As the days grow shorter and colder, I am slowing down and reflecting on the gifts of my life, spending more time in solitude.


The trees are changing color. They seem to sigh as they slowly get sleepy and move toward dormancy. The forests are filled with chipmunks and squirrels chattering away as they forage and collect for the coming colder months. The ground grows soft again from autumn rains. 


I, too, look to warmer housing for the winter. I have lived outside most of the summer and now early fall. As the nights grow longer and the mornings chillier, I find myself seeking warmer indoor shelter. I am not ready to spend more than 12 hours cocooned in my teardrop!


I have harvested new perspective from traveling and work experiences. I am learning from mistakes and joys. I remember to stay with the forest in my thoughts as the world around me pulls me into despair or threat. I practice connecting to my heart so I remember the difference between reality and illusion. I am not always successful at these practices at the moments when I am triggered. The more consciousness I bring to my thoughts and actions, even in hindsight, the more connected I am to the present moment and the the more I am able to find some balance. 


I find painting is the most peaceful and heartfull activity for times of questioning or anxiety or despair. The act of creating is staying in the present moment. It heals. 


Happy Fall! Receive your harvest and share your joy!


Blessings, Lisa

I received a "D" for my independent study Senior Degree Project my last semester at art school. My title was "Toward a Personal Mythology". I had veered off the path of my major, Illustration, and initiated an intuitive and  personal exploration into feminine mythology. There was no rational reason I did this. It "felt" important for me to do. (Up to that point, I maintained a 3.5 point average in my studies. That "D" plummeted my final degree points.) 


I used "process" and "conjuring" in my painting practice allowing color to guide me. I sought out books of mythology written by women. I had to go to book stores, because libraries had only traditional mythology books written by men from a patriarchal point of view. I was hungry for women's words.


This was the mid-1980's. Jean Shinoda Bolen's Goddesses in Every Woman had hit the shelves in bookstores. I also found Esther Harding and Christine Downing writing from a Jungian perspective about the feminine. It seemed "the feminine" was a psychological phenomenon. I devoured all I could find including Starhawk, Merlin Stone, Barbara Walker. I painted from within, conjuring, exploring what my heart, my belly had to show me. After I graduated, I shared my conjuring process with other women seeking a new language.


As I look backward, forward and present, I see a huge web of women bringing the irrational, intuitive world into sustenance, creating a visual visceral language.


We continue to cycle in spirals and weave our work as we experience our natural world polluted, over cultivated and clear cut. We gain momentum as we make conscious our deep belly wisdom that is of nature. We know we are not seperate. Even as the wilderness outside of us is slowly dominated, we cultivate a wilderness within, allowing surrender, stillness, contemplation, opening the eyes of hearts.


I will continue to conjure, with nature, with other artists, with other women, images that will leave breadcrumbs to guide us back home. We will listen to the sensations the wind tickles over our skin. Take in the flaming beauty of trees transitioning into dormancy. Pay attention to the pull our moon has on our blood. With this intelligence we can then engage our minds to make balanced, sustaining decisions in our physical world.


Happy Spring! Welcome to our New World!


PS An article worth reading......


It is past mid-winter and been a long while since I wrote anything about my life as a contemplative and active artist. I had hunkered down to inner life and organizing and working in my new studio-living space in late Autumn. The Winter has brought short days, many journal musings and a shift once again in how and what I paint. I can feel the quiet murmurings of dreams and ideas planted at Solstice as the days start to grow longer. I also feel a yearning for the quiet of dark days to remain so I have more time to clarify my dreams. The gentle pulls at mid-winter remind me to plan structure for the activities that will come once Spring arrives so I move into the longer days with ease rather than frantic scurrying.

This Winter, I have prayed for more understanding of Grace. She shows up when ego driven desires diminish and my heart opens to receiving and giving love. She disappears in the presence of fear, hidden, yet accessible, waiting for that moment when I surrender to not knowing outcome. She visits me during my daily walks among the trees when I am able to listen and hear the whisperings of wisdom that flutter among the branches and rise up from the roots, strengthening my faith in connectedness. Those are the moments I feel Grace embrace me. And those are also the moments I want the quiet of Winter to last longer. The time I spend in the wilder places, in the forest, I feel most at home, connected to what feels important and more easily access Grace. I created space for the forest to grow within me so that I might carry wilder-ness into my civilized life and feel more at home with Grace wherever I may be in this world.

This new Winter season also brought new ideas about what I will teach this year. Creating a wilder place within myself inspired me to re-structure Creative Conjuring to Intentional Conjuring. Creating balance between my mind and my soul makes a lot of sense, so I am incorporating practical painting skills into my conjuring classes. Painting skills allow an ease in expression that awkwardness with materials can limit. That ease brings confidence for the painter and a flexible ability to be intentional.

If you are local to Ithaca, NY, sign-up for a class, the second Sunday of the month; see what I’m painting in upcoming exhibits at Leidenfrost Vineyards March and April, Moosewood in June and Hector Wine Company in August.

Enjoy the embrace of mid-winter and I’ll be in touch in Spring!

The moment I put watercolor to paper, I knew she was my magic wand. I have stayed loyal to her when wordly authorities dismissed her as temporary, transitory. I love her ability to shift and change without notice. There's nothing completely covered up with her -- she shows all her colors. She is adaptable, flowing, unpredictable, surprising. Of course, the world of rational, permanent, unchangable does not find comfort in her. 


She is wild. She cannot be controlled.


