Lifting the Blanket of Winter

The long winter is finally lifting and there are signs of life everywhere. Though February is traditionally a month of rain, fog and chilly evenings by the fire, this year we are being treated to an early spring. It began with the geese, migrating in large numbers through the grey foggy skies, almost as if they were pulling aside the shroud of winter to allow a glimpse of the coming spring. And then the songbirds lifted their voices to join the haunting calls of the geese, resulting in a spring symphony going in full chorus, just outside my door. Finches, sparrows, chickadees, juncos, jays and crows all singing a celebration that winter is leaving early this year. The fruit trees are heavy with blossom (tempting Mother Nature to send one last frost to remind them not to get ahead of themselves) and I saw one cherry tree in full bloom....and did I say it's still February? But you can feel it in your bones as your blood picks up the pace and your eyes drift towards the blue sky outside the window and you want to dance for joy that you have survived yet another rainy season. I sat with my journal and recorded my thoughts. This has been a dark winter for me and I, for one, will truly celebrate the coming of spring.


I have been remiss in posting my newest face, but I am rushing around, busily packing for Art and Soul, Las Vegas, where I will be teaching in Judy Wise's place. Unfortunately, she had to cancel her travel at the last moment, due to sudden health problems (hope you are feeling better soon, Judy!!). Pretty big shoes to fill, but I will do my best and throw in some of my own techniques, as well. This face is done entirely with the use of scrapbooking paper except for the color of the little bird, feet, which was photoshop'd. I am loving the creation of faces and hands, and the exploration of alternate mediums.

Face Journaling

I have been working on faces over the last month, trying to improve my skills in making mixed media faces from my own freehand drawings. Just thought I would share a few...

Each face is a journal page. There will be sixteen in all that will be as different as I can make them. Half the pages are white and half are black for an extra challenge. Keep checking back. I will post them as they are completed and finish with the cover of the completed book. And speaking of journals, I also completed this journal made in the style of Teesha Moore, but instead of using canvas board, I used the covers of an old book. The chicken and egg were on the original cover, which had the texture of canvas. I incorporated them into my final design. The back is a portrait of Alex and Amazing Grace.

Art, Laughter and the Company of Friends

It's not often, in this hectic world we live in , that we are gifted with the opportunity to spend a weekend in the company of good friends gather together for laughter, stories and the pursuit of art, but last weekend I was blessed with such an opportunity. Four of us, Tory, Suzanne, Debi and I, came together for a mini-retreat in Suzanne's studio for three days filled with creativity, laughter, friendship and support. Just the thing to beat back the winter blues brought on by endless rainy gray skies.

We arrived, one by one, bringing armsloads of supplies, excited to get some uninterrupted time to work on our various projects. We set up shop, each at our own table, after first oohing and aahing over our hosts fabulous studio space and wonderful selection of art books. Of course, we reached that moment when the supplies we brought were just not enough and we took an obigatory run to the local craft store to buy more supplies we could not do without. And we are rewarded in our avarice with the rich wealth of ideas for even more projects that only the sight of an endless arena of art materials can bring you.

We woke up early on Saturday morning and dove into a project I had been wanting to try for quite awhile - the making of "dolls for big girls". Following the directions of talented artist, Judy Wise, we set out to make a few alter egos.


Here I have created the body of my doll with polymer clay. I have decided to make a bathing beauty to transport myself out of the rainy winter with warm, sunny memories of the beach.

Suzanne is finishing with her arms and legs. It's all ready to go into the oven for hardening.

A bit of collage and paint...and we have attitude and personality....and voila!!, our finished girls.

Ready for some sun

Sweety demure

High class, complete with tiny gloves.

***

The rest of the weekend filled with fat book pages and journals, collage techniques and advice and most of all, laughter and support. It just goes to show that you never get too old for sleepovers, dolls and the company of best friends. Photography by Tory Brokenshire.

I'm Published!!

I have been published in magazines, including Cloth, Paper, Scissors, Somerset, Haute Handbag and Stampington's Transparency and ATC publications, but never in a book. I was honored by Bee Shay's request to include a piece of my work in her new book, Collage Lab. The book was released on February 1, 2010 and it contains a wide array of techniques for use in journaling and mixed media work and is beautifully illustrated by the work of many artists. But there, in the gallery, is my collage! Thanks so much, Bee!! The book is wonderful!

