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June 09th, 2018

6/9/2018

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Houston Art Tribe Vlog

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Houston Art Tribe has officially begun! My introductory video is a bit on the amateur side with my face rather close to the camera, which is actually my iphone. When I had it further away from me, it sounded like I had my back to the camera. One would have to turn the volume way up, and the fan at the end of the room would have won your attention. Of course, I could have turned the fan off, but this is June in Houston, Texas, so... well, no.


Clearly the videos will improve over time as I add some better equipment for this project, and as soon as I have the funds, I am eager to do so! I also believe these episodes will become much more engaging as I bring in different artists each time, usually a one-on-one kind of visit. We will talk about their work, their process, their studio or workspace and any issues and/or concerns they may have, along with any accomplishments, or just some good teaching moments. It’s really about the spontaneity of conversation, which generally happens naturally for most of us as we live our lives off camera.

That is the trick. How do we forget about that focused lens watching us so that we are able to speak in a comfortable, natural way? That’s when the good stuff comes forward, when we are ourselves, allowing our voice to flow freely. As stated in this first video, Houston Art Tribe is a “seriously, laid-back, studio-vibe conversation between artists”. So, I say to you artists, speak your truth!

There is a website now in the working, and there will be other social media links to help people find this video log, referred to affectionately by Youtubers as a “vlog”. Yes, I am vlogging, another modern-day word that sounds like a new form of repetitive exercise that spell check is certain should not exist.

Sometimes I feel like my feet are in mud, like one of those dreams you have when you try to run but you keep sinking in deeper. I truly am excited about this project, as I am already working on the next episode, yet I am that artist who needs her studio time, and perhaps it is just this unwavering heat? Really, can I blame it on the heat?

In most cases, I would have said to be ready with all these avenues before launching this vlog, but perhaps the motto to be “laid-back”, to really enjoy the process, has had a deeper and rather relaxing influence on me. As it has been said, the destination is the journey. So there it is, slowly but surely forming into what it will become, and hopefully benefitting a wide audience of Houston area artists!
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May 11th, 2018

5/11/2018

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New Series Gathering, Dogs Playing

PictureDaddy's Chair, oil on wood, 16"x 16"
This a bit of a teaser. I have these stretches of what seems like no productivity, at least if you look at my website and especially my blog. In reality, it has been about working on a new series of paintings that are gathering for a healthy body of work to exhibit somewhere. Not sure where that will be, but feel confident it will happen when and where it is supposed to happen. The certain thing is how it feels working on these paintings, how it is flowing with my natural vibe, which is supposed to happen, but can often elude us artists. The subject not only holds my interest, it allows me to uncover something new with each piece.

It’s about my dogs. They are with me 24/7, as I converted my garage into a full time studio. I generally stay home, working on sketching, painting, breaking for lunch and dinner, the internet, some tea and/or snacks, garden work, more internet, or just resting for a bit. But here is the thing, I am excited and having fun with this new work!

PictureThe beginning of a painting
These are not portraits. They are renderings of the dogs doing various things that they do throughout their day, their play being a big part of the focus. Having said this, the one image posted above is the only portrait thus far, but feel it still falls in line with what they do, or what Louie does, who is our oldest at 14, and he loves to sleep on my partner’s favorite chair. He gave me this look, which kind of said to me, “I know this is daddy’s chair, but aren’t I cute when I am happy lying up here?”. So the title, “Daddy’s Chair” seemed appropriate. My partner, who is daddy (dog owners understand the daddy/mommy concept for furry babies) actually pushed me to do a portrait of Louie because of his age, sort of an attempt to still the fast-approaching inevitable, which neither of us wants to ever think about.


My material is so close to my heart, and always gifting me with new ideas. We live with 3 dogs, one Husky mix, Sophie, who is only a year and a half younger than Louie, at 12 plus. She has always been more playful, so she is the playmate of our nearly 2 year old, yellow-lab mix, Ellie, who is already a pro at bringing more laughter into our lives. They all charm us for reasons as different as their personalities, so when I sat in my studio a couple of months ago sketching for possible ideas, the dogs started into another play session, and I was completely sold.

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I believe my love of painting with oils will never diminish. Some years ago, I moved from canvas to wood panels, and have never looked back. I love the smoothness of the surface, and its undeniable durability, although some artists are concerned about wood changing shape, and it always does, even if only slightly. I do build my own panels and consider this when doing so, making them quite strong and therefore, less flexible, quite capable of handling our steamy, gulf coast environment. As a matter of fact, they are so solid that I have found it a good practice to recycle some old paintings that are less than memorable to something more alive and current. I know, some would say never to do such a thing, but much of my older work seems far from precious and are always adding to the never-ending issue of storage space, a common problem for most artists


In this image (left), you can see behind the sketch of the two dogs some imagery of the previous painting.  If you see lots of bony fish, you would be correct. It was time for it to go to the ethers of retired, creative efforts, wherever that place is. In this case, after a good sanding it landed under a layer of new gesso. No one will miss it... certainly not me. In the meantime, I will happily keep my readers informed as this new series progresses.








