One moonlit night,
past Midsummer Day,
a winsome girl,
let her heart take flight.
Wandering alone,
through the woods she came,
to a wee pretty table,
illuminated by flame.
Quiet as a mouse,
She tip toed up to the charming tea,
then a giggle and a laugh
and out of the darkness stepped he.
Smiling most brightly,
he offered her tea to try,
and though she was tempted,
when pigs fly! was her reply.
Alas, pigs do fly here!
glancing sideways at him,
a cuppa she accepted.
And as she sipped the tea,
allayed was her fear.
The two laughed and made merry,
they played games,
sang and danced
until they became weary.
But as the music box sang,
the clocks all struck the hour,
and daylight was coming,
to turn their joy sour.
With a swift kiss to his lady,
the king did depart,
but not before leaving a precious gift...
the key to his heart.
And the girl awoke with a start,
bathed in sun in her studio,
with sleep filled eyes,
and a racing of her heart.
Just a dream thought she,
this king and his tea...
Or was it?
Thank you so much for joining me for a cuppa! This is my third year in a row reveling in the tea party madness with Vanessa at A Fanciful Twist and many, many others. I hope you enjoyed the wee story I whipped up and conned the hubs into playing along on... oh who am I kidding, he enjoys dress up as much as I do! Now that, lovely ladies is quite the catch! ;-)
If you'd like to visit the others for tea and whimsy, please click the icon below to be whisked over to A Fanciful Twist, where the master list of links resides!
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Moonlit Tea With the King of Hearts
Friday, July 27, 2012
In the Stars
When I posted my previous entry, I was a big ball of nervous energy. There was worry about what sort of reactions it would receive, worried people who judge or preach or simply walk away from me.
And much to my surprise, none of that happened. Not a single, solitary scolding, put down, reprimand, insult or leaving was made. For that, I want to take the time to thank all of you who read and those who commented on my journey.
Thank you for bearing witness to my past pains and the road to recovery. Thank you for the words of love and encouragement. Thank you for opening yourselves up and sharing your own stories. Thank you for sharing in the process with me and for showing me that in unveiling my past that I can maybe be a flickering star that lights the way for others to heal as best as one can from an experience like that.
Just.. thank you. I am overwhelmed and I am humbled.
Riding on the wave of that previous painting, I began the next week's prompt... Curiosity. This time around, Connie asked that we look at our memory paintings with fresh eyes and open hearts. And to ask it questions, simple ones, like a child would. And start our curiosity paintings with those.
Looking at my painting, head cocked to the side like I used to do as a kid, my questions came to me. "Why is she blue? and what's with those circles?" And so, when I stepped to the page, those were my starting points.. blue and circles.
I started painting with the blue, sketching a big circle that then became attached to a neck and a lazily draping body. Beginning to scribble in the top of the paper with the blue, I sort of anticipated doing green in the bottom, sort of grounding the figure between Earth and Sky. But when I got down there my intuition said 'Nope! More blue.' And then another blue, in big arcs across the figure, forming half of what would have been huge circles if they were to connect to their other halves. Then, some red squiggles and highlights and finally, white circles like the ones from the previous painting.
Taking a step back from it, I noticed a swoop that reminded me of an arm reaching up towards me... so as I filled in the figure's flesh, I fleshed out the arm. The grounding that I envisioned came into play with my gut's choice of dress color - deep dark green and my hair color - brown. Looking at it now, I feel that the arm in the paint swoops is another item my intuition had me add to symbolize grounding of sorts. Keeping me from floating off into the space and losing myself even as I try to find myself. Reaching out to grasp my hand when I begin to feel overwhelmed or lost.
Finally, I went a little crazy with the paint, spattering white stars and black shadows across the painting (and subsequently on the walls behind. And I thought I was done. I went to get a glass of water and clean up, but as I was cleaning something kept tugging me back to the painting, looking at the upper arm outstretched into space... grasping at something. And I knew what I was reaching for... my heart. That tricky emotional organ that I've been working on letting beat fierce and free.
My fear gremlin was surprisingly mum during this process, I think she may have taken a vacation this past week. :-) Painting this piece was a relaxed process, I found myself smiling and feeling incredibly at ease throughout.
