I'm painting Luna. She's Hector Winery's greeting committee.

it's a careful slow process from drawing to first layers.........

 


 

layer upon layer.........



getting there...............

 



final touches will come monday...............





One year ago, I started painting regularly again. I began by putting paint on paper and just-see-what-happens. This year, I am revisiting that expressive, intuitive painting process thanx to a friend, Donna Morgan, who inspired me with the loan of a book called Creative Revolution by Flora Bowley. 

 





Years ago, after finishing art school and recovering from major depression, I immersed myself in intuitive expression with paint on paper. As I created these images, I experienced a great release of passion. "Passion" is a word I use to hold all emotion and feeling I experience, because I usually feel "passionately". My feelings aren't "a little bit" or "moderate". They are Passionate and sometimes overwhelming for others to witness. Creating has always been a tool I use to channel my Passions. All those years ago, I also shared my process with others and realized intuitive painting provided a language of expression for others as well when words were just not adequate. 

 

For the past few years I have been honing my painting skills in a realistic manner, having been influenced by the years I spent traveling and then living in the Great American Wild West. I visioned deeper and deeper into miniscule details. I'm obsessive by nature, so this is an easy thing for me to do and I have excellent eye-hand coordination practiced all of my life. Over the years, becoming a skilled painter, I learned when to stop: this is important in watercolor or you wind up with mud. I've become good at representing the world outside me realistically in a controlled manner. 

 

Last Saturday, at Millport Landing, I spent some time going over an expressive piece I created a year ago and realized once again the door it opens to my heart's expression. So, I am giving myself a challenge: I will re-paint the 15 or so realistic paintings I have painted over the last year or so and re-interpret them expressively. I give myself permission to take the time it takes to complete the challenge and to allow the process to guide me and let go of any expectation of a particular result. 

 

 

My heart is calling to me to change and evolve expressively and expose all the inner voices I have held captive in the name of "belonging" and "managing". I am joining the Creative Revolution. Will you join with me and follow your creative heart's calling?

 


As I learn to be open to my heart’s intelligence, I discover feelings I have felt all my life and have not expressed.

 

I am reading a book right now that is affecting me deeply. I am grieving. I am looking at my life and all that I was taught by my family, my culture and reinforced by the majority of my peers, my teachers throughout my life. I was born in the mid-nineteen fifties. As children, we were raised to aspire for a college education and improve our minds. I was taught and encouraged to improve my mental skills so that I could compete in the marketplace and earn lots of money. “Mental skills” meaning the skill of communication with words. As an art student, it was necessary to tell in words what my pictures meant, what they were expressing. Success in the world of verbal academia is held as an ultimate achievement. 

 

I am overwhelmed by the idea (I have known this most of my life) that what my culture teaches me does not prepare me for a “good” life. A lot of what I have unconsciously and consciously learned from my culture, I want to undo.    

 

Even as I write these words, as I form these sentences, there are beliefs at work as I create words that are not the language of my heart. My heart speaks in pictures, in images. And even in this changing environment of heart-thinking, images do not carry appreciation and respect equal to words. It is the mind in it’s expression of words that is deemed the superior tool. 

 

When my heart speaks in images, I must translate into words in order to communicate in the agreed manner. That act of translation, as hard as I have worked to hold the essence, what I see loses some of it’s original power and meaning. As a visual thinker, it is up to me to translate so others will understand me. I have failed horribly most of my life at this. As a result sometimes what comes out in words is overwhelming for others to hear. I am speaking a language that is not my native tongue and I have been told my native tongue does not have the value the language of words has. That images are not an “intelligent” way of communicating. That the intelligence of images is a lowly form of communication, second to words in the hierarchy of education. 