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Where's The Art?

3/8/2018

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I love to hang my laundry outside.
Where's The Art?

It’s coming! That’s what I keep telling myself as I get sidetracked with all these things: the garden, the dogs, family, friends, attending art events, Youtubing (so much to say here), laundry (above), more gardening, grocery shopping, cooking, an odd moment of house cleaning and even more gardening! I think it has to do with that primal need to start new life and after all, it’s Spring!
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Early March garden 2018
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The Garden

Every year I start some kind of edible plant project, hoping to have a sustainable food source for the year. In reality, that usually consists of a good amount of tomatoes and cucumbers, but not much else. This year, I decided to grow some hardy greens and root veggies, along with a couple of large, cherry, tomato plants. I will plant sweet potatoes in May as I am growing the slips for this right now. I have a decent amount of herbs and other culinary delights, including spinach, vining spinach, celery, turnips, carrots, radishes, beets, taro, collards, kale, red leaf lettuce, arugula, Swiss chard, broccoli, two pomegranate trees, two kinds of cauliflower, chives, cilantro, sage, oregano, mint, two kinds of rosemary, two kinds of thyme, two kinds of parsley, and three kinds of basil. I just felt the need to list them all, probably to boost my sense of accomplishment and remind myself why my studio felt left out.

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The Art

Studio time does happen and painting has been the focus. Seems I am off in another direction after painfully interacting with one piece for a couple of weeks that never felt right. Why did I let that go so long? Seems I often find myself perplexed, but not enough to drop something, so I keep it going, certain I can solve the thing. But when I finally did put it aside, I simplified my approach. This usually means it’s time to just sketch what is in the room around me, which often opens up a whole new view, and tends to let in a little magic, if I just let it happen. This will likely be a new series of work and I will have more on this in another post.

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YouTube

Is it just me, or is Youtube the new form of entertainment? Maybe I am slow on this one. To say I watch way too much Youtube lately, is an understatement. It probably started a few years ago when I became infatuated with the tiny house movement, but more recently, it is about RV life. I started looking into camper trailers, as we thought it would be a good way to take our dogs with us for a trip to west Texas. I do so love west Texas. Also, it would be fun to go camping, maybe a short weekend getaway on occasion. I was curious about these small, so-called "egg campers" with their all-fiberglass shells. There are even some that are made in Texas – Casita is this maker, with a perfect compact size, functionality and sexy curves to go with it. They do come in a bit pricey, but they never lose their value as they are well-made and therefore, long lasting.

In this process of searching, I found an entire culture of people who not only travel in these various, mobile structures, they often live in them! Some even live in vans! And not what you would think of at first, or maybe you wouldn’t, but I remember the infamous Saturday Night Live skit with Chris Farley about “living in a van down by the river”… very funny, but not what I found.

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Instead, it was all ages, all kinds of educational backgrounds, cultural diversity, some with money, some not so much, but always living on the wind and that questionable edge, often not knowing what’s next. And there lies the excitement, the adventure and the freedom from what most of us view as ordinary life. Life that often traps us into routine spending, brainwashed thinking and buying, a wasteful lifestyle, collecting all the latest stuff, paying a mortgage on a house full of even more stuff. Often, it is a big, expensive home with many rooms and all of that stuff and maybe one day, we stop and wonder if this is what we are here for? Is this really our dream of a good life?

These nomads spend much of their time connecting with nature, and on occasion, connecting with others who are somewhat, like-minded. The nature part gets my attention, but I wouldn’t want to always be on the road. I feel like I need a home base, and not necessarily where I am now. However, I do crave a mind melt with nature, and love the idea of a trip into the wild a few times a year. A nice reprieve from the city, from the fast pace, the noise, the pollution, and the horrendous, Houston traffic!

It does appear that the number of individuals joining this movement is rapidly growing. Part of this may be due to the cost of living in the cities. Even where I live there is a change happening as many people I know are being priced out of their own neighborhoods. I do wonder how this will all end up in a few years, and are there fewer younger people buying homes? At any rate, I am definitely attracted to downsizing and leaving behind a smaller footprint.

Back to the Youtubers, there is one of my favorites, Jill Elizabeth, who has termed these perpetual wanderers, “Road Culture”. She says her journey is within for now, as she sits in the middle of what seems like a very desolate part of New Mexico. She is on the philosophical scale end of the wildly different mix of people with YouTube channels about RV life. I find her to be quite relatable, although I could not be so isolated as she is. It is her personal journey and she is always a pleasure to listen to.

