Doing What I Like Because I Like Doing It

This past year, 2019, didn’t necessarily go in the direction I expected. I can’t say I am disappointed. I never set any New Year’s resolutions, so there’s no reason to feel guilty about what I didn’t do. Of course, being a writer and an artist, there’s always the hope for publication and sales, however, I pretty much let the year roll along doing whatever came along to catch my fancy (lots of gardening this past summer.)

One set of thinking carried throughout the year regarding my paintings, though. If I’m working on living wholeheartedly and striving to remain true to myself, what does this mean in selling my work? Marketing and self-promoting are fingernails on a blackboard to me. My entire soul cringes and I want to crawl in a hole.

Thankfully, I had quite a few opportunities to exhibit in 2019, for which I am very grateful. It brings me much joy to receive positive feedback on my hard work and whenever one of my creative babies goes to a new home, I am so happy.

What gets my mind in a tizzy is I love my work and I’m happy to share it, but what do I do as the artwork piles up? I love doing the creative work; painting and writing about painting!

When I first moved here four years ago, I threw away a lot of my framed charcoal drawings because I just don’t have the room to store them. Yes, there were tears, but I can’t save anything. The worse part was the expense of the professional framing. But, how can I not frame when the double matting and framing make the pieces look amazing?

Now my house is filling up with many pastel paintings, some matted and framed, and others just piled in a box. I’m running out of wall space to hang the pictures. I’m told if I don’t market correctly, I’ll never sell, but the thought of doing that kind of work makes me want to throw a little girl temper tantrum, “I don’ wanna!” Stomp, stomp, stomp!

Part of me doesn’t care if I sell. Oh, I want it to sell. Supplies are costly. I’ve even tried looking at the marketing as part of the creativity, but it just makes me want to cry. That’s not the type of creativity I want to do, and it takes time away from what I really want to be doing. I’m just not willing to do go through all the legwork to make it happen. It’s quite a dilemma.

For now, to live a creative, wholehearted life and be true to myself, I’ll continue to do my art as long as I can afford it, and I’ll do shows when opportunities present themselves.

Telling a Story with my Paintings

Recent readings again brought up the topic of artists saying their paintings tell a story. My paintings do set a mood, an emotion, but I never thought about them telling a story, and yet, I’ve heard people make such comments.

For weeks this concept has periodically invaded my thoughts. How do I feel about this and what can I write about it? First thought was I don't want to project my story about the painting onto the viewers. I want the viewers to feel their own stories, which might be different for each person.

For instance, the very first charcoal drawing I did, which sold, the buyer saying the scene reminded him of a favorite fishing spot. So, it doesn’t have to be a long story, but a fond memory. I did an exhibit last year and viewers were trying to guess where exactly the scenes were from – which elicited conversation and memories.

I love for my drawings and paintings to do this. I enjoy hearing people experience the feeling the scenes suggest. I’m happy the scenes cause people to stop and reflect, and I love when people say how the scene reminds them of some special occasion or brings a good memory.

Wait a minute, though, I do have a story to tell, too! Isn't that why I'm doing the timelines? Why can’t there be multiple stories? One story is the emotion the scene triggers. Then there's my story of creating the painting. Then there are the stories that come to viewers’ minds as they look at the painting.

But just as I never use an exact location name in the titles because I want people to have their own experience, I don’t want my story to influence their encounter.  (Because the exact place might not be what they see, and a name could alter their reaction.) This means I need to find a way or a place to also tell my story. Hmm …

This brings me back to the timelines. I write about the painting process and the challenges I overcome. Maybe I could take it further back and talk about what drew my attention to the scene or photograph in the first place.

Oh, now I have another reason to be excited in my work! After all, for me, writing and painting intersperse with who I am.

So, 2020 is getting off to a rip-roaring start creativity-wise and it hasn’t even made it to the new year yet! But I’m off and running with great ideas and inspiration.

Another Learning Curve

Good Morning, Everyone,

I’m trying something different with my blogs. Sometimes the words seem to come more easily when I “talk” to someone. So, I’m trying this one like an old- fashioned letter or an email.

