Unintended Consequences

When I began my journey of creating 100 pieces centered on women, I chose the ambiguous word "making" to give myself the freedom to use any medium that seemed interesting. I've learned to draw a recognizable female face, both with realism and abstraction in pencil, pen, marker and various types of paint. I've begun to explore highlighting and shadowing to bring dimension. I've grown in confidence as well as skill.

These outcomes I expected.

What I didn't expect was how my day now feels incomplete without creating some kind of lady, how 100 days passes in a heartbeat, how quickly one can assemble a body of work, and how I could easily spend the next year exploring this theme.

But 10 days ago my paintbrush introduced me to my growing tribe of Gaudy Ladies. Who knew I had such joy and delight and color inside me? I can barely wait to get into the studio to see who my brush will create next. What an adventure!

Would I have found them without first doing the 80+ pieces that came before? Who knows. And that no longer matters to me. I'm having the time of my life with these colorful women!

I share all this with you, Precious One, because your own version of my Gaudy Ladies hides inside you wanting to be discovered. Your "ladies" might be songs or dance moves or photographs or poems or stories or flower beds or teachings or massive weights moved or clothes made or closets ordered or books read or any number of skills. You need only choose a task to practice regularly. Your heart is probably giving you hints where to start. Your Creator is faithfully giving you clues on your genre.

I think you may already know where to begin. And what begins as a chore might just develop into incredible joy. Really.

Don't be afraid; dare to follow your heart. Share your task with one other person daily.  Sometimes the accountability of texting an image daily was the only thing that kept me creating!

You truly do have it in you. I believe in the process and I believe in you.

Because I love you. Bunches.

Tutorial Thursday: The Decorated Journal Cover

Today's photo-heavy post will explain how to remove and replace the covers of your wire-bound journal after embellishing them. By now your art journals are probably beginning to fill with gorgeous thoughts, images and text. If not, today's tutorial will jump start a brand new journal for you. Let's get to it!

Begin with a wire-bound journal of any size. 

Open it to the inside back cover where the flat ends of the wire binding meet the "arm" ends of the binding. Carefully spread the "arm" ends away from the flat ends. The goal here is to try to keep the "arm" ends spread evenly all the way down the spine.

Remove the wire binding and set aside along with the paper.

Now to the fun part. I applied gesso to my covers with a brush. I then stamped into the gesso while it was still wet to create a bit of texture. (You know how I love texture.)

Next I brushed on a little paint (Liquitex Teal, Golden Permanent Green Light and Zinc White Fluid Acrylics) and laid a piece of drawing paper over each side, burnishing gently with my hand before lifting the paper. I love this technique for creating texture, but it also created the paper that will become the inside front and back covers.

While those were drying, I mixed  a little Golden Cyan Fluid Acrylic paint into a small amount of Golden Molding Paste on my palette. You can use a paper plate or piece of waxed paper as a substitute. You might also try this same technique with joint compound from the home improvement store with good result.

Then using a palette knife I spread the colored Molding Paste through a stencil onto the dried front cover. When the stencil is lifted, you have a lovely raised pattern on your cover. Repeat this process onto the back cover.

Once the covers are embellished the way you'd like, let the whole thing dry. Or if you are impatient as I was, use your heat tool or blow dryer to speed up the process. 

Now get the binding and paper. Insert the binding first through all the paper.  Bring the flat end of the binding snug against the paper so that the "arm" ends are long. 

Next place the front cover onto the binding. Here's the final trick:  place the back cover onto the binding face down on the front cover. This will insure that your embellished side will be on the outside rather than the inside.

And lastly, bend the "arms" back to the flat ends of the binding. I've found this most easily done by keeping the flat part of the binding flat on the paper. This seems to retain the curve of the binding better. Flip over the back cover and you have your beautiful new journal!

Have lots of fun playing in your journal. I'd love to see some of your creations, too. Send me photos! Because, guess what?

I love you. Bunches.

Really? Week Six Already?

Here are this week's women:

This first piece is collage and acrylic paint on canvas. She is my very first acrylic painted lady. The collage material was pretty napkins. I separated the 2 layers of the napkin and affixed the printed piece to canvas with acrylic medium.

This lady needs little introduction. She was the basis of Thursday's tutorial. (If you missed it, check out last week's post.

Love this lady with her calm in the midst of happy chaos (something I endeavor to mimic). She is done with Derwent Inktense pencils and Sharpie Paint pens.

