Creating Space

Postcard Ar

2010-02-21T17:37:00.001-08:00

I just completed a postcard swap with Ihanna. Such fun and have started receiving some beautiful postcard art in return. Here's what I sent out:

Taking the Challenge

2010-02-09T17:45:00.001-08:00

By what virtue do I call myself an artist? Is it presumptuous to label myself as such?

Is it as simple as being someone who creates art? Well, then we would have to define art too, wouldn't we?

Where am I going with all these questions? Didn't I already settle this in my own mind, my own heart?

Yes and I don't want to take up another blog post recycling through the same old doubts. They aren't even really there. Honestly. I am good.

I still call myself an artist even when my creating dwindles. I know it's just a matter of time before I break through the block.

Here is the root of this post. My life is changing and not quite in the direction I thought it would. At least not right now. It seems that creating art will be the hobby that I have, what I do to keep myself sane. That's ok. It doesn't make me less of an artist. Just an artist with less time now than she had a few days ago.

This year I took a challenge, a low pressure challenge as Leah says: To be Creative Every Day. In the same way that I believe that not a day can be lived without learning something, I think that no day can be lived without being creative. We are creative people. All of us.

So, right now, my creativity is being lived out by how I am redesigning my life, my days, my hours. I just started a job after almost twenty-five years of being a stay-at-home mom. This is stretching me in ways I didn't know it would and it's a good thing. I feel more focused, more productive and definitely more creative. We are all rising to the challenge.

Color: Beyond the Basics

2010-02-06T16:59:00.001-08:00

Julie and Chris are teaching a class!

I want to know all about color … don't you?

Trusting Myself

2010-01-23T17:48:00.001-08:00

Working to trust myself again. Sometimes I put pressure on myself to create something wonderful and then I get stuck. The intuitiveness leaves me and I am unable to do anything. I worry too much about it being perfect, perfectly meaningful. I attach far too much value to it. Then at the same time, paradoxically I don't value it enough. At least, I don't value the muse within, the creative spirit that will fly if the cage door is left open.

This week I just began to work and didn't worry about what it would become. It is not finished yet but it is a beginning. I am anxious to see what will be.

Creating this Week

2010-01-17T14:00:00.001-08:00

So this year, I am challenging myself to focus everyday on creating in some capacity. I will have ample opportunity since we are remodeling our master bedroom which in turn will lead to more remodeling projects in the house. It will be a slow process but definitely a creative one. This is one benefit of my finding myself as an artist. For the first time, I am keenly aware of my surroundings and wanting to make them reflective of who I am.

I spent some time creating a new blog with a friend. She graciously allowed me to choose a template, background, make the necessary tweaks. I love the simple changes I can make to the appearance of the blog by playing with the html code. I have learned by trial and error and only know basic things but SO much fun.

One of my ongoing projects for this year is to create journals a la Teesha Moore. I have never done this type of art journaling before and it is pushing me out of myself. In fact, I think one of the reasons I struggled so much this past week is that I wasn't in my comfort zone. I enjoyed it, in fact, I was giggling as I pieced together quirky characters. But it was/is quite a challenge for me right now.

Here is the cover of my first Teesha Moore inspired journal:

Why?

2010-01-17T12:52:00.000-08:00

Today I am recovering from a battle with my inner critic. I am still feeling a bit battered and bruised. Shots were taken, targets were hit and I have lingering questions and doubts.

My story is not unique. There was no recognition of myself as artistic and creative as I was growing up. My early adulthood was consumed with mothering my children. Somehow, I found myself on this road in my early forties, learning to paint, to draw, to express what is inside me.

So far, I have only done this for myself. A lot of art journaling, a piece here or there. I started with no art education at all and have taught myself through experimenting, studying what others have done and online classes. Ultimately, I am not as interested in selling art as I am in using art to grow spiritually, mentally and emotionally. I'd like to go to school to become an art therapist.

But this week, I am questioning the why, the purpose. Hours spent dabbling in paint and paper and glue to fill up a journal for what? for who?

My family and my friend support me and encourage me. They love my art. But honestly, there is that thought in the back of my mind that says that they do because they have to, because they love me.

So still,what is the point? I don't have answers today. I am too weary. But I do know that I will continue to create, to enter into the process.

Sara's giving away . . .

2010-01-04T12:17:00.001-08:00

beautiful jewelry!

Check it out:

Lisa Leonard's Designs Giveaway

The Reality of my Dreadlocks ... Finally.

2009-11-12T13:26:00.001-08:00

So, this is what my dreads really look like, actually they look even messier than this.
Here's the photo I was working from when I drew this:

There are definitely dreadlocks there, more than you can see. Lots of loose hair too but honestly,
I am so happy with them! This is me, for the first time, I really feel at home in myself.

Dream Dreads

2009-10-27T18:37:00.001-07:00

After I shaved my head, I began stepping toward what had been my dream for years. Somehow, I had come across the idea of dreadlocks. I really can't remember the first time I ever saw someone with dreadlocks and felt a kinship. It was probably just a small pull at first that grew into a yearning.

