It's an out of sorts kind of morning.

Endings and beginnings...

Late this afternoon I will take down the paintings from the coffee shop and then head over to the studio to work. I'm going to try to document this brand new painting from Monday, each step of the way...but photos probably won't go up until after it's complete.

Last night as a thank you for helping out with the last of the boxes from his move, Matt treated me to a fabulous meal at Cafe Presse. It was a cold night yet the food and company were both wonderfully warm.

I've been thinking a lot about my parents, watching our relationship slowly evolve. A good thing. We'll get together in a few weeks.

Today, I need to bring a drawing to the framers. It's going to be shown in a special one night exhibit in March. I'll keep you updated.

Work is in full swing. So much is happening on all fronts, all at the same time. It almost feels like Santa's workshop.

A few folks I know have lost someone they've loved. My heart goes out to all of them.

This week's Freewill Astrology.

Snow.

As is Seattle's nature, snow doesn't last very long...gone by the end of the day. We were supposed to wake to more snow today. Instead, it's only wet. The mountains received the snow.

Yesterday morning was pretty.

Last night I really wanted to paint. Being exhausted, I didn't want to work on current in progress work, knowing there wasn't any energy to clean the palette or think about color. But my hand needed to mush paint around.

Having run out of canvas, I stopped at Utrecht. Money is tight right now. And I scored. They were running a major sale. The 22x28's were on sale for 10 bucks each! Normally, they are closer to $30. I snagged the last 4 they had, and grabbed a couple 18x24s for $7 a piece.

Taking them back to the studio, I could breathe a little easier knowing there is more space for play.

I covered a large canvas...working a still life. It'll change. And it felt so good to go in and not think or be concerned.

I wanted to work on a specific painting but foggy-headedness prevented me. It's going very slowly. It looked like this. After a third working session last week, it's ever so slowly changing...



I listened to large parts of last night's State of the Union on NPR and noticed how very spoiled I've become by the brilliant writers of The West Wing tv series. They were poets.

Yesterday in the studio, I thoroughly destroyed a painting. Although there were some luscious moments tucked within, I didn't know where it was going and after being too careful with it, repainted over the whole damned thing. The history is still there, hidden away. So I'm not worried. Instead, I'm curious to see how it ends up.

Seattle woke to snow this morning.

I woke with rutabagas in my head.

(a response to a friend...sharing my thoughts on art and exposure)

After my degree, I sought venues to show my work. I hungered for it. And then it changed. My work became very personal and in that, I no longer had the drive to show it. For me, it was fear. The first time I did show incredibly personal pieces, I burst into tears right after hanging the work. Seeing the paintings on the wall led to such vulnerability. I felt phenomenally naked and had to fight the urge to rip them down.

I paint for me. It's how I work through struggles and develop greater strength. I am seeing how life's puzzles are somehow becoming resolved in the work and I take those lessons into my day to day interactions with others. My painting is how I am a part of this world.

Since my studio is part of the First Thursday art walk, although not required, I am committed to hanging something every month, whether it's complete or still in progress. It's been an incredibly powerful experience because those evenings have shown me how I am, through my art, in service to the world.

I watch people walk past the work. Cursory glances and then they move on. And then, every once in a while, someone stops and becomes present with the work. Those are the times I am filled with awe, honored to be a part of such a connection. The few times I've been told "thank you for painting that...you've touched me" are the words I remember. Tears still come to my eyes, knowing that through my unique voice I've connected with the woundedness in another and we've shared validation.

Powerful.

In the last week there was another potent moment. A friend was visiting from out of town and came to the studio. While sitting on the couch he took it all in. After a while he commented that there was so much warmth and peace in the studio. He asked me to lean into him and held me, while we quietly took in the energy.

A couple days later he emailed me and said various paintings he saw are floating around in his head and that now he understands how art is spirit and power.

I used to have a difficult time believing in my own strengths. In showing the work and seeing how I too can touch another, it has slowly allowed me to believe in my own worth.

Art.

I now see how no matter how much I work, no matter how prolific, it doesn't really come to life until there is an exchange with others, regardless of their reactions. Art breathes with exposure...in contact with humanity.

A very good morning in the studio and then a lazy day relaxing. I've been flirting with various cold-like symptoms. It's either a rash of sneezes, or overwhelming tiredness the last few days or the sinus headaches I've been experiencing for the last week. So I'm trying to take care and ease up. There are many who are sick right now.