Looking at this painting, I feel like the answers to the intent's questions are there, as I float through the ether. I think there's something huge in the fact that my eyes are open in this painting and not closed as in the other ones I've done recently.
******
Comments from my fellow BIG painters that I'm posting here to look back on once our 6 week journey is over
Comment by Colleen on July 22, 2012 at 2:28am
What a great painting!
I like how her hands are reaching out for the important things.
Comment by Connie Hozvicka on July 26, 2012 at 11:52am
Hi Danielle!
It was such a pleasure to read the way your process moved through this painting--it's so cool to see that movement actually reflected in your piece as well. When I look at it--I feel like the blue is dancing around her. I love that!
I also love how open and comfortable you are with listening to your painting and following through with what it asks of you. I'm not at all surprised that her eyes are open in the painting--for I see you as a person that see's deeper than most.
Thank you so much for sharing Danielle.
BIG Hugs,
Connie
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Fearless Painting, Memory and the Enduring Heart
We've just finished week 3 of BIG, A Fearless Painting Adventure and I've thrown myself so completely into the process and the painting, as well as taking the time to really love, heal and reconnect myself to the things I need that I haven't shared anything about it yet. When time is sparse, you can only do so much, sadly.
But tonight, I find myself with a glass of wine and an empty house (save the husband and animals, who are all curled up on the couch in the other room) since my friends have gone home and I figure it's time to share a bit. I've been sharing my experiences with the other gals who make up the current BIG Tribe, so I'm going to share the same experiences with all of you now. This is going to be long and very emotional, fair warning. Some bits have been copied and pasted from my original postings on the BIG forums, so they may read a little oddly.
For background, the first week of BIG was spent scribbling, doodling and generally getting into the groove of letting our intuitions guide our brushes, to let go of over inflated expectations and to get comfortable with the process. We also became familiar with our fear gremlins, those little voices inside of us that tell us something is ugly, or stupid, to give up or not to share this and that - the voice that stifles as it attempts to protect us. Now, what I'm going to share is my painting and process for week 2. Connie, our fearless leader, asked that we work with Memory in our first real, honest and fearless BIG painting. To just pick a memory, the first one that comes to mind or the one that keeps reappearing and popping in to say hello!
I watched the intro and the first video, popped over to the first discussion and read through it. My paper was out and ready to go and I closde my eyes, let my mind go and waited to see what the first memory that comes across my mind is because that, THAT is the one I'm going to paint...
And my mind goes blank. There are memories there in the depths of my mind, oh are there ever. Big bright shiny ones and deep dark terrifying ones but none jump forth and say 'paint me!' So I wait some more. Then I distract myself with some music, who knows? Maybe in setting up this small ritual I've scared them off, over thought them without even realizing it. Hours go by and nothing. I wait to hear something... yet nothing comes.
There are the obvious ones I could go for, like getting married, buying a house - you know, big life things. But when I think about using them for the project I get this feeling in my gut that says, nah. Not this one. Keep waiting.
When I decided to undertake this adventure, it was partially in order to break down my difficulty in not overthinking things, to learn how to trust and to let go of total control and expectations of the finished product. While I'm not consciously aware of doing any of these things while waiting for my memory to come, I wonder if they aren't hindering me somehow just the same. I continued to wait and sat down at the desk in my studio, opened youtube and this song was in my recommended que (not sure why - I suppose the Universe needed me to hear it.)
My guts churned, I cried. I knew what I needed to paint.
I'll admit, I was (and still am) a bit scared to share my memory painting. Opening myself up wide and laying my innards bare and raw for people I've 'just met' to see isn't something I do, ever. (Hell, sharing this level of myself with people I know well is rare.) So, I'm taking a fearless leap here, one of faith and of trust and I'm going to share the process and the memory here - to let it and myself be seen.
I was caught up in choosing a memory, but it was given to be by the universe in a song and a rush of clenched guts and tears. I know that it was said that we didn't need to dive into a deep, dark, heavy memory as we get our toes wet in the water of fearless painting... but that's what my guts, my soul, the gods above brought forth from the depths for me to work with. And I did.