Others are about the basics of traveling or living in a camper of some kind. Some are more about their adventures and their interaction with others while enjoying what they find. Many talk about living for free while camping (dispersed camping) somewhere on public land, BLM land – Bureau of Land Management, or staying in a National Forest, National Parks and State Parks. The rules are quite different for all of them, especially if you have dogs. It is a fascinating subject to me, obviously, and felt the need to share it.  At any rate, less Youtube and more studio time is ahead!
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December 28th, 2017

12/28/2017

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Finding Calm, Being Peace

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Lights in The Heights, Houston, Tx, Christmas 2017
Writing during this holiday season, I am reminded of how the end of each year is more like a turning point, a close to another chapter with the celebratory events of the holidays to see it through. For me, the Christmas lights always inspire, as they shine their brightness with symbolic meaning, awakening hope and joy where there is often despair and darkness. This human need for light is simply engrained in our DNA and a primal call to our ancestral connection with the warm glow of a fire. I am always happy to end each year with these magical, little lights. They are the jewels on top.

When I think about what stands out in 2017, I see that it was and still is the need for calm, to escape the overwhelming news, and a longing for the safeness of the ordinary. I felt like surrounding myself with simple things, easy tasks, quiet mornings, feel-good movies, stories, books and definitely no news. It’s not that I want to be in the dark about what is going on, I just want to be sane enough to handle it, and to somehow make a difference. News events today seem heavier than I can ever remember, entrenching us, permeating our collective being to the core. It can seem more like a nightmarish, science-fiction movie instead of reality. Fiction like this would not be believed. I would walk away from such a film shaken, but certain I could go home and all would be fine. But no, it is global warming, massive loss of habitat, thousands of species extinct, fires, floods, hurricanes, earthquakes, violence, hate, cruelty, vulgar narcissism, misogyny, bigotry and a monstrous greed leading the way. It is all this heavy stuff happening, seeping up to the surface, no longer able to be contained under the wound that will not heal until the festering and sickness are pushed out.

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On the personal side of news, one of the hardest things to face in life, especially during the holidays, is the loss of a loved one. I am saddened by so much news of friends who have lost someone this year. Every time we follow our hearts and fall in love, we are eventually made aware that it is not permanent. Maybe the love is always there, but our physical reality is not. To live as long as I have is to make this experience unavoidable.

We are more connected than we know, even if only by a remote, social network like Facebook, which brings all kinds of news, often from people who are only internet friends. There is one such who has so touched my heart. Perhaps it is the thread of being a parent and sharing our deepest fear, one that she has painfully realized. Most of us will not touch it, it puts such a horror upon us; that of losing a child. I have the deepest sympathy for her, for all who are feeling the pain of loss. My gratitude expands every time these sad stories awaken what I have in my life. The love of others is priceless.

I was searching for a short video, wanting something moving with a little holiday charm. It is yet another way to lighten the load. I was actually looking for the animation with the boy who flies over a winter wonderland with his snowman, Walking in the Air, which is a short clip from the full 27 minute animation, The Snowman. It is one of my favorites, and tends to fill me with a sense of wonder as I slip back into my own childhood just a bit. It was so easy for me to go into that imaginative world as a child, and something tells me I should visit this place more often today.
While looking for this video, I first found Escape, another short Christmas animation. It is a simple, sweet, story with a music score that I hope won many awards as it was originally used in the film, Meet Joe Black. It stirs up deep emotions for me, not so much because of the film, but because of the music itself. I am overcome with the mood of it, my eyes welling up, and love being able to feel someone’s creation in this way. Perhaps that is why it is called “escape”.

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Christmas cookies, 2017
A few days ago, I baked Christmas cookies for the first time in probably 20 years. I slipped into that nurturing mode, shaping, rolling and cutting the dough with love, baking and sprinkling on little, sugary concoctions, minus any red ones that were nowhere to be found in the city of Houston. Seems there was a red sugar/sprinkles shortage, but still plenty of green, which seems odd that one was not on the shelves when both are so synonymous with Christmas baking. Of course, I had to throw in some green dinosaur sprinkles I found. Christmas and dinosaurs make such sense, or at least some of my grand children seemed to think so.

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And then there is knitting, which is truly a meditative process, as you often must be aware of what you are doing. The rhythmic motion takes over, like a steady and soothing heartbeat. I have always loved knitting, and have purposely not allowed myself to knit because this valuable time could be spent making art. I must say here that creating art can also take me there, but sitting cozy on a comfy couch with mindless abandon seemed necessary. It becomes a sort of nesting thing, which comes over me every year around this time. I knew it was important to lose myself in this process, which will result in a new scarf, as if I need another one! Clearly, the need was something else.

