Today finds me at another art show. It is the annual Men Who Paint Show & Sale. It is our third year. We are getting acquainted with the artists’ styles. Paul Trottier owns Hues Art Supply where I have taken some art classes. I am getting comfortable rubbing elbows with our local artists. It is surprising to find so many talented individuals in our midst. Here’s a few paintings from the show that spoke to me. They’re painted by Greg Hargarten.
Inspired by the art show and the quilt show these last couple of days gave me enough energy to dig out my log cabin quilt squares and try piecing them together. It wasn’t easy. First I had to get reacquainted with my Bernina sewing machine. It was quite a painful process for my brain. I gave myself time to clean and lubricate it. Then I proceeded from there. I didn’t try to perform magic. I just sewed a couple of blocks together. I had already done some years before and gave up. Now I’m back at it. I’ve found the will. I/it will be done. I am found.
When I woke up this morning it was still snowing and the wind still blowing. It is still. The snow is piled up against the greenhouse door again. The two pails of snow I took in yesterday did not amount to much when melted. All is cosy inside, the roof being insulated with the cover of snow. The little heater is running. The temperature barely 6℃. Being no sun yesterday there was no residual heat built up to help the heater. As long as it’s above 0 that is good enough.
While not feeling stressed, I am not exactly ecstatic or joyful. I wonder how the plants are feeling in these times of climatic change. I will pay close attention. They might teach me the art of resilience by how they grow and perform. It will give me a sense of purpose in observing and helping them to thrive. We are all connected. We need plants as much as we need other people to survive. It’s a symbiotic relationship.
I’m deciding what to do with my #100dayproject – of a daily painting for 100 days. I’ve done up to day 58. I’m tired and not so enthused any more. I feel I’m regressing, my colours muddy. Perhaps it’s fatigue talking. I can paint simpler things. I can also take longer. I can also quit if it doesn’t bring me joy. That’s what Marie Kondo would say.
I am still surviving the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I’m learning changing the time I come to the keyboard makes a difference.
I’m messing around with more paint, starting on #2 for my series of perhaps 10 landscapes. It’s part of the homework for my acrylic painting class. The process is very meditating and playful. As I am swirling my brush through the paint on my palette, the phrase of playing in the fields of the lord popped into my head. I felt I was playing in reverence with our Lord.
The phrase came from At Play in the Fields of the Lord, a movie I saw long ago. It’s based on the book written by Peter Matthiessen. Sounds like a good read. I have the movie on cassette. Not sure whether I’m up to watching it again. I remembered it was long and hard to sit through it all. However, I am intrigued by the book and have reserved it from the library.
A lazy Saturday spent resting in hopes of recouping my energy and not falling ill. I felt immediately better when I made the decision to rest. I was not totally idle the whole day. I did some homework on grounding for my painting class. How appropriate, eh? There’s so many other ways to ground oneself besides laying down on the ground. Here’s an excellent article on grounding.
Immersing myself in creating is very grounding. I am connected to the earth and to the riverbanks I am painting. Then I pop in Sheba. She’s still in transition, needing more work. I’m walking along with her. It is very restful and refreshing.
Here’s my grounding work. Acrylics on Arches 300 lb. cold press watercolour paper.
I’ve come to love my winter Tuesday mornings. I look forward to playing Wordle and Spelling Bee each morning. On Tuesdays I have an added bonus of an online class on Canadian history. Contrary to my previous belief that Canadian history is boring, it is very exciting and interesting. Tuesday mornings I also do my sourdough bread. It wasn’t ready for the oven today but it was still wonderful to feel and shape the dough. It was soft and alive in my hands. It sits chilling in the fridge, waiting for the morrow.
Now I’m basking in sunshine, tapping out my words on the keyboard. What makes a good day is having something to look forward to – anything that tickles our fancy. It tickles away those early morning aches and pains. If not, it makes them bearable so that we can get on with the day. It is still January. The forecast is for above temperatures of 4 – 6℃ above 0 next week. I’ve detached myself from much skiing this winter. There’s not much snow. The tracks are not good. I’m very happy to say that my plantar fasciitis is almost gone but it would be wise not to over tax my feet and ankles. So I’m cool.
It looks like we might have an early spring. It is not too early to think about starting peppers and eggplants. They take a long time to mature. I can think about germinating some snow peas. They like it cool. So do radishes. It is almost February. Soon I can take my lettuce into the greenhouse. I can device a little greenhouse in the greenhouse for them. There’s so many things to experiment with. We are only limited by our imaginations.
Here’s my effort in reworking my tree painting. Not sure I like it but I understood the rational in using the reference photo and I grew to love the photo. It taught me the rule of thirds, to paint background first and then the tree trunks and branches. I might rework it again. I can do that. It is acrylics.