The memory dredged up wasn't a one time event, but rather a period in time. In my late teens, my small world shattered around me. I was in an abusive relationship, my parents were divorcing and kept putting me in the middle of their spats as referee and bargaining chip, my younger siblings clung to me for love and stability. I fell into an incredibly dark and desperate place, barely clinging to any real will to continue to exist... I began to self hurt. Or cut myself, in more blunt terms. Over the course of those few years, I covered myself with hundreds of marks, always hidden by clothing as they bled and subsequently healed. 8 years after the last time, I still have 22 very visible scars just on my forearms and wrists, which people seem to be drawn to ask about. When they do, I become uncomfortable and nervous, worried they'll judge me for something that is long past. Terrified they'll look at me as 'one of those crazy people'. I decided to follow my gut and paint this time period in order to attempt to lay to rest those feelings and make peace with my past.
I put the song back on as I chose my colors; grey, grey-blue, blue, red. I let the tears fall as I sketched the shape on the paper. Hunched, cross armed, trying to maintain a small shape in the large space.
I poured her a glass of wine and we cried together. I held her close and told her it would be OK. To trust me and our gut. She hid behind me as I began to fling blue onto the background. Grabbing red next, I slathered it over the blue. As I painted, I wanted to get physical with the process, so I tossed my brush aside and went at it with my hands and fingers - mushing red into blue, creating bruised purples. (In retrospect, I think my sub-conscious was putting the colors of my hurts onto the paper, as I was always badly bruised around the cuts afterwards.) Barely stopping, I grabbed the gray and began to fill in the body - as I covered the heart, my gremlin sighed in relief. It was safe, hidden - protected. As it should be.
Dipping my fingers in red, I cut at the wrist and the chest, swooped outlines around the figure in vibrant blood tones. Looking at the wrist I felt revulsion and tried to cover it back up with gray, resulting in a pink mess. My gremlin was upset but my gut said to put the red back and taking a deep breath, I listened.
And now, my guts tell me to get up and paint. I've got a lot of work to do. I grab a dark brown and add in hair, straight and stringy, falling forward to obscure some of the face; yet another safety mechanism that I only recognize in retrospect. Taking out the black, I give her big, bold outlines. My gremlin pops up again - 'That's not your style!! That's not how you paint!! She's cartoony, ugly!' I shush her again, after all, this isn't my typical subject matter nor is it a particularly pretty memory. I keep on, this part of me, this woman on the paper - she wants to be seen. She NEEDS to be seen. And big bold lines catapult her into view, where she cannot be ignored or pushed aside.
Stepping back a moment, I don't want to cry - for the first time since starting this. I don't feel lost, miserable, ashamed when I look at her though there is still some melancholy there. A sort of heavy eerie feeling down in my bowels. My gut chimes in, since my goblin has washed her hands of this - I'm not listening to her anyway - informing me to paint white circles in the background. I get to work, filling half the background with them before my gut says 'stop!' Step away and stop. And I do. I clean up my brushes and leave her, knowing somehow that she's not quite done with me yet.
I let her sit on the easel in the studio for a day and a half. Friday, when I was on my lunch break journaling about this painting (she's taken up 10 pages in my composition book so far) I realized I was excited to see her. To get home and ask her what she needed, to work with her. The 4 hours of work were the slowest I can recall in recent history, not work volume wise, but to my rapidly spinning mind and needy heart.
When I bounded into the studio and grabbed my palette, my heart shouted 'Grab the red and the the yellow! And your favorite color blue! Oh, and white too!' And I did. Adding deeper hues of shadow to her, giving her more definition and somehow, despite blue being very melancholy - brightening her up a bit. I scribbled yellows and whites around her side, a sort of aura of hopeful energy - a sign that there was still so much life in her. A will to continue, to live. And then, my gut and heart whispered the most important part conspiratorially to me, quietly, so as not to wake and anger the sleeping gremlin. The finishing touch, the final lesson that she has to hand me:
This process, this painting, helped me in ways I can't even quite express right now because I am still absorbing it all. I plan to pin her to my wall for a while, to let her lessons sink in further, to have her help in overcoming the last remnants of shame I feel over my past like a great guardian angel birthed from a black seed in myself. My gremlin is pursing her lips at me for sharing all of this, worrying how this will be judged and for right now, I'm ignoring her and feeling so very, very free.
