Declined

I am going through a run of rejections at art shows - or, to put it more politically correct - "declineds".

One never knows what a juror may value. Even after reading their bio, and looking at their work, it is difficult to choose pieces that might actually get in. it is more than difficult - it is impossible!

But, for every show I have been rejected from, there are other shows where I am showing work, and, at a few of them, I have sold work. What is also interesting, is that I often sell work quickly that has been rejected from shows! Sweet!

One thing I recognize is that my adventures with acrylics are still in their infancy. I recognize that I have a lot of growing to do, and much to learn. So, I have decided it is time to take a workshop - to immerse myself in the creative process for several days, and just paint, paint, paint. While remote workshops are pricey, perhaps I need some time to learn a few new tricks, and to watch other artists in their creative processes. If new ideas could come in the form of an injection, I would be the first in line!

As an artist, I also need to learn to honor the process of hit or miss. Without struggling, there can be no progress. I have this one painting that I have painted over so many times, that it has an inherent texture.  

So, today I go to pick up my declined paintings. I already have ideas for the next show!

Artfully yours,

Cathy Harville 

A Beautiful Monday

After yet another weekend of rain, the sun is shining on this beautiful Monday. This spring has got to be the wettest I can remember for a decade!

The rain has brought us gifts in the form of green life, and profusely blooming flowers. Everything this spring has been so intense - the color, the saturation, and....the gloom on the seemingly endless sunless days.

Humans need sunlight. We are hard-wired to take in sunlight through our eyes and skin, and produce vitamin D and various amino acids and hormones. It is a well-known fact that people in higher latitudes often suffer from seasonal affective disorder, or SAD. Canadians flock to Florida over the winter, to escape the not only the cold, but to soak up the sun's necessary rays.

The depletion of the ozone layer in the last 20 years has caused more UV rays to make their way to the earth. Compound that with the melting of glaciers, and the UV burden increases even more. More UV rays means more cases of cataracts, and skin cancer. Modern sunblocks made to combat the UV rays are now known to contain compounds that react with the sunlight to create carcinogens! So what are we to do?

It all goes back to our stewardship of the planet. While we probably cannot reverse the damage we have done, I am still optimistic that we can prevent further damage to our environment. If everyone would turn off lights in unoccupied rooms, and turn off power strips to computers, TVs and printers, it would go a long way to saving energy and less green house gases would be emitted into the atmosphere. If we gave up beef, the methane produced by cattle would go away. If we used less gasoline, the environment would improve. If we consumed less, the environment would improve.

As an artist, I am very attuned to the landscape around us. Our open spaces and wild places provide me with my inspiration for paintings. I am trying to do my part. Rather than consume, I reuse, recycle, and renew. I paint over canvases. I take damaged frames to a framer, so they can be made into smaller frames and reused. My trips to the art store are limited to purchasing the essential things I need, rather than buying $30 of stuff I don't need. I don't print out anything unless I really need it. I wear my clothes until they wear out. i also support the Chesapeake Bay Foundation, to protect this national treasure, and to insure that future generations may enjoy the bay as we do now.

I am not perfect, in fact, I have to learn some new habits to do my part in saving the environment. Old habits are hard to break, but with conscious thought, it can be done.

So....as I go out on this beautiful day, and walk my canine friend Lucy, I am thankful for the sun, and thankful for clear blue sky and green vegetation. And yes, I will wear sunblock, lest my skin becomes burned.

Artfully yours,

Cathy Harville

Second shot

Okay, I am the world's worse blogger! But I am giving it a second shot. My goal is to post at least once a week, then I will go from there.

Things are good. I am building up inventory, and have participated in four charity events recently, which always does the soul good. Although sales are not stellar, people are enjoying my artwork, and I continue to meet really interesting folks.

At the Mill, we have been struggling with attracting attention to events. So I want to talk about signage. Signs are so important in our lives. We need highway signs, rest room door signs, signs to identify restaurants and merchants, and street numbers.