The water in the brook gushes down over the smaller rocks between ice canyons formed on the tops and sides of the big boulders. In areas where the brook terrain flattens out a bit, the water flows under ice shelves extending outward from the banking. Ice on the bigger rocks in the middle look like alien life forms or irregularly shaped flying saucers. I keep expecting to see them moving upriver … but of course, they’re really rocks and are stationary.

In between planning 2020 updates to my website, I want to keep painting. Yesterday’s art endeavor was using a tracer/projector for the first time. I bought it because in sketching my initial lines on a bigger paper freehand, I don’t always get the perspectives correct. I figured if I can get a few of those first lines and bigger shapes onto the paper, there will be less frustration of getting partway into the painting and realizing I have the perspectives off (which happens often no matter how many times I stand back and look and causing me to wipe down and/or erase.) Tracing will also let me enjoy the painting and work I like to do.

The afternoon seemed a dark enough day, but this didn’t make the attempt easy. I struggled to get the photo to line up straight under the tracer. I struggled to get the tracer to project the image onto the easel board … let alone getting a clear image.

Then I realized the entire image didn’t project which meant having to do it in two steps. And that meant having to go through the whole process of trying to get the new image sections to line up with what was already there. Arrghh!

It was messy. It wasn’t perfect, but I have the beginnings of four paintings started. That’s exciting. It doesn’t have to be perfect because I’ll fix it all up as I paint. The next step is to figure out which one to work on first. I can’t wait to get in the studio this afternoon!

Enjoy the day, my friends,

Sasha

Living a Creative, Wholehearted Life

Sometimes you come across a book in which some of the chapters make you feel the author is kind of writing about you. This is happening to me in the latest book I’m reading. How did she know?

I’m always surprised and pleased to read others who experience similar challenges as I, have similar ideas and beliefs, who believe in finding their own way, and dare to not follow the sheep.

Elizabeth Gilbert, in her book “Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear,” talks about living creatively. I’m already working on living wholeheartedly, but being an artist and writer, I’ve been keeping personal life writing separate from writing about my art for the past couple of years. Why?

It was along the lines of marketing to specific audiences. After all, isn’t the go-to term “target audience?” It’s feeling I have to do something towards promoting my art as a business. (The whole business plan and all that.) Being told in order to sell my work, I have to market and do all these business-y things I find painful and depressing. And schlepping paintings from one art exhibit to another is exhausting with little reward.

But wait a minute. If my goal is to live wholeheartedly, why do I have to force myself to do something that so goes against me? The marketing process and self-promotion are like fingernails on a blackboard. If I am always talking about being true to myself and honoring myself, do I have to do that? Does it come down to choosing to be true to myself or selling my work?

Perhaps that’s another topic and challenge to deal with. Right now, my mind is caught up living wholeheartedly, living creatively, and how to combine the two concepts?  And why is it two concepts? Why was I seeing them as separate?

I’m still defining what living wholeheartedly means to me. This makes me think about my blogs and how I have them listed by subject. Have I gotten any more readers by separating the topics into one about daily living and the other creativity? No. And if I’m often saying I’m living the life of an artist, why am I keeping two blogs? (Big DUH!) Writing about my creativity IS writing about my life.

Gilbert’s book has come to me at the right time. Her words are another affirmation I am doing what I’m supposed to (for me). And, as always, when I like what someone else says, I adapt it to fit me. I love that about me! Her words are letting me know it’s OK to BE me. I don’t have to be or do it like anybody else! (Unless I choose to.)

Those of us who dare to go our own ways can take comfort in knowing we are not alone. Gilbert calls it being brave. Brene Brown uses the term “daring greatly.” Whatever words we use, choosing the less traveled path always takes courage.

As I go into 2020, I need to go a step further with this. I’m excited. I’m excited the creative muses are back. I’ll continue my work on defining what living a creative, wholehearted life means for me. I’ll continue writing and pastel painting … along with gardening and taking photographs and to whatever life takes me in the moment.

So, today I write about life. Maybe tomorrow I’ll write about art or gardening.   