Easing the Soul

I am drifting in a sea of memories. I wrap myself in the warmth of my past as I learn to cope with the unwanted pain of loss and the terrible inevitability of change unwanted and unasked for. I am looking for directions to the new road I travel. I am trying not to drown in sorrow and self-pity as this will not serve to light my path. I am seeking answers. Reading books. Asking friends. Wanting to begin my journey away from the pain of the place I am in.

This morning, I woke to a soft world of grey fog that turned the landscape into a black and white photo. Cold and gloomy; soft and dreamy; colorless and drab. I shivered with the damp as I drove towards work and wished myself back in bed, where I could close my eyes and escape the reality of the day. Suddenly, the world behind me exploded into a yellow warmth that made my eyes water as I looked back in the mirror. A hot bowl of melted gold had found an opening in the clouds and was shining its beacon at the world. Though the world around me remained grey...the sun's color not reaching much past the eastern sky...,the air filled with light and warmth and promise. In that moment, I realized that even on the darkest days, there will always be a light to guide us and fill our hearts with comfort.

In my heart, I hear laughter. I am twenty-five years younger, wrapped in the warm embrace of a summer day in Montana, fishing the Missouri River. We are together again, in love with life and in awe that we will soon be three. And for a moment, time stands still and we have the whole world ahead of us. And we are in love and nothing is impossible. Such is the power of light.

I have lost a good friend. A man who occupied my life for 27 years, first as a friend, then spouse and then friend again. The father of my son and a best friend, without whose encouragement, I would never have become the artist I am. His passing has left such a hole in my heart. I did not expect this pain. But then do we ever know what a part people play in our lives until they are no longer there? How you can miss such a simple thing as a daily email? Or his steadfast belief that I should quit this job I hate that pays the mortgage and dive in, head first, into supporting myself with my art? Everyone knows you have to pay the mortgage, don't they?

His passing has led me to take a hard look at my life. I have chased the "good" life. I have taken on responsibilities to lead a respectable life. I have a mortgage and a fairly new car. I go to work everyday, even though I have long lost my passion for what I do to pay the bills. I have a savings account, a 401K, health insurance and plans to retire in about 10 years. But what if I don't life that long? Or am struck down by a dibilitating disease or injury? Will those things still mean so much to me?

As I visited Ron in his hospice bed, dependent on everyone for all his needs, his regrets were not for his career or material possessions. It was for the things he had dreamed of doing but waited on while he worked and paid the mortgage. Spending time with his son, staying in touch with friends, working on his old cars, camping and fishing and all the things he dreamed of doing before his health made those things impossible to do. If he had it to do over again, he would have changed his priorities. And of his memories, those that he marveled at most, where the small things in life that he accomplished. Surviving hard Montana winters, hooking the big one, old sailor stories of foreign seas and watching the sun set from the deck of an aircraft carrier.

I'll be back to visit him. And after I pour a cup of coffee on his grave and sprinkle tobacco across the grass, I hope I can tell him I've learned the lessons he inadvertantly left behind. To be unafraid to follow my dreams. To enjoy each breath I'm am alloted in the pursuit of something meaningful to me. To accept others for who they are unconditionally and look beyond their exterior for the good within. And to avoid finding fault with who I am based on the expectations of others. Most of all I won't be waiting for that perfect moment anymore - it may be too late by the time that comes around.

When my time comes, I want to use his words for a perfect day - "now that was a good cup of coffee"!!

Merry Christmas and a Heartfelt Thanks

This has been a long, hard year. But although I have faced more trial and tribulation in this year than any other I can remember, I have been blessed with friends who have stood beside me, lent me their strength and supported me with their kind thoughts and gestures and unending support. To all of you who have stood by me as I moved this this year, I thank you with all of my heart. I could not have made it without you. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season and may the new year be filled with happy times and bring you all that you wish for. Joyeaux Noel.

