Cypress Sunrise

"Cypress Sunrise", oil and acrylic on canvas, 4'X5'

This is the monolith of paintings for me so far.  I took this project on because my grandmother, my beloved Muzzy, was FINALLY redoing her bedroom.  For decades she and my grandfather had had this dreadful painting as their headboard.  It was a horrible kick back to the ’70′s of a tan background with tan, brown, grey, and blue flowers.  I wouldn’t have thought something so ugly could have come out of that time period, but if there was one thing that did, it was this.  But enough bashing the uglies.

To honor this transformation I offered to paint over the Beast, and create something they could enjoy, something pleasing to the eye, that would match their new room.  When we settled on the black and white cypress trees, sunrising colors coming through from the background, I didn’t take into account my photographer’s eye.  Because my first love is photography, and since I was modeling this painting on a black and white I took in high school, I had this unreal expectation that my painting would turn out as life-like as I was seeing it in my head.  Throughout the entire painting process I was unhappy with this piece (we are our harshest critics, no?).  Until the very end.  When I was adding the shadows of the cypress to the swamp water, suddenly it all came alive for me.  It’s the painting I’m most proud of to date.  I smile every time I pass by my grandparent’s bedroom during rare visits home.  And what makes me even happier is the joy in Muzz’s eyes every time she thanks me for it.

Air

"Air", acrylic on canvas, 6"x6"

The final stage of this element series and it went to my mom.  Why who they went to is important, I don’t know, but there you go.  I struggled the most with air, not knowing how it should be depicted, not liking ideas I was having.  And then I just let go.  I tell people all the time: “Let go and let flow.”  So that’s what I did.  And when I did I looked up and saw my prayer flag, which I created months ago, where I had drawn this bird in purple, pink, and blue.  Then I had it.  My wonderful, fellow-artist roommate helped me out with bringing the bird forward and I’m so pleased with how she turned out (the painting, not the roommate, although she’s pretty swell too).  I hope my mom enjoys Air just as much as I do.

Water

"Water", oil on canvas, 6"x6"

This is actually the second painting I did for my first element series.  It went to my aunt and uncle for Christmas.  I really enjoyed how this one turned out, with the movement and flow of the water.  Next to “Blue Melody,” this was the painting I was most proud of how it turned out.  Of course, during its travels from my house to theirs, a shoe landed on it while the paint was damp, so if you see some dirty discrepancies, that’s the cause.  But I love it just the same.  And I think they do to.

Hide and Go Seek

Do you ever find yourself still playing that childhood game?  I play it still sometimes, but I play alone.  Instead of choosing someone to be “it,” for them to count down while a group of us scatter and try our best to hold in our giggles, I can wake up one morning and spend the day hiding from myself.  What that typically looks like is for me to be sitting in front of the TV, unhappy, disregarding everything that needs doing, anything that could possibly make me happy, crippling myself and my spirits.  It’s not fun.

I did that today.  I did that until something forced me off the couch and I made myself confront the reasons why I was hiding.  I realized that I have been hiding because I’m afraid.  Afraid of failure.  I bitch and moan about being frustrated with where my life is right now, feeling on the verge of jumping into a new space of being, but feeling as if a force is holding me back from taking that leap.  I realized today that it’s my fear of failure that has been holding me back.  I have neural pathways that need changing, thought processes and ways of being that need altering so that I may live out my authentic life – to know that I am provided for and all is well.

My aunt Judy told me a story today of an acorn.  The acorn was told, “You are such a beautiful, great, Giant Live Oak.  You’re incredible.”  And the acorn said, “But I’m just a little acorn.  How do I know that the ground I land on will be fertile enough for me to grow?  Or that I’ll get enough rain?  Or that I’ll be able to germinate?  I’m just a little acorn.”

So today I was feeling acorn-ish, but I now remember, and know, that there are things that don’t need worrying over.  There are things that are going to happen that will aid in my growth that I have no control over, some that I’ll probably never know even took place, but that all is well, and where I am right now is the perfect place to be, and I am provided for.  If occasionally it hurts along the way, that’s just because my spirit is being stretched and pulled and trying to burst out of its acorn top.  Every single human being has been born with certain promises already made to them by the Universe, and the Universe isn’t going to go back on its word.  The Universe is unconditional.

Mail Art

I just recently was turned onto the mail art scene.  For those of you who are still ignorant (as I was not two months ago) of what mail art is:  it is art that has been created on an envelope, of any size, and then mailed somewhere, the art on the envelope daring the elements of being run through the world’s postal system.  It doesn’t even have to be on an envelope really, as long as it’s mail-able.

I learned about mail art on Facebook.  I was fiddlin’ around one day, probably procrastinating, when I stumbled upon a group called MAIL ARTists UNITE.  Here’s the address:  http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=12349218550

It’s not really a contest, as much as it is a venue for your mail art to be collected.  They have a mail-in deadline once a year with a new theme every year.  This year was the year of the chromatophore!  (A type of cell found in certain fish, reptile, amphibian, etc, such as the octopus and chameleon.)

Pushing the limits just a tad, I sent in this watercolor:

Homecoming.