2019 – The Year of Discombobulation

"Beyond the Birches" pastel painting

The creative fires burned in volcanic proportions as I began my morning writing. I wanted to write and paint, and paint and write. I wanted to write about my painting. I wanted to write about new discoveries in myself and my art as I ready for the new year. I wanted to go in the studio and slap color on the latest painting. I wanted to describe the excitement that fills me at such times.

However, the creative eruption reverberating through my soul was quickly dampened when my attention was interrupted with work, a visit, a long phone conversation with my granddaughter, and kitties wanting attention. (Not that any of that was bad.) Then, I had to eat something, and by then, it was past noon; six hours since I’d come out of the bedroom.

The Muse was gone. (Sigh.) She doesn’t hang around if I’m not paying sole attention to her, and I so wanted to capture the fury while it was raging. I thought with that boiling magma, I’d fully explode if I couldn’t get the words down … but I didn’t get the words down and I didn’t explode. Instead, the lava bubbled up, dribbled over the edge, and quickly cooled. Now I’m left feeling like a busted pinata, the candies (words, ideas, and inspiration) scattered all over the floor. I’m trying to pick up the pieces. I so want that earlier excitement back!

Instead, let me write about “2019: The Year of Discombobulation.” Even though I didn't really make any New Years' Resolutions last January, I still had expectations -- like with art sales, accomplishments, and all that. However, the year has been all over the place.

Not that it's been a bad year. It just didn't go in the direction I imagined -- then again, without set goals, what could I expect? Sometimes I’m just the loose end of a rope flapping in the wind, and the wind can be fierce.

Routines I had set up fell totally apart. It seems every routine I had going into 2019 flew out the window and the ones I tried to set up during the year haven’t fared any better. Yes, I can be very spontaneous and go with the flow, however, I’m now finding interruptions and distractions are the new routine. (Hence, discombobulation.)

Let me catch myself before I fall down the rabbit hole of regrets and look at this from a positive view. Times change. We change. (I had a friend who always used to say, “The only constant in life is change.”) And life certainly does!

One of the biggest, and sometimes most difficult, is the slowing down, not only physically, but mentally. I no longer move as fast as I used to. I need to be more careful when moving so I don’t lose my balance. It takes longer to accomplish tasks and often I can’t finish a project in one go-round. I have to take breaks. Nor am I able to think and process as quickly as before, and I have a hard time understanding people who talk fast, especially with people on the phone.

And thus, this life journey takes another path. I’m exploring the nuances, finding new footing, seeing and hearing with more awareness, more thoughtfulness. The slowing down does that, makes me be more attentive; and in learning to embrace it, I make self-discoveries, which is always interesting.

The practice of living wholeheartedly keeps me on my toes as I work at staying positive as much as I can. And, if I do fall, I’m not letting myself hit bottom. Hmmm, maybe a gentle ebb and flow should be a 2020 goal. Learning to flow better mentally and physically.

Ah, maybe resilience is a word to add to my repertoire, too. Resilience goes with determination. However, I see determination as hard, with more force. Resilience is softer, more giving, more of a strength within the ebb and flow.

As I pass from one year into the next, I intend to enjoy life as much as I can. I continue to find beauty around me. My painting muse has returned and I’m eager to let the creative fires roar. Life is good!

Releasing the Unseen Wounds

Here is another bit of writing that came across my view this week:

We are not meant to stay wounded. We are supposed to move through our tragedies and challenges and to help each other move through the many painful episodes of our lives. By remaining stuck in the power of our wounds, we block our own transformation. We overlook the greater gifts inherent in our wounds – the strength to overcome them and the lessons that we are meant to receive through them. Wounds are the means through which we enter the hearts of other people. They are meant to teach us to become compassionate and wise. – (Caroline Myss, b. 1952)

Hmm, this was interesting and funny as it came to me right after I whined about family and love again. It's important and it's taking me a couple of days for her words to stew inside me. I think I've done pretty good about my woundedness all these years, but sometimes stuff re-surfaces -- unresolved stuff. 

Annette mentioned us being warriors, and yes, warrior is a good term for us. We ARE warriors or we wouldn't have gotten to where we are today!

