished paintings! Final details were added with gouache & I pulled out the silver leaf! I was working on ledger paper and half-finished canvases in the studio...and don't be afraid to mess something up in order to keep playing! 

 

 

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Both are available, and I'll be making prints soon! 

Friday, I'll have more eye candy for you all!  

 

For Your Protection, Immediately Forgive Yourself

She is now available as a print in my Etsy shop.

There’s been a book sitting on my bookcase for the better part of the year. It has sat there among others, and I started it, but I never really dove in. I thought I didn’t need it, and thought I’d get back into it when I did. But in the wisdom of as Ze Frank:

When you’re most in need of help you the most vulnerable to bad advice. Probably the best time to read self-help is when you least need it [and can chew on it with a bit of vinegar].

2012 has been a year of changes for me. And while many of these have been amazing, and large, lately, I’ve felt that the greatest barrier to my success has been myself. And as I was flying high on cloud nine, seeing my work pay off after seven years of blogging and making videos and sending in submissions, but I wanted to do more. I knew I needed to change from the inside out. And you might have seen the beginning of this shift when I finally decided to create for the niche that I felt in my heart for so long (and thanks to Alice for letting me know that even if you don’t have a chronic illness, you can still relate to my work and words!).

And so, I pulled down that book; it’d been sent to me by my dear friend Roben-MarieThe Gifts of Imperfection by Brené Brown. As a recovering perfectionist, the easy-to-read yet digging deeper format energized me to begin making much-needed changes in myself. When I finished, I knew I needed to go backwards; I needed to read her first book, I Thought It Was Just Me.

 

I know I’m not alone; this knowledge is the driving force behind why I share so much; I want to tell people they’re not alone, that they’re not the only one with FMS or an illness, and that beauty and art can be captured no matter what your background or physical/mental state you’re in. That’s not what tore me open. It was this, her definition of Shame:

Shame is the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing we are flawed and therefore unworthy of acceptance and belonging. 

As I read the first few chapters, I felt something shift within me, and all of a sudden, I cried. I cried for all the times I might have shame someone else to make myself feel better. For a long time, whenever I was in pain, I felt so ashamed and disconnected, I felt that the only way I could get anyone to help me was to go for the throat. And I’m not proud of this or saying any of this with  pride; but it has to be said. And I’m sorry.

I had already started practicing mindful authenticity and ordinary courage after finishing Brené’s second book, but now I had to re-learn empathy, and how to really connect with others. One helpful thing I’ve been doing is sitting with my emotions instead of simply getting angry or frustrated. I figure out what, exactly, I’m feeling, and why. I now better understand my motivations and am less unsettled about myself, which has me creating more authentic connections and communicating with more empathy. 

I remember one afternoon, as I was eating lunch with Becca, completely breaking down into tears. My heart had broken open, and it seemed I had a lot of sorrow and regret to get out before I could even begin to go forward. I spent the day painting, allowing these previously-hidden emotions to come out through my brush. And it’s taken a long time to finish the painting I began that day because it is, in itself, the process. 

It is the process of opening yourself up to what you may have done in the past, and remembering to forgive yourself. I think that is so important. Before you do anything else, I want you to sit, in this moment, and forgive yourself for anything you have done recently that you may be ashamed about.

 

Brenè says the guilt is more motivating than shame. Shame makes us feel less than worthy, less than perfect — makes us feel less, period. And that’s the thing — we are all imperfect. It’s our imperfections and this state of authentic being that we should be celebrating!

So stop trying to make your journal pages, your art, your photos, or your blog perfect! Make them more you. That’s what speaks louder than anything else! It is that essence of personality, of a person truly trying to connect with others, that will bring people back for more.

(At least I’m hoping that’s the way it works!)

So this painting was the process of me cracking opening open and sobbing with my friend, sobbing while driving home. I love the message I got from my mother and daughter who said they are looking forward to this painting being available for them to have on those days when the pain is too much and they need something to allow them to be. I had to pause in dictation; I just started to tear up and cry.

I am by no means finished with the book, and my copy looks more like a high schooler’s copy of Catcher in the Rye, full of annotations they’ve been forced to make by English teachers, than that of a twenty-something woman reading to better herself. I’ve been reading with highlighters and pens in bed at night because I see more than just a book for me. I’m reading now more for my tribe, my community of artists and followers. Listen to this quote, and see how someone with a chronic illness may respond to reading this:

We equate more ability with weakness, and, in our culture, there are very few things we abhore more than weakness.