And yet, I'm chomping at the bit to have the oomph to spend more time working on the paintings than what I have been.

A cool treat...a wonderful piece of art, made specifically for me, came in. Thank you Matthew!

New work in progress.

I'm pretty excited about the direction. A few weeks ago, I brought a 12 year old painting into my studio. I thought I would paint over it but once there, chose to leave it. And I'm glad I did. I would stare at the good parts and wanted to somehow bring that into my new work. Little by little it is happening. The light and the thin glazes. The sections of thick paint.

And, what really thrills me is how oh so naturally drawing and line desire to be part of the painting. These feels like a more whole version of all I've been working on for the last 15 years.

The first two are 22x28 and the third is 16x20. The images don't really do the paintings justice...but here you go.

Very, very busy today. My head is all over the place between reports and intense new audit requirements for the day gig, researching where to have limited edition prints made of a drawing, other art stuff...and thinking about the direction of the new paintings. So I'll simply leave you with a twinkly photo.

My monthly horoscope from Eric Francis came through and it's so right on with what I'm immersed in right now:

Capricorn - February 2008
"You may be shocked at how much you have going for you, if you look. I have finally decided that what most of the world suffers from is a depletion of self-esteem. Do you? Well, how would you know? It's a little like the question, "Am I depressed?" Most people can't describe a reality that they are sitting in the middle of. Anyway, the danger you face at the moment is that of allowing others to dictate your worth, or to tell you how you feel about yourself. There's a vast amount of conformism on this issue of how we all feel about ourselves. Within certain groups, people are only allowed to be so happy, so successful, so sexually liberated, or so true to themselves. If they want to exceed that, they may face excommunication. As a result, there's a strong tendency in our culture to aspire to mediocrity. This way, nobody is offended. And what has this got to do with you? Well, two forces are acting on you now. One, all of the nonsense I described above and two, the raging need to step out and be real. The two cannot coexist."

I really need to stop worrying about fitting in. I never have nor will I ever. And, as he wrote: "Within certain groups, people are only allowed to be so happy, so successful, so sexually liberated, or so true to themselves. If they want to exceed that, they may face excommunication. As a result, there's a strong tendency in our culture to aspire to mediocrity."

It returns to what I blogged this morning..."I need to stay close to honesty." Remaining open to who I really am, taking pride in the deepest essence of me leads to not fitting comfortably with groups.

So (and I'm thinking out loud here)... the dark loneliness I feel most times needs to be seen as a gift instead of as a yoke. In that it wouldn't be the burden I carry now.

A treat in last night's email - from Sunday's escapades at the Eagle. It's a small cellphone image.

My face buried in someone's chest.

For quite a while now I've been in the strangest state.

It's a continual heart ache that doesn't seem to cease. What changes is the intensity of the pain, but that's it. Some days it's light and other days I can barely catch my breath. My whole world has been thrown in a state of mass confusion. I've never before in my life sat in greater unknown. And, being someone who needs to take control of things to control their own life, it's making for an incredibly challenging lesson.

What I'm learning is that the only thing I have control over is how present I choose to be to my heart. So I struggle between shutting down and waking up again, pushing myself to greater awareness because I refuse to have life beat me down.

With all this, I hold so many complex emotions in my hands. I'm thrilled with where the art is going. Again last night I watched magic happen on the canvas. Another level of maturity is blooming in the work. I'm in awe of what is manifesting in the studio. At the same time, the stroke of the brush, an inhale, a step, or the simple act of feeding myself still carries much hurt. I can have special moments like this weekend and the ache never leaves. I'm honored that I see major positive changes in the relationship with my father. And yet, once again, it's all come with great cost.

A while ago, a friend mentioned they wanted to be more present..."like you" they said. I remember tears springing to my eyes and I replied "no you don't. It's an incredibly lonely and painful place. Very few understand and even fewer want to share in that journey."

My response to them wasn't about pushing them away but in that moment I was encircled by despair.

In therapy we've discussed love and fear. It began when I was telling the shrink about my intention... "My love is greater than my fear." By the way, I'm still writing in my intention journal every night. Some evenings I don't have it in me because I can't come close to believing the words I put to paper. Those are the times I know I really need to do it and will push myself to write. So the intention journal, for over three months now has become a crucial part of a daily discipline in learning that I too am worthy and no matter what I encounter, I can overcome.