And there are different kinds of warriors. Just because we didn't go through some of the tragedies experienced by others, what we did and do go through has been traumatic for us. How we deal with it, even when it takes many years, is what matters.

It's not about the wound, but how we handle the scarring and strive to be better. We overcome the hardships. We make the choices to learn; we grow. Keeping quiet and holding secrets inside keep the wounds festering.

I want to work with this aspect of not staying wounded. I'm still not sure where it's going yet. There's a difference between staying wounded and daring to talk about it to show how far we've come and what we've accomplished. Talking about our wounds not only lets it out of us, but how we handle our issues can help others dealing with their own stuff. We have to be careful how we talk about it.

It's important to not come across as complaining, and I hope I don't. But it could easily slide that way. Many people fall into the woe-is-me mentality.

Maybe how we are handling our woundedness is the difference. It's not that we are wounded (we are all wounded in some way), it's the willingness and courage to do the work to heal! Yes, I am wounded, have been wounded, but now I am using my battle scars as badges of strength. Because, I made up my mind I am not going to stay wounded! (Hmmm, where is that statement going to take me?) 

I refuse to let the wounds of past love hinder my growth! Wow, that's a powerful statement for me. Let me put on my warrior shield. 

Oh, I just got a visual. All the warriors had shields, coats of arms. What would mine look like? What would yours? Wouldn't it be cool to design a shield and whenever we started feeling down, we could bring it out, call it up; a personal coat of arms to help remind us who we are and how strong we are?

Mine would have to have a cat on it ... and a hawk ... and a wolf ... and tree ... Wait, can't get elaborate. It has to be simple. Hmmmm ... Unfortunately, this type of design isn't in my artistic expertise. But even thinking to throw up my invisible shield when around others who ... challenge me ...

A good thing is I pretty much know who I am. I see the past ... failures ... not really as a failure at love, but as a strengthening of who I am, what I'm willing to compromise at/for ... again, I'm working on this ... and with love and compromise ... hmmm, not sure I am ever willing to compromise ME again.

Wait! I should say, "I AM NOT willing to compromise ME again!" And if this means I'll have to live alone for the rest of my life (except for a kitty), then I'm OK with that.

Once more I feel I'm on the tip of a revelation, but it's not quite there yet. There's something else. I'm looking for one more piece of gold. It'll come. I feel good.

Redefining Words and Terms to Fit Me

The sky is lighter today and I see hints of pale blue in the small patch seen through the trees from my seat. Soft little snow flurries are floating down. The brook's waters are a dark meandering strip with light bouncing on the ripples flowing between mounds of white covered rocks and banks which look like alien creatures making their way up brook against the current.

Gail mentioned sadness ghosts -- I like that term! It fits. Sadness haunts my memories as I constantly hold back from the guilt of not being a better mother. Maybe this is something telling us we really did OK ... because many of us do feel we weren't better parents.

Maybe it's all part of our universal lessons. What do we do with our not-so-goods? Do we throw our lives away in addictions? Do we get out of bad situations and make a better life for ourselves and help others? How many people succumb to the other side?  

What if we looked at the word "mother" and redefined it for us personally to know we are OK, we did OK. What if our job was to raise the kids just as we did, then it was up to them to set sail for their own lives. Our life then becomes doing what we did and do. 

Redefining certain words and phrases to fit the meaning for me is something I've been doing for a couple years. After all, why must other people's interpretations pertain to me? This is not a one-size-fits-all world. I AM Me and I don't have to be exactly like anyone else. (I think I always knew this inside which is why I always struggled around others.)

I read and hear things and then let it all stew as my being creates meaning for me. 

For instance, learning to understand what brings me joy is not necessarily what others see as joy.

I love the term wholehearted living and I’m designing the concept for me. I came across the term "sufficiency" last week -- which I know what sufficient means, but sufficiency? Somehow it feels important. I don't quite have this one yet.

"Daring greatly" is another term I've adopted and making work for me. So often throughout my life, I've dared greatly, and never realized just how much stepping away from the box meant.

The quest to define my life and beliefs continues. Sometimes it’s just changing the words around, so they better speak to me. I’m growing stronger and happier at living wholeheartedly.