Sunday, September 27, 2015


I am not lost, nor am I found per se but I am in the midst of a wandering journey. It's my birthday tomorrow. Sort of a biggish one, a half way milestone. Nothing greeting card companies make raunchy jokes about or etch the number into martini glasses so you can carry it around your neck all night on a lanyard, but still. Significant to me. It's turned out to be a taking stock kind of birthday. The kind where you blink and half a decade went by in cups of coffee and paintings and massive life decisions like moving and new jobs and and not moving again when said job unravels and starting fresh in a new community and really not knowing what the hell I'm doing. And somehow learning partway on the long wandering walk that noone else really knows what they're doing either and plop plop fizz fizz oh what a relief that is! Thank God, we don't know what we're doing! And if you do, let's not hang out because I love the messy bits of people and love high fiving the figuring out as we go.
I am wandering. I am not lost. I posted this painting because I love the quote, do not love the piece. I did it upon returning from Peru where I was fired up about color, images, patchwork imagery, folk art and the sum being greater than the parts. I tried it. It's ok. But it's not really me. It belongs to someone else now and that's good, it's them. I love that about painting and writing. What is home for one is a just a stopover for another. What I do love about this painting though is that I tried it. It's big (24x36"?), I painted it when I was on the tail end of being very ill post Peruvian trip, I hadn't worked big for many months and I was weak but I was hungry. I wanted to get back on the horse. I wanted every color in the rainbow. I wanted a statement. Big. Bold. Tree. Of. Life. Thunk. I get it. Thank you muse for helping me paint it, move it through me, whisper that good for you that you stretched that muscle but maybe water polo isn't your sport…but yay, you tried!
I am a big believer in trying what makes me feel lit up. Full disclosure. I don't always act on it. But do I ever believe in it! Which loops me back to my birthday. I am turning 45 tomorrow. I could give you a laundry list of things I thought I would have done, achieved, be, do, own by now but that would be more boring than talking about the dream I had last night. I also have a list of well I'll be damned I didn't know you had that in you good for you achievements that I tend to only see from the rear view mirror. So I'm doing that. Took myself on a spontaneous solo road trip where the view is good in both directions. I booked a quaint hotel with a beach access room and….wandered. The town, the beach, more beach, the coolest driftwood forts I've ever seen, more beach, the local bookstore, cafe, my sweet little back deck looking out on the ocean and back to the beach. I did this because it is what called me this weekend. I'm not one for parties and big groups of people. I prefer small gatherings, intimate get togethers. I need books and art supplies and strong coffee and coziness.
I need to wander and know I'm not lost. xo

Friday, September 11, 2015

Have a Seat

This is my theme. A spurt of activity, a flurry of painting and writing and posting and deadlines and packing and shipping and ideas and…and…nothing. Well, maybe not truly nothing, the music is supposed to be in-between the notes after all. But it feels like an absence and it's one of life's great creative mysteries to me that something I feel so passionate about like writing and painting and a host of other supportive creative things I love, go dormant and not just a little. But with a grand thud. Here I am once again. Painfully peaking at the date of this blog, July 6h!! Two months ago. Over two months! And I've easily spent the last 60 days thinking about it constantly.  Maybe not this actual little blog space in the vast scheme of the internet, I mean really, does anyone read this? Bueller? Bueller?

I'm talking about writing in general. Writing the book. Writing the essays. Painting the collection of fancy parlors that are in my head. Completing the commissions that are due. Starting the series of botanical still life pieces that I'm drawn to, the list is long. The action is short. And it isn't. This is where I need to practice cutting myself some slack. Maybe this is how it will always be. The surge, the pause. Sprint, pass out.

I've been in a pass out state for the last month. I should clarify. I've been incredibly busy, maybe busier than my business has ever been, but also lots of out of town visitors, personal and professional travel, culminating in an old-fashioned stay with my family in Victoria, BC hang out with the fam and do nothing kind of two weeks of glorious getaway. It was divine. And I did nothing. And as I write these words it's washing over me that the nothingness is mandatory. The crappy photos on my iPhone of Victoria landmarks might be the juice I need next month (oh god, please don't let it be another month that I sit down to create!). Ok, next week. The jokes told at the dinner table could very well get me through the next rainy season of wah-wah. (That's a sound I just tried to make a word. Try it.) The ubiquitous tartan scarf wrapped around most Oak Bay walkers might be the magical finishing touch to a cat in clothing series. It goes on. What I'm trying to say, to me mostly, and if it helps anyone else, then high five, is that I'm getting more comfortable in the sprint, pass out of creative life. I know I'm reaching the end of my coma when I start feeling the need to talk about this phenomena. Oh this again, I imagine the creative gods are giggling. She's so cute that she needs to write about this 50 times before it gets through her head. Today, I opened up the bag of paints I bought in Canada and displayed them in a satisfying ROYGBIV rainbow. I'm inching closer. Today, I opened up the laptop to word docs and reread a few things. I sheepishly looked at this very blog and cringed. But tomorrow? I'll have a seat.