Learning to Breathe Again

It sneaks up on you….you wake up each morning and mindlessly prepare for a day you have already imagined. You forget to think…and breathe…and take for granted that which you are most grateful for. You think you have reached that space you want to own and call your life. Yet one day you wake up and realize the air is heavy with unexpected change. It begins with a stumble. You pick yourself up and stumble again and again. And soon you are reeling from the blows you are taking. Nothing you do seems to work. And you hurt. You can barely breathe between the blows. You want to take time grieve your loss. It’s real. The pain is real. But you can’t stop that long. You have been programmed to survive and you struggle to cope. You begin to crave time away from the well-meaning people who tell you to focus on what you have left and be grateful. You know they are right. There are starving children in China. You are desperately looking for those bootstraps to pull yourself upright again. Everyone says they are there. Why can’t you find them? You cry with the frustration of those lost in the woods after they realize the trail of breadcrumbs is gone.

And then it happens…you are confronted again by life…but this time it’s not about you. It’s about someone you have known for a quarter of a century. A person you have shared your life and a child with. You’ve had your ups and downs and eventually drifted apart, but still….there is that shared life, filled with memory and emotion that forever ties you together. And he has been given a death sentence. A scant two months to live with a cancer that has quietly spread through his body without making its presence known until it was too late. No time to pursue one last dream, take one last cruise down the road or sip a beer on the shore of a lake, with a rod gently bobbing in the current awaiting the tug of a fish. Just that fast. Just that permanent. Not fair at all. He had so many plans. He was just waiting for the right moment…not knowing they had all ticked away while he waited. And now there is only time to say goodbyes….

And you realize where you got lost in life. You thought you had control. You made careful plans for what you wanted life to be…what you felt entitled to because you did the work and jumped the hoops. But life just doesn’t fit in a cubbyhole waiting to be lived on your terms. We are only here for the ride and to enjoy the wonder of each day…to appreciate this short time we can share our lives with fellow travelers. In the end, we will not be judged by possessions or title, but by the simple act of laughing at each other’s jokes and offering our shoulder to cry on. And by experiencing the slack-jawed wonder of a meteor shower….or a green flash at sunset. To be content that every moment was lived and not wasted in the dark nest of a pity party. Time to dust myself off and continue on down the road and follow that star…

Sitka Center Art Invitational

I am excited to be volunteering for the Sitka Center Annual Art Invitational at the World Forestry Center in Portland, OR this weekend. The theme of the show is bringing art and ecology together. Yesterday, I attended the docent training and was treated to a tour of 500 nature themed works of art in all medias. Art overload in a very good sense. The show will take place Saturday and Sunday from 10 AM to 4 PM. The forestry center is up by the zoo and parking and admission are free.

After the training, I meandered through beautiful Washington Park, adjacent to the center. Light rain scrubbed the landscape clean of daily grit, making the fall colors stand out even more than usual. I stopped to explore a bit before heading back home. Definitely a photo op for the future when I have time to meander the many trails leading through the forest and around the Japanese garden.

This will put a smile on your face...

You will need to turn my music off at the bottom of this page before playing the video - enjoy!

Menucha: In the Company of Friends

Two weeks ago, I returned to Menucha, a retreat in the Columbia River Gorge to enjoy a weekend of art, friendship and long healing walks through the abounding beauty of the Gorge. We arrived on Friday afternoon and settled in to our rooms and spread our art materials across the tables in Creevey complex, eager to begin our incredible weekend. This is our fall retreat, where we welcome not only the members of the Portland Art Collective, but the talented friends of our members who agreed to share our weekend with us.

Tory's wild hat.

Carrie's crown

But first we don our hats and speed to dinner. After being treated to the acapella rendition of grace by a choir group that sent shivers over your skin with the beauty of the vocals, we sat down to enjoy a turkey dinner. Delicious. Complete with homemade bread and jam. And of course, the shared stories and laughter as we all caught up with each others lives or enjoyed getting to know those guests who had not attended before.

After dinner, we took a tour of Wright's Hall, that used to serve as the main house when this was a private estate owned by one of the founders of Meiers and Frank. As with all old houses, there are oddities. A one way mirror in the master bathroom medicine cabinet that looked out on the great room dance floor. A full wet bar concealed behind a wall in the basement that hosted a party or two during the Prohibition. And a hallway that hosted our rendition of Row, Row, Row Your Boat with perfect acoustics.