These 2 pages were done as a demo at the Whatcom Art Guild Spring Art Show this past weekend. Collage and acrylic paint and embroidery. The lady with the leaves for hair was embroidered onto a fabric softener sheet and affixed to the page with acrylic medium. The crowned lady was a hand-cut stamp created from a photograph of my then 3 year old God-daughter, Kira. Here she is stamped onto the page using acrylic paints.

I hope to use new techniques this week. And I hope you dare to try new things this week as well. Be sure to check back on Thursday for the 2nd Tutorial Thursday.

And in the meantime, remember I believe in you more than you know. You are strong, creative and worthy of all good things today. Truly.

And I love you. Bunches.

Springtime in Paris

We sold a truck so that we could go to Europe for 10 days when we had been married 20 years. It was an investment that Dave Ramsey would have disapproved of. He would have called us "Stoo-pid." But I would do it again without thinking twice. The professor and I went to visit friends in Switzerland who said we could couch-surf. Thankfully they actually had a guest room in their tiny apartment. We used their place as a base while we explored Geneva in Switzerland , Aosta in Italy, and Strasburg in Germany with our friends. Then we ventured out on our own and took a train to Paris for 3 days.

As soon as we arrived at our charming hotel in Paris and ducked into our cosy room, the Professor insisted we take a stroll to the Eiffel Tower. Thirty minutes later, he suggested we rest on a bench surrounded by flowers in a park below the iconic tower. It was so beautiful.

Then he did something he had never previously done. He dropped to his knee at my feet, pulled out a velvet ring box and proceeded to ask me if I would consider spending another 20 years together. Opening the box, I discovered the ring I had longed for 20 years before. Because our budget then did not cover the cost of that rings, I did without. (Dave Ramsey would be pleased.) But the Professor had found the ring in the estate section of a local jewelry store months prior to our trip. And bought it. (Take that, Dave!)

 

 I chose to stay with him another 20 years. Best decision ever. At the time I wasn't certain we'd make it another year. Our marriage might be called  late blooming. We didn't really hit our stride until the 30 year mark. But the last decade has been incredible.

This one's for you, Baby. Je t'aime. Bunches.

(Materials used in above image:

Golden fluid acrylic paints, Golden gel medium, gel pens, Micron pens, Sharpie water-based paint pens, an print from a hand cut stamp created from an engagement photo shoot.
Tools used to create above image:
Fingers, bubble wrap and water brushes.

Pain is Fuel

Pain has had many faces in my life: mental, emotional, physical and relational. Each time it rears its head again to touch my life, I am surprised. I'm not sure why, but I seem to think my existence should be painted in primary colors and have a soundtrack in a major key.

I recently saw an anonymous quote somewhere on social media: "Pain is fuel." I got to thinking how true this is. Pain is there to let me know that something is out of whack. Like anger, it is a signpost that something needs attention. That being the case, pain can fuel action and I get to choose what the action will be. This is MY area of responsibility, something I can control. Pain can be the catalyst for transformation in my life.

So rather than staying down and whining when pain (mental, emotional, physical, relational...) makes yet another appearance in my life, I have a choice. First I acknowledge my initial response, usually fear, anger, depression and/or self pity. THIS IS A VERY IMPORTANT STEP! Imagine simply ignoring the screaming terror of a child and telling her to go color. Ridiculous, right? We don't do that to ourselves either. We don't should on ourselves.

My next step is to grab a journal. I write out all my anger, fear, self pity, etc. I scribble, scratch, paint, crayon, tear magazine pages and glue them. You get the picture. This action is what some call "turning it over" and others call meditation or prayer. The piece itself is rarely pretty. Raw or real, perhaps. However, as I am unloading/debriefing, something nearly always occurs. I begin to see something hopeful, or positive or peaceful. I seem to find answers. Or the answers find me.

So, dear one, the next time you bump into one of those stinking, tear-inducing layers (and you will), consider trying my trick. Let me know how it works for you. You know I am rooting for you to find your answers.

Because I love you. Bunches.

(Materials used in above image:
gesso, acrylic paints, homemade alcohol spray ink, Golden gel medium, gel pens, Micron pens, Sharpie water-based paint pens.
Tools used to create above image:
credit card to spread gesso, punch to cut butterflies, one layer of a printed paper napkin.)

Seriously?

I remember Donkey saying to Shrek that "Ogres are like onions. Or parfaits. They have layers." And I wonder if life might be like ogres, having layers and accompanied by a powerful, tear-inducing stink. Well, sometimes.

