The Eggs are in the Nest
Before the robin's nest had these three eggs, it was empty. When the nest was empty I felt disheartened– I don't have any ideas for these paintings, or when I do, I don't like them! My mind was busy struggling with the notion of creating a clearing, of making myself an empty vessel. I painted over everything I had done. All the surfaces were once again white.
Diving into the Wreck
Diving into the wreck is from a poem by Adrienne Rich. I find diving a necessary, and often inconvenient, part of being a maker.
For example, right now I am in the middle of big paintings, medium-sized paintings and small paintings, and various sketchbook studies. Everything is out: Watercolor, acrylics, ink, house paint, and oils. I have dreams of swimming laps with layers and layers of clothes on, and how slow and heavy it feels! There are moments of illumination in my studio, but I am burdened with all these unnecessary and heavy clothes. My dream illuminates those familiar mind struggles: This isn't working! What about some cadmium red? Is this finished? Shall I change my vocation? What about becoming a private eye?
How to Inspire Your Art When You Are Not Making It
We have all had the experience of needing to step back from our work– to get a fresh perspective, and I am thinking again how valuable it is to be around art and artists– and discovering new artists. I have been on a retreat at St Meinrad Archabbey. When I first arrived I felt I was in the story "Beauty and the Beast", when she wakes to find herself alone in a castle, and the table is adorned with fresh flowers, a large bowl of fruit and a fine bottle of pinot noir. The "guest house" has porches all around, looking out to the woods. The reason I am here is by invitation of Brother Martin, the artist in residence– and my need for some solitude.
Some Questions Worth Wondering
One advantage of meeting up with other makers in a friendly atmosphere, at lunch or in a workshop– is that we can rediscover that we really are all in the same boat– that none of us, no matter how accomplished, are in a sublime world where paintings appear out of nowhere– (well, rarely, but not until one has been working for a long time).
Today I am thinking about some questions that work for me when I am struggling in my studio– but I begin by vanquishing this question:
What will people think?
Under a Spell
I have long wondered at the ability for writing, (and by this I mean on paper with a tool in my hand) to put me under a spell. Above I am working with variations of a short poem by Antonio Machado. Even the words of the poem, without knowing the meaning, have a trance quality: everyone who moves on walks like Jesus, on the sea.
Creativity and Boredom
When someone says: Boring! –it is a one word sentence (usually uttered with both syllables drawn out in a singsong voice) that immediately dismisses whatever came before. From this perspective, saying that something is boring is a condemnation. Boredom is a state of mind to be avoided.
I am going to offer an alternate view for makers: boredom as a door into depth, insight and manifestation.
Wandering
As many of you know, Steven and I have designated "Sabbatical Sundays" as the day we turn off our cell phones and computers, and find another way to enter the day. As much as I love solitude, it is curious to see the extent to which my mind is captured by the impulse to check this or that on my gadgets– fingers and a mind that resist being still. You could say that these Sundays are a kind of mind experiment. One Sunday Steven woke up and said "Let's go east!" This is the day of the week we often get in the car and head out on adventures without the advantage of GPS– and both of us having a tendency to get lost. So without any plan, we left before breakfast and drove through the rolling hills of central Kentucky. I was captured by all the old tobacco barns with the "hex" signs.
New Year's Eve Tidings
This morning before first light, I was greeted by the hoo-hooing of a pair of owls outside our window. I had gone to sleep reading Jung's "Memories, Dreams & Reflections", and his thoughts on death, alchemy and eternity. Perhaps these ideas are more prevalent with the ending of another year, and the mystery of what is beginning. This poem from Rumi came to mind:
Making Order Out of Chaos
Everyone has his or her own way of working. For me there are times when I need to step back from the creative chaos that has taken over my studio, let the paintings germinate, and re-create order. This is the phase I am in now. I began this week by cleaning, organizing, sorting– letting go of things I no longer need. This is a somewhat difficult task to stay focused on, as all along the way I come across scraps of papers with phrases like: “old and broken boat” and “the festal intention of these flowers was revealed” * – with no note about where these words came from. Without knowing what it means, something happens when I ponder the festal intention of the flowers. I feel lighter.But it’s almost Thanksgiving, and I must get back to creating order, making room for something to happen.
Mind of Winter
Sometimes I catch myself thinking (with frustration)– what is the next great idea I can come up with for my work? Then I remind myself that paying close attention to the ordinary, the common things– that this is where the magic resides. And this is how I open my eyes.
I was disturbed by the "tree eating machines" that were taking down our ash trees, stricken with the Emerald Ash Borer, and went out for a walk. I went off the path in the woods and found a fallen ash tree lying across the field. When I removed the bark, I discovered these beautiful patterns: