Gratitude*Sunday

I'm joining Taryn at Wooly Moss Roots and several other lovely bloggers in honoring the things for which we've been grateful for throughout the week.

If you would like to join us, just click the image at the bottom of this post.

This Week I am Grateful For:

* The beautiful weather throughout most of the week and the rain my baby plants so desperately were craving at the end.

* Walks downtown, hand in hand with my husband.

* Getting up the courage to really look inside myself, look at my past and begin to take the steps I need to in order to reclaim this life of mine.

* Hearing what I needed to hear, when I needed to hear it most, from a wonderful inspiration and friend. Thank you, Connie, for once more putting yourself and your emotions out there and touching my heart. You can read the post that touched me so very muchhere.

* Getting my garden started, even if it was a bit later than I'd like and with baby plants instead of seeds.

* Time with friends. Lots of great laughs, some venting, some catching up and so much love.

* Taking a step back and realizing that this life, my life, is wonderful and beautiful exactly as it is. Knowing that so long as I love and am loved, so long as I follow my heart and intuition every little thing is going to be alright.

* Urgent care centers being open late enough that when dinner gives me heartburn and reflux so badly I can't breath for over an hour, I can get some help. That was really pretty scary.

* Nods from the Universe. Full Moon Magic.

* The first official roses of the year. They bloomed later than usual this year, normally they're out by my birthday. This just makes them extra special, being discovered on a rainy day.

* My guy bringing me home my all time favorite bad tummy comfort food. Chicken and stars. From a can! Don't judge me.

* Getting rid of all the old black and bleak dinnerware in the kitchen and replacing it with a hodge podge of brightly colored stuff. Noting that my tastes have changed dramatically over the last decade and honestly enjoying it.

* Hot coffee and a cuddly sweatshirt on a chilly day.

* My amazing bed my awesome ass husband built for me. Yes, I got the idea from Pinterest (aka the devil) but that he went to work on it so quickly and made it exactly the way I wanted it, makes me feel so very loved. It's perfect. And yes, he built the entire bed frame. Not just the headboard.

Before I prettified it further...

After.

* Having the courage to post up videos on my art blog, Heartroot Studio to answer some FAQs and help explain my process a little bit. I almost didn't go through with it, because hearing myself speak is weird and I'm horrendously self conscious at the best of times but I posted them up anyway. Go check them out if you're curious about my art. :)

To join in Gratitude Sunday, click on the image below! Happy Sunday, lovelies.

How Do I Start?

One of the most common questions I receive from friends, family and strangers is "I want to try using art to release, to heal, to veg out, for fun, etc. How do I start?"

Honestly, I'm not a professional teacher. Or a therapist. Or anything like that. I'm just a girl who's been creating since she was a kid and has finally found the courage to break out of the box I'd been placed in and stayed in for the majority of my life. I'm now a woman who makes art the way I want to make it, using the skills I have and my intuition and surroundings as inspiration and not someone who sits down and plans a masterpiece from start to finish. And while I'd like to take credit for doing this all on my own, I've had a lot of help from the beautiful Connie at Dirty Footprints Studio and a tribe of amazing, fearless women who have taken this journey with me.

While I can't guarantee that my advice here will really help you do all of the things you want to achieve with art nor promise that it will be easy to just let go (because it isn't) I'm going to do my best to answer that most frequent of questions. I'm not going to teach you how to draw, there are plenty of talented people, inspiring classes and great books out there to help you out with that. This isn't going to be a piece filled with deep lectures on perspective and color theory. So, if you're ok with all of that, let's get to that questions above. And keep in mind, this is just my own experience I'm sharing with you.

"How do I start?"

For me, I started out being nervous about trying something new. This is normal. Whether you've been drawing your entire life or you're brand new to the world of art making, stepping outside of your comfort zone can (and most likely will) cause nerves. The important thing is not to let them stop you in your tracks and keep you from starting. So, how did I overcome my nerves?