A Last Farewell

I have so much to write about. My travels in Tennessee and New Orleans. The Open Door sale and Christmas party with the Portland Art Collective. The fairy tale snow in Boise, just in time for the holidays. The difficulty in laying down the reins of a project five years in the making overcome by the recession and adjusting to the reality of a new job and a new way of life. All crammed into a span of three months time.

But all has been overwhelmed by my need to say goodbye to a man I have loved and hated and loved again in friendship. With whom I shared a love of the outdoors, a need to explore, and a life that spanned moves through four different states. We didn't always see eye to eye. Our lifestyles were wildly divergent. We had our difficult times. But what it comes down to is the love we share for our son and a need to acknowledge that no matter what has passed between us, we did share something special over the years and our shared time together is rapidly coming to an end.

I did not recognize him, lying in his hospice bed. I know of few diseases as cruel as cancer, that robs people of their appearance, their bearing and mean. He had lost over a hundred pounds and aged 20 years in the span of a few months. He is in a great deal of pain. And yet, he smiles...and jokes...and remembers.

We reminisce together...each savoring a favorite moment in our lives. The birth of our son, when he turned white with fear after learning he had to sit at my side during a C-section, afraid he would faint at the sight of blood. Our adventures (and sometimes misadventures) in Montana where the weather changed every 15 minutes and we put away five cords of wood by ourselves to heat our cozy log home. Our camping trips, fraught with calamity and the inevitable loss of one item of gear...how does one lose a TV remote on a camping trip? The many memories of our son as he grew to adulthood. The good times we shared with mutual friends. We went back to our happy times and agreed that had we stayed there, all would have worked out well in the end.

Too soon, it was time to leave him and return home. To say a last goodbye, share a last "I love you" and one last hug. Only death can show you how trivial the troubles of the still living can be. How important it is to stay connected in life. The need to communicate your gratitude to others for all you have shared with them in life and let them know how they have touched your soul. To appreciate how blessed you are to share your life with others.

Thank you, my dear, for the memories. I will keep them safe in my soul and cherish the life we shared together.

Learning to Breathe Again

It sneaks up on you….you wake up each morning and mindlessly prepare for a day you have already imagined. You forget to think…and breathe…and take for granted that which you are most grateful for. You think you have reached that space you want to own and call your life. Yet one day you wake up and realize the air is heavy with unexpected change. It begins with a stumble. You pick yourself up and stumble again and again. And soon you are reeling from the blows you are taking. Nothing you do seems to work. And you hurt. You can barely breathe between the blows. You want to take time grieve your loss. It’s real. The pain is real. But you can’t stop that long. You have been programmed to survive and you struggle to cope. You begin to crave time away from the well-meaning people who tell you to focus on what you have left and be grateful. You know they are right. There are starving children in China. You are desperately looking for those bootstraps to pull yourself upright again. Everyone says they are there. Why can’t you find them? You cry with the frustration of those lost in the woods after they realize the trail of breadcrumbs is gone.

And then it happens…you are confronted again by life…but this time it’s not about you. It’s about someone you have known for a quarter of a century. A person you have shared your life and a child with. You’ve had your ups and downs and eventually drifted apart, but still….there is that shared life, filled with memory and emotion that forever ties you together. And he has been given a death sentence. A scant two months to live with a cancer that has quietly spread through his body without making its presence known until it was too late. No time to pursue one last dream, take one last cruise down the road or sip a beer on the shore of a lake, with a rod gently bobbing in the current awaiting the tug of a fish. Just that fast. Just that permanent. Not fair at all. He had so many plans. He was just waiting for the right moment…not knowing they had all ticked away while he waited. And now there is only time to say goodbyes….

And you realize where you got lost in life. You thought you had control. You made careful plans for what you wanted life to be…what you felt entitled to because you did the work and jumped the hoops. But life just doesn’t fit in a cubbyhole waiting to be lived on your terms. We are only here for the ride and to enjoy the wonder of each day…to appreciate this short time we can share our lives with fellow travelers. In the end, we will not be judged by possessions or title, but by the simple act of laughing at each other’s jokes and offering our shoulder to cry on. And by experiencing the slack-jawed wonder of a meteor shower….or a green flash at sunset. To be content that every moment was lived and not wasted in the dark nest of a pity party. Time to dust myself off and continue on down the road and follow that star…

Sitka Center Art Invitational

I am excited to be volunteering for the Sitka Center Annual Art Invitational at the World Forestry Center in Portland, OR this weekend. The theme of the show is bringing art and ecology together. Yesterday, I attended the docent training and was treated to a tour of 500 nature themed works of art in all medias. Art overload in a very good sense. The show will take place Saturday and Sunday from 10 AM to 4 PM. The forestry center is up by the zoo and parking and admission are free.