You know those layers. For example, you find yourself embracing that bad habit you worked so hard to get over. Or you gain back that 5 (20, 40) pounds you were so proud of shedding. Or you let that person get under your skin. Again. Or maybe your website needs re-working, for the 87th time. Or the aches and pains or allergies you thought were forever banished from your body have returned with a vengeance. Yeah,  THOSE layers.

I'm hoping you handle these layers with a maturity and grace that seems to escape me more often than I'd like to admit. I truly do. Because I know you have it in you to grow with grace. As you grow in grace. As WE grow in grace. Facing those layers together. Just remember, you are not alone in this. And I love you. Bunches.

(Materials used in above image:
gesso, acrylic paints, image from old art book, Golden gel medium, gel pens, Micron pens, Sharpie water-based Paint pens
Tools used to create above image:
credit card to spread gesso, bubble wrap for paint )

Never Too Late

My inspiration for this post was a note to self I saw on social media reminding us it is "never too late." What I found interesting was that it spoke across the usual generational boundaries. It seems feeling that the time for realizing dreams is past has little to do with age.

We've all heard stories of the unique, aged soul who accomplished amazing feats. At 70, Jack LaLane towed 70 boats with 70 people 1 1/2 miles in Long Beach Harbor while hand-cuffed and shackled. Mother Teresa received the Nobel Peace Prize at 69 years old. Grandma Moses did not begin painting until arthritis forced her to give up embroidery. She was discovered 2 years later at the ripe old age of 78. Lastly, my husband, The Professor was better know as a carpenter for 35 years. It wasn't until his 50's he returned to college to get his undergraduate degree. And countless other stories abound on Google if you care to search.

So why do we think it is to late for us? Here's my theory:  I think we compare the exploits of those rowdy dream-chasers to our personal misgivings. We think they were braver, richer, prettier, stronger, smarter, and generally had it easier than we do. We compare their glorious end-game with our small beginnings. 

But here's a little secret. They had our same challenges: not enough cash, time, encouragement, talent. The only difference between us and them is  they actually chose to do their own lives. They chose to keep going, putting one foot in front of the other in the direction of their dreams. No excuses, no blame. They simply kept going.

So, precious ones, please don't give up. Please keep writing your story. The blessing and the curse is you are the only one who can do it.

Just remember, though, that I am here cheering for you. I know you have it in you. Really.

And I love you. Bunches.

Embrace the Mystery

I admit it. I have mixed feelings about surprises. My Wild side craves  adventure, the latest challenge, trips into the unknown. However (and this is a BIG however),  poor little Much Afraid who also inhabits my skin likes to plan carefully and is more than comfortable with the predictable and tame. Sometimes my Wild side wants to throttle Much Afraid, but the feeling is completely mutual.

So the other day as I was considering the upcoming Art Journaling 101 class I was to teach, Much Afraid and my Wild side did heavy battle. Much Afraid predicted failure piled high and deep. The Wild One insisted it would be educational, inspirational and fun. When I worked in my journal that day, both had a voice as you can see...

EMBRACE MYSTERY

I'm finding that both voices bring something to the table. I can appreciate both the caution and the desire for adventure. It is my job to moderate these inner battles. Sift through all the information and make an informed and healthy choice. One governed by both wisdom and truth.

The class was a success, by the way. I met some incredible artists who had an enjoyable play date with their creativity. And they were inspired. I am so glad I did it, and I hope to do it again.

So, precious ones, remember:  we learn and grow through experience. Fear of failure can keep us from stepping up to that unknown task, but no one learned anything without a little bit of failure. Give yourself permission to do that new thing today. You know I'm rooting for you. Always.

Because I love you. Bunches.

Fly

I have a thing for butterflies. I mean, how cool is it that they begin as creepy-crawly, leaf chewing creatures who morph into beautiful, delicate, fluttering nectar-drinkers. And I'm not alone in this. They have inspired books. Consider the book Hope for the Flowers by Trina Paulus. The life cycle of a butterfly is an apt metaphor for life and death... and life again.

Butterflies often appear in my journals, paintings, photographs and mixed-media pieces. As I played in my journal today, I was reminded that I, too, was made to soar. I was not made to creep along the ground forever. My wings are growing daily. I am like the butterfly who must tear herself out of her cocoon to gain the strength to fly. Facing and overcoming obstacles is an integral part of my future strength.