Signs are all around us. Sometimes, signs get lost in the fray - realty signs, and the homemade staked signs along the road.

Savage Mill is composed of 11 interconnected buildings, with a confusing, but fun, pedestrian flow, and a handicap access that defies logic. It is because of the Mill's historic status and age, that it is a maze. Many people welcome the wandering nature of this really cool place, and some people just get frustrated. And then there are the tavern drinkers, who laughingly go in circles, and forget which lot they parked the car in.

The artists at the Mill struggle with being found - literally! We are off in the catacombs of the building. Although we all have signs that can be read from miles away, people are just so distratced by all the information around them, that the signs go unnoticed. Perhaps a lighthouse would attract attention. Personally, I have been thinking about a neon sign. I may also hang a second shingle.

So if you manage to get to Mill, I only have one suggestion - prepare to spend some time and get lost. And have fun. Because around each corner is something new and interesting.

Artfully yours,

Cathy Harville

Snowed In

I love being snowed in! The whiteness of the snow reflects so much light, that I can't help but smile!

Snow is one of nature's natural anti-depressants. It seems that when the snow covers the landscape, spirits are lifted in Northern climates. My family in Ithaca, NY believes that it is the continual snow cover that makes their winters bearable, and beautiful.

Here in Maryland, we don't often get significant snowfall. So it is a welcome sight, when the earth is sleeping. For some reason though, I am not a snow painter. I prefer to paint color, and the colors in snow are so subtle, that it is just not my ball of wax.

As the end of winter nears, I can feel my painting well getting low. The sweet green of spring promises new inspiration, and warmth. At Savage Mill, we will be having a Green Life festival, on May 2-3, 2009. All the resident artists are busily preparing for our Greenscapes art exhibit, with half the proceeds going to the Chesapeake Bay Foundation.

So even though the landscape is white, check out the Historic Savage Mill website, www.savagemill.com, to see our upcoming spring events. For me, spring is the official start of a new year. And despite the poor economy, each new year holds a special promise of a new start.

Artfully yours,

Cathy

Major Life Events

greetings everyone,

I subscribe to Robert Genn's Painter's Keys. He recently had an interesting quote:

PS: "Major life events can paralyze your creativity. If you uncover what's going on behind the 'big picture,' though, you can bring yourself back into being in the moment and loving your life." (Guillermo Cuellar)

I agree with Robert, and with Cuellar - major life events, even good ones, can greatly affect creativity.

When I read this quote, I must say I felt a bit relieved. Over the past two months, I have had my share of illnesses, and I am still a bit under the weather with a sinus infection that won't let go. And during this time, my creativity has suffered. On the flip side, I have had more time to think, and let ideas percolate.

My husband and I went to the Florida Keys this past week. I wasn't sure I even wanted to go, but I am glad I did. One of the highlights of the trip was having a first encounter with Key deer. These miniature deer are only 26-32 inches tall, and they only live on a few of the Keys. Naturalists think that these deer were separated from the mainland deer during the last ice age, about 12-13,000 years ago. Their small size matches the land area and vegetative growth they need to survive. As an endangered species, the deer have developed a fondness for people. Although it is illegal to feed them, many of the locals do give them bits of vegetables and fruit. And instead of being nocturnal, they are on the same time schedule as humans.

Our first encounter was with three deer. They all licked my fingers. My husband spent several minutes scratching the ears and face of a small male. After they realized we had no people food to give them, they went about their business. We went into the refuge, and around every curve, we saw deer, eating and laying down, soaking up the winter sun. None of them seemed to fear us.

The Keys are mostly an unspoiled landscape (except for Key West, which is a real tourist trap). I took a few hundred pictures of the clear water, the mangrove trees, and coconut and palm trees. Presently, I am working on a series of palm frond paintings. The light on the fronds was beautiful, and I hope I can do them justice.

