Check out my new easel! My husband and I made it. It stands 6ft5in tall and can easily accomodate a 6ft painting! It is super sturdy. AND, the kicker is that we spent about $25 and 8 hours on it (that is with breaks and many kid interruptions.) Can you tell I am excited? We got scrap wood and tools from my Father-in-law. It was so fun to make. I was wearing goggles and sweating...using power tools. Ah, the smell of sawdust. So, I now have two easels for my studio! YAY!

The need for a new easel came up because I have a painting drying on another easel and my studio is so small, I don't have anyplace to sit it where it will remain undisturbed. So, I was going to go buy one at JoAnne's with my 40% off coupon. But, it was a pretty small easel for $130.00. I would have still had to pay around $80.00. Well, I just couldn't do it. So, I got on the internet and found an artist who designed plans for one and posted them for free. http://www.itg.uiuc.edu/people/grosser/easel/ Voila! This easel is WAY better than anything I could have afforded. Any comparable easel would run about $400.

What did I learn from this experience? I learned to make it myself anytime I can. I learned to remember to love all parts of the creative process, even the not so glorious ones. I learned once again how great of a team my husband and I are. I learned that it is good to challenge myself with things that seem bigger than my capabilities will allow. I learned that I would buy the adjustable square and use a table saw to cut the boards next time. I also learned that you can't alter even the slightest part of the plan without it effecting something else.

Aside from that, my yard is looking pretty spiffy. My tomato and pepper plants are growing nicely. My spinach is outta control. I must make a roulade soon. My flowers are spreading and my herbs are all flourishing. Paul and I are working on our Zen garden. Our fencing is being delivered today. Our stone path looks awesome! Forrest is particularly fond of it...marking it with his feces and urine every chance he gets. I am just thrilled he is going outside! So I can't bring myself to complain too much. I do wonder about the metaphore of him pissing and shitting on my path. What is that supposed to mean? A lesson in tolerance maybe? All of this creates an environment that is so grounding for me. I am so grateful just to be there to notice the growth everyday and to water and nurture everday.

My compost bin is working very well. I made it by drilling 1 1/2" holes in a plastic garbage can. This after looking at them at the gardening store and seeing that the rotating bins were $150. I see a trend forming here. I added a little soil, the kids dug worms for me and we were in business. It has been up and running for two weeks now. I had the pleasure of using some of it in a few new potted plants this weekend. That felt good. There is something so right about embracing the cylce of life, death and being mindful of how one always nurtures the other...balance, balance, balance...love all parts of the process.

So, tonight I'll be moving my easel into my studio and setting the stage for my next canvas preparation. I am seriously considering making my own canvas stretchers and such. One step at a time though. I still have some store boughts that need to be used. My day of oatmeal, homeschooling, ritual plant watering and brushing aside feces and urine from my path awaits me. Let me begin...

Dead Bird Head

Running in the rain

Working hard to be here now

Wet branch slaps my face

This morning as I headed out for a run, I began walking to warm up. I kept my gaze downcast allowing internal information to register about how I was feeling, what muscles felt tight and so forth. I looked up and noticed it was beginning to rain. No matter. I often find comfort in rain. The drizzle, the clouds are like ques giving me permission to slow down and go at my own pace.

When feeling great doubt

One can often find answers

Sitting with nature

So I breathed deeply allowing my lungs to fill with the moist Spring air and then exhaled just as deeply. All the while my gaze was on the sidewalk about three feet in front of me. Something caught my attention and I had to go back and investigate it. Whatever it was, I was drawn to the familiarity of the colors and shapes that sort of blended together as I walked past. Yet, it stirred something deep within me and triggered memories.

Images of dead baby birds that had fallen from their nests were called forth to make sense out of this blurred mass I passed on the sidewalk. I used to see this every Spring as a child. On occasion, I would find one alive and try to nurse it back to health, feeding it any seeds that I could find accompanied by worm pieces that I gently shoved down their throats. I now know that I definitely contributed to the deaths of these birds. But my intention was most certainly to save them.

Upon backtracking about five steps and bending down, camouflaged in the moist, brown, muddied sidewalk was the head, and only the head of a little brown bird. It's eyes were closed. It was ant food now and I watched an army of them entering and exiting the red flesh spewing from the severed neck. I felt the same compassion that I used to feel as a child when I would see hurt or dead animals. That in itself was an interesting observation because I have to say that it has been a very long time since I have viewed the world in such a way. Somewhere between these memories of Springs past when I was 7-10 years old and my now 34 year old mind, I have quite successfully managed to seperate myself from the experiences of the life, death and suffering of animals in the wild. My logical mind would attribute this to a better understanding of nature, and of how life cycles and food chains work. My intuition tells me it has more to do with wanting to separate myself from my own death experience.

In this decapitated bird head, I felt my own ending. I didn't see it. I didn't rationalize it. I felt it. It was frightening. I kept all of these thoughts with me as I began to run. I thought that it must also be true that I could see my beginning in this very same moment in space in time, simultaneously. I thought about the ants and the many beginnings that were embodied in this dead bird head. Interconnectedness. Why do we work so hard to separate ourselves? Is it so that we can get more done? Understand more? Experience more? We just gloss the surface of true understanding and get on with the next thing? If we are so comfortably separating ourselves from these subtle, more intimate parts of nature, what else are we so eager to separate ourselves from?

