Start To Finish

Attention Please!   

Tomorrow I'm reposting a favorite story of an art project from last year. This repost is part of Seth Apter's Buried Treasure Day. Think of all the great posts that are hidden in the archives of our blogs. You can connect to other artists right here tomorrow and go on a treasure hunt with me.  

Now On to My Latest Project

 Intuitive Painting can be exhilarating or frustrating depending on the level of trust in the process. I show here my latest painting from just marks on a canvas to defining an image and finally developing a composition. I saw the teepee first in a triangle shape on the left side. When I committed to that I felt the desire to paint a canoe in a similar way Veronica Funk brings Northwestern Art to life. The trees emerged from the background and I conceived of the pathway to The After Life going off the painting on the right. Narrative in the images is not new to my art. I have a narrative to many paintings. The narrative is always very personal and makes the painting very dear to my heart.
 

     I will do more intuitive painting. It is now a tool I have in my back pocket. The tool has not been tested over time but it is precious and I will care for it as a pathway of expression.

Free

   I have more free time in the summer. Piano lessons are less numerous because people are on the go. That leaves me with time to observe and think. Although not always good, thinking and observing brings up both satisfaction and disturbance. I can't entertain disturbing thoughts unless I have free time. These thoughts are prickly and spiky. They need time to sort out. 

    I spent some time at my favorite bakery, watching. They have a lovely new outdoor space. The sun warmed tired souls and they visibly relaxed. A fruit danish just lifts the spirits.

   It lifts the spirits of the sparrows, as well. They rush around under the table pecking up crumbs marveling how much free time these humans have to sit and visit.

     I didn't solve any issues  but I did feel my free time allowed space. Space to admit that my life has some holes.

I write on Fridays with a large group who inspire me. Only five minutes and without much thought to perfection. I write, prompted by one word that sends my thoughts to the keyboard and hopefully make sense.

Hope

           Four, sometimes five days a week I go to the gym. In the winter it is dark but a few glorious months of the year the sun greets me as I enter. The light gives me hope. Not just hope that I will do my workout but hope that all the missed stitches of life might just in the end be sewed together.

     I approach my mat with stiff muscles. They mirror the stiffness of my mood sometimes. Arms go overhead and they stretch to the right. Ahh, I feel some release. There is hope. The left side opens to the stretch and I extend just a little more. More hope. My legs go up and I watch just how far they want to go. I hope after a few minutes they will go a little farther overhead.
    I am so grateful for hope. That feeling that lifts the heart and stills the soul. I believe in the author of that hope. He is my Savior. He meets me on the yoga mat and whispers to me that I can.

 It Might Be HopeYou do your work the best that you can
you put one foot in front of the other
life comes in waves and makes its demands

you hold on as well as you’re able

You’ve been here for a long long time

Hope has a way of turning its face to you

just when you least expect it

you walk in a room

you look out a window

and something there leaves you breathless

you say to yourself

it’s been a while since I felt this

but it feels like it might be hope.

Mercy River is here with a link to this song. It is worth listening too.

I write on Fridays with a large group who inspire me. Only five minutes and without much thought to perfection. I write, prompted by one word that sends my thoughts to the keyboard and hopefully make sense.

Favorite

   This summer is unseasonably hot. Today, as I checked the temperature I thought how this is three weeks in a row with over 80 degree weather. With that perspective in mind I thought I would like to recall my favorite parts of the day.

    The morning is the absolute best. I get up around 5:00am and hit the gym at 6:00am. I do yoga and then ride a recumbent bike. I find legs up the wall to be divine. As the wall is mirrors, I see the balls line up above me creating a red parade of spheres.

   Watering time is nurturing. I greet my gerber daisies and tomato plants and give their parched leaves some hydration. The smell of warm earth wafts over the the plants and I feel grateful.

   The afternoon allows for some reading. I close the shades to prevent the heat from encroaching and lay prone on the couch with my favorite book. This week it is "A Fall of Marigolds" by Susan Meissner. 

    The evening invites some walks to see the bluest of skies. A sight unusual in the Northwest. Soon enough the clouds will swirl in and leave that salty air close to the ground. But, I digress, those are favorites of other seasons. For now I am content to enjoy mornings and evenings outside and midday in  a darkened house.

  
I write on Fridays with a large group who inspire me. Only five minutes and without much thought to perfection. I write, prompted by one word that sends my thoughts to the keyboard and hopefully make sense.

Dream

   I dream of painting what is in my very soul. The colors I choose match and magnify my feelings. The shapes personify ease or the opposite, constriction. Flora Bowley quotes her art professor as saying to his class on the first day, "Well we might as well get on with it. You all have 100 bad paintings inside of you." 

    Perhaps I've made 50 in the last 18 months. That makes me really excited. Think of what is coming in the future. I love many of my paintings so far and how much better will they get?  

   Above; "Through A Glass Darkly" is very sweet hanging on my wall. I smile when I see the color peeking through from early layers. 

   Below; "Stay Close To The Tree" is a homage to Lehi's tree. A modern girl presses into the trunk. She has wings,  representing power to move forward. The heart of the tree shows the love emanating from the center.; the love of God.

     God's love allows me to press forward in faith. May I ever stay close and focused upon Him.

    
      I write on Fridays with a large group who inspire me. Only five minutes and without much thought to perfection. I write, prompted by one word that sends my thoughts to the keyboard and hopefully make sense.

Fear

  A tightening in the gut, faster heartbeat, and unfocused thinking are all symptoms of the emotion called fear. I know them well. My favorite fears are severe weather events, unexplained illnesses in myself or those I know, car failure, and unforeseen money shortfalls. I don't fear talking in front of strangers, needles, water, or failure. I suppose I'm normal.

    Yesterday, while preparing the song "Amazing Grace" with my granddaughter on the piano I read the words to her. She wanted to know what fear of God was. I explained that sometimes the word fear means respect. To fear God means to respect his opinion, his ways, his view of life and never take him for granted. I should develop a stronger fear of God. I certainly fear coming before him unclean. That would bring on the tightening in my gut, the faster heartbeat, and the unfocused thinking. This makes me think that feeling fear might be a healthy thing. Warning; the events coming up might not be so nice. Try repentance as the antidote.

I write on Fridays with a large group who inspire me. Only five minutes and without much thought to perfection. I write, prompted by one word that sends my thoughts to the keyboard and hopefully make sense.



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World

  Today's prompt is the word world. It feels overwhelming to consider the world and what that word means to me. My world, the world I see and interact with, is small. There is work and there is play. There are friends and there is family. Sometimes I feel like I am in my world, alive and vibrant, and sometimes I feel that I am a poor lonely traveler who has stopped in the wrong places and said the wrong things.

    There are tremors in my world right now. I'm uncomfortable in some well worn paths. I have an anger growing inside towards myself and change I need to make. My prayers are sticky. I want. I want without the effort. My Savior said that I was to be in the world but not of the world. Of what shall I be?  Of spirit, of truth, of joy? Reaching for it; that is what I'm doing. Reaching wide and long.

   

I write on Fridays with a large group who inspire me. Only five minutes and without much thought to perfection. I write, prompted by one word that sends my thoughts to the keyboard and hopefully make sense.

Follow my blog with Bloglovin