So, my lovelies, remember that we all were made to soar. God has placed that in us. Our part is to become strong in truth. To know who we truly are and how God sees us. To use our time, strength and gifting to find our wings. To become fully alive.

You are an incredible and unique being. No one on the planet has your exact ability. No one can take your place. So go for it! Don't waste another minute on the lies of self-doubt. You were truly made to soar. I believe it with everything inside me and I'm excited for  your journey ahead.

Oh, and I love you. Bunches.

Wounded Healer

Did you ever notice that some people seem to have more patience to listen to your woes than others? And I mean simply listen, not offer any unsolicited explanations or  solutions. I have a handful of friends who are willing to provide this act of kindness for me. (You know who you are and I treasure you!) Other than paid professionals, this seems to be a dying skill. Or maybe I don't know what I'm talking about.

That said, Henri Nouwen (pronounced Henry Now-wen), a well-loved priest, professor, and writer  is attributed with coining the label "wounded healer." Truly, the last thing I want to hear when I am in the middle of one of those dark stretches of experience life brings is, "this will make you stronger, more compassionate, more [insert positive quality]." Those wise, and possibly true, insights only serve to make me want to pinch/punch the speaker.  Or bury myself in some sugary, carb-y food solace. Neither will help us through these kinds of times. Trust me. Been there. Done that.

Having experienced a number of dark times, it does encourage me to know that they were not without benefit. Looking back, I would not be the woman I am today. Those times were like the chisel that freed this new creation that is me. They shaped me: hammering me into shape, digging out unwanted parts, sanding away at  sharp edges... You know the drill. And people who have suffered these heart-rending processes are more apt to recognize others in the same process. And offer the kindness of simply walking along the painful road with them.

So, dear ones, hang in there. I pray you find a tribe, okay a friend, who will be there with you. Who will listen with love when you share. And know that you will come through this. You are stronger than you think. You are a truly, truly beautiful creature.

And I love you. Bunches.

Trust Your Talent

I was well into my forties before I  began making marks on paper with crayons and colored markers and pens.  I was definitely a late bloomer. But I had two wonderful things going for me then. First, I was willing to be a beginner.  And second, I had a cheering section of one. Both things helped propel me down this colorful path I have come to love.

I began drawing my feelings first, ignorant that I was joining the modernist movement of Expressionism.  I wasn't trying to make "art" but was simply trying to make sense of my inner world. Someone once said you have to make a lot of bad art before you can make the good stuff.  I did that and found I feel more alive during the process of art-making. Still do.

My cheering section, The Professor,  loved the final outcomes of my mark-making long before I could see any worth in them. He built me a round "Happy Fun Table" which took over our tiny dining area and let me "make messes" to my heart's content. Every night I would get out a few supplies and play.  Much of what I did then stayed safely hidden in my journals, however a best-loved piece, Wood Between the Worlds, came from those early days.

I know some of you have started playing in your journals, some with words and others with colors. Enjoy the process. Take a little time to play some each day. You don't have to show the outcome to anyone. Do it for you. I think you'll grow to like it. All you need to do is to be willing to be a beginner every day. And you have me in your cheering section. Because I love you. Bunches.

Rest

"One more thing, one more thing, one more thing..." was chasing me through today. Tired and hungry at what should have been the day's end, I pushed myself another 4 hours. Then I wondered why I was beginning to feel unhappy, irritable... maybe even a little depressed. Usually I endeavor to live one day at a time, but sometimes I fail miserably. I cram the tasks of 2 days into one 16 hour period. I forget to hydrate or eat or run to the restroom. Sound familiar? It was one of those days. Ugh.

And when I drag myself through the front door at the end of the day, I see Rocky. Many people wonder why I still provide this grouchy, unpredictable 12 year old feline a home, but he teaches me so much. When he is hungry, he sleeps. When he needs comfort, he gets it (or we will be miserable until he does!) And whenever he is tired, he sleeps.

Sometimes the best, strongest and most worthy thing we can do is halt. Take a break. Let it all go for a minute (or more), and simply rest. If I could remember on a daily basis to treat myself the way I would treat another person: with consideration, respecting my needs as valid, and rewarding myself with a "well done" once in a while, I would be even more productive. And easier to live with. And more content.

And so would you, precious one. So treat yourself with consideration today, and rest when you need it. Because I love you. Bunches.

Sands of Time

While working in Live in Wonder by Eric Saperston with Mirabella Love, a gift given to me by my niece, Princess Deadlift, I was struck with the thought that my biggest enemy is not fear of failure these days. Fear of making the wrong choices seems to be my current roadblock. So the sketch below is to remind me to keep going.