I used materials that were familiar and fun. For me this was brightly colored oil pastels which, if you are unfamiliar with them, is like the greatest crayon you will ever use in your life. And who doesn't love crayons? Of course, they're made from different materials are more vibrant and blend a hell of a lot better but if you've held a crayon and enjoy coloring this is the medium for you. If you're more comfortable with paint, then grab some paint in bright colors that catch your eye.

Next, pick something to put your pastel/paint on. Don't make it expensive because that will most likely stress you out to make things perfect. We aren't going for perfect here, we're going for whatever happens, happens. I personally like to use cardboard, mixed media paper (because it's thick and doesn't buckle under heavy layers of color) and card stock. I'd recommend staying away from thin paper and anything with a waxy surface (like poster board.)

Once you've gotten your supplies, get yourself relaxed and ready to paint. Pour yourself a nice hot cup of coffee, put on some music, take a few deep breaths, grab a color and just start. Scribble, doodle some shapes, make some funky lines. Whatever you need to do to get started, just do it. And don't worry how it looks because honestly? It doesn't matter. You don't have to show anyone your work if you don't want to and even if you want to, this isn't for them. It's for you. So fuck expectations, leave those guys outside of this moment and just let whatever wants to come out do so.

Don't worry about perspective, anatomy, color theory. Fuck all that noise. Go with what moves you. Follow your heart, your hand, your gut, the painting and leave your mind out of it... that big lump of brain tissue's got enough to worry about so give it a break when you come to your art. When your fear inevitably creeps up and tells you 'this is garbage', 'that looks terrible', 'why is her arm all noodly?' acknowledge it, give it a cookie and send it on its way. Don't let it stop you.

There are tons of drawings and paintings I've done that I don't show here (or anywhere) because they're ugly as sin and honestly? I don't like them. And you know what? It's fine to not like the outcome because when you're painting from the heart, it's the journey that matters most, not the outcome. So let the emotions and ideas leap from your heart on to the paper; if you want to cry, cry. If you want to laugh, laugh. This is all about you and your art practice. There's no right or wrong way to it; it just is.

While I was drawing yesterday I decided to document my process a little bit, since that is my second most frequently asked question. How do you do what you do? Well, honestly, I'm terrible at explaining and it's always different but I attempted to give it a shot. And in the spirit of Fearlessness, I even took some videos with my iPhone. I'm used to drawing with two hands; one drawing and one holding the paper steady so having one hand to draw and one hand holding the camera did lead to a little shaky cam and a few random odd angles but overall, I think they're ok.

The weirdest part, is hearing my own voice recorded. I was almost like "Nope. Nope, not sharing this. I sound weird." But, I realize that's just how I sound and that deleting them is just wussing out. So here's a peek at my process. I hope you enjoy it. :)

P.S. Flickr seems to have made the volume on these sort of quiet, so I'm sorry about that! I talk in all but the first video, so you may have to turn the volume up a bit. Next time I do videos, I'll upload them elsewhere. (open to suggestions if you've got them.)

Materials. As you can see, I'm using cheapy oil pastels that come in those value boxes of art supplies around the holidays. I *love* the boxes and while the supplies aren't the best I don't like to be wasteful. Also, I'd like to reiterate that you don't need to spend a lot on supplies.


Beginning. This is just the initial outline of my figure. I don't always draw figures, but I do most of the time.


Shading. I've used blue and purple here simply because that's what I felt the need to use. I know that sounds very woo-woo, but there really isn't a better way for me to describe it.

Working up a face. No talking yet.


Showing how I work in highlights and moosh things together. I talk in this one! Just a head's up for you noseys who just want to see what I sound like.


Smoothing out the figure and adding the shading back in.


Figure's skin all done.




Backgrounds







A little technique tip.





All done!

The colors in this are more accurate than the photos, because this is a scan of the final piece. You can see I used the scrape technique in this one in certain places.