If we feel overwhelmed, depressed, worried, sleepless and/or chaotic, we are not only harming ourselves, we are unable to benefit anyone or anything else. We become toxic. Our mental and physical health takes a dive, with stress as our nemesis. We must be the peace by finding the calm. Find what gives you a break from the madness. See that there is much beauty in our world, and yes, there is beauty, even with all that is in such upheaval. Know that you are the peace, as it can only start from within us. We are like a flower opening itself up and revealing its alluring colors and honeyed aromas, resonating this peace out to the world around us. It is not something you go search for, although many do. It is us who carry peace within in our hearts. When we are enlightened to this, we connect to each other and all of life. Peace resides in love; in who we really are. We only need to look to see that it is always right where we are, always waiting for us to open our gift and to share it.

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Blog, Blob, Blah

12/13/2017

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It seems that I have gone far too long, once again, without writing something in my blog. I have never liked that word “blog”. It tends to remind me of that early, science fiction movie, The Blob, with the then-teenage actor, Steve McQueen. Although entertaining to watch, especially from these present times, that big pink thing eating everything in its path and growing to the size of a massive building is probably not the best metaphor. Of course, if I get too wordy, maybe.

Then there is the word “slob”, which may be my inner critic’s favorite, reminding me of the condition of my studio, with wrapping paper, multiple bags full of gifts, tools spread everywhere and half-done art put aside, gathering dust. There is also the word, “blah”… blah, blah, blah! My inner critic loves to whisper this one into my ear in those doubtful moments of writing. Of course, blog is short for weblog, as in web-log.

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I do love to write. I suppose it is mostly, random thoughts moving through my head that I often feel the urge to jot down, or something I see that day; something that happened. I would not consider myself a great writer and maybe not even a good one, as I wish to be less mundane in my word usage, but one must be natural and true to oneself. Thinking of this, there is the book, On Writing, by Stephen King, which is kind of a biography as well sound advice, and so worth the read!

It does help that I read often, which so feeds me. I have two books going now, not always the best way to fully take in a story, but this is the case presently. It all comes down to the weight of the book, and yes, I do prefer reading real books, although I have read an equal share electronically. I usually read in bed at night and if the book is heavy as Walter Isaacson’s, Leonardo da Vinci, which is at least a 3 pounder, I leave it out in the living room for situp, comfy-couch reading. I have a much lighter, paperback, Margaret Atwood’s, The Year of The Flood, in the bedroom. Both books are engaging, for widely different reasons.

I will not make this a book review, but will say that I do enjoy throwing a fiction in there occasionally, just to not get too caught up in biographies, history, science, discovery or spiritual books. I still have Elizabeth Colbert's, The Sixth Extinction sitting by my bed. It’s informative and depressing in one desparate breathe, so I go through it slowly. It’s a book I would refer to as “heavy” in a different context, and knowing that the author speaks truth, it  shakes up the present moment and any plans of a future with certain clarity.

If you think about it, fiction can cover almost anything, and one of my favorite kinds is historical fiction. I know, the key word is “fiction”, but good writers who do tidy research can make learning history so much more enlightening. I love it when I connect with people who lived 500 years ago who usually seem so distant and un-relatable. A good writer can change how you see and feel these ancient cultures, and you can feel that they are “us”, with all our faults and messiness, and our deep capacity to love.

Anyway, for the one or two of you who occasionally look at these posts, I apologize for being so sparse in my writings. I am planning to write some sort of holiday post, and will visit writing more often in general, even if it is random loopholes in my thinking. I have also made a promise to myself to sketch more often. This may come as a surprise or maybe it’s obvious, but I rarely sketch. I have been working on wire sculpture in recent months, but that is no real excuse. Sketching is vital, and so is writing.

And here is where I will leave it, till the next, not-too-distant post :)




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Who We Really Are

9/1/2017

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A street in Houston with many rescuers
PictureMy front yard and street
I am in constant amazement with how human beings flower into the best version of themselves when catastrophe happens. I didn't want to write about the many, multifaceted stories I have heard because of this disastrous storm, Harvey, and how it effected Houston, Texas. I only heard a few of the many stories that have surfaced. Most are never reported, if they are even observed.

People find themselves doing things they never could have imagined doing when there is real and desperate need calling them for help. Sometimes this verges on the edge of crazy… like jumping in high, fast-current, flood waters to save a stranded animal. Yet, when we do see this sort of thing, all of our frenzied hearts melt into a primal oneness, as we understand why. The emotions are all over the place, but our raw, collective feelings of caring are at the top. I have been most honored, having my faith restored, which never should have been lost, to know my fellow human beings for who they truly are. I should have remembered.


