{sanctuary intrudes on those before}

It's finished!

When I began painting outside my journal, I found larger canvases intimidating. I limited myself to the smaller 8"x8" squares or 8"x10" canvas boards. I felt I had no talent, that I was wasting my money buying canvases for paintings that no one would like or buy. There's just too much space! What ever will I fill it with?

As my style has grown and evolved, I now understand how artists fill such large spaces:

Bit by bit.

Seriously! You just work on one corner, then another, and another, and pull it all together. That last part is hard, I have to admit, and I usually seek advice from others on what can be done to finish the piece. But when you do, oh, when you figure out that something that finishes it off....well, that is just golden. An addictive feeling of joy that has me stockpiling canvases in the studio for when inspiration strikes.

I usually pull things from my journals, mining those depths for fodder. What have I liked? What was fun? New? Colorful? Spoke to my soul? And onto the canvas it goes.

This painting was inspired by a poem I wrote about ants. Yes, ants! They found a crack under the windows at work and snuck in, eating pastry crumbs on the floor. After we "took care of them," I wrote this poem for them.

Sunshine bakes them
find a space,
sliver,
a crack,
softer, cooler air
invites them in new
sanctuary, intrudes
on those there
first, a dance
and lyrical voices
carry them away.

And now, I'm off to enjoy the last day of my August mini-vacation with a hike in the prairie with my journal.

{what is and what will never be...}

This essay came out of my Morning Pages. It is not edited, nor have I gone over it to make it "pretty;" it is raw, authentic, and revealing.

In a week, I'll be halfway to 26. It's an age I never really thought about; the gap between early 20's and 30 one that was supposed to be a blur of late nights spent writing and 18 hour days in sunny southern California. At 22, I was there – the late nights spent hunched over a keyboard or mapping out acts in scripts, days on a TV lot learning from those before, who'd done it.

I learned I don't want to write scripts. I didn't enjoy hammering out storylines about characters I could care less about. This revelation came as a surprise, as writing with other people's characters was exactly why I'd gotten into all that in the first place. I think it was the pressure of having to live up to something established with a much harsher group of critics. I couldn't indulge, or be silly.

What I learned was that I wanted to help develop ideas. See that seed grow and blossom. While others focused on their scripts, I became a sounding board, talking through ideas and plot devices, finding joy when something just clicked for them. Did my own script suffer? Absolutely. But at the cost of discovering more, and it was 100% worth it.

But as I lean toward 25 ½ (counting as a child, but unhappy about the halfway mark instead of overjoyed), I haven't done anything with all that. Instead of sunny LA, I'm back in the midwest, sitting on the front porch of the house I came to age in with nothing to show for my college education but an overdue final bill and student loans on the edge of default.

I'm not here against my will. Seeing the work I'd have to put into the field I'd chosen, I had to make a choice: push my body to the limit and live the current dream through a haze of painkillers and constant relapses, or go home and allow things to unfold at a slower pace.

Since I'm here in Chicago, and not LA, the path I chose is obvious.

While most of the time I'm cursing my body for it's shortcomings, broken bits, and imposed limits, I am deeply thankful for them. They force me to slow down. I remember my first weeks living downtown, how everyone moved so fast along the crowded sidewalks, pushing past me and my leisurely pace. I saw more, observed, and felt more, moving slower. Yes, it took some time to reconcile the reality that I simply couldn't move with everyone else, but the beauty of what going slower revealed – I felt fuller and more alive.

And so, nearing 26, my days are spent writing and painting. Giving advice to friends. Teaching. In the years since my big decision, I have gone from not being able to work at all to 30 hours a week on my feet. I took it a day at a time, listening to the rhythms of my body and the voice of the Divine answering my prayers for guidance. My days are bursting with possibility tempered by a disease that gives me no choice by to pace myself, go bit by bit. I have to live now, pay close attention to how I'm feeling and reacting to what I'm doing. If it hurts, I stop – plain and simple.

If only everyone had this internal sensor to guide them, they wouldn't be stuck doing things they don't enjoy, going through life at a breakneck pace! I must weigh my choices carefully and decide if they are worth the consequences.

And I did. Sitting here, listening to the cicadas buzz, the chirping and songs of nature, I am content with the knowledge that life will unfold for me as it will. I'm in no rush. By listening to my soul, I've embarked on an uncharted path I can take my time to explore and experience, the Divine at my side, helping me along the way.

{a physical representation of goals -- a contract with yourself}

 

Hello my lovlies!

After years of going red, I'm a blond again. *G* Just enjoying my new, much lighter hair!

This is my contract with myself.

When we make agreements in writing, we're much more prone to follow them. They are physical proof of abstract promises, a daily reminder that, at one time, we were willing and excited about a goal. In those moments when we'd do anything to get out of this creative venture, we can turn to a contract, see the words written clearly on the page, and steel our resolve to do them, even when we don't want to. Even when we feel we don't have the time, or aren't feeling good. 