I was ready to do it and put it off because my daddy was sick. When he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, I knew that I would not be getting dreadlocks for awhile. It was something that he would not have understood and there was no reason to cause that tension between us during the last months of his life. Then after he died, I held on to the long, silky hair because he loved it.

Then, like I said, the lice came, I shaved my head and I knew it was time. This is an impression of what I thought the my dreadlocks would like. Fairly uniform, tight, straight, neat. As the title says, these are the dream dreadlocks. The real dreadlocks? Yeah, we'll deal with those tomorrow.

I am not my hair

2009-10-26T19:01:00.001-07:00

Three years ago, I was in the midst of a season of long hair. It had a lot to do with memories of my father who had passed away in 2004. Then the itching began and it went on for weeks. I couldn't figure out what was going on until the though struck me that I might have lice. Sure enough I did and went through three treatments and my daughter nit picking my waist length thick hair ... and was facing a fourth treatment. None of my children had lice yet. I was facing the possibility that we could infect hundreds of community children through our interaction with them at church. I decided to make a radical and aggressive move. I shaved my head.

Interestingly, this India.Arie song was popular at the time:

India Arie feat. Pink - I am not my hair

And I came to realize that I am not my hair. It was an incredibly liberating thing to do and I learned so much by being bald ... about myself and about others. It prepared for another journey to come.

It's all about the hair

2009-10-25T18:46:00.000-07:00

It really does seem to be all about the hair. I remember pixie cuts and the Dorothy Hamill wedge and hot curlers and sponger rollers. My hair always drew attention and still does. There were times that people wanted to make it less. I remember being talked into getting a conservative haircut my senior year of high school. I cut my long Farrah Fawcett styled hair because of what someone else wanted me to do. And what is it with men and long hair? For years it was a battle of grow the hair out, cut it off, grow the hair out, cut it off. My husband always said he loved it no matter what but he really did like my long hair. No matter, soon I would learn that I am not my hair.

Hair Journaling

2009-10-24T19:48:00.001-07:00

I have been participating in Patti Digh's Write your Own Friday. This week she asks us to tell our stories about our hair. When I created my page yesterday with Norah's challenge, I knew I would use it to write my stories about hair. Seven women, seven pages, seven stories. In my own life, hair has had a significant meaning. Being a red head brings a lot of attention. And I notice that when I paint my women, I usually give them bold hair ... blue, collaged, doodled. Instinctively, I was telling my story. It just seems natural to continue.

Yesterday I told the story about cutting my own hair when I was fourteen. Everyone thought I was acting out after my parent's divorce. No. I needed a trim and I knew that the budget was tight and I was trying to save my mom some money. I thought I could just shape it up myself. It was a disaster but the worse part was that I accepted the definition that other people put on it. I never corrected them. It just seemed easier to let them believe the worse of me.

I have finished todays journal page but haven't written yet. That will come later.

It's time

2009-10-23T20:43:00.001-07:00

Creativity grabbed me just over three years ago and it won't let me go. Granted, I fight it frequently, thinking that I am too busy. But checking things off the to-do list never brings satisfaction to my soul. When I let the busyness of life take command, soon I am weak and grumpy ... much like when I don't physically feed myself well.

Here and there, I have done a few pieces of art. More so in my art journal than anywhere else. I have to give myself permission that even that is valid and worthy, that creating art for me, for the sake of creating, is enough.

But for the most part, I have been a bystander, observing what others are doing. I cannot let myself be content to idly watch as others create anymore. My purpose is to create. It is the balm of my soul.

It's time.

So, here we go.

Today has been a rough day. Physically, I haven't felt well. Can't really put my finger on it so I am attributing it to detoxing from medication for an allergic reaction I had last weekend. All day, I thought that I wanted to be doing something but never felt up to it. Finally, tonight, I just did it, regardless of what my body was saying.

Tonight, I took on Norah's Challenge, to create a face by smearing paints with an altered foam brush. This is the first time I have attempted a face without drawing it in first, just creating with paint. What an experience! Actually, I am fairly pleased with the outcome. I did this on a file folder because I figured it was just play. I think I am going to do more in this style and stitch them together to make a journal. There's plenty of room to write and painting and drawing women is my heart. Here's the photo's of today's play:

Before I added the background

Close Up:

The Journal Page:

Faithful Lamenting

2009-08-01T20:13:00.000-07:00

Inspired by Lament by The Dirt and the Flood

I am captivated by the concept of lamenting and the role it plays in our faith walk. Originally, I wanted to do this piece in grays, browns, muted colors to represent the lamenting. But , as I began to work, the rich colors that I love would not leave. Then I realize that in my moments of lament, there was still belief, there was still faith. A paradox, I know, but most of my journey with God has been full of those seemingly contradictions. I believe it is an added burden to interpret our lamentations as a lack of faith. The color is there as a reminder that the tears of lament can still be full of faith.

My Truth

2009-07-17T20:16:00.000-07:00

2009-07-07T20:17:00.000-07:00