I was reminded of the famous lines attributed to Goethe:

"Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it.
   Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it!”  

And, of course the slogan from the Nike ad:

JUST DO IT!

So remember, dear ones, choosing is only a part of following your dream. There yet remains to task of moving toward it. Choose one thing, for a month, a week or perhaps a day, and do that with purpose. See what comes of it.

And don't forget, you know what the "right" choice is. I know you do. Because I love you. Bunches.

 

Releasing Excuses

I don't know what keeps you from following your dreams. Or even having dreams, for that matter. But I do know some of the beliefs that have blocked my way over the years. So today I am choosing to look those ugly buggers in the face and see them for what they are. And just for today I can release them and point myself in the direction of my dreams.

In order to be released, they had to be brought out into the light and identified. Some had been a help in the past, but were now out-dated. Some had been taunting and tormenting me for decades. TODAY, I AM LETTING THEM ALL GO.

Perhaps you have some nasty voices chanting a litany of lies in your head. Embrace truth today. You are a person of extreme value. And full of wonder. Take a fearless and searching look at what stops you and then let it go.

You were made to thrive, my friend. And I love you. Bunches.

Raindrops

As some of you are aware, I spend roughly 20 hours a week managing a satellite warehouse in the Pacific Northwest for a Canadian Design company that offers classic baby clothes, rattles and is the inventor of the infamous PPTP.  The remaining roughly 20-30 hours are spent pursuing my passion in the studio. It's a great life and I am grateful.

However, as today's journal post below illustrates, on my first day back from our Christmas break, the warehouse was threatened with flooding. The usually idyllic duck pond/stream behind the warehouse had swollen with recent rains and breached its banks. I called in the Professor who was still on his Christmas break to help me raise everything to at the least 4" off the ground. While I was madly trying to send out the accumulated orders, he kindly gave me his last day of vacation. Many thanks, my love. You rock!

I learned a valuable lesson yesterday:
Don't be afraid to ask for help, even when it might appear to inconvenience the person you've asked to help. They may get a charge out of your request. And it may make their day.

You are valuable so when you need help, let people help you.
And remember, I love you. Bunches.

First Game Blues

Between basketball games, the first a big loss and the second a rousing win.  If I'd had the ability to see into the future, perhaps my journal would have reflected the joy of the win. Instead it seems to communicate the feelings of defeat we all felt.

We don't know what is to come. Not a clue. Perhaps this is why I need to keep an attitude of hope... Don't forget: Hope Lives!

Love you. Bunches.

One Day at a Time

Sometimes I get to thinking that I've waited too long to even try to be fully alive. For example, I will profusely thank the rare store clerk who cards me. And seemingly overnight, my hair has become liberally sprinkled with silver. Let's face it, friends, I cannot be considered young by anyone's standards.  After all, I have raised an incredible son who is approaching 40.  He has become a wonderful father to my grandchildren.  Yes, I said grandchildren. You don't get to have those and continue to be 23. (And I would choose grandchildren any day.)

Anyway, the thought of wasted years, blind years, the years I gave away sometimes plagues me. So today I reminded myself that I have a valuable gift in the next 24 hours. Now that I am awake, I have choices. I get to choose how I live.

And so do you, precious ones. This is your time. You have everything you need to live today fully alive. And even if no one else believes in you, I do! And I love you. Bunches.

Live Loud

For so many years, I pretended to myself that I was invisible. I concentrated on helping others chase their goals, while postponing my dreams. One day I woke up, or at least that's what it felt like. I realized that while assisting others was a valuable and admirable pastime, I was also responsible for becoming the person I could be. Every bit of the person I could be. And to do that took time, a very limited resource in this busy world. That was the beginning of my journey.

So here is today's journal page. A reminder to be fully alive.

 I am including a link to some free techniques (and paid workshops, too) that I thought you might enjoy.  Art to the 5th Just remember to make your art as well as learn techniques!

So, dear ones, don't settle for someone else's life. Grow to your full potential. Dare to be different if that is who you are. You are beautiful. You are wonderful. I believe in you.

Art Journal

As we flew us home from AZ, I worked in my journal reminding myself to enjoy the process. This turned out to be more of a challenge than expected, considering the turbulence during the final approach!

I thought I'd try posting a page from my journal each day as samples for my nieces. So here you go, girls. Page #1.