 

All my life as an artist, an ordinary person, not a Pablo Picasso or Salvador Dali, I have seen from the culture that I live in, what is in my heart, the way that I communicate, my native voice, must be altered so that it becomes marketable and understandable to what has been deemed a more valuable way of life. Every corner I have turned, I have been told consciously or unconsciously, I am not good enough because I am unable to express my intelligence clearly in words most of the time; when they come out all jumbled and confused because the pictures contain so much more information than my words can keep up with describing. My act of vision making is sometimes called a hobby and not a serious, valid endeavor. I am asked to conform to a language of words in order to belong or be an outsider. 

 

(The language of animals is like that. Images. A group low on the ladder of western civilization’s hierarchy. A hierarchy of control and power over. No wonder good hearted humans feel the need to “rescue” animals.)

 

What I have felt since I can remember and told not to believe, is being written about, talked about now. Science is proving hundreds of years of mysticism true. Hallelujah!! The heart is gaining worth as a strong and valid tool. Hallelujah!! Will the world of people make an attempt to converse in the language of images and hold that as a valid communication skill as visual thinkers have attempted to speak in the language of words? 

 

I know others have lived their lives feeling this ancient knowledge, too. I know others grieve or have grieved. 

 

I dream a world civilization of no need for judgement, where all beings are embraced as intelligent and each offering of uniqueness is sacred and valued and loved unconditionally. Blessed be. 

 


I enjoy the doorway opening of each season. I grasp the opportunity to reflect on my life so far and what i want to change. The symbology of the season gives me a starting place in my action. A seasonal portal gives me the opportunity to leave behind excess baggage to make room for new ideas. After a few moments of silent search, i create an intuitive collage to reflect my entry into this moment of slipping through an opening of opportunity. This is my intention for summer:

 








Happy Summer Solstice and blessings for a firey creative summer! May your days be filled with creative acts and your nights be inspired by dreams. May doorways open with infinite possibilities for you and may you have confidence in the steps you take.  

 

blessings!


my newest painting.........



I have been on a path of conscious discovery for the past year. I have been seeking out guides for doing business, marketing, honing art skills and language skills. Where do I fit in this world and how do I share what I do? I have found gifted guides and mentors both of the physical and imaginative worlds. My polarities are getting closer together as I unfold my heart-felt treasures and gain confidence in expressing them. I am finding that sharing who I am is not such a dangerous thing and I share the strength and integrity of all beings to forgive others as well as myself for fallings.

 

Yes, fallings. I have fallen down many times in recent months. I have given myself opportunity to shame myself, beat myself up and others as well. I have allowed my judgements to reign above my heart. I have forgotten the connected web in which we exist and thrive. My roars have been loud and scarey.

 

And in all the mess we, you, I live in and with, there is balance and fortitude in the natural world. Under the wing of an owl, I seek protection and guidance and within the roar of a lion I find heart. So I may return to the world of humans and judgements and of my own ego and ask and yearn for forgiveness for roaring so loud and scarey at lies, untruths, deceptions. And forgive those who perpetuate those untruths out of ignorance or timidity or fear, for I, too, react out of passion and call it heart mistakenly, because the fine line I, you, we walk sometimes in our yearning for truth and enlightenment, wanders and breaks. and I fall. 

 

That is where I have found imagination to be a refuge, a sanctuary. There I go to renew, to forgive, to heal and make amends, to learn. To connect.

 

I am so grateful.


I've been looking at doorways lately and I'm curious into what new world they invite me. One particular doorway captivated me this week.....

 

I flew under the wing of an owl. I was carried far and deep. I didn't want to return because it felt so real, so safe, so kind, so honest. The return was harsh, where flaws and mistakes are unforgiven and judged forever. Where perfection is ill-defined. Until I walk in the forest and remember being embraced in the wings of an owl. There grief is present without guilt and my rawness and fire can purge and renew. There among the great bows of the hemlock and the maple, I am protected. My soul embraced. There is no coddling, just honesty and realness. No judgement, no criticism, always possibility and renewal, and the opening to humility, not shame. I can trust myself in the forest.

I look above the tree tops to the night sky and ask the stars for guidance and forgiveness along a path of words shared and miscontrued.........