We returned to Creevey and sat down to work on our projects. And more talk. And more laughter. And mutual admiration of the art we created. But the night grew late and one by one we trailed off to our bedrooms.

We woke to a beautiful, sunny day full of promise. I could not wait to get outside after breakfast and take a walk through the grounds. The day was full of colors - leaves, berries, water, and sky filled my camera with the eye candy of fall.

I finished my walk by completing a meditative journey through the labyrinth, seeking peace with all that has happened at work over the past few months and looking for direction in a world suddenly chaotic and unfamiliar.

Tory's beautiful hat.

The rest of the day was filled with art, laughter and the company of friends, both old and new. Tory Brokenshire taught me how to solder one of her fabulous wire and polymer clay sculptures that took most of the day and her excellent skills as an instructor. I have dubbed her the Old School Marm. Severall of the members also taught mini classes and gladly shared their art expertise with everyone and we learned how to make felted soap, crocheted wire and bead necklaces and Zentangle doodles.

Too soon Sunday came and it was time to return home. After our goodbyes, we took one last walk around the grounds before heading down into the valley. I was sorry to lose the company of my fellow artists and friends. I feel so blessed to be a part of such a wonderful group.

A Chance Encounter

I felt her presence stooped next to me at, of all places, the toothpaste display. As my head bobbed up and down to check the brands and prices, her head moved with mine. As I rose, she rose, and her eyes met mine. Eyes so clear and blue that they penetrated my soul and explored my puzzled expression. She said, "Who are you?" and I asked her the same. She said in a whisper, "My name is a secret and no one can know." A diminuitive women, well into her eighties, dressed primly in pink Sunday best. But there was strength in that stare....and mystery. I asked her where her people were. She said she had not found them yet, but she was searching, looking in odd nooks and crannies. I was mesmerized by her stare and at a loss for words, although she looked at me expectantly waiting for a reply. But before I could speak, her daughter came, took her arm and said, "Come along, mum. It's time to go". As she walked away, her eyes never left mine. She stole a bit of my soul that day. Clever woman. Gathering up a family one soul at a time.

All Creatures Great and Small - Apifera Farm

Just a short distance from urban Portland is one of the most beautiful rural areas I know. Yamhill county. A wine lover's dream full of scenic winding roads through rolling hills, and small hidden pockets of forest hiding burbling brooks and small rivers. Vineyards, lavender fields, woollies, horses, cows and chickens share this country with their lucky humans. Heaven on earth. And in a small corner, hidden just around a bend in the road, is Apifera Farm, where artist Katherine, and her husband, Martyn Dunn share their world with three small, but very wise donkeys.

Katherine is a well known artist of primitive and whimsical art which she creates from vignettes of her life at Apifera. An amazing life filled with creatures great and small - a one-eyed pug and a wild eyed chocolate lab. Naughty goats that flaunt their ability to escape through electrified fence, but who run for their pen when caught where they don't belong. Shy cats who run for the hills when they sight a human and old crusty cats that ignore you completely. Chickens chasing each other across the barnyard, as the horse waits patiently for a hug and a treat.

But best of all are Pino, Lucia and Paco whose sad eyes and patient demeanor make them look wise beyond their years. You can't help but reach to hug them as they nibble animal crackers from your fingertips. They're magical , those donkeys, and will teach you a thing or two about life if you listen carefully while you scratch behind their ears.

The garden is winding down for fall as the leaves yellow and fall. You can breath fall in the crisp air ripe with the smell of fallen leaves and wood smoke. The vegetables are in except for a lonely few tomatoes still nestled in the vines. The sunflower heads ready themselves to feed the birds this winter, sagging with the weight of their seeds. And the pumpkins glow orange in the gray misty air, lighting the nooks and crannies with the glow of an autumn sun.

The barn and outbuildings all bear the patina of time and service and have somehow set down roots and become part of the land. The colors of the patina rival that of paintings that artist do purposefully - the hand of nature on a timeworn palette.

Each time I visit this farm, I am reminded of the musical, Brigadoon, where once in a hundred years, a mortal could find and visit a magical town in the Scottish moors. When the day ended, the town disappeared again, but the memory of its beauty and charm were burned on your soul forever. As the day drew to a close, we said our goodbyes and exchanged promises of keeping in touch. The memories of my visit to Apifera will warm my heart through the winter and give me solace in my urban home that these magical places do truly exist.