Day 6 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. It is too early to take a break and skip a post. I will plod on. Over the winter I had taken a beginner’s watercolour course. I learned that the foundation to a good painting is a good drawing. Therefore, my choice for #the100dayproject is to do a daily drawing. According to Malcolm Glaldwell, if you practice one skill for 10,000 hours, you’ll have a good chance at becoming an expert at it. I’ve done day 53 now. I haven’t counted how many hours I’ve put in. Somewhere in the last while I felt I made a somewhat breakthrough.
Practice does make for better. I started out doing everything so carefully, measuring and making a grid. I used a pencil and eraser. I wanted perfect. My drawings turned out well but I felt a bit stifled. I couldn’t start without my grid and measurements. This was the opposite of what I used to do. Before taking any classes, regardless of whether I was using watercolours or acrylics, I drew with my paint brush. No pencil and eraser. That made me scratched my head. I wondered how I did that. They weren’t great paintings but they weren’t terrible either. Some of them were actually pretty good for index card paintings.
I decided to give up the pencil and eraser. I did pen drawings. No eraser needed or of any use. No rulers, no measurements and no grid. I just put down a mark with my pen and away I go. I scratch here and there, adding lines. Somehow it all comes out ok. I astound myself sometimes. I guess I must have more confidence when I know I can’t erase. I better make good or know how to fix it so that it comes out ok. And adding some watercolour sure makes the drawing come alive. Besides putting in the hours of practice, it helps if you have good paint and good paper. And you have to love the object of your creation. When a photo grabs me, I know that I can draw it. Those photos usually hold a story or an emotion. They speak to me and spill onto the page in ink and colour.
I’m happy for no reason on this 3rd day of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. A good night’s sleep and a walk in the park always help. It is a warm sunny day – +10℃ outside and 27.9℃ in the greenhouse with 3 vents opened. The greens are doing very well. So are the 3 Red Alert Tomatoes and the 2 cucumbers. I’m looking forward to happy gardening and fresh salad greens. Maybe there will be a tomato or two at the end of May. Cross my fingers and toes.
Talking about feet, my left heel pain is gone. It’s a good reason to be happy. I’ve had that pain for months, if not for a year. It doesn’t hurt all the time but I sure feel it when I get up from sitting or laying. I would hobble around for it a bit before it would ease. I’ve been doing heel stretches for weeks at a stretch with no result. I’ve lived with this pain for so long that it’s part of me. I hadn’t noticed the exact moment it left. I am sure it was the functional exercise class Friday that did it. It’s such a good class, seemingly easy and simple with no heavy breathing or sweating. This is the set of exercises. We did it for 8 minutes or so.
leaning hands on wall for support at an angle, lift heels up 20 times
then leaning with back on wall at an angle, lift toes up 20 times
walk a straight line on toes x 10 steps then walk backwards on toes
walk a straight line on heels x 10 steps then walk backwards on heels
I hope my happiness lasts or is a frequent visitor. My get-with-the-program is going well. I am on my 50th day of #the100dayproject. I’m drawing/painting my memories and history. I am learning and understanding more of myself and life. How’s that for killing a few birds with a pen/pencil and a paint brush?
University DaysGraduating NursingWith Friends in Japan
I think this is enough for today. I have to admit that I am a little distracted and frazzled with my projects. I have to save some time and quiet for myself. I lost on Wordle today. It’s a good thing we can play only once a day. Otherwise, I might not get here having this conversation.
Sometimes my emotions can turn on a dime. I’m paying attention to identify the triggers. Maybe it is just a matter of my chemistry being altered and any one thing can upset my apple cart. By now I have had enough experience with my history, I don’t need to run off to the psychiatrist’s couch to lament or to ask for a prescription. I’ve also stopped reading those self-help books and taking online courses on how to fix myself. I have graduated from life’s school of hard knocks with a prestigious PhD. I am my own Personal Health Doctor.
No one knows me better than myself. It is about time that I listen and trust in me. It is only natural that we have good and bad days. What goes up, must come down. I should listen to the Blood, Sweat and Tears and “ride a painted pony, let the spinning wheel spin”. In other words, get on the damn merry-go-round and ride it out. It will eventually stop. So that’s what I’m doing – riding it out.
In the meantime I’m still living and feeling whatever it is that is here in me. I’m not trying to fight it off like I used to. That would be a form of self abuse, wouldn’t it, to deny part of yourself? Is self love not encompassing all parts of the self, the good, bad and ugly? Though it is hard, I do try to sit with all my physical and psychological discomforts. My natural inclination has always been to run away. It never works. It comes back again and again. And now, after I have stopped running, it comes back less and less. My bad feels better and better.
What is it that I do besides not running away? Well, nothing special. I just carry on with daily life as best as I can. I still have to get out of bed, dress up and show up. It’s doing all those boring things like brushing my teeth and other personal hygiene routines. It’s having nutrituous meals and getting fresh air and exercise. It’s keeping house and having hobbies. It’s showing an interest in life and others. Even when I don’t feel like it, I act like I am. There’s wisdom in faking it till you make it. One thing for sure is I never feel like just curling up and sleeping it off.