I've added a new intention. A few of them actually. One is "I am releasing all things poisonous." The other, "I am accessing a joyous path." The flow of the words may change each night, but the intent remains the same. I will access a joyous path.

Love and fear.

I told my shrink that our whole world revolves around love and fear. He concurred. He mentioned that in what he's learned over the years, acts considered good or evil are really the result of acting out of love or out of fear. What appears to be mean action is actually the behavior of a terrified soul.

I don't want to live in fear. But I'm learning that living with a mindfulness toward love is incredibly difficult and at times feels impossible. Learning to forgive, over and over is not easy. What's easy is to shut down, put up walls and carry anger. In that, the next step is an eye for an eye. Vengeance. Lashing out.

I refuse to live in fear.

And yet, I'm painfully human. The anger rises up and then, upon looking, I see it stems from hurt. So I embrace the hurt, work on nurturing myself, and take the next step. Once again, opening my heart, desiring a life of vulnerability regardless of what anyone else thinks or how they act.

I need to stay close to honesty.

~~~~~~~~~~

Here is this week's Freewill Astrology.

It's been almost a week since I've painted. A good friend has been in town. Many days of socializing and sweet moments of being pampered. A few weeks back, a faraway friend said "you need kindness in your life." I knew what he meant. It's different than the niceness I am lucky to experience. He meant a kindness filled with compassion...sharing empathy. And in local proximity.

This weekend I was blessed with such kindness.

Today I will hit the studio after work. The paintings are changing again. When we popped in yesterday, the new direction was clearer. The time away from the work was good. And now I'm energized and excited to get back into it.

To work through some of yesterday's horniness, first I shot these...












...and then walked up to the Eagle, where there were two...upstairs near the sling.
We became three.

Then four...

...which grew to five.

Origami from Six Arms pub.

Some images just need to be shot in color.

Busy day today.

Errands, chores and running around. Assisting Matt with bringing more boxes to his apartment and then picking up Connor at the airport. It will be so good to see C. He's a kindred spirit.

I haven't painted in 2 days. Thursday evening was time spent on the film, and yesterday...well, it was simply a lost day. I was incredibly exhausted. So tired that when I got home at 7:30 last night and parked the car, I left the passenger window rolled down half way. All night.

This morning I noticed it when I went outside for coffee. My heart sank because at first glance I thought the window was broken. As I approached the car I saw what happened. I'm so fortunate because nothing inside was touched.

One thing I did yesterday was pick up the remaining paintings from the group show. I took them back to the studio and laid them out on the floor. They work, together as a whole while they felt lost when scattered here and there among 1500 other pieces.

I'm going to take about 10 of the strongest little paintings, frame them and show them again.

Now, a little quiet time before I get moving.
Have a good day everyone.

Last night I had dinner with the two men I'm working on the film project with. German sausage for dinner was a nice touch considering some of the subject matter of the film. It was a wonderful planning time. A few things I feared would be immense challenges naturally fell by the wayside. We were able to isolate a logistical problem. And I'm even more excited about the project than I was before.

In meeting, ideas expanded and we saw that the film's theme is complex on a few levels. We agreed on what would make the film successful. We worked on a story board for the parts that required it. And we are moving forward, committed to pushing the boundaries of sex definitions...even within the sex positive community.

Finally, after 3 days of painting messes...canvases with VERY greyed out muddiness, last night I was able to punch up the color.

One of the other artists in our space began giving private art lessons for an hour a week with a 12 year old girl who is passionate about art. She is always drawing.

My studio mate had checked in with us to see if we minded. Of course we didn't. I asked her if she wanted privacy. She said it would be a good thing if we happened to be in there working while the young girl is working on her art. It would help lessen the mystique and enrich her lesson times.

They were already working when I walked into the studio yesterday. A very sweet little girl. You could tell she was nervous, feeling as if she was working in the big people's space. My studio mate is her regular art teacher at school. And I think that added to her nervousness a little. The dynamic is different in these private lessons. It's not about grades and expectations. It's a time for the girl to explore and develop confidence in herself.

It was good to work away while listening and chiming in when invited to do so. Although not something I could do all the time, an hour a week is perfect. It adds an extra je ne c'est quoi to my practice.

The girl reminds me of myself when I was little. I never trusted the art that wanted to come out of my hands. It never felt good enough. My ideas weren't grand enough. It wasn't perfect. I wasn't hearing that from others yet from my own internal voice.

I didn't trust myself. I already knew I was sitting out on the far fringe of society, an incredibly lonely kid. I was afraid that by revealing more of myself, I'd be pushed further out on the edge.

And that is what happened.

But in various ways, I needed and still am learning how to let that all be okay.

It's the reason why I didn't finish my BFA until I was 36. Start and stop. Shut down until it was too painful to remain closed, open up again, until I had to slam the door shut once more.

It's a fucking process.

Here is this week's Freewill Astrology.

I've been immersed in much shadow work, and spent a good part of yesterday's session with my shrink on shadow. You see, in times, it is such a terrifying place to be and when it gets really bad, I fear I'll get stuck there. Those frightening times are when I need his reassurance that I'm not overly crazy and am on a healthy path.

Today, from Brezsny's newsletter, some quotes that are needed and affirming, considering...

"Suffering can't be avoided," James Broughton told Jack Foley. "The way to happiness is to go into the darkness of yourself. That's the place the seed is nourished, takes its roots and grows up, and becomes ultimately the plant and the flower. You can only go upward by first going downward." --James Broughton, as told to interviewer Jack Foley in The Alsop Review, "Big Joy: Octogenarian--An Interview with James Broughton," http://tinyurl.com/k4ech

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In the best-known version of the Greek myth, Persephone is dragged down into the underworld by Hades, whose title is "Pluto." But in earlier, pre-patriarchal tales, she descends there under her own power, actively seeking to graduate from her virginal naiveté by exploring the intriguing land of shadows.

"Pluto" is derived from the Greek word plutus, meaning "wealth." Psychologist James Hillman says this refers to the psyche-building riches available in Pluto's domain. Hades, he says, is "the giver of nourishment to the soul."

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The alchemists said the magic formula for enlightenment was Visita Inferiora Terrae Rectificando Invenies Occultum Lapidem, or "Seek out the lower reaches of the earth, perfect them, and you will find the hidden stone" (the treasured Philosopher's Stone). Jungian psychologists might describe the process this way: Find the ignorant, wounded parts of your psyche, perfect them, and you will awaken your hidden divinity.

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Astrologer Steven Forrest has a different name for the shadow: stuff. "Work on your stuff," he says, "or your stuff will work on you." He means that it will sabotage you if you're not aggressive about identifying, negotiating with, and transforming it.

It snowed last night.

First it rained. Then hailed. And then, very unexpectedly, it snowed. This morning the roads are treacherous and icy. It's crunchy under my feet and feels like New England. I like that.

It's pouring rain out. I was going to pick up the remaining paintings from the 30 in 30 challenge but it was much too wet to do so. I'm curious to see which pieces sold. Tomorrow.

I went into the studio and began a new large painting. The other paintings need to dry more before I can continue.

Someone on my floor of the arts building was baking bread. The comforting smell permeated every nook and cranny of the 4th floor of the old building. It would have been the perfect night for warm bread and hot soup. Instead, I'm making do with pork and rice. Not quite the same.

For many weeks I've been doing much thinking, much feeling and very little talking. There's a big world inside and that's what I'm exploring. The less I talk, the more I see.

I began this piece about a week ago. Here it is after yesterday's work session. It's 22" x 28". I like where it's going.

Today, although I spent all afternoon working, was one of those "I have no idea what I'm doing and how the hell do I mix color" kind of days. Chunked through two newer pieces and they are what they are...for today. It'll change in a couple days when I can work on them again. And, it's times like today that make the good painting moments all the more magical.

Quiet day.
Production painting session.

Not much else to say.

The elevator at the studio...


...it's one of those very groovy old ones.

Today, thanks to Bright Stupid Confetti, I discovered a new favorite artist. Check out Dale Atkinson, a contemporary British artist.

For real.

From 2001 - an unfinished self-portrait.

It was from a photograph taken from a play party at Daniel's in the fall of 1999...my first time at his house. Tonight I popped in there for dinner, after other plans cancelled, and we were speaking of that party. It was odd because I had just brought this painting into the studio today to photograph and have around.

