Getting Things Done....or not

I have two receptions coming up in a few weeks, to introduce my friends and clients to my new studio space. And while I have new work, the reality of operating a studio, shop, a home, taking care of a puppy, making prints and cards, and the sheer fact that a million things always need to be done, and everything is happening at once, means that very little "making art" is getting done.

Or is it? I mentioned last time about filling my well. Now my well runneth over. I am realizing that there will never be enough cards made, that clients can order prints, that I don't have to sweep the floor every time leaves are tracked in, and I don't have to cook all that much. But, I need to paint before I lose my mind!

While I can search for creative ways to do the laundry, the fact remains that I must paint to stay sane. Brushes full of paint seem to have a magical healing power, and the very act of making strokes on the paper, canvas, or anything seems to calm my frazzled nerves. It is an addiction. I can go several days after creating something, but then I start to lose it. Tonight will be a painting night. The puppy is exhausted from walking, digging, getting a bath, training, playing, and acting like a little terrorist. Once the laundry comes out of the drier, it is my time.

Must be boring reading this. Just ordinary stuff. Life is pretty much ordinary stuff. That is a good thing. I think it is important to find meaning in the ordinary stuff. Then, when really extraordinary things happen to us, we don't expect them, and they mean a lot more. So, in the course of an ordinary day, I make time to find meaning in all the little occurrences. After all, every load of laundry is different - I am always amused by what I find that comes out of the pockets! Peace and cheers, keep the faith.

Changes and souls

Life is all about change. Seasons change, dreams change, technology changes - and we change.

Just when you think you got it all figured out, life changes in ways that we cannot predict or control. Doors close, and other doors open. Sometimes only a window opens, and we have to leap through, trusting that we will land on our feet.

Why is a painter writing about such things? Because art is all about change, and change is necessary to grow. Our art reflects our growth, not only as an artist, but as a person. Each piece of art I produce has a part of me in it, a part of my soul. My art visually reflects my journey.

This past week has been a week of intense reflection. I have had some notable changes in my life, and around me. Paintings are flying around in my head, like butterflies - doors opening, doors closing, people running, people hiding, and people leaping for joy. Visions of whirl pools, with birds flying out, and grasses blowing in the wind. This is the kind of art that only we may fully witness, whether in our heads, or on the canvas. Others may or may not "get it". Humans are also gifted with the written word, and although a painting may speak a thousand words, for some, translation is needed. Art is a language unto itself.

It has also been a week of sharing thoughts with family and friends. One of the conversations involved souls - tender souls, wise souls, old souls. Each of these souls handles change in a different, yet important way. Our souls are our essence, and are revealed in everything we do.

I am happy to share my soul, through my art and actions. And when others share their souls - that part of them that is most precious - I am humbled and grateful beyond any expression than art or words can yield.

I had a show in March I titled "Journeys with Nature". (Some of the work is featured on my website.) Each piece had deep meaning for me. And some of the work touched the souls of others.

Back to change - the March show artworks were created with pastels. As I begin a new chapter in acrylics, people are asking why. I have plenty of practical reasons (the dust, the framing headaches, the problems in shipping), but the primary reason was that it was time for a change. Time to leap out the window, and hope for a soft landing - only then, can the new journey begin.

This has been an eclectic post. I found that I could not separate the topics, because everything is mixing together. Eventually, something new will come out of it. Stay with me for the ride!

Paint yourself a great day,
Cathy

Solitude and Rainy Days

It is pouring here today. The trees are dancing, and the vegetation is an intense and lusty green, like the kind of green that art buffs tend to dismiss as "not realistic". The birds are at our feeders, so it will probably rain most of the day. (During brief showers, the birds hunker down under bushes and lawn chairs.)

I love days like these. I feel a universal permission to enjoy the sound of the rain, and paint my heart out. The rain becomes my music, a constant in the uncertainty outside in the world. No matter how much technology changes, the rain always sounds, well, like rain. The trees take on saturated colors, and the earth is cleansed of dust and grass clippings. Rain is like a bath for the earth.

We humans can take a cue from this natural experience, to slow down, and bathe ourselves in silence, and refresh our souls. Part of my renewal is painting. I hope you may find a renewal that feeds your body, mind and soul, and partake of it often. It is there for the taking! peace, Cathy