I kept running. I kept noticing new layers of this settling into my consciousness. As I ran, I felt when I was truly in the moment that my running, my breathing were effortless. I felt almost as if I weren't actually breathing in air or feeling my feet hit solid ground. I felt as though I was particles of matter existing and floating around within the particles of what makes up air. Okay. That was strange. It was also beautiful.

Even more strange was noticing that every single time I became aware of this and became almost self conscious of it, it ended and I felt the effort of my breathing and my muscles again. Which, I don't mind telling you was kind of comforting. But, I was and am still curious. I allowed myself to drift back into the moment again and again. It was as if I were a baby in the womb, not needing to breathe air because I was enveloped by a force who was doing the breathing for me.

I realized that my reality, is not a true reality. What is true reality, does not truly belong to me or anyone else. It exists all by itself and can be observed only without judgement. Whenever, I became self conscious of my awareness or had any feelings of "Oh shit this is blowing my mind" or "This is freaking me out", it was as if I was taking the reality of the Universe and trying to make it my own. I felt immediately tired and was able to run less successfully. Good endorphins? Maybe. Finding deeper meaning and understanding? I hope so.

All of this coupled with a Mother's Day picture done in "Braille" and breakfast in bed made by the hearts and hands of those that love me most has made for a day that feels immensely satisfying. Now excuse me while I get back to the moment.

Untitled

Untitled

Secrets

Ode To My #16 Round Brush

Ode To #16 Round Brush

#16 Round Brush
You Give me such a rush
No one knows
That I have a crush
On you

I firmly hold you and
You glide so smooth
Like a tongue across skin
It should be a sin
To feel this good

Creating new life
You and I
Into the wee hours of the night
Our dance is quite a sight
It's enough to make the neighbors talk

Ashamed? No, why should I be?
I will go on painting happily
Just being what I was meant to be
#16 Round Brush
You complete me

Okay, so I am amusing myself and still not working, but playing is all part of the magic - eh?

Blog Silence Ended

I am sitting in my studio with paint all over me. Pungent odors of oil paints are buzzing through my nasal passages causing who knows what kind of changes in my synapses. Peter Garbiel is playing in the background and I am surrounded by images that I have created. If I sit and allow my gaze to relax, the images come together in a blurred parade of color. I am tired, but satisfied. I am trying to take a break before working on something else.

My hubby took last week off. No blogging for either of us. Just yard work. It felt great to be outside just turning myself over to the task in front of me working muscles that haven't gotten to show their worth since last Summer. We got so much done. We are turning a space behind our garage into a Zen Garden. Years of overgrowth that obstructed our view has been ripped and cut out. The ground needs to be leveled and then we will put in a bamboo fence. I spent much of my time digging a path from our deck to what will be an entrance to the garden. I would dig and dig, continuously filling wheel barrel after wheel barrel full of dirt and then dumping it in front of the house to improve the grade. As I dug, I kept hitting barriers and would have to stop, get down on the ground and use a hatchet on tree roots or dig out rocks that needed close attention.

Hold on a minute. Peter Gabriel is singing Shaking the Tree. Goosebumps and the heavy swaying and rocking of my body are preventing me from typing right now.

Oh I love this song.

Souma yergon, sou nou yergon, we are shakin' the tree

Souma yergon, sou nou yergon, we are shakin' the tree

Waiting your time, dreaming of a better life

Waiting your time, you're more than just a wife

You don't want to do what your mother has done - She has done

This is your life, this new life has begun It's your day - a woman's day

It's your day - a woman's day

Turning the tide, you are on the incoming wave

Turning the tide, you know you are nobody's slave

Find your sisters and brothers

Who can hear all the truth in what you say

They can support you when you're on your way

It's your day - a woman's day It's your day - a woman's day

Souma yergon, sou nou yergon, we are shakin' the tree

Souma yergon, sou nou yergon, we are shakin' the tree

Souma yergon, sou nou yergon, we are shakin' the tree

There's nothing to gain when there's nothing to be lost

There's nothing to gain if you stay behind and count the cost

Make the decision that you can be who you can be

You can beTasting the fruit come to the liberty tree

It's your day - a woman's dayIt's your day - a woman's day

Changing your ways, changing those surrounding you

Changing your ways, more than any man can do

Open your heart, show him the anger and pain, so you heal

Maybe he's looking for his womanly side, let him feel

You had to be so strong And you do nothing wrong

Nothing wrong at all We're gonna to break it down

We have to shake it down Shake it all around

Souma yergon, sou nou yergon, we are shakin' the tree

Souma yergon, sou nou yergon, we are shakin' the tree

Souma yergon, sou nou yergon, we are shakin' the tree...

Okay, so where was I...

I was thinking about how creating my path and cutting through barriers was such a metaphor for life. I think we tend to focus so much on what is ahead of us that the tree roots and rocks really can trip us up. It was a great exercise in being in the moment. My stamina amazes me when I am able to be in the moment. I mean, you really see that you are much stronger mentally and physically when you can focus all of your energy on the task at hand instead of being divided on many things at once. Whoever said that "multitasking" was a power word for a resume has mislead us all.

It really has been a great day. It began with time with my husband. We got to run together which we don't often get to do. I was then able to meet friends for breakfast. The rest of the day has been spent in my studio. Which reminds me, I had better get back to work. Off to work on a drawing.