I know a lot of you who read my work have illnesses, and you may be ashamed of yourself, and your weakness. And I want you to look at this painting and take her message to heart: for your protection immediately forgive yourself

And then go create something beautiful, if only for five minutes, today.

 

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Grab her in my Etsy shop, or browse all my other paintings now availiable (a few originals are left; contact me if you're interested!).

2 Ways in Which Soul Work Is Changing Me for the Better

I really need to make myself a print of this page/painting, and hang it on my wall where I can see it every day. 

I remember the pain I was in when I painted her. Sitting in my tattered recliner, I had paint on the end-table next to me and was watching one of my favorite movies (How to Train Your Dragon). She started as a doodle, a swooped line, the flick of a wrist turning into the first layer of eyelashes. 

Then, I was trying to distract myself and reinforce a pep talk — this will pass, everything will be okay — but I don’t think I could foresee how much this painting would impact my life. 

 

1. My painting style has radically changed. 

In fact, all the ways I approach painting has changed. If you were to page through my current journal, or through the growing pile of completed pieces in my studio space, things look very different than what I have done before. There is much more soul and love in all of them. I’m digging deep into my heart and working on mindful authenticity; my terrible, scary panic attack ripped me open, and I now sit with painful emotions, journal my heart out, and am pouring myself onto the canvas each time I pick up a brush. 

Those I’ve shared my work with have been brought to tears or loving what I’m doing. They’ve urged me to share. I’m working through why I’m so afraid to just post everything; one theory is that I’m afraid the pieces won’t resonate, won’t get comments or interest, and I don’t want this crazy ride to end. I don’t want external forces to negatively influence this joy-full and deep time in my life. 

(I dream of people wanting to purchase original art from me, of my Etsy shop full of prints that has me running to the post office once a week, and am not detached enough to face reality.)

 

2. I am facing a turning point in my life. 

I am close to having to make a choice. Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t have so much of a choice to make, but a way to be

Yesterday, I spent most of the day in bed with a migraine. 

Earlier, I’d had a heartbreaking call concerning Disability. Basically, I am too young. I haven’t worked long enough, or passed that 30-years-milestone, and their office rarely accepts cases for people under 30. 

My case is a difficult one, I’ve been told. Because I cannot afford to see a doctor more than 3 times a year, there is little to document how my case has progressed since being denied in 2009 (I realize, now, that while I hinted at what was going on, I never posted the story on my blog). And since I can make a little bit of an income from Journaling Deep and various articles, I can “work” (more specifically, my age means I can do any of the jobs out there…despite my various illnesses and limitations). 

Until this afternoon, I was sobbing. I have already given up on two of my life’s biggest dreams and to give up a third would most probably turn me jaded and evil, like a Disney movie villain. But I doubted if I could make enough from my art to actually support me in the way I need. 

But now? 

Now I’m going to try. I’m not going to settle for a visit every three months, I’m not going to settle for small meals, many skipped (I’ve had 2 today, both tiny). I’m not going to allow myself to wither and suffer. 

Does that mean I’ll need to step things up? Yes. I’m currently creating 2-3 paintings a week, 1-2 HD tutorial videos a week, as well as writing a new framework to reflect my beautifully imperfect creativity and how I’m quickly discovering what truly dwells behind the walls I’ve had around myself for years and years. 

I need to figure out why students don’t interact with me (despite me begging for feedback with each thing I post). I need to find out why anything pre-Art Journal Diary didn’t enroll as much as my heart believed they would. I want to find out what I’m doing wrong. I have seen others craft lives for themselves and I have to believe that can happen for me, too. 

Because the alternative — the alternative is greater suffering, more tears, and a broken heart. 

 

So, are you in, or are you out? This only works if a community works to support each other. I’m devoted to changing your lives for the better, to sharing my whole heart and soul and mind. I want to empower the ill, make the sick laugh, and share your story with the world. I’m crafting a program for those with less to still participate and take courses, see content, and thrive, but I can’t do it alone. I make less than those on Disability, currently, but I am willing to put in my all. If I can change your life, ours will be brilliant with purpose.