the fractured woman

I painted this one a few weeks ago but have been slow to update the blog due to the end of the school semester and Christmas rapidly approaching.  I don't have very much to say about this painting except to say that the woman in the painting was an odd and yet very fantastic mistake.  I had no intention of her being there but when I stepped back to look at the finished product, there she was.  

The problem that I have (or had) with this painting is that the paint is cracking on it.  I experimented with a new type of canvas for this one and this is the result I received? In all honesty though, it's an oil canvas (meant to be used with oil paints) so I should have figured that gouache might have some sort of alternate reaction--I dismissed this possibility, however, and continued to use the gouache.  I'm not a huge fan of oil paints anyway-- too expensive and they take forever to dry! 

All this to say, the paint has already cracked in many areas, but the longer I look and take that in, the more I actually prefer it that way.  The woman has a very frail and and yet beautiful persona about her.  I think perhaps that she, in more ways than one, represents the fragility and tenderness that is present in God's craftsmanship of every woman.  Whether we want to admit it or not, we are frail.  We are easily broken and cracked, and yet there is such beauty that shines in the midst of that....for, as in the painting, she is still standing and still lovely as ever. 

I hope this can encourage you (and not only the ladies!) to stand firm when you feel broken and cracked.  

There is still beauty to be found.  

After all, it is the cracks that allow light to shine through.

"Maybe its like you said before, all of us being cracked open.  Like each of us starts out as a watertight vessel.  And then things happen- these people leave us, or don't love us, or don't get us, or we don't get them, and we lose and fail and hurt one another.  And the vessel starts to crack in places.  And I mean, yeah once the vessel cracks open, the end becomes inevitable.  Once it starts to rain inside the Osprey, it will never be remodeled.  But there is all this time between when the cracks start to open up and when we finally fall apart.  And its only that time that we see one another, because we see out of ourselves through our cracks and into others through theirs.  When did we see each other face to face? Not until you saw into my cracks and I saw into yours.  Before that we were just looking at ideas of each other, like looking at your window shade, but never seeing inside.  But once the vessel cracks, the light can get in.  The light can get out."

[-John Green]

art ed screening

Yesterday I got an e-mail from the Art Education department at Towson in regards to the screening that took place about two weeks ago.

For those of you that don't know, I have been working hard in school towards the goal of becoming an art teacher.  Part of the process, at Towson, is what is called a "screening."  In this, I had to create a portfolio of some of my best art work and present it in front of a group of judges, as well as in front of every other student applying for the program.  I was nervous but felt confident, both in my art work and in my competency to become a good art teacher.

The e-mail I received last night determined that I did not make the cut this year.  I was denied; and needless to say this made me quite sad and deeply discouraged.  Up until this point, I had worked hard in school and planned my class schedule accordingly, expecting to start in the Art Ed program this year.  Now I have to say that I am honestly unsure of which direction to go from here.  Forward, I guess.  

I feel discouraged to say the least.  I felt so courageous and self-assured, and I had been so thoroughly encouraged by others that I was confident I would be accepted. When I received the e-mail last night, I did not want to talk to anyone about it. I felt a sad sense of embarrassment, because everyone else was so sure that I would be accepted, and now that I wasn't...what could anyone say as consolation?

I want to give up, honestly. What's the point? I worked so hard, and for what? I'm back at square one.  Yes, I can reapply next year and go through the screening process again, but right now I am so discouraged that I feel like it is pointless.  I keep asking God, why? Why bring me this far if only to change my direction again? 

This new painting is a reflection of my response to the e-mail.   I was actually painting at the time I received it.  I felt good about the original painting; however, after I got the email, I saw the painting in a different light.  I scraped off all the paint with a palette knife, which left a terrible gray color that covered the entire canvas.  I sat and stared at it for awhile, then with great effort, decided to try again.  I can't let such a setback cause me to give up and to no longer believe in myself. I must press on, I must continue in my art and in my life. There is still hope for me.

I know that God is good and that He has a plan for my life.  I don't understand why this happened and I don't know what to do now, but I know He will direct my path, even now. 

All I can do now is press on and keep moving.

Forward. Always forward.

"Things don't go wrong and break your heart so you can become bitter and give up.  They happen to break you down and build you up so you can be all that you were intended to be."

[--Charles Jones]

hope more

Lately I have been feeling overwhelmed.  For those who know me well, this is not a new feeling, as I, more often than not, feel overwhelmed, stressed, or anxious.  To cope, I have been trying to be more disciplined about doing things that are relaxing and really being where I am, in that moment.  It is hard. Last week someone asked me a question that I have been earnestly trying to focus on since then.  

Ask yourself: 

When I am 80 years old, will I wish that I did MORE or LESS of this?

I have been so challenged and encouraged by this question the past week.  It has radically changed the way I think, and slowly changing the way I function day to day, moment to moment.  When I get consumed with my to-do list, I ask myself that question.  When I am 80 years old, will I wish that I got more things checked off my to-do list, or will I wish that I spent more intentional time with my son?

The answer is obvious. 

This painting came at a time when I was over-thinking the world again. I was overwhelmed and caught up in what "needed" to be done. So instead of feeling overwhelmed and stressed, I chose to paint. I chose to relax. I chose to be content in the moment. I chose to take care of myself. I chose to believe that I would not always feel overwhelmed, stressed, and anxious. I chose to believe that I am okay, just the way I am. I chose hope, and I am trying to choose it everyday since.

Embrace yourself today, just the way you are.

Choose hope. Choose life.

Hope more.

"We are all lying in the gutter, but some of us are gazing at the stars." -Oscar Wilde

 

i spy

I have completed a few pieces since my last post and have been so bad at updating this blog! I will try to be better!

This painting was simply for fun.  I was seeking a release, particularly from stress, and the experience I had creating this painting accomplished just that.  I began with a black canvas, because for some reason I like to start dark and bring the lights out, as I'm sure you have noticed in previous pieces.  I have a few art books that I ripped pieces from as you can see-- this was most therapeutic in itself because it required so little thought.  I blew through the pages of the book, ripping and tearing and quickly pasted the pieces to the canvas.  There is no pattern to the madness, and yet each piece was placed with such purpose and so intentionally.

After the ripping process, I proceeded to tape an outline around the scraps and paint the outer edge.  I used a palette knife, which is my most favorite painting tool, among other strange instruments I can find. (I rarely, rarely use actual brushes). I love using knives to paint because it is so easy to move the paint around.  I love the act of scraping and removing the paint, as it leaves an amazing layer of thinner, textured paint.  I work quickly this way, almost subconsciously... I think it's absolutely fantastic.

The last feature of this particular piece of art, which really ties the whole thing together, is the random found objects that I have spontaneously, yet also deliberately, attached to the piece.  I find the painting interesting, enticing, and simply just enjoyable to look at.  It reminds me of an "I spy" photo, which I think is why it is so fun to look at.

hope you like it too.

rest

Rest.

Such a short word but such a hard concept to grasp.

For me at least.

Lately I feel like I'm always on the go. Even when my body is still, my mind is racing- always moving, planning, rearranging my schedule.  Little, simple decisions become something entirely too big in my mind, as I think of what will happen before, during, and after each event and how I need to be prepared for it.  And if something does not go according to plan (of which I can always count on, because my days never seem to go as "planned"), I freeze.  For some reason, I find it very challenging to cope with the change of plans, whether big or small.  Because, in my mind, everything interconnects. It's difficult for me to compartmentalize events and situations; I therefore have an even more difficult time being in the present moment, which makes me sad.

This is a struggle for many.

For me, I am trying to be more intentional about resting, not only my body, but more importantly my mind and my spirit. This is essential to my well-being and to my level of sanity. I am learning that if I take time to rest and revive my spirit, letting go of my obsessive planning and giving up my need for control, I am much happier, more relaxed, and can actually function much more successfully.  It seems simple, but it's such a discipline lately for me.  I feel like I am constantly reminding myself to slow down and to just do the next thing.  Then, when I'm done with that, to do the next thing- instead of thinking of everything I need to do from now until next Christmas, feeling completely overwhelmed, and freezing again. 

To rest does not necessarily mean laying down and taking a nap. Resting is experienced in many different ways and is unique to each person.  My mind needs a break more than my body most of the time. I do my best resting when I paint or sew or read or even exercise.  Resting, for me, means putting down the planner. It means living, breathing, focusing on the moment, this moment- no matter how many things seem to be pressing against us.

Just get up and do the next thing.

Simple, right?