This journey, this adventure, has been bigger for me than I ever expected. I'm not learning new techniques, not fussing over the outcomes. Just letting the the process take me where it will... and it is an exhausting, magical, spiritual, beautiful process.
Comments from my fellow fearless painters, whose support and love I will cherish always.
Comment by Connie Hozvicka on July 16, 2012 at 3:04pm
DANIELLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
First, I have to whole heartedly--with every drip of my Soul--acknowledge the incredible courage and bravery and pure genuine FEARLESSness it took to share so openly from your heart. I feel so honored and humbled to experience your process aside you. Thank you for letting me in--letting us all in. I feel healed on some level of my own life as well by traveling through this with you.
She is beautiful. You are beautiful. Your story of rising above so much darkness in your life is beautiful.
Wonder how much a ticket to South Carolina would run me?! I'd love to wrap my arms around ya in a BIG hug!
Sending you so much LOVE!
Connie
Comment by Michelle Turbide on July 13, 2012 at 5:53pm
I can't even speak I am so blown away by your courage not only to explore this memory for yourself but to be so open and honest in sharing it with all of us. Thank you so much for letting us know you in this way. I feel blessed to be a part of your process.
Comment by Colleen McCarthy on July 13, 2012 at 3:53pm
Thank you for being so courageous and sharing your story. And especially for ignoring that gremlin - Lovelovelove you!
Comment by Sharon Bode on July 13, 2012 at 1:02pm
...right now, you are very much loved. Thank you...for sharing your pain, your tears and...your heart.
But tonight, I find myself with a glass of wine and an empty house (save the husband and animals, who are all curled up on the couch in the other room) since my friends have gone home and I figure it's time to share a bit. I've been sharing my experiences with the other gals who make up the current BIG Tribe, so I'm going to share the same experiences with all of you now. This is going to be long and very emotional, fair warning. Some bits have been copied and pasted from my original postings on the BIG forums, so they may read a little oddly.
For background, the first week of BIG was spent scribbling, doodling and generally getting into the groove of letting our intuitions guide our brushes, to let go of over inflated expectations and to get comfortable with the process. We also became familiar with our fear gremlins, those little voices inside of us that tell us something is ugly, or stupid, to give up or not to share this and that - the voice that stifles as it attempts to protect us. Now, what I'm going to share is my painting and process for week 2. Connie, our fearless leader, asked that we work with Memory in our first real, honest and fearless BIG painting. To just pick a memory, the first one that comes to mind or the one that keeps reappearing and popping in to say hello!
I watched the intro and the first video, popped over to the first discussion and read through it. My paper was out and ready to go and I closde my eyes, let my mind go and waited to see what the first memory that comes across my mind is because that, THAT is the one I'm going to paint...
And my mind goes blank. There are memories there in the depths of my mind, oh are there ever. Big bright shiny ones and deep dark terrifying ones but none jump forth and say 'paint me!' So I wait some more. Then I distract myself with some music, who knows? Maybe in setting up this small ritual I've scared them off, over thought them without even realizing it. Hours go by and nothing. I wait to hear something... yet nothing comes.
There are the obvious ones I could go for, like getting married, buying a house - you know, big life things. But when I think about using them for the project I get this feeling in my gut that says, nah. Not this one. Keep waiting.
When I decided to undertake this adventure, it was partially in order to break down my difficulty in not overthinking things, to learn how to trust and to let go of total control and expectations of the finished product. While I'm not consciously aware of doing any of these things while waiting for my memory to come, I wonder if they aren't hindering me somehow just the same. I continued to wait and sat down at the desk in my studio, opened youtube and this song was in my recommended que (not sure why - I suppose the Universe needed me to hear it.)
My guts churned, I cried. I knew what I needed to paint.
I'll admit, I was (and still am) a bit scared to share my memory painting. Opening myself up wide and laying my innards bare and raw for people I've 'just met' to see isn't something I do, ever. (Hell, sharing this level of myself with people I know well is rare.) So, I'm taking a fearless leap here, one of faith and of trust and I'm going to share the process and the memory here - to let it and myself be seen.
