Sunday, December 2, 2012

Creative Process Thoughts


Anymore these days, I find it is a series of stories I'm finding within that wants to be expressed. But not any story, they are always stories that I can not tell and when I do tell them, they look nothing like the story to the viewer in which I tell. I know, because I become the viewer. Usually a painting is done when it leaves us but lately ,my stories have been being left incomplete and are open to variants in the retelling or they are open in a continuation of what I think I'm telling, for instance:

It was not until recently that I gained the gratification of telling (now years later) my stories to one with whom a few of my stories was lived out with. Proudly, before them I placed the visuals of my perspective ( by way of a painting ) of our occurrence and happily they could read it! And they added to the telling through further sharing of their life and what had happened since last I saw them. I could see then, the little additives of whimsy I placed in the paintings were not there by mere whimsical chance, no, they were there showing me a psychic link to this person with whom this story I shared with and the painting was not a mere recollection of our experience together but further a living ongoing telling. In the six months I indulged myself with painting this certain story in order to paint this one particular painting that was for me a sharing with the world my secret story... a whole different living part of  the story was in the telling and told of a pregnancy and birth of a child, a proud father, a move to a new location and their acquiring of horses.

Before I met my husband, I painted an odd picture of a man cat...a manimal I call it. I asked myself when I saw it, Who is this stranger to me? It is my husbands face in that cat's face. He recognized himself straight away when he saw the painting.

At Last! The Wind!

When the wind is heard an internal spark ignites with-in me. As fast as that, like a light switch clicks on and  the creative juice flows.  Like a onramp to high speed freeways leading in and out of past present and future events. I realize, it's the negative ions in the air that I resonate with but still it's like magic for me.

When We Are Apart


When we are apart is my latest work of art, its a digital collage, lots of cutting and pasting.
               
                                        

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

You interest me

If it weren't for the internet I doubt I would have the opportunity to experience myself in so many always approaching new ways. I doubt I would have known what it would be to be a secret admirer of someones. To follow their open life and feel sorrow for their losses, joy for their successes.

"Imagined the Taste of Your Fruity Tears"
I have discovered when I feel  a sense of loneliness it comes from the a need to feel of interest to another. I have many whom I find interest with. I wonder if I too have a silent watcher/ secret admirer. Could this thought assuage that sometimes lonely feeling?

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

The Happy Abstractionist

It has taken 43 years to learn how to hear the heart and follow it's delicate poetry. To see that the heart has the window view to my soul and that the mind does not have true direction until it learns to speak one of the many forms of language that the heart speaks.

It is the secret for me that has allowed me to move out of a lengthy bed of depression without pharmaceuticals or any other substance to alter the weighty mood. I feel blessed to have the desire to pursue the sensitivities of the artist, this has encouraged the multi communicative nature of the heart.

As I begin upon the journey my heart has liberated my perspectives on to, I feel drawn towards the intellectual examination of the edited nature of the complex human. Where the heart is seen and heard speaking of life experience and perhaps the clear vision of soul thats found in the poetry of everyday living.

...If my heart were the beacon that collects the dross of human romance than it is my hands that are the catalyst that pours forth the elixir on to the pages and canvases of my many visual life journals.


"Once A Day Shuttle" 4'X4' 
This painting is from the visual journal, "Hand Me Downs"

These days of soulful viscosity that plies my creative expression I hold my Husband Michael (my hearts' whisperer) as the guiding nurturer and as such is the romantic skipper of my creative houseboat, The Happy Abstractionist.