No matter how I feel, I can still bake – bread, cookies, muffins. It’s comforting to measure, mix and kneed. The aroma of bread and chocolate chip cookies baking is very healing. No matter how slow and sluggish I am, I still took apart a long winter coat, lining and all. Somehow, some way I will find the energy to revamp it into a different coat. Recently I sew up 2 pairs of panties from an old t-shirt. It’s good to have something to take apart when you’re feeling out of sorts. Then there’s painting. It’s also a good thing when you’re feeling blue and that your life is nothing. In those moments, I feel it’s ok to just splash paint and make a mess on the canvas. I am so delighted when something nice comes out of it. Then there’s writing. The tap, tap, tap on the keyboard is very relaxing and therapeutic. And I get to let out my angst. There’s pleasure in putting in and arranging my photos, too. I love reading other people’s words. Today I’m rereading Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre. The last time was when I was in high school.
We had another thunderstorm last evening. The rain hammered fiercely on the roof. It was noisy. Sheba was either too tired from the night before or else she was not bothered by the energy of this storm. She did perked up from her pillow, wandered about warily, going to the door, listening to the rain and thunder. But she did settled back on her pillow after some reassurance and petting.
The rain stopped before bedtime. We went to bed and all had a good night’s sleep. Not a peep from Sheba. How wonderful sleep felt after a night without. It is the best medicine. I felt strung out all day yesterday with the kind of tired that doesn’t let you sleep. I was a walking zombie for lack of a better description. It felt like somebody had died. It felt like a depression. I felt like behaving badly. I didn’t because I knew better.
I’m not one who rises singing. I felt like it this morning. But my lack of sleep the other night still affected my mood through the day. It went in and out. I felt pesky and irritated at times, wanting to act out. I didn’t but accepted my moodiness. I let myself feel whatever came up. I didn’t squish or squash them. They were left to do a slow simmer inside while I behaved my best on the outside. I am becoming a good Buddhist. Thank you, Pema Chodron for your wisdom.
It’s a beautiful day after the 2 rains. The temperature is perfect, with a light breeze. I could sit on the deck in the middle of afternoon. It was wonderful in my outdoor studio, painting my little index cards. Sheba is always nearby, the birds chirping in the cedars and I have my cuppa. I take care not to dip my brushes in it instead of the water. I sometimes struggle with the prompts for Daisy Yellow ICAD Challenge. But today they just came. It was so much fun, so satisfying.
Prompt: Wabi sabi
Now it is getting to be almost 9 in the evening. It is still light, a splash of pale sun against the garage wall. It is so calm, a mellow yellow and tender evening. I can sit here and gaze at it forever if it lasts. But soon the light will disappear. Dusk will come, followed by the dark of the night. It is time for me to finish though it feels like I have a ton of conversation left in me. Nothing exciting or profound. They’re just the little stuff of this ordinary life. They’re as elusive as the butterfly and they fly away as quickly. I will have to wait for another day to catch them again.
Today the sun plays hide and seek behind the clouds. The wind is sighing heavily through the spruce trees. I am spooked by the shadowing and heavy sighs. My skin crawls. I have to do. I can’t just sit and think. Questions, all kinds of whys and how comes would creep in and invade my head and infest my mind. Yesterday, I thought about makingupdating my will and last testament. I thought about who/what causes to leave all my stuff to, whether they are worthy or not. Then I started thinking about relationships. What is and what is not. I make myself stop.
It’s better to do than to think. I took my tea out to my workstation on the deck. It was still coolish but the sun was out. The wind can’t find its way through the screen. I was warm and snug in my sanctuary. The index cards, brushes and paint were waiting for me to make a start. After the first stroke, I was away, absorbed in the process. Gone were the questions, the uncertainties and anxiety attached to them.
So what do you think of my little pouty Geisha? She kind of reminds me of my groupy self when I was little. I had those puffed out cheeks and down turned lips. Funny how I always paint myself. Perhaps it’s my alter ego wanting to come through. She’s trapped all these years and screaming to come out. Now she has an avenue through my art.
This is much better than letting the anxiety getting the better of me. Yes, I feel its creepy, crawling fingers on my skin, its stirring in my heart. I know its ways. I’m soothing and smoothing it down with my brushes and paint. I’m turning its energy in the creative rather than the destructive direction. True, Miss Pouty is not perfect. She is rather sweet though, slanted eyes and all.
I never like doing anything. If I didn’t know any better, I would rather curl up like a cat in the sun. I could easily not do anything but purr and sleep. I know that’s is not a good thing to do all the time. So I packed up my gym bag and headed out for the pool. It was wonderful. I had it all to myself. I can splash to my heart’s content. I can make a fool of myself. No one to witness except the lifeguard. What a good opportunity to practice my backstroke. I can relax with no one breathing down my back. Up the lane I front crawled. Down the lane I backstroked. I did well. I talked myself into 15 minutes, then 30 and at 45 minutes, it was good enough. It was excellent. It was better to do than to sit and brood.
onethousandandtwo 