Art and Soul

How do I do credit in words the experience that is Art and Soul. A week of art shared with friends, both old and new, is beyond the ability of words to describe. There is an incredible atmosphere of creativity and peace. A complete separation from the world outside and for the moment, there is only art amidst the company of your own kind. It's a bit like breathing rarified air and feeling the energy of shared experience bring your body back to life.

The retreat began with guest speaker, Danny Gregory, whose words inspired me so much, that I later journaled on his thoughts on art. Some of his quotes that struck me were, "Drawing is a record of a journey my eyes take. A record of an observation. A slow deliberate journey with a pen". He stated that art is spelled with a small "a", but it can rewire the brain and change a life. Drawing is "in the moment but out of time - a meditation" It causes you to see life for "what it is" and focuses on what is real and not the "demons of fantasy" He said to appreciate beauty and the conciousness of the task at hand. He ended by saying "be good to you". He is an amazing man who began journaling to understand the why of his wife's injury in a freak subway accident that left her partially paralyzed and has a huge following on his Yahoo group, Everyday Matters.

My focus this year was to take classes to improve my painting skills. I began my week with a class from Katie Kendrick, Tales from the Land of Odd. She is such a talented artist and teacher and led us in creating three canvases using the works of known artists to inspire us to create our own works of art. As a watercolor artist, it is very difficult to switch from my medium to acylic, painting from dark to light instead of light to dark. But Katie pushed each of us to experiment and the paintings produced in class by the students were amazing.

The face I completed in Misty Mawn's class. I was happy with it as a first attempt.

Misty's journal cover

My next class was a two day class with Misty Mawn, another talented instructor in which we learned to paint a face and put together a luscious painted journal 7" wide and 20" tall. We learned a wealth of background techniques in the class and she was very generous in the supplies and ephermera she provided. Unfortunately, my asthma kept me from attending the second day of class, and I was disappointed to have missed even a moment of this class.

DJ during class demo.

My journal cover partially finished.

My third class was a two day class with DJ Pettitt and she led us in creating a journal out of fabric and modeling past that was amazing. I felt like I had hit a grand slam with these instructors. They were incredible.
Glenda with her completed copper repousse box.

On Sunday, I was blessed with five wonderful women who joined me in my Copper Repousse class. They were all amazing artists and we laughed and chatted through the class as we created the repousse to mount on our display boxes. As you can see, their work was amazing.

Marie Kennedy with her completed box

All too soon, it was over and I had to return to my "ordinary" life. But the memories made during this week will last a lifetime. Next post: Apifera Farm

Wrapped in the Comfort of Art

So much has happened since my last posting. I have wrapped myself in the warm cozy blanket of art and friends for the past three weeks. To regain my strength and clear my vision when the burden of life becomes overwhelming. And always, always, I find my way once more and emerge with the vision to navigate a new life journey and the energy to surmount all challenges along the way.

First I journeyed to Sitka for the last of my summer classes: Wild Yoga, Wild Art, Wild Autumn. An amazing class led by Andie Thrams, whose nature-based art is amazing.

The morning began with a meditative walk to a clear spot under the sweeping Sitka spruce trees guarded by an ebony figure.

Cushioned with needles, fragrant with the musty odor of forest floor, we spread our mats and began. As we relaxed, the sea breeze caressed our faces and the trees sang and swayed with the wind. And the song of chickadees filled the branches above us, while in the distance, a flicker called.

Once we completed our yoga session, we retired to tables under the pines to begin our art.

We worked on 140 lb. paper and used sticks found on the ground to draw loose sketches of the trees around us with permanent black ink. We then colored the paper with additional ink and tempura like paint and added details with fine black markers. Details and colors were added with pastel pencils. We worked primarily on a long strip of paper, too big to scan into my computer, but my finished project was a tall sitka spruce, from top to roots and for texture I journaled words that captured the moments I worked on my piece and connected with that ancient tree. I sway with the music of the earth, cloaked in grey velvet fog and crowned by the deep blue sky. My toes dig deep into the soil and listen to the tales of this land in which I have long been anchored. My branches are caressed by the ocean's breath and tickled by feathered ornaments that call me home. I stand strong against the winter storms, and yet...sometimes I yearn to fly.

The day ended too soon and it was time to head home and ready myself for Art and Soul. (Stay tuned for the next post on Art and Soul!)