I Feel the Most Loved When...

Today I'm joining Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, for her Friday project

She picks a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes. The requirements to play along with me on this are:

• Write for only 5 minutes. (I set a timer to keep me honest.)
• No editing. Simply let the words flow as they will. (This is my biggest challenge since only perfect words/sentences are normally permitted to survive.)
• Thank the person who inspired you to play along. (Thank you again, Sara.)

Here we go:

  I feel the most loved when the Professor comes home and  finds me working. There I am up to my elbows in paint, surrounded by piles of cut and torn painted papers, the table literally covered with jars, tubes, brushes and an assortment of mark makers, no dinner cooking in the kitchen, paint smock thrown over yesterday's paint splashed jeans and my hair knotted wildly on my head.  

And he stands at the door to the studio, smiling at my concentration until I notice him, and says " This makes me so happy. I love it when you're like this."


Ding!

Sketchbook on the Road

My sketchbook has left the Brooklyn Art Museum and is on it's way with just under 10,000 other fantastic sketchbooks. Any of you living in/near Austin, Texas can check out my sketchbook (and of course all the others) at:

Austin Museum of Art
March 12
Located in the Community Room
823 Congress Ave
Austin, TX

29th St Ballroom at Spider House
March 13
2906 Fruth St
Austin, TX 78705

Living Art

I read this line today over at The Gypsy Mama today "I am His art. And with Him we make art together. Living art. Life. And only because of His grace." And my heart sang. I was reminded that THIS is what my life is about. Being His art. I've often said that art saves lives. It did mine.

But the thought that we are ourselves art is an inspiration. Certainly makes me edit self talk. And causes me to remember to be true to the created me, the real me. Embrace the collection of unique, quirky qualities that together are me. A work of art.

You are, too. You are a work of art.

When I Look in the Mirror I See...

I realize I didn't post anything yesterday for Sara's YOU CREATE yesterday, but that's due to a super secret project I've been working on with The Model. Nevertheless, today is Friday and the new prompt for writing is up on The Gypsy Momma. The rule is no editing and write for 5 minutes. Did I say no editing? That said, here's the prompt: When I look in the mirror I see...

Here goes:

Wondering about honesty here... I used to be a woman who avoided mirrors except to put on the war paint that made venturing into the day a possibility. And when I looked, I never looked below the neck. Yep, I'm one of those girls who was pelted daily with that awful sentence, " You have such a pretty face..."

Of course, I always filled in the other part of the statement. The unspoken but understood part that was ..."if only you weren't so fat." Being fat colored my entire life with drab and gloom and hopelessness. I was not a girl who went on a diet and was successful. Instead I was the girl who lived her life on an eternal diet. Ask my friends. They'd tell you.

A few years ago, I realized that whatever I look like, whatever the number on the scale or the dress label, is pretty darn wonderful. Regardless of the opinion of others who continue to harshly judge the appearances of others, I refuse to participate. I have strength and health and practice daily telling myself how lovely I am.

Wow. That was uncomfortably honest. And I suppose that's the point of the exercise. The operative word in the last sentence is practice. Some days it feels painfully untrue. But I bet my brother, The Ironman, has days when he doesn't feel at the top of his game. And that hasn't stopped his daily habit of practice. So I keep on practicing, too.