It was a great, great suspension scene. And it was the first night I was introduced to A. From that meeting, a week later I received a message to contact him. He had decided to take me on as a student. I was very honored to be the first female he formally had a teaching relationship with. Due to life stuff, he had to stop teaching a few years later.

This painting is a reminder of the beginning of an amazing ride. A ride filled with paring down my life, learning how to strip the self and begin the discovery of deepest desires. Quite the adventure.

It's 2008 and I'm primed for another.

From Brezsny's newsletter:

ART LESSONS

French Impressionist painter Henri Matisse wanted his art to be "free from unsettling or disturbing subjects . . . soothing, a cerebral sedative as relaxing as a comfortable armchair."

Spanish painter Pablo Picasso had a different opinion. "Art is offensive," he asserted. "At least, art should be allowed to be offensive. It ought to be forbidden to ignorant innocents, never allowed into contact with those not sufficiently prepared. Yes, art is dangerous."

As you practice the art of pronoia, you will probably get best results if you swing back and forth between Matisse's and Picasso's approaches.

Every once in a while, try out William Butler Yeats' idea, too: "Art that doesn't attempt the impossible is not performing its function."

-----

And here is this week's Freewill Astrology.

This is a test. I've been playing with old photos and new formatting for another project.

Today, I took a chunk of my paid personal day that we get for our birthdays and went down to the studio. Good working session. It's nice to be working larger. This painting is in its second working session. Clearly still in progress but I'm pleased with the direction.



Had a nice birthday with good friends. I received a birthday email 15 minutes after midnight their time. It brought a big grin to my face. And yesterday I received an amazing gift in the mail...a gorgeous photograph. My coworkers are jealous.

Thank you to all who expressed warm wishes.

Phil took this quick shot of me stuffing my face with Matt's killer homemade german chocolate cupcakes. He made me promise to post it, and so here it is:

Yesterday I painted.

For the last three weeks I have had a new Saturday regime. Phil, working with Team In Training (check out the link to donate to this important cause) to run a marathon fundraiser for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, trains early in the morning and so I pick him up, we drop me off at the studio where I go to work, he then takes the car, heads off to the training spot. He runs...and then picks me up a few hours later. It's great because it's gets me out of the house early. Our day begins at 7:15 am.

Yesterday morning we did it again. So I worked for over 2 hours. In the afternoon, while almost falling asleep in my chair at 2:30, I decided to hop a bus and head back down to the studio and began two more paintings. Very fruitful.

After two months of working strictly in black and white, and in a new fashion, I was curious to see what would happen. I guess it's no surprise that the paintings are similar to the drawings. These are from the morning's work stint...first layer, in progress:

On First Thursday, I was speaking with an elderly gentlemen. He was about my height, slender, very white hair and a heavy eastern european accent. The room was full and loud. It took all my attention to hear him and so I'd lean in close while he spoke.

He had been looking at the drawings and came over and introduced himself. He was a sculptor.

His eyes twinkled while he asked me if I knew what talent was. He then continued and said that talent wasn't only skill which he could see in my drawings, but talent was passion. Being in love with what we do. "I see how you are in love with the paper." His attention was welcome and his words...soothing.

Paint. I am also in love with paint.


click for better view

This is what I love about art. Those magic moments when I look back and say "how in the hell did I do that?" It's a powerful connection between the medium and myself.

These photos are both details from a 2'x4' ptg done in 1996. I brought it into the studio today because I'm not crazy about the whole piece and am considering painting over the entire canvas. Then I look at sections such as these...and I'm thinking twice. Another idea is to tear into the canvas and cut it up in segments, creating mini paintings out of the larger piece.



It's time for me to make a mark...in paint...without discarding the b&w's I've been doing. The space is set up in a way to simultaneously work on both.

I'm hungry for paint again. The easel is set up.
A blank canvas waiting.

Outside the 619 Western Arts Building last night during the First Thursday art walk.

My studio mates and I thought it would be a slow evening. At 5pm the skies opened up and it was raining hard. For Seattle, that is. By 6pm it stopped and stayed dry. It was a very busy evening with many people coming through the space. More often than not, our studio was packed with folks.

A few really good conversations. People are very responsive to the new black and white drawings.