I hope this helps get some of you started on the path to your own painting/art practice and helps clear up some of the mystery surrounding my technique. Let me know what you think and if you'd like to see more in the future, I might do longer, edited videos of some of my larger paintings. It might be fun for me to see how things evolve in video form rather than just photos, since I'm a total nut for process. ;)

On Family and Fear

This blog's become a bit of a clusterfuck of emotions of late. This is another brain dump on the road to healing. Unedited, aside from adding this wee disclaimer at the top.

The concept of family, as in blood, is vague and damn near alien to me. And now that I'm getting older and getting to a point in my life where I'm having big thinks and wanting that connection to fall back on, it's really, really bothering me. 

Growing up, I had no real relationship with any of my extended family save an aunt or two and my maternal grandmother (sort of). As in, we're friendly, but we aren't close. When we see each other we can have a laugh and catch up, but when I think about grandmothers in the comforting, matronly, crone sense... that's not my Nan. I love her, but if I need comfort or wisdom I'm on my own. My father's father passed away long before I was born, his mother lived 1200+ miles away in the remote reaches of Florida with her daughter and my cousin (who was my other aunt's daughter. Confusing much?). And sadly, after my parents divorced, just the sound of my voice on the phone would drive Grandma in to fits and she'd tell me I sound just like "that whore mother of mine." or ask things like "get yourself knocked up like the tramp you are yet?" Needless to say, our relationship ended pretty quickly. When she passed one, I mourned the thought of what could have been and what was when I was younger, not the woman in later years. 

My mother's father lived nearby, but for reasons that I'm still not clear on, they didn't speak and if they were at an event together (I.E. a wedding) my mother would be so angry and uncomfortable the whole time and heaven forbid the man spoke to her; she'd lose her shit and storm out, my tiny hand being crunched as I was dragged out behind her. For some reason growing up, I was the only child that ever got dragged to boring family events. And yes, as a kid weddings were pretty darn boring until the dancing started. Needless to say, I had no relationship with him, either. And my opinion of him was horribly skewed by the fact that every time I saw him, my mother would end up crying uncontrollably. And in fact, I don't think he ever even knew mine or my siblings names right up until the day he died simply asking me at family gatherings when I'd bump in to him 'You're Naomi's daughter, right?' And even after he passed and the whole family got together to remember him (at my mom's house, of all places!) I still couldn't tell you anything about him, aside from his name. And I don't want to ask my mom, because she's been sort of haunted whenever his name comes up. My understanding of things at this point is that the years of sadness and not speaking were over something that was, in retrospect, trivial and that she regrets those lost years. A valuable lesson that I'm pulling out of my squirrel brain right now and waving at myself like a giant damn flag. 

Because, I haven't spoken to my mother since January. My reasoning is simple, but in effect trivial, just like her and my grandfather. Every time I call her and get her on the phone, she sounds distracted or has company or gripes about my sister/father/family. And she never calls me, I'm always the one picking up the phone which for me is huge. Because I'm shy (yes, even with my own family), I'm an introvert and I hate talking on the phone. HATE IT. I don't even like talking on the phone with the hubster when he's away on business trips, but I do it because the need for closeness outweighs my weirdo brain malfunctions. So, each year on my birthday I give myself the gift of not turning my phone on. Yes, I miss every birthday message, call and text but I get to have a joyous uninterrupted day and the next morning I get to listen to all these amazing voice mails from people who love me which effectively extends my birthday by a day. Every single year there's a great voice mail from my mom so I couldn't wait to get the one for my 30th! I turned my phone on and... no voice mail. So I waited, thinking the phone may be downloading things. Nope. Finally, a beep and a single text message that just says, "Your sister, Pete (my stepdad), Nan and I wish you a happy birthday." That's it. I looked at Joe and he looked at me and all he said was "uh-oh" as I lost it. My dad, the king of forgetting birthdays, had called and left me a message. Joe's mom and sister had called and left me a message. And all my mother could send her first born was a lousy text message. 

I hate technology sometimes. But I digress. 

My relationship with my parents has been, rocky, at best. Growing up, I remember a time when we were happy but I remember a lot more times when we weren't. I don't recall feeling as loved or nurtured as other people seem to. I remember feeling like a pain in the ass a lot, feeling very small and apologizing a lot for all sorts of things. (I still apologize a lot.) We don't have photos with all of us smiling and cheesing it up. I remember my parents working opposite shifts and not being in the same place often or for long and that when they were in the same place for too long, they always argued. Because of this, we never went on family vacations, rarely went on outings and my parents, as far as I can recall, were always cranky and tired. But even so, I loved them with all of my teeny tiny heart and there were good things too; helping my parents out in the huge vegetable garden we grew every year, helping mom take care of the flower beds, going fishing with my dad, singing along to shitty 80's pop and eating Wendy's Frostys while mom commuted to work with me in tow, laying on dad's big old belly while he read me stories. But, most of those memories get buried deep by all the painful stuff; the fighting, the refereeing their divorce, watching them both cry, the constantly needing to be quiet lest I annoy one of them, their working all of the damn time and us never really getting to spend time together, the under-handed insults slung back and forth. The destruction of Christmas and eventual affair. Those were the things that happened more often and those are the things that have really stuck with and shaped me in to the person I currently am. 

The one who looks at families who love and support each other like they're an exhibit at the circus. The one who lets her shyness and terror of being judged and found not good enough ride on her back and keep her from opening up and possibly being a part of one of those families. The one who's afraid to take a chance and let people in to her heart, to pick up the phone and call or email or write. The one who doesn't add family members on Facebook because she's terrified of what they'll say because, dammit, she's tired of being hurt. The one who, even right now, is wondering if it's too late to try to cultivate the familial relationships she's wanting and needing. 

The one who hopes that it isn't and hopes that people will understand and forgive her for being such a shy, quiet, guarded girl.

DEEP: Nearing the End

When I began my journey with DEEP, I had meant to keep up with the updates a bit better than I have. In my head, I had this vision that I'd update every week like clockwork and share all the progress and revelations as they happened.

But, as is often the case, life had other plans and while I was painting up a storm, sitting down and writing felt so very heavy and taxing. Like it was going to ruin my flow to attach all this meaning to things as they progressed. And so, I didn't write the updates I was initially hoping to. And you know what? I'm OK with that. I'd rather have nothing written than have it sound forced.

That being said, DEEP officially ended a few weeks back but my painting is still hanging on the wall. I don't have photos of it in it's most current and, most likely, finished state but I have some that are pretty close. It's been an interesting journey, from a door sketched on to a small paper to it's current incarnation. The painting still wants me to add to it, to work in some details and go even deeper in to the juicy stuff it's got for me. And I'm cool with that. It's no rush, I don't need the wall space for anything else at the moment and I'm curious to see what else it needs. I'll update on it again at some point in the future when it's finished and I've had time to really sit and reflect on it. For now though, I'm content with just looking back at its evolution without applying too much meaning to it. So, here's a look back at it:

What I will say though, is that while I was initially terrified of going through this process, I'm incredibly grateful that I didn't close the first video and walk away from my computer like my fear initially drove me to. I'm so glad that I came back, sat with Connie and the rest of my painting sisters, talked it out and worked up the courage to just begin. When we began, I was a bit like "I don't get how this will help me with my painting practice... just one piece for 6 weeks." I was skeptical, at best. But looking back now, I realize that not only did this draw me deeper in to my painting practice, making it a priority and cementing my relationship with art even further, but it also helped me to be a bit more brave and to get better at ruthlessly trusting my intuition. So what if my brain says, "NO! I don't like it!"? If my heart and my guts are saying 'Yes!', then that's where I need to go.

Mostly this has happened with my art, but I can see it breaking in to other aspects of my life as well. So once more, I can truly say, art can change your life. It has mine.

Monday Musings: Reconciling Yourself

It's been a wee bit since I've really stopped by my cyber cottage. Seems like my little tribe of bloggers has been pretty quiet as of late too, so I suppose it's not just me. 

Between the onset of Spring and there being some big thoughts and decisions marinating in my brain, I've taken a turtle's approach to cyber space lately; pulling inside myself. And when I'm not all tucked up in my shell, I'm basking in the sun. Literally. Iced coffee in hand in my chair on the patio. My muse has been snoozing and I've taken a sabbatical from painting and drawing as well.

We've been working hard to get the gardens going, if a bit later than I preferred and as I said, I've been spending a lot of time in my head. Just thinking, healing, growing. You know how that goes. I'm doing a lot of spring cleaning in the house and in myself; pitching the old and that which no longer serves me to make way for new, bigger things. And I'm not going to lie. Some of that's been really, really hard. Especially the stuff inside myself. Letting go of labels that served me so well, realizing that as much as it used to be me, some things aren't anymore and clinging to those thoughts, memories and labels is only holding me back. They're a safety blanket from a past time and it's time to let them go. 

But telling yourself that and actually doing it are not the same thing and one is most certainly more difficult than the other. Realizing that I'm not 18 or 22 or 26 any more, that I'm not some big eyed kid who can stay out all night and party every night, that I don't have all this time to just fuck around and put things off until tomorrow any more. That I don't have the time or emotional stamina any more to give too many fucks about people who aren't going to actually enrich my life anymore. I don't have the time or emotional stamina to keep up one sided relationships and chase after people with the emotional range of a teaspoon. 

Right now, I'm working on reconciling conflicting parts of myself. The parts that say 'Growing up is over-rated!' with the parts that say 'Dammit, you're an adult now so knock off the shit.' And it's so hard for me, because I never really had those good adult role-models. I know, it sounds like an excuse but I assure you, it's not. My mom got married and popped out a bunch of kids because that's what grown-ups did and never gave herself the chance to figure out who she was. And so it was, at the age of 38 - just 8 years older than I am now - she packed up her shit and ran away from home. Leaving her family behind to find happiness and herself. And so, I grew up. Very fast. From 16 to 36 and took care of my siblings. 

Why is all this relevant? Well, because even though I've taken lots of time since then to heal, to be young and have friends, to party and chase wild dreams, kiss random boys and live every day to the fullest... I'm still terrified that I'm going to end up being like my mother. That I'm going to make the decision in the next few years as to whether or not to add another human to our family and that I'm going to snap and break down and flake off with a thin excuse and expect all those broken hearts to just get over it and understand. To not understand how 14 years later, your daughter is still bitter and fucked up over the whole thing. Deep down, I know I'm not her and that the chances of my doing the same are slim, but it's still a fear. Especially given that in my mind's eye the image of 'being a grown up or a good mom' essentially means being a slave to your family and house, running a hundred thousand errands, having no time for yourself, dressing like a church lady, driving a mini van *shudder shudder* and essentially being boring as shit. And do I know this is ridiculous? 

Absolutely. Especially given all the awesome women I have in my life here in my cyber home and in my circle of friends - which is honestly the largest group of women friends I've had in my life. But there's still the Peter Pan in me that stomps his feet and refuses to listen to reason, that says 'I'm never growing up!' And I know I don't have to, that I never have to let my inner child go and quit being myself. But as I said, it's going to take a lot of cleaning up and inner talk to reconcile all of this in to cohesion. I have faith that I'll get there, especially given all of the wonderful role-models and the amazing support system I have in my life right now but it's taxing. And it's going to take some time and I'm not the most patient of people, especially with myself. Learning curves all around.

Breathe. Release. Repeat.