No one ever wants tragedy to happen. No one dreams with eager anticipation of experiencing such floods any more than we want to be visited by a heard of zombies. Yet, we humans seem to need the reawakening of our potential. It is about our capacity to love, and how we are absolutely connected to each other. These are the highest attributes that define us as human beings.

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Neighbor's kids playing in flood water
In a normal, everyday world, we barely smile at the stranger walking by us. We are often oblivious and numbed by this simple act, as when driving on the freeway at 70 miles an hour, without ever thinking about the madness of it. We do it so frequently, it seems completely sane, and some how, it usually works without a hitch. But in an instant, all this can change, with yet another human story unfolding before our eyes.

I would like to think I can go to bed at night a bit more assured that there is hope for us. Perhaps we will not allow our negative selves to take over. Greed at the top with money and power leading the way in pursuit of precious resources, those found mostly in the ground. Seeing what these pursuits do to our planet is without question heartbreaking for all of life; for us. Animals are going extinct at such a high pace that most of us could never keep up, even if we were aware. Natural habitat is disappearing at alarming rates, and large bodies of water are turning foul, including our oceans!
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And then there was sunlight
Perhaps we will allow our true selves to see the need for that same, loving help in a more universal way. To think of ourselves as Earthlings, not from this country or that one with borders or walls separating us. Perhaps, we will understand what it means to be guardians of our planet. We will make the necessary changes to allow all life to prosper, without the need for a tragedy to remind us. Sadly, when we go against nature, we fulfill and create the tragedy. But yes, I do have a bit more hope when I see it first hand in front of me like these past few days, and feel the love of my fellow, human being so dearly.

Taking a deeper breathe, and seeing us rise.

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Blue skies after Harvey left
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May 22nd, 2017

5/22/2017

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Changing Direction

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Change

It's part of life. I cannot remember who said it, but I think it goes something like this: the only thing that remains constant, is change. I am more than okay with this, even though we sometimes come up against what seems like a brick wall, or a bottomless hole, or at least a few bumps in the road. Maybe the road isn't so clear, with jagged forks here and there, and fuzzy, unreadable signs, or those dusty, less-frequented paths, with some questionable and foreboding, dark areas. Who knows what kind of things lay waiting in the shadows? Or maybe it is just one's imagination sabotaging one's progress, creating monsters where there are none?

Monsters, TV, The Inner Critic & Lies

This deserves its own place, and I should know, because I have put up a number of complex rooms over the years for my very own, sordid monsters. The closets just were not big enough. They stay on my comfy couch while I pet and groom them, mostly the kind that show up right after a rejection letter. They feed my inner critic, forcing me to watch mindless tv, although we finally cancelled our cable connection a few months ago. This has changed me in ways that I could not have guessed, and I am surprised at myself, as it brings me a deserved satisfaction to no longer be a slave to all those repetitive, bad shows.

I used to wonder what people did before TV, me in my brainwashed-tv-head since I was 5 years old. It's harder to imagine when one starts so young, but thinking of kids today, they have so much more to give up with all the sophisticated, electronic-eye-candy saturating their little, zombie-like minds. One can only guess where all this is going, but I'd say it's the familiar feeding of monsters.

But getting back to that inner critic, that judging crone who tells me I am just not good enough, that I'm too old, that I will not succeed because I am woman, that I don't have enough education and/or enough exhibitions on my resume, that my art is just not hip, sexy, or edgy enough, that it's just too late, and that no one will ever care about what I do anyway. This list could be endless, but these are some of the lies I hear, similar to what many of us hear, instead of looking at what we can and have actually accomplished and what really brings us joy. Sadly, this is where some of us even give up.

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After a vivid dream the night before
Dreaming & New Work

I often seem to avoid facing the very thing I need most, but know I must instigate change and take the risks to develop new work. It can feel like I am out on a fragile limb to start anew, but it is also exciting, like shaking myself awake. It truly is the very nature of creating, to explore the unknown, and for me, inspired by not knowing what will come. Nothing great comes without some stumbling along the way... you just have to be willing to stumble.

After some frustrating weeks of exploring a new approach on paper, it was painfully clear that something wasn't quite fitting what I wanted to communicate. I often have dreams that bring deep messages to me, mostly in a visual way. I ask for help before I fall asleep, and if I remember what I dreamed, ideas are spun, some so vivid, it's like a sign being held in front of my face. The very next morning I was on it with a fresh, enlivened energy.