And accomplishing them isn't as difficult as it may sound. A ten minute break at work is enough time for me to get down 150 words. Waking up an hour early gives just enough time to paint a journal page or solder a pendant. These limited blocks of time give birth to greater accomplishment simply because they're shorter. There aren't hours stretching out before you, endless idle time to get things done. Outside forces are at work, holding a clock over your head -- get it done now because this is all you have.

These limits help reign in inspiration. Instead of sitting there waiting for it to strike, you command it, shape it to your liking. This doesn't mean you fake it, rather, you tell your muse or the divine that you are sitting down to work, ready to feel their graceful hand, and they can do the same. You're partners in this endeavor, and partners are there for each other.

And so, I've created two very simple goals. To do some sort of art each day, and to write 1000 words. I don't say work on a painting each day, or that the 1000 words have to be all of one thing, or just "serious" writing. I give leeway. I allow for oddities and the surprises of life. A full day can still give way to accomplishment -- a stolen photograph, scrawled words between customers or calls.

It is the intent that matters -- that you are trying your best, at any moment, to fulfill your contract. The more you do it, the easier it gets to jump right in during those stolen three minutes you have. And if you find yourself with a day or three of endless possibilities, you can jump in feet first instead of sticking a toe in the chilly water and needing time to get used to it. Dive in, call to your inspiration, and each day, word by word, drawing by drawing, you will achieve more than you could possibly imagine.

See? 500 words done. In 15 minutes, I'm halway there. Add to that the 150 during a break, and it doesn't seem so difficult after all.

{projects & progress}

I picked up Julia Cameron's book 'The Sound of Paper' a few years ago, when I was reading through 'The Artist's Way' for the first time. I didn't read it at the time; the short essays weren't for me (and I believe in reading a book of the moment instead of forcing myself to read one), so it was shelved, lost, packed, spilled on, and finally thrown behind a shelving unit in the basement.

Kelly Rae has a list of soul reads on her blog, and this book happens to be one of them. Reading her blog one day, I saw it and remembered I had a copy somewhere. Reading through the essays now is like visiting an old friend, and my understanding of Cameron has changed since reading her autobiography.

Instead of seeing her as this big, untouchable writer, I see her as an older friend I may run into one day. She was born and grew up in a town near here, one I visit frequently and actually worked in for years. When I pass the theater, I remember her talking about going there with friends. The high school she attended is still there (and a few friends of mine went there). She is a girl just like me, who came from where I am, and shows me I can make it, too.

Anyway, last night, one of the exercises told you to grab a sketchbook and track the progress of a project. And I thought – I have an art journal...isn't that the same thing? But since I see my journals as a project sometimes, I thought, what about my blog? I need to stop thinking I have to have something important to say in order to post here and use it to keep track and record my own thoughts.

So here is a painting I'm working on. This is the second stage.

A girl has to go on it – because I want to put one there! – so I sketched a girl in my journal and decided to color her watercolor style. Which was hard, because I only have fluid acrylics. A lot of water was used, but since I didn't gesso the page beforehand, it works!

I'll show you the final page tomorrow, because it has something important on it. ;) More on that tomorrow, though!

{soldering surprises}

Oh, I've been a tease! I keep talking about my soldering projects, and then never share pictures of any of them.

When I started soldering, it was for me. I find it relaxing and exciting, and usually have a new pendant to wear to work every day. And, being a Creative Girl, I'd show off the newest ones to the co-workers who'd care. But now it's become a Thing. I have a few regulars who ask to see my pendants, and even have a co-worker who wants me to make a set for her and her daughters!

Just proof that creative energy, when it comes from a place of love, can be very powerful!

I've had people telling me I should sell them, create more, even given me ideas! My mindset, however, has been that I'll make as many as I want for me and sell some only after I've made a bunch. My technique isn't perfect (though I'm a perfectionist, so that isn't saying much!), but I've limited myself to one a day so I can spend quality time on them without neglecting other aspects of my life.

Today's marks the beginning of something new. I have a few pieces of vintage costume jewelry, and have never been the kind to preserve things, so a few pieces from a vintage necklace made their way onto this new soldered square. It is also the first time I've used a copy of a piece of artwork of mine. I want to put my paintings and such in them, now!

This has become very addicting and enjoyable. I find myself wanting to shop for beads. Since I've learned how to do basic wire jewelry (I took a class awhile ago), I can combine the two to create some stunning pieces.

But I'm not neglecting my box! I've got half of a first draft of an article done and have been outlining The Book (as it will be called from here on in) in my journal. Which has become more of a sketchbook than finished, intended pages. Lots of playing and drawing and experimenting with colors going on here! And, of course, on the cover. Because sometimes, you don't have time to open it before the doodling urge overcomes you.

And! I'm teaching a workshop soon! Just have to email the details (tonight, Jami!). I've been planning and scheming and gathering supplies for this journal-making and backgrounds workshop! If only you all could be there....we'd have such fun!

Here are some photos from outside the jail yesterday. Brother is home and seems to be doing well. *G* I, unfortunatly, must be off to serve coffee. Hopefully, this burst of creative energy and getting things done will continue! Pokes to get me back on track are welcome!