I was caught up in choosing a memory, but it was given to be by the universe in a song and a rush of clenched guts and tears. I know that it was said that we didn't need to dive into a deep, dark, heavy memory as we get our toes wet in the water of fearless painting... but that's what my guts, my soul, the gods above brought forth from the depths for me to work with. And I did.
The memory dredged up wasn't a one time event, but rather a period in time. In my late teens, my small world shattered around me. I was in an abusive relationship, my parents were divorcing and kept putting me in the middle of their spats as referee and bargaining chip, my younger siblings clung to me for love and stability. I fell into an incredibly dark and desperate place, barely clinging to any real will to continue to exist... I began to self hurt. Or cut myself, in more blunt terms. Over the course of those few years, I covered myself with hundreds of marks, always hidden by clothing as they bled and subsequently healed. 8 years after the last time, I still have 22 very visible scars just on my forearms and wrists, which people seem to be drawn to ask about. When they do, I become uncomfortable and nervous, worried they'll judge me for something that is long past. Terrified they'll look at me as 'one of those crazy people'. I decided to follow my gut and paint this time period in order to attempt to lay to rest those feelings and make peace with my past.
I put the song back on as I chose my colors; grey, grey-blue, blue, red. I let the tears fall as I sketched the shape on the paper. Hunched, cross armed, trying to maintain a small shape in the large space.
I poured her a glass of wine and we cried together. I held her close and told her it would be OK. To trust me and our gut. She hid behind me as I began to fling blue onto the background. Grabbing red next, I slathered it over the blue. As I painted, I wanted to get physical with the process, so I tossed my brush aside and went at it with my hands and fingers - mushing red into blue, creating bruised purples. (In retrospect, I think my sub-conscious was putting the colors of my hurts onto the paper, as I was always badly bruised around the cuts afterwards.) Barely stopping, I grabbed the gray and began to fill in the body - as I covered the heart, my gremlin sighed in relief. It was safe, hidden - protected. As it should be.
Dipping my fingers in red, I cut at the wrist and the chest, swooped outlines around the figure in vibrant blood tones. Looking at the wrist I felt revulsion and tried to cover it back up with gray, resulting in a pink mess. My gremlin was upset but my gut said to put the red back and taking a deep breath, I listened.
And now, my guts tell me to get up and paint. I've got a lot of work to do. I grab a dark brown and add in hair, straight and stringy, falling forward to obscure some of the face; yet another safety mechanism that I only recognize in retrospect. Taking out the black, I give her big, bold outlines. My gremlin pops up again - 'That's not your style!! That's not how you paint!! She's cartoony, ugly!' I shush her again, after all, this isn't my typical subject matter nor is it a particularly pretty memory. I keep on, this part of me, this woman on the paper - she wants to be seen. She NEEDS to be seen. And big bold lines catapult her into view, where she cannot be ignored or pushed aside.
Stepping back a moment, I don't want to cry - for the first time since starting this. I don't feel lost, miserable, ashamed when I look at her though there is still some melancholy there. A sort of heavy eerie feeling down in my bowels. My gut chimes in, since my goblin has washed her hands of this - I'm not listening to her anyway - informing me to paint white circles in the background. I get to work, filling half the background with them before my gut says 'stop!' Step away and stop. And I do. I clean up my brushes and leave her, knowing somehow that she's not quite done with me yet.
I let her sit on the easel in the studio for a day and a half. Friday, when I was on my lunch break journaling about this painting (she's taken up 10 pages in my composition book so far) I realized I was excited to see her. To get home and ask her what she needed, to work with her. The 4 hours of work were the slowest I can recall in recent history, not work volume wise, but to my rapidly spinning mind and needy heart.