I work with her. I follow and she follows. She leads and I lead. It is a dance of transmutation. She is the perfect muse for conjuring. She always tells the truth, even when I don't want to look. She reminds me to breathe. She allows me freedom to adventure. She takes me deep and she remains filled with light.


We are in partnership, my muse, watercolor, and I. 

We are journeying.

There is no time and there is all time.

There is Conjuring.


I breathe.


I follow my breath into my heart. I feel expansion. I feel contraction. 


I follow my breath into my belly. I breathe into the crevices and edges creating containment. Within the container of my belly wisdom, mystery, sensation gurgle up in images, in colors. In partnership with my muse, we conjure, we re-member knowing.


We express.

We connect.

We discern.

We trust.

We share.


With conscious intention, in partnership with all women who have walked before me, all women who will walk after me and all women who are now walking, these are the images revealed to me on my path of initiation into the cave of the Wild Wise Woman.


Will you journey with us and conjure your knowing?


See my Conjured Journey at my opening reception at Hector Handmade, 5344 State Route 414, Hector, NY, September 9, 2018, noon to 5pm

For close to 40 years now, I have searched in books for threads that will lead me into the mystery and power of the Divine Feminine. I found precious nuggets here and there. Many women scholars have written down the stories and myths of ancient times and interpreted them through many different eyes, defining archetypes for us to be guided, and our inner lives to be deepened. 


Initiation archetypes, stories and myths have held my interest and imagination recently. In Women Who Run With the Wolves, Clarrissa Pinkola Estes tells the story of the Handless Maiden and suggests the lost pieces of Truth in the initiation process for women. “What was once a longing to find the underworld Beloved became, somewhere in time, a lust and seizure in later myths.” She goes on to tell of ordinary invitations into initiation for women from a long ago forgotten time. A woman stepped into a solo journey safely contained by all women who had walked before her. 


I am, we women are being initiated into a life we have only known instinctively and intuitively. We are seeking and creating new guides to lead us through the door and down the pathway. We are reviving the ancient archetypes of feminine initiation from the depths of our bellies, our souls, and are telling the stories taught by ancient women wisdom that we find there. That knowledge is awakening in all of us as we listen to the whispers that become clear beckonings and follow the threads into the belly, the soul.


We do not need to be abducted in lust against our will into the Divine depths of our being like Persephone. We are not having nervous breakdowns of hysteria and depression. We choose to enter willingly, with courage and curiosity. We do not need the guidance of a father. We are women and we hold the strength accumulated from all our mothers before us. We are a strong circle connected in cooperation with other women. We each have our unique gift to share and we hold each other as each of us dives, then surfaces to shine our true brilliance as individuals. 


A prayer: May all our lights shine brightly as we gather to share the gifts we emerge with from our deep dive, freely, safely, within the container of the Beloved, the Divine Feminine, All That Is and Will Be and Has Been.


Blessed be.




I haven't written in awhile. Like Winter that has lingered longer than desired, I have been slow to bubble up out of my creative cave. Even as Winter lingered, so did the Dark Night of the Soul. "Dark" not to be judged as good or bad, just dark, cavelike, deep within crevices that are not exposed to light. I felt like a fungus in a rainforest that needs so little light to grow.


I experienced both the extreme highs of motivation, as well as the lows, in my wallowing and searching, and a lot of places in between. Sometimes my skills have been lacking when it came to rising out of the muck, and despair so palpable only my dog's eyes held me in this physical world. 


This process of re-birthing this year feels so much more challenging than prior years. I found so many things in my mundane life that didn't work to reward me or those I love and care about. It sometimes felt futile to keep existing if my belly rumblings will not flower in bright colors and grace my outer world with ease and beauty. 


And then, I remember the glimmerings I witnessed in imagination and the wealth of love and friendship that surrounds me. In that moment, the outer world becomes a kaliedoscope of greens, oranges, reds, blues and yellows! Spring displays herself in all her wonderful wildness, bursting open widely, generously. The Dark is the shadow cast by such brightness. A necessary shadow for fungus to grow. When perspective shifts, with the help of imagination, a world is given the hope of balance.  


Staying in the "muck" awhile longer this year may also provide magnificent colors I have yet to experience. An uncomfortably long cycle is an opportunity to become a mouse or an owl, to inspect the details closer, with sharp sight and a keen nose. To burrow a little deeper, maybe, to eventually unearth what needs light to grow. 


As I play with and sort through my seed packets spread across my table, I wonder what will bear fruit (or vegetable!) this year. What do I plan to nurture toward harvest? What will I imagine into being? The possibilities are limitless and becoming clearer after having spent a longer time gestating this year.


I wish for you ease and discernment. Where will your energies go toward bearing the fruit that will sustain you through another Winter?





Oh Women!

My Loves My Lives!

In the full void of our wombs

We look within to speak out.

No more another's voice for us

But to be our own voice

to speak as I Am.

No more the squeaky voice

of opression, betrayal, shame.


With ease the Voice of fierceness

and power

Waking the unsaid,

Exercising a sound not yet heard

Deep out from the emptiness

that is not empty.

Bring out not sudden

But let us unfold together 

as a garden in spring

according to the Law that is All.

It is no mistake that opening

begins in Winter

as carpets soften the ground

and protect the warmth

that brews.

As our hearts our souls

Our Voice


Gathering the seeds


With discernment.

Fiercely alive.


Blessed be All.





still life



charcoal drawing



adding color


reversing and adding more color