Back to major life events - even though I was not feeling well most of the trip, the experience was unforgettable and nourishing. For a little while, I forgot all of my petty problems, and experienced the harmony and healing beauty of nature. I really didn't want to come home.

It snowed this week. Another beautiful gift - the whiteness of the snow provides a tremendous amount of reflected sunlight - just what we all need in the dead of winter - lots of light!

As I continue in this New Year, I can feel a major shift in my thinking, and I am learning to channel negative events into my right hemisphere, and find the positive message. I think that is a good way to approach the winter cold and darkness - to find the light and warmth.

paint yourself a great day,

Cathy

Adversity

A Happy New year to all!



My New year didn't start out so well. I was in the hospital the first part of December of 2008, then I when I returned home, I seemed to catch every bug and flu going around.



I feel much better, though a bit rattled by the whole ordeal. Back at my easel, the doubts of whether I can still paint keep running through my tired head.



Adversity teaches us to be patient. We are not in control of very much of anything. All we can control is how we react to various stimuli. That's about it. We cannot control anything happening outside of ourselves. The realization of how little control we have comes with adversity.



In adverse situations, we just have to let go, and let the universe do its thing. Through adversity, I learned that we are not complete little laptops that can be plugged in and always perform up to a given standard. We are human, and we are frail creatures. Think about it. We need water everyday, several times, and we need a constant intake of nutrients, just to stay alive. We need other humans to help us. We cannot do much by ourselves.



Not meaning to start the New year off with a negative frame of mind, I want to put the positive spin on this. By needing other people, the need goes both ways. Artists need to create art that other people need in order to enjoy. Art, without someone appreciating it, is not really art. And how can something be self-expression, if no one hears it, or sees it? For example, Van Gogh's art was never even considered beautiful until after his death. That is unfortunate for poor Vincent, but we have so much more in the way of getting ourselves out there than he did.



I don't know if anyone out there even reads my stories. Eventually, someone will. I am putting myself out there, because somewhere along the line, someone will connect with what I have to share. If I can positively affect one person, I am happy with my efforts.



Generally, speaking, adversity stinks. But accepting our humanness and limitations can be a very liberating thing. Knowing that we aren't all knowing is freeing. Knowing that we need other people is comforting. And knowing that we will be ill, is knowing that there will be someone to care for us. And expecting that things may go wrong makes the inevitable easier to swallow.



So this year, I start off by embracing my limitations - all the bumps and warts that make me human. Beyond that, I just hope i get the opportunity to paint, and make someone happy. To ask for little is to receive a lot.



Best wishes to all,

Cathy

Mental Earthquakes

It has been over a month since I have posted. During that time, I have been hospitalized in a psych ward for safety, and I am now fighting a common cold. The cold will go away. Not so with the mental earthquakes.

Mental earthquakes happen quietly. No one can hear the agony within our heads. No one can hear the despair, the upheaval, the turmoil. And describing it is as painful as experiencing it, because one puts themselves in a super-vulnerable state.

Yesterday, I painted for a while. I felt like I was in heaven. I began to think of things in polar opposites - shadows and lights, lights and darks, detailed and fuzzy. I realized that while writing helps to process the earthquakes, painting does so even more. The interesting thing is that most people would never know what is going on in my head when they look at the painting.

Painting is a vulnerable, personal process. We put ourselves "out there", for everyone to see and feel. Thank goodness, not everyone gets it. that would be a disaster. But the people that do "get it" are part of the healing process. Without words, they help me heal.

Right now, I have lost my literal voice, due to the cold I have. I have not seen my therapist in weeks, and I am starving for counsel. I am raw from the hospitalization experience. So I write and paint in the safety of my home, where I can be as open as I want, and as vulnerable as I need to be.

With time, these past three weeks will be stored away in the "important life lessons" section of my brain. It is the little area where my raw edges live and learn. And my next art exhibit will honor the mental earthquakes, that rock my world, and those around me, without a single sound.

cathy