There is this ancient, soothing voice in my head that tells me to keep taking the necessary steps, to enjoy what I do, to practice diligently, and know in my heart that it is and always was only about the journey. I am not sure how this new work will be received, but I know I must let go of any attachments, and most of all, to ignore the inner critic's decaying comments.

It is about trusting the process, about trusting myself, allowing the flow of energy, and giving myself the patience necessary to grow. I am grateful to know this, and willing it oh-so-close to my artist's heart.


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4 Comments

March 29th, 2017

3/29/2017

7 Comments

 

West Texas Road Trip, Spring 2017

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Jack Rabbit painted on a store front in Marathon, Texas
PictureJulie Speed's paintings
Marfa & Julie Speed!

It started when my friend mentioned that Julie Speed was having an open studio soon, in Marfa, Texas, and what seemed like a few minutes later, we were planning a spontaneous, 5 day trip! We had about two weeks before leaving to arrange a place to stay and settle our obligations in Houston. The excitement was hanging over me like a glowing, neon halo and my smile could not be contained.

The day we left, the winds were intense. My little car wanted to jump off the two-lane road numerous times. Still, the drive on 90 west past San Antonio is always breath-taking. The Texas wildflowers waved to us, dancing with the crazy winds, and our hearts drifted in and out through the miles of prickly pear cactus, gnarly mesquite trees, silken, desert grasses and our ever-engaging conversations. We laughed, did a picnic lunch, ate chocolate, stopped for gas and soon the hills turned into those familiar, magnificent mountains. Eleven hours from Houston, we were in Marfa, Texas.

Marfa is always a treat, as it naturally takes on its own, west Texas pace. For me, it never disappoints, if you are open to being a bit more flexible. The only real plan we had was to see Julie Speed, but it is the not knowing what else will come that always surprises, and often with great delight. We were sure we could not top Julie Speed. Her paintings, collages and prints are simply divine. She has a clear hold on any technique she applies, with her intricate, delicate details, and her meaningful stories to tell. She masters her craft, leaving a haunting, profoundly beautiful impression in my memory.


PictureJulie talking about a medium she uses
But what really made this visit so special, is that we were the only ones at her studio at the time, and we had the “Julie Speed” personal tour. Knock my socks off, we got what she was thinking, feeling, and why she did what she did with many of those sacred treasures she created. We artists were speaking the same language as we traveled to various pieces on her walls. She was also interested in knowing about our art, giving our conversations a pleasant interactive quality. She was so welcoming and charming, with an intelligent sweetness about her. We also met her famous, musician husband, I believe his name was Frank or Franz, and I am told he was part of the Fabulous Thunderbirds for a number of years. They seemed a perfectly, well-matched couple.

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Julie Speed's studio
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Newest part of the Judd Foundation
PictureNaomi Safran-Hon at Marfa Contemporary
More Art

After our visit, we floated away in partial ecstasy, moving towards the Judd Foundation, which is just a small jump from the Speed studio. The wind had picked up to a good 40-plus miles an hour, making the heavy front door of the foundation spin like a child's toy. From Julie's studio, we could see Judd's minimalist blocks stretched out across a large field, nearly in Julie's backyard. We found a few other galleries in town, moving about with hilarity as our hair displayed what it really means to have a bad hair day… but we didn't care.

Another delight was finding the Israeli artist, Naomi Safran-Hon, at Marfa Contemporary. We were shown her technique in a back room, which was such a fulfilling experience to see how she created these mesmerizing pieces. We were told that she takes photographs of war-torn areas where Palestinians were displaced. She strategically cut holes in the large photos and then placed a lacy or porous fabric on the back, allowing the cement to extrude through to the other side. The effect left a hardened texture that played well with the existing image. I don't have a good close-up, and there
really is no doing justice to her work

with words, but simply to say, wow… just wow.


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PictureLinneaus Lorrette with his dogs

Then there was the New Star Grocery Art Museum on 301 West Dallas. I feel inept as I did not write down the names of the artists in this collection, and there is no website, but they were most impressive works. The man who has collected these artists over the years is equally interesting, Linneaus Lorrette. He was surrounded by his 8 or more dogs who happily followed him as he showed us around. At first, we weren't sure the place was open from the outside, but an Australian Cattle dog ran from across the street to pass us, and then swiftly entered the now open door of the museum. It was Linneaus, who invited us to come in, telling us the dogs won't bite and that he would be happy to turn on the lights for us.

Every wall and some shelving was filled with absolute treasures. Even his mother's paintings, which were mostly portraits of women. The most impressive were carved in wood and painted, then each placed together in a 3-D wall piece to tell a story. There were circuses, presidents, political statements, or combinations of maps, buildings, stairs, plants, animals and people… all colorful, well-crafted tributes. Then there were those amazing masks! They were reminiscent of ritual or ceremonial pieces, primitive yet modern, whimsical and often frightening, but most of all, very well done. Not one was like the other. I couldn't leave without mentioning the light artist… remarkable fixtures of metal and light, some looking like flying saucers, others more like a futuristic desk lamp. They brought a smile to my face.

