Joy in the Water

The benefits of sharing studio space are numerous:  encouragement, accountability, instruction, inspiration and critique, to name a few. I have the privilege of sharing space with six other artists. We are a diverse group including painters in a variety of mediums, those who collage, recycle artists and even one fiber artist complete with antique 4x4 loom. Our studio schedules do not always coincide, but we all usually come together the first Friday of every month between 6pm-9pm for the monthly Downtown Bellingham Art Walk. Next Friday, August 7, is the August Art Walk.

Many of you know I have been recently working on creating women. Next Friday, many of those pieces will be available for viewing for the first time. The last few ladies in this process have become a series I've entitled the Gaudy Ladies, due to their vibrant primary colors. Most of my ladies have simply been faces, but one of my studio mates challenged me to create a full scale Gaudy Lady on a 5' x 2.5' (really BIG) canvas I had stashed away. After resisting for longer than I care to admit, I began the work I have currently titled "Song of Joy"this week.

It began with collage, using sacred sheet music from my grandmother.

After that I added a sheer coat of yellow as an under painting. I then added my lady.

I particularly like her hair at this point. Everything else is up for grabs...
Next came the flowers I knew she needed.

Yesterday I began the work on the background.

I expect to get her finished this weekend and have her hanging for Friday's Art Walk. Come out and see how she ends up.

This is not something I would have tackled before my association with my studio mates. My fear of failure would have kept me from even trying. In fact, I must regularly tell my Inner Critic (I.C.) that this is simply an experiment... That it doesn't have to be perfect... Or the best... Or sell! I simply must continue doing the work.

So far my I.C. has been held at bay even though he is rarely silent. Perhaps I will surpass his ugly expectations one more time.

Please don't let your nasty, negative, nit-picking Inner Critic keep you from even sticking your toe in the water of your dreams. Thank him (or her!) for his opinion, but you are choosing to risk all those terrible things just this once. That you want to see for yourself what will happen.

And you can even tell him that Jenny thinks he may be over-reacting, the water of your dreams is truly magical and worth ricking a little splash.

I think your dreams are yours for the making. I think that is why they were given to you. Go for it!

Because I love you. Bunches.

Safety Becomes Captivity

When I am working in the studio, I usually listen to a novel, usually a "who-dunnit." I find this practice helps me to focus (I share my space with 6 other women),  and it helps get me back into the studio to get back to my book. (It takes what it takes, right?)

I've been thinking about a sentence in one I recently finished by author Louise Penny about safety becoming captivity. I know this was the case in my life. At one point in my life, I was unable to go anywhere but the church, the grocery store or the homes of friends and family. I can still remember the day I decided to go for a picnic lunch near a local beach. I didn't have the courage to even get out of the car. I sat in the driver's seat with the window half open and ate my picnic. Laughable I know, but that was my beginning, my first baby step out of captivity.

Since that time I have had many, many wider adventures. A solo trip over the ocean to meet my niece, Megan, in London. A two year adventure into art school. A solo photography camping trip down the Washington and Oregon coasts. These adventures, especially the school, seemed scarey to me at the time. (At school, my fight or flight would kick in every time I had to speak to anyone, taking the blood from my brain and making it impossible to string together a sentence. I am so grateful to my fellow students for their patience each time I tried to speak.)

The point is, we can allow our fears to keep us from the lives we are meant to live. Lives of joy and fulfillment and creativity and wonder. I did exactly that for the first half of my life.  And I always had what seemed like a good excuse, a sensible reason to play it safe. Not make waves. Not risk rejection.

So dear ones, even when you may be shaking in your Brave Girl boots and your Big Girl panties, dare to be the woman you know deep, deep down inside your heart you would love to be. Don't give in to the fear and let it rob you of your life as long as I did. Break out of your prison. Have your version of my car picnic. Take that first baby step. I know you can do it.

Because I love you. Bunches.