After the training, I meandered through beautiful Washington Park, adjacent to the center. Light rain scrubbed the landscape clean of daily grit, making the fall colors stand out even more than usual. I stopped to explore a bit before heading back home. Definitely a photo op for the future when I have time to meander the many trails leading through the forest and around the Japanese garden.

This will put a smile on your face...

You will need to turn my music off at the bottom of this page before playing the video - enjoy!

Menucha: In the Company of Friends

Two weeks ago, I returned to Menucha, a retreat in the Columbia River Gorge to enjoy a weekend of art, friendship and long healing walks through the abounding beauty of the Gorge. We arrived on Friday afternoon and settled in to our rooms and spread our art materials across the tables in Creevey complex, eager to begin our incredible weekend. This is our fall retreat, where we welcome not only the members of the Portland Art Collective, but the talented friends of our members who agreed to share our weekend with us.

Tory's wild hat.

Carrie's crown

But first we don our hats and speed to dinner. After being treated to the acapella rendition of grace by a choir group that sent shivers over your skin with the beauty of the vocals, we sat down to enjoy a turkey dinner. Delicious. Complete with homemade bread and jam. And of course, the shared stories and laughter as we all caught up with each others lives or enjoyed getting to know those guests who had not attended before.

After dinner, we took a tour of Wright's Hall, that used to serve as the main house when this was a private estate owned by one of the founders of Meiers and Frank. As with all old houses, there are oddities. A one way mirror in the master bathroom medicine cabinet that looked out on the great room dance floor. A full wet bar concealed behind a wall in the basement that hosted a party or two during the Prohibition. And a hallway that hosted our rendition of Row, Row, Row Your Boat with perfect acoustics.

We returned to Creevey and sat down to work on our projects. And more talk. And more laughter. And mutual admiration of the art we created. But the night grew late and one by one we trailed off to our bedrooms.

We woke to a beautiful, sunny day full of promise. I could not wait to get outside after breakfast and take a walk through the grounds. The day was full of colors - leaves, berries, water, and sky filled my camera with the eye candy of fall.

I finished my walk by completing a meditative journey through the labyrinth, seeking peace with all that has happened at work over the past few months and looking for direction in a world suddenly chaotic and unfamiliar.

Tory's beautiful hat.

The rest of the day was filled with art, laughter and the company of friends, both old and new. Tory Brokenshire taught me how to solder one of her fabulous wire and polymer clay sculptures that took most of the day and her excellent skills as an instructor. I have dubbed her the Old School Marm. Severall of the members also taught mini classes and gladly shared their art expertise with everyone and we learned how to make felted soap, crocheted wire and bead necklaces and Zentangle doodles.

Too soon Sunday came and it was time to return home. After our goodbyes, we took one last walk around the grounds before heading down into the valley. I was sorry to lose the company of my fellow artists and friends. I feel so blessed to be a part of such a wonderful group.

A Chance Encounter

I felt her presence stooped next to me at, of all places, the toothpaste display. As my head bobbed up and down to check the brands and prices, her head moved with mine. As I rose, she rose, and her eyes met mine. Eyes so clear and blue that they penetrated my soul and explored my puzzled expression. She said, "Who are you?" and I asked her the same. She said in a whisper, "My name is a secret and no one can know." A diminuitive women, well into her eighties, dressed primly in pink Sunday best. But there was strength in that stare....and mystery. I asked her where her people were. She said she had not found them yet, but she was searching, looking in odd nooks and crannies. I was mesmerized by her stare and at a loss for words, although she looked at me expectantly waiting for a reply. But before I could speak, her daughter came, took her arm and said, "Come along, mum. It's time to go". As she walked away, her eyes never left mine. She stole a bit of my soul that day. Clever woman. Gathering up a family one soul at a time.