When I bounded into the studio and grabbed my palette, my heart shouted 'Grab the red and the the yellow! And your favorite color blue! Oh, and white too!' And I did. Adding deeper hues of shadow to her, giving her more definition and somehow, despite blue being very melancholy - brightening her up a bit. I scribbled yellows and whites around her side, a sort of aura of hopeful energy - a sign that there was still so much life in her. A will to continue, to live. And then, my gut and heart whispered the most important part conspiratorially to me, quietly, so as not to wake and anger the sleeping gremlin. The finishing touch, the final lesson that she has to hand me:
This process, this painting, helped me in ways I can't even quite express right now because I am still absorbing it all. I plan to pin her to my wall for a while, to let her lessons sink in further, to have her help in overcoming the last remnants of shame I feel over my past like a great guardian angel birthed from a black seed in myself. My gremlin is pursing her lips at me for sharing all of this, worrying how this will be judged and for right now, I'm ignoring her and feeling so very, very free.
This journey, this adventure, has been bigger for me than I ever expected. I'm not learning new techniques, not fussing over the outcomes. Just letting the the process take me where it will... and it is an exhausting, magical, spiritual, beautiful process.
Comments from my fellow fearless painters, whose support and love I will cherish always.
Comment by Connie Hozvicka on July 16, 2012 at 3:04pm
DANIELLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
First, I have to whole heartedly--with every drip of my Soul--acknowledge the incredible courage and bravery and pure genuine FEARLESSness it took to share so openly from your heart. I feel so honored and humbled to experience your process aside you. Thank you for letting me in--letting us all in. I feel healed on some level of my own life as well by traveling through this with you.
She is beautiful. You are beautiful. Your story of rising above so much darkness in your life is beautiful.
Wonder how much a ticket to South Carolina would run me?! I'd love to wrap my arms around ya in a BIG hug!
Sending you so much LOVE!
Connie
Comment by Michelle Turbide on July 13, 2012 at 5:53pm
I can't even speak I am so blown away by your courage not only to explore this memory for yourself but to be so open and honest in sharing it with all of us. Thank you so much for letting us know you in this way. I feel blessed to be a part of your process.
Comment by Colleen McCarthy on July 13, 2012 at 3:53pm
Thank you for being so courageous and sharing your story. And especially for ignoring that gremlin - Lovelovelove you!
Comment by Sharon Bode on July 13, 2012 at 1:02pm
...right now, you are very much loved. Thank you...for sharing your pain, your tears and...your heart.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Not Quite Dead Yet
(Oh Monty Python, what would I do without you?)
Lately, I've been doing that thing that I do when there is too much going on and I need to dial it back. I've been cocooning myself up in art and literature, recollecting myself at the end of the day and tossing anything seemingly extraneous to the wind. Unfortunately, writing has been one of those things lately and while I miss it, I'm not going to let it stress me out.
My weight's been being tossed around a bit more than usual and I'm really stepping up my game in the social departments of work and life. Saturday I sat down with my boss and basically said, cut the shit or I'm done. I'm a good person and will work my ass of but I'm done being taken advantage of. Normally, I'm the girl who tries to please everyone but you know what? I'm running short on time and patience these days, so I'm just going to start telling it like it is and quit beating around the bush. A plus side to this whole being more vocal and less shy thing is I've been making greater efforts to connect with new people and make some friends.
I've given up on trying to balance everything I want to do in a day/week - it's impossible. I can't have equal amounts of time for everything I'd like to do and still sleep. So, I'm instead learning to focus on finding a sort of harmony that I can be happy with. Maybe some days I'll paint for 3 - 4 hours and not clean. Maybe others, I'll clean and go hang out with friends and not paint at all. Some days I'll sleep in and not weed the garden and others I'll get up at the ass crack of dawn and greet Apollo with coffee in hand. Some weeks I'll have loads of time to fuss with my altar and get outside for a few hours to bask in momma's glow and others I'll only have time to light a candle or smile at a crow. And you know what? Those are all perfectly ok... I just need to understand and accept that and be kind to myself.
Speaking of art and painting for hours, I'm into week 2 of BIG and let me tell you, so far it has been worth every cent and every minute of the time I've put in to it. I've got a lot to say about that and a long ass story to share about the memory painting I did this week, about how it really got deep in me and helped me realize and come to terms with things that I'm going to write up and share soon enough. It's been really powerful, magical stuff.