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Carved and painted wood assemblages
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Metal and light artist
PictureMarathon dog with the best view

Alpine & Marathon

We took a day trip, first to Alpine. We looked at art galleries, neighborhoods, land, had lunch and then drove to Marathon. Marathon has a population of about 400 people, and at first, I thought this was a negative, until I really looked around. It is now my favorite place to be. Those stunning views with large stretches of desert to mountains, spoke so dearly to my heart. We also looked at the sweet, little neighborhoods with the many old adobes, some with larger pieces of land and all with those incredible views. I guess you can tell I have a personal interest in this town, and am seriously considering it as a future place to live. We found a couple of closed art galleries, a beautiful bed and breakfast called Eve's Garden, and the small, French Grocery store, which is for sale. There, among all the variety of foods, we discovered James H. Evans photographs on some small cards being sold in the store. The photos were unusually beautiful, consisting mostly of landscapes and portraits. One such portrait showed the suspended feet of two people dancing, which is one of my favorites. I later spent a good hour or more looking at his website, and there I found a portrait of Linneaus Lorrette with his dogs! Also, there was a delightful one of Julie Speed, laughing.

We drove 5 miles down a road to the town park where a river with trees and swimming pool waited at the end, an oasis in the middle of this dry, high desert. We later ate diner at the Gage Hotel, which nearly turned us away as they had 150 reservations for that evening! We got one of the last, first come, first serve, bar tables. I must say, this was a pricey meal, which we would have been okay with, but honestly, the food was not that impressive. Guess we are spoiled dinners coming from so many great choices in the Houston area. We were open to a good time anyway, and being in Marathon definitely of made up for it.

It was a very full day, and I came away with some great photo cards, a pair of earrings, sage, and a small, handmade tea cup. The earrings and tea cup were from the artist collaborative in Alpine, the Catchlight Art Gallery on 117 W Holland Ave. There are quite a few very talented artists in this space from the west Texas area, and well worth the visit. It makes me feel good to buy from local artists, even if they were lower cost items.

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Stone horse on the grounds of Eve's Garden
PictureSunset in Marathon

Gratitude, Houston & Future Dreams

Five days does not a week make, and two days of this were driving to and from this part of Texas, but it still was enough to enjoy the spectacular views, the inspiring art, the friendly people, and their dogs. I am so grateful to have been able to make such a trip, thanks to my dear, artist friend, Trudy Askew, who made this possible. We both needed this break from the crazy, city life with all its constant traffic and noise. I love being in Houston at this time of my life, as there are so many benefits to living here. I have my loving family and friends, and who doesn't love being an artist in Houston? This is a great city! But I am often weary of the traffic, the crowds, the never-ending humidity and heat, the noise, the dirty air, and the inability to see the starry skies. There are no mountains here, only tall buildings. There is greenery, and for that I am grateful, but we share these areas with 4 plus million others. I am a nature girl at heart. I will be ready when the time comes, to be ingrained in it, enveloped by the slower pace, the one-stop light town, the simpler and beautiful wilderness of west Texas.


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Happiness looks like this
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December 11th, 2016

12/11/2016

0 Comments

 

Limbo, Insanity & Small, But Useful Things

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Christmas lights in Houston Heights, Texas
I love to watch my dogs play. I am pretty sure they laugh when they do it. It's a kind of snorting, breathing, panting sound. It's contagious, as I respond with my human laugh. Watching them takes me completely out of my monkey-brain worries. I momentarily forget how our world is changing. I am grateful for that.
We are now approaching mid-December and I am once again feeling overwhelmed, as I usually do this time of year, but not quite for the same reasons. I really don't want this post to be about our next president, the things he says and then denies saying, his outrageous tweets, his refusing advice, except from Russia, his frightening, cabinet choices, and his orange face and over-the-top hair. Those cabinet choices, the billionaires club, seem to have been picked to eradicate the very thing they are suppose to support.

Then there is the monstrous consumption of the oil companies, which is intrinsically tied to a few of these new cabinet members, as well as the president elect. As I keep up with the Native Americans at Standing Rock, I am made aware that it is not just their issue, as their brave hearts stand in a blizzard against the line of pipeline workers and the military police to protect the land and water for all of life, for us. It's all upside down, inside out... it is insanity.


I am reading and watching far too much news; articles and video commentaries, especially the funny ones, although each is filled with multiple, serious undertones. I look for hope in everything I read, but have found that much of it points in a terrifying direction. Sometimes it's hard to sleep at night.