I was driving over the Howard Frankland Bridge the other day, returning home to the ‘Burg after a day spent on the other side, and as I peacefully pedaled alongside my fellow motorists I looked out along the nonexistent horizon line.  A storm was rolling in, the sky and water of the bay was the same turbulent gray, and I let out a sigh of thanksgiving.  I was only a short distance from my newly rented condo, with dinner plans later in the evening with my Chosen Family, and as I thought on all the loved ones that surround me and my life a rain cloud of contentment settled above me. 

I’ve only experienced this amount of contentment one other time before: driving into Asheville, the land of my mother and her past, winding my way through the mountains laden with tiger lily and lady slippers, Looking Glass Falls and Sliding Rock.  But driving over the hump that afternoon the feeling I’ve only experienced once every four years or so, revisited me.  It was a welcome surprise, that knowing of coming home.  I feel truly at peace in my little nest at the northern-most corner of the ‘Burg.

Fire

“Fire”, oil and acrylic on canvas, 6″x6″

I have been trying to write a post about this for 2 weeks now.  Usually I’m not stuck on what to say, but this time my hand just kind of took over and did things I hadn’t planned on. 

This is the third canvas in my element series.  I started out meaning to portray fire…  and this is where I ended up.  There’s a part of me that likes it, part of me that doesn’t, and part of me that feels like it needs more added to it for it to feel “right.”

I guess this is one of those pieces where you have to sit back and realize that you don’t HAVE to be completely in love with every thing that you do.  And even that statement makes me go, “Errrgh…” 

*shrugs*

Born -n- Raised

I was born in the Tampa Bay area. I went to school in Tampa. But my summers were spent travelin’ with my families carnival. We traveled all over southern Georgia and lower Alabama. I was raised in the South ya’ll. And with my momma bein’ raised in the Appalachians of North Carolina, you can take it to the bank that I identify myself as a Southerner, from the way guests are greeted (with a hug, smile, and plenty of sweet tea to drink) to what kind of mayonaisse used (there is only ever Duke’s in this Southern girl’s household). But it didn’t really sink in how purely Southern I am until today.

I was sitting in one of my favorite places in St. Petersburg, Wings Bookstore, after a long day at work. I’d arrived to work at the cafe, Spice Routes, at 7:30 that morning and didn’t leave until 4 that afternoon. It was a long and busy day. So I walked over to Wings to decompress. I had also agreed to help out in the coffee bar from 5 til closing. Of course, this was before I knew I had to work that day. So I’m sitting in Wings, wanting nothing more than to go home and get in bed, when I remember something. I had baked my great-great aunt Sis’ Rotten Apple Cake, named from the apples she used that were from the bottom of the box when she was traveling, earlier that mornin’ and had sneaked out a piece for later that night. So I decided to have a bite.

With the first taste I was completely content.  I no longer needed home; I was perfectly pleased to be able to sit in a favorite place and eat some cake.  As I moaned around my second bite, I was reminded of a scene from the movie “Something to Talk About” in which the main character and a love interest are up late one night, sitting around the kitchen table, eating a slice of pecan pie.  He says something to the affect of, “It sure doesn’t take much to please you Southern women.”  And she replies, with laughter in her words, “It comes from generations being raised to have low expectations.”

Now, while I do think that we do sometimes have low expectations, I think in this case it’s more about being able to enjoy and take strength in little things.  I took a quiet moment, sat back, and enjoyed an amazing family recipe that I had baked myself.  There’s a definition of bliss for ya, at least in my book.

Earth

"Earth", oil on canvas, 6"x6"

I have begun a series of small paintings based on the elements.  This first one I painted as a Christmas gift for an uncle.  He’s a florist and a lover of orchids. 

I don’t know how to explain my concepts, except that I typically start with a similar base design and then go off from there, adding dots, lines, arrows, etc. – whatever I am moved to add.

I smile every time I look at this painting.  I spent a number of years of my life dark.  I dressed dark, my attitude was dark, I wasn’t happy.  I’ve even now spent time, and continue to spend time, dealing with depression.  This painting, for me, is a marker of coming out of my dark places and into a world of technicolor and bouyancy.

I look at it and feel like Dorothy leaving the black and white cottage after the storm and stepping into Oz.

Whew! I’m tired!

I have been in a funk.

I’m sure I’m not alone.

I’m looking for a job, walking my spiritual path, learning knew things every day, staying as creative as possible.

I just realized that I’ve been “busy” working on a handful of different things – three or four or more different blog posts trying to get out, updating my resume, working on writing lyrics, etc, etc, etc – without actually getting anything done.  I can’t seem to focus on anything long enough to get it completed. 

I feel like I talked about in my first post, waiting for the birthing process to begin.  I’m standing strong in the knowledge that everything is in hand, is going to be great, and in fact is great NOW, I just don’t know what that “everything” is.  It’s like, I’m there, I just don’t know where there is. 

I’m the paraglider that’s ready to land: I’m out of the swing and my feet are running, ready for when I touch down.  But something is keeping me just slightly airborn.  It’s an exhausting place to be.