And now that I've rambled on for a bit.. here's the past week in photos, complete with juicy bits I didn't mention above! ;)
P.S. In less than 24 hours, my two best friends will be here to stay with me for a whole week! These are the two girls who know literally everything about me, who don't take my shit and don't sugar coat things with me. The two people I know I can go forever and a day without seeing and pick up right where we left off, no questions asked. We've been getting into trouble together for 25 years and I cannot wait for them to get here!!
Lately, I've been doing that thing that I do when there is too much going on and I need to dial it back. I've been cocooning myself up in art and literature, recollecting myself at the end of the day and tossing anything seemingly extraneous to the wind. Unfortunately, writing has been one of those things lately and while I miss it, I'm not going to let it stress me out.
My weight's been being tossed around a bit more than usual and I'm really stepping up my game in the social departments of work and life. Saturday I sat down with my boss and basically said, cut the shit or I'm done. I'm a good person and will work my ass of but I'm done being taken advantage of. Normally, I'm the girl who tries to please everyone but you know what? I'm running short on time and patience these days, so I'm just going to start telling it like it is and quit beating around the bush. A plus side to this whole being more vocal and less shy thing is I've been making greater efforts to connect with new people and make some friends.
I've given up on trying to balance everything I want to do in a day/week - it's impossible. I can't have equal amounts of time for everything I'd like to do and still sleep. So, I'm instead learning to focus on finding a sort of harmony that I can be happy with. Maybe some days I'll paint for 3 - 4 hours and not clean. Maybe others, I'll clean and go hang out with friends and not paint at all. Some days I'll sleep in and not weed the garden and others I'll get up at the ass crack of dawn and greet Apollo with coffee in hand. Some weeks I'll have loads of time to fuss with my altar and get outside for a few hours to bask in momma's glow and others I'll only have time to light a candle or smile at a crow. And you know what? Those are all perfectly ok... I just need to understand and accept that and be kind to myself.
Speaking of art and painting for hours, I'm into week 2 of BIG and let me tell you, so far it has been worth every cent and every minute of the time I've put in to it. I've got a lot to say about that and a long ass story to share about the memory painting I did this week, about how it really got deep in me and helped me realize and come to terms with things that I'm going to write up and share soon enough. It's been really powerful, magical stuff.
And now that I've rambled on for a bit.. here's the past week in photos, complete with juicy bits I didn't mention above! ;)
The desk in my studio, shot so it looks a lot more tidy than it really is!
Luna's public debut and first trip to the park! She was really good with all the other dogs, but we need to work a LOT on not jumping on people. *sigh*
Painty fingers! Was working on a large painting for both the Summer of Color and Dirty Footprint Studio's Total Alignment prompt: Energize.
The impulse purchase of the year... a brand spanking new car! It was actually a very hard decision for me, because I traded in my SUV, which was the first and only thing I bought and paid off all on my own. But in the end, it was high mileage, bad on gas and had a enough issues that it would have cost way too much to repair her. So, this is my sporty new eco friendly ride.
P.S. In less than 24 hours, my two best friends will be here to stay with me for a whole week! These are the two girls who know literally everything about me, who don't take my shit and don't sugar coat things with me. The two people I know I can go forever and a day without seeing and pick up right where we left off, no questions asked. We've been getting into trouble together for 25 years and I cannot wait for them to get here!!
Sunday, July 1, 2012
The Summer of Color - Strawberry Lemonade
As ever the husband and I have quite a few projects going on and with the heat index reading well over 110*F, we've been hiding out of the sun. So, for this week's color prompt, Strawberry Lemonade Punch, I once again broke out the sketchbook so I could work in between other things (prepping food for the week, clearing out closets, re-organizing, making cucumber vodka.. you know, all sorts of things!).
So here is this week's piece for the summer of color:
It is far, far, far more pink than anything I've done before and honestly, I don't know that I like it. It's been quite a while since I worked with colored pencils really, having given them up to devote more time to learning watercolors and acrylics, and I sort of think this one looks a bit like I did it with crayons. Again, that's what sketchbooks are for I suppose - practice and trial runs. Who knows, maybe this bright drawing will grow on me, or you all will like it. After all, we usually are our own worst critics!
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