Christmas shopping has actually been a welcome distraction. I never thought I would say that. I did most of it early this year, just trying to avoid those moments of desperate buying and long lines. This afternoon, I sorted through what I have purchased, only to discover that I may be a few gifts short. Oh, I know, there are no rules on how many or what kind to give. I am not bound to some idea that I must give some big, expensive thing for it to really matter. Nor am I in the position to do so. It is difficult on an artist's low to nothing income, especially when some family members seem to have everything they could possibly want or need. So I am the gift giver of small, but useful things… that's what I tell myself. It's either this, or something I have made, which I love to do, but there is only so much time, and I think some may not really want more of my creations.

I read a great article about gift giving. It comes very close to how I feel about this whole thing, but I do love to give. Shopping is not my favorite past time. Actually, I pretty much hate shopping. Giving, which I love, is not to be confused with shopping, just in case anyone I am giving to reads this. Honestly, I think we admire and buy gifts for people thinking they will like it or use it, when it is really us we are buying for. I often see things that I want or even need when choosing a gift. I think this is always part of the expense.

In a way, I feel like I am in a limbo. One dictionary says limbo is a state of neglect or oblivion. I have days where I feel like I am walking into walls. Sometimes the couch seems too familiar, the place where I sit is well-formed to my body, while the TV lures me into watching a zombie-marathon of channels that mostly suck.

I am trying to escape what I am feeling, but this seems pointless. As a child, my form of escape was drawing. As an adult artist, this is still the case, no matter what the medium. So why am I reluctant to go there? It's like I am subconsciously distracted, unable to fully engage in the creative process. But, just like I did as a child, the art I created to escape, ultimately lead me to a better, healing place. I need to trust this.

Whether it is the dogs, TV, or my studio, I know that I must allow myself some sort of break from the onslaught of bad news. I still manage to accomplish many of my short-term goals, doing some studio time, and recently submitting my latest series to a few art spaces. I go about my life with some regularity, but a part of me still feels suspended, like it is floating above my body waiting for things to settle down. But the other part of me knows this will not happen any time soon, if at all, and that's it, really. It is this knowing that something is coming, that what we have now is most precious, and we are about to find out why. It is a reminder, a calling, to be diligent yet playful, truthful yet compassionate, firm yet flexible, strong yet loving, to be grateful, alert and creatively engaged, and to never normalize what is not acceptable, at any cost.

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Let your inner child come out and play! Here's to making snow angels!
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The VisitorĀ 

10/22/2016

2 Comments

 
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The Avondale Avenue mansion where this true story began.

The Visitor

when I was 21
I lived in a commune known as the Pipe Factory

a turn-of-the-century mansion reclaimed

by two wealthy, eccentric brothers

each day they brought it back to life

restoring its magical presence


the house filled with noisy celebration
college students, lovers, artists, musicians
free thinkers, sexual explorers
young people finding themselves
in the house's shadowy secrets

it was my first place to live on my own
my grandmother gave me her squeaky cot
its lumpy, small mattress more for a child
I placed it alongside my aquarium
in the elegant 2nd floor bedroom
with its round tower and Rookwood-tiled fireplace

the dancing fish lured me to sleep
but one evening
I lay wide awake
listening to pot-induced conversation
outside my door

when the visitor first came to me

I felt a weight over my entire body
blankets pulled tightly around me
pushing me down into the cot
its springs screeching
my wild eyes searching
why is there nothing there?
unable to move

a small word leaked from my mouth... “stop!”
it did, only to lay upon me seconds later
penetrating my soul
pulling me deep
into a sinking chill
helpless

a few years later
in a different place
when I thought
I left the mansion's ghosts behind
it came again
crushing me into the double bed
overwhelming my reality
forcing its frozen hold
my mind racing as fast as my heart

every so often
the visitor would come
no matter where I lived
shaking bones
to my core
impotent against the unseen thing

even when I was 8 months pregnant
it came
my heart climbed into my cracked throat
my baby kicked as if he could escape
pushing against the invisible

it made itself known
through the years
why? to check on me?
to make sure it still had power?
consuming my weakness
sharpening my fear

nearly 10 years ago
the sheets began to compress
it was the visitor
while my partner slept
seeming miles away
I unable to stir
but in a that small space between moments
curiosity replaced fear
I let go

beyond comprehension
a warmth filled me so completely,
a love so deep, so primal, so comforting
like being wrapped in the divine wings of golden light
a familiar connection
I wanted to last
but fell peaceful into sleep's gentle arms
the visitor never came again


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Goldenglow Moth, Howard Lynn
2 Comments
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