the woman in wood

In painting, I have always been intimidated by faces.  I have taken a few drawing and painting classes that involved landscapes and portraits but I could never get the measurements quite right and was always discouraged.  It seemed that "real life" was not in my painting realm, and that was okay with me.  I think more abstractly so it would make sense that my art would follow in suit with that.

However, I have recently become somewhat obsessed with faces in my artwork.  I have begun to explore this new realm and have found such freedom in it.  The proportions may never be exactly right but hey, it's abstract and it's mine..and therefore it doesn't seem to matter so much.

My husband found this old frame in our attic and I have been staring at it for weeks trying to decide what to do with it.  Finally- a few weeks ago- I just sat down to paint it and this is what came of it.  Frankly, I like it a lot.

Sometimes I surprise myself.

Eye See You

I painted this one before Halloween but thought I would (finally) post it.  Obviously I need to be better at updating my blog.  No real explanation to this one...I just had an idea- surprising for me!- and went with it.  It didn't turn out at all how I had envisioned it, but life usually happens that way! 

I am happy with the way it turned out.

"But the eyes are blind, One must look with the heart." 

[-antoine de saint-exupery]

Her

My sister, Annalise, asked me to create a painting for her for her birthday this past November. She said she didn't care much about what it looked like, she just wanted the theme to be around "nature."  It sounds silly, but it made me nervous to have a theme.  For the most part, I never have an idea of what I am going to paint; it just sort of..happens. My thoughts on this blog are not pre-thought but rather an after-thought, a reflection of my experience.  So beginning a painting with an idea, especially under the pressure of someone else's expectations, was intimidating to me.  However, I did it and this is what came of it.

Like many of my paintings, I begin one way and at some point, there is a shift into something that I can't explain in words.

This is the note I wrote to her that went along with the painting:

"I know this was probably not what you were expecting for a nature painting.  Where are the leaves and rainbows and trees?  I have a hard time beginning a painting with an idea, but I did try this time- for you!  I was trying to do some kind of rainy, sunset, ocean thing but it wasn't working and I was getting frustrated.  I stopped to take a breath and look at it before starting completely over, and that's when I saw HER.

It's interesting what happens when art and beauty happens to be there in the midst of your mess.  Often because we are so discouraged and frustrated with what we want it to look like and how we want things to be, that we completely miss it.  Not until we step back, take a breath, and look from a new perspective, can we actually see what's there and what was always meant to be.

I call it "accidental art" and it's my favorite, but it's really no accident at all.  There is purpose in every movement, every happening, every brush stroke.  Even when we can't feel it or see it, it is there.  She is there.

Out of the mess, comes beauty.
Out of chaos, comes peace.
Out of the ashes, comes life.

There is purpose in all of nature and in all of YOU.

So, no, this is not your average painting of a tree.  It is not a nice, well-developed landscape.  And yet, the very essence of nature is emanated through it.

It radiates.
And so do you."

courageous

Lately I have been thinking about the word "courage."  When we think about courage, we think about people that often have placed themselves in situations that require bravery, perseverance, and fighting against the odds. Some that come to mind for me at first thought are Martin Luther King Jr, Nelson Mandela, Abraham Lincoln, Frederick Douglass, Helen Keller...the list goes on and on.  These people are famous for their courage. So where does that leave us? What does courage look like for us in our daily, and sometimes obscure, lives?

When I think about those who are famous for their courage and the lengths that they went to in order to accomplish what they did, my life all of a sudden feels very small and my level of courage even smaller.  Lions are often the symbol of courage. I do not think of myself as a lion, but rather something a little more timid, a little more afraid, and a lot less confident.

However, when I look at the definition of "courage" in its core context, I feel somewhat different.

 Merriam-Webster's Dictionary defines courage as "the ability to do something that you know is difficult or dangerous." 

This, I do everyday.

Everyday I wake up, get out of bed, do what needs to get done and some. I work, go to school, take care of my house and my family, and I learn from all of that.  

LIFE is difficult. LIFE is dangerous.

We are all courageous in our core.

We are all lions.

Be courageous and unleash the lion today.

"Courage does not always roar.  Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'" 

[-mary anne radmacher]

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