A productive evening.

I just finished putting up a small show of 11 paintings at a Starbucks on 15th Ave E, a couple blocks from my house. The paintings were inspired by a piece on Sedna written by Eric Francis of PlanetWaves. It was the first time I had heard of Sedna.

He wrote:

"Sedna is the goddess of the frozen waters. Her myth is based on the story of a beautiful young Inuit girl who was forced to marry by her father, but was tricked into marrying a kind of demon. Her father, hearing her howls in the wind, rescues her, but in the process, she falls into the cold sea. One by one, her limbs fall off, and each becomes a different kind of sea mammal: whales, seals, and so on. She then takes up residence at the bottom of the ocean with little stubs where her arms and legs were."

"Melanie Reinhart, in her article 'The Goddess of the Frozen Waters,' writes of Sedna, 'The encounter with what has been lost, drowned out, or frozen long ago is her theme, which can be taken most fruitfully on the inner levels. In other words, our own 'Ice Age' is being highlighted here: the wounds in the soul caused by the impatience, condemnation, dismissal or anger of the father; the living hell of unresolved outrage; the violence of hardship where we cut off from what is desperate and vulnerable in ourselves or others in order to survive. And how this harshness is internalized.'

"She continues, 'Even in the face of unrelenting trauma and suffering, we can, indeed must, beat our drum and sing to life. This is not a plea for escapism, but rather an acknowledgement that the Work is about keeping our heart open in hell. Sedna's story is about acknowledging just how bad things really feel, and starting from there. Radical acceptance is demanded. Allowing love and harmony into our lives (symbolized by the Star of David) may mean opening to the frozen places inside where we are conflicted and feel unloving. To try and manufacture joy is to metaphorically cut off our own fingers.'"

Sedna represents unconditional love.

For all of 2007, my conscious meditation has been on unconditional love: learning to keep an open heart in the face of adversity, fear and rejection.

As the year progressed, the challenges increased, testing the concept of unconditional love with each step.

Over the last week, it's heightened considerably. Barely sleeping. Spending more time crying than not. Being dared to keep my heart open no matter what life threw at me. And learning that it is all about forgiveness.

The only thing that got me through each day is knowing...knowing that this wasn't forever and also knowing that there is an unknown adventure, so fucking amazing, waiting for me on the other side of the torment.

The synchronicity of my first show in 2008 which happens to be this series, combined with the lessons of 2007 didn't hit me until today.

This show is a perfect way to begin the new year.

Saturday morning I was in the studio at 7:30. I had worked myself into a corner and there wasn't any room left to actually work. The wall was filled with drawings as was the floor. I had left a small path to turn on the overhead lights. This photo is taken today, after two days of cleaning. I wanted to show you my new storage unit. It has wheels...and rolls effortlessly over the warped wooden floors.

It was time to pull the work off the walls, which meant fixing them so they don't smudge and then store the work. So on Saturday, after an hour of beginning that process, I had not only run out of fixative but fumed myself out of the space.

A trip to Utrecht was in order. More watercolor, fixative, paper and I need to figure out an inexpensive yet fabulous way to frame and show the works on paper. I'd like to frame about 15-20 of them. And, I'd like them to be floating, instead of traditional cut mats.

That afternoon I returned, began putting some of the newer work which was on the floors up on the walls...and tried to make a clearer space. Worked on drawings later on.

Sunday I fixed more pieces, and began organizing as well as drawing. Later on, at dinner, Matt mentioned he had seen something at Ikea that would be perfect for the studio. So yesterday morning Phil and I first hit Home Depot to pick up an allen wrench so I could crank up my table to a better working height and then took a trip to Ikea. While looking at the suggested storage unit which was fine but a little small, we found this white piece. It's part of my commitment to make for a better working space.

Yesterday afternoon, before going to hang the work at the coffee shop, Matt came along and jumped into the assembly of my new storage unit. It's so perfect. Not only is there room to contain hardware, tools and pencils, but I am using the bottom drawers to store the piles of drawings. It will hold up to 17x23 paper. I am so into my new piece of studio furniture. There are still a couple empty drawers and I plan on going through boxes in the storage closet and hopefully make better space decisions. I'm off from work all week and it's one of my projects. Also, it's time again to get ready for First Thursday.

It's now 2008. My head has been into reorganizing my life. Tonight I again had Chinese delivered. Two fortune cookies came with my meal: