t is for...

transform. We do that a lot as parents, as artists, as people. 

Maybe we reinvent our look, or change something about where or how we live, what we eat, who we spend our time with. 

My artistic journey has absolutely been one of transformation. I always wanted to draw, to create. I wanted to be an artist as soon as I knew about the desire of "being" something or someone. 

Although I always drew, I didn't really pick up a real paint brush until high school and I instantly fell in love with the idea of painting. I started out painting landscapes and I was in total awe of blending colors and shapes to create something that resembled reality. As I continued to pursue painting I changed directions several times, ultimately ending up really enjoying abstract and non-objective art, colorful and free. 

My journey through parenthood has also been an evolving adventure. Every time I think I have it figured out, something changes and I have to do something different to keep up with the craziness. I am very comfortable with change but on a day to day basis it is definitely a struggle. 

I am attempting to embrace the process. I have to transform as my child does, learn to grow with him and accept him, learn to meld two different personalities together on a daily basis. My transformation in parenthood has come in the form of letting go. Letting go of what I feel like things should look like and embracing what things actually are. 

s is for...

I have always been sensitive. I mean, I am a Pisces so it goes with the territory. Or the water. You know what I mean.

I cry easily. Over lots of things. In private. Sometimes it comes out in public too.

I get upset easily and my feelings get hurt even if I don't always show it. 

I always try to tell myself I don't care what other people think. If I did, why would I be this weirdo preppy non-objective artist who is just completely confused and often clueless? Of course I care (a little) about what people think. But what I care the most about is how I affect other people. In my previous life I was a dark little cloud of negativity. I say previous life because I have changed so much, and part of that is due to my sensitive nature really coming to light. I am bothered when other people are bothered. I am bothered when other people don't care about how they affect others. I am bothered if I am bothering others. I am bothered when people stand still (figuratively) when they could be moving somewhere, anywhere. I am bothered when I stand still myself. I am bothered with sadness and pain and struggle and it hurts. I try to see the positive more, in people and in life in general -and it is a struggle for me- but I continue to try because I cannot be overwhelmed by the darkness. It hurts too much.

I am still a bit of a dark cloud. The rain is usually falling on me somewhere and I'll admit I kind of like it that way. I like the gloom because I feel most safe when I can be hidden away. 

But I feel the most alive when I connect with people. My way to connect is through my writing and my visual art, so if you don't know I am truly a sensitive soul, I hope you see that through my creating.

Sensitivity exploded with parenthood. Now I get to be sensitive for two and omg does it hurt even more. I hurt when he hurts, I cry when he cries, I worry and stress and hope and daydream right along with him and for him when he hasn't figured out that mess of human emotions just yet.

My sensitivity shows in bursts. Sometimes it comes in waves of anger. Other times it is happiness that brings me to tears. When I am the most lost in my feelings I either want to create everything or nothing. It's a constant battle.

Without sensitivity I don't think I would be the artist I am. I can't even imagine being in my own skin if I wasn't thinking about and feeling everything...and if I'm not feeling everything what can I share with the world?

r is for...

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         Photo by Trang Ta on Unsplash


Resilient. 

Are you overextend? Maxed to capacity? Or just over it all? 

I know. Me too.

This goes beyond parenting and creating.

This is lamenting. 

I mean, it's not only about things to do although there are plenty of things that need to get done. Always. And it's not only about bumps in the road that sometimes turn into mountains. And it's not just the giant, constant heartbreak that torments us all. It's all of these things and this whole idea that you keep going and going and going until you collapse out of physical or emotional exhaustion...or you can't keep going because you're just tragically...gone.

If we make it to the next day...

We bounce back even if the spring is a little stretched out.

We recover because we want to survive.

And we help. We always, always help, because if we are not helping we are not recovering. If we are not helping we will never bounce back. 

What can we do to help each other?

q is for...

Quality.

Q is such a cool letter isn't it? I love how it looks, with the little tail on the end. It's the little things.

I have learned over my limited time as an artist and even less time as a mom, quality is definitely important.

I destroyed many potential great pieces by not using the best lasting materials or applying the appropriate surfaces to whatever medium I haphazardly threw down because I just HAD to get my creative urge out on the canvas! 

I am all for quick creating, it's a must do in the artsy mom world because you don't have all the time to fully invest in even the most desired project. It's still important to figure out the best way to make something last, and take the time to find products that work for whatever you want to achieve. I like these little paintings because they are manageable and I'm happy with the results. Large scale painting is not something I do much anymore because I need this magical thing called uninterrupted time and that disappeared somewhere around the time my son was born. 

Speaking of quality...and time...this applies to children too. Some days wander by in a chaotic wail of frustration and others fly by so fast I barely find the time to reheat my coffee more than once. I have spent many days bemoaning my crappy parenting but if I stop and think about the actual moments throughout a day, I can recount times that were seriously so special. There are so many quality moments throughout these long and tedious days. I know sometimes it's hard to find them but I promise they are there. They might rush by so fast and blurry you don't notice them, but they are there.

Maybe it's your child singing softly to themselves when they don't know you are listening...maybe it's the perfect cup of tea sipped while rain patters on the windows. It could be the lovely moment your child masters a skill they have struggled with and they smile so big, and then it becomes your moment too because you didn't even know you could be literally thrilled over something so mundane. Some moments for me are a gorgeous color that catches my eye, especially if it something found in nature. It's not a huge thing but I can savor the little glimpse of beauty. 

These moments might not seem like much but they matter. They are the quality pieces of your life, the little things that fill in the spaces between all the big craziness. Take a minute to think about your day, what quality moments did you have? 

I promise, they are there.

p is for...

So many words came to mind.

Patient. (hahaha) Proud. Picky. (So much this) Pretty. 

Pure...the essence of the love between my child and myself is simple.

It's not always easy and it's not always fun but it is pure. 

Sometimes he says something so innocent and funny, like when I finally tossed a torn shirt covered in stains and he said, so sadly, "I miss my white shirt that's in the trash." He thinks about things in a different and often unique way, like children do, and it's refreshing to see things through his eyes.

I feel this way as an artist. No one will see things the way I see them. It is difficult to feel like my art is pure...I see things all the time that inspire me, other artists work, their words, music, nature, even random, obscure things...but everything goes through this filter. And the remainder comes out like this pure, perfect thing, that only my mind understands. It is the job of an artist to communicate these inner thoughts and feelings in a way that others can understand. Right? Why does art hang on walls or sit on pedestals? Because it is there for the viewer. But you know what? Ultimately it doesn't matter if you like it. If you care, if you think it's pretty or awful or something in between. Because it's there for everyone and we are all different, pure in how we experience everything. Art is this amazing universal language because it speaks to you in ways only you can understand. 

When I was solely focused on creating non-objective art I struggled with my focus. I was always asked what my work meant, what it was saying. I didn't always have the words other than "organic, elements from nature etc." because it was basically just purely from my heart to my head to canvas. It was me spilling out in this explosion of color because that is simply what I felt. No explanation needed, really. Sometimes people would tell me what they saw in my paintings and I LOVED that. I loved hearing what others saw, even it was different than my own feelings when I painted the piece. I loved it because I could see something new through their eyes, just like I get to see so many new things through my child's eyes. 

Pure connection. That's so important to me. Thanks for tripping around in my head a bit with me today, I get lost in there sometimes. 

xoxo

o is for...

I am sharing a few words from my friend Eileen (thanks lady)

"After all the lessons, all the shouting matches, all the creativity and showing them how to make choices...there comes a time when we just have to sit back and let them do things themselves. 

When we observe, we see their first steps, the unsolicited hugs they have for their friends and siblings, their problem solving, their confidence on the playground, and their choices.

When we observe, we see our children's true personality and character. The moment when we see as a parent that our babies do listen to us. And do want to make us proud."

Que the waterfall of tears when I read Eileen's words in response to an O word for this series. I really couldn't say it better so I hope she does not mind my overstep. 

Observe.

I love it. I need to do it more. I used to.

When I was younger, still growing up, (still am) I watched a lot. I wrote a lot. I retreated a lot. And when I did actually speak up, I realized (most of the time) people listened. It was a strange experience for me to see anyone perk up at what I had to say. I started speaking more but that's a story for another post ;-)

I still prefer to sit back, to watch and wait for what is supposed to happen. I was never the child that ran for the pinata when it broke. Even though I love candy. I was a tad timid but strong enough to know what I did or did not want. 

I try to imagine myself through my parents eyes. I wonder what they observed about me, how they watched me change and grow, struggle and triumph. I watch my own child on the playground, adrift in his own world, running with a hula hoop imagining who knows what, and I wonder where he will go.

I need to remember to do this more, getting to the school a few minutes early to observe him, slipping into his room at night to admire his little face just one more time before I go to sleep, letting him wander while we walk and just watching where he wants to go...

I always wanted to create. I always wanted to tell stories. This is a part of my fabric, it's what makes me, me. When my child tells me who he is I want to listen and enjoy the beauty of watching what is supposed to happen. I know he will make me, so, so proud. He already does. 

why I write...

Why I Write.

I write because I don’t have a choice. It’s a part of me. I write about little girls growing up into women and all of the adventure, sadness, joy and drama that exists in between. I write to let go of my past and to hope and dream about everything my future can be. I write because it's easy and I write because it's the most difficult thing ever. I write when I want to cry. I write to blow out the candle always burning in the back of my brain. I write to quiet the buzzing and to see through the blur. I write because I like myself when I see my words. I write to stop the hate. I write to show my anger. I write so I don't have to say it to your face. I write to forget you. I write to distract myself and to distract you from me. I write to avoid sleep. I write out of guilt and because of pain. I write to stay young. I write so I can pretend I know more than I do. I write for my child. I write for alternate lives I could have lived. I write to learn to love myself. I write so you remember me. I write to make myself miserable. I write when I'm afraid to paint. I write when paint inspires me. I write to avoid everything. I write because it makes me feel pretty. I write when I want to scream. I write to hang on. I write to keep my eyes wide open. I write when I smell funnel cake and cotton candy. I write when the fruit is ripe and gorgeous and it needs to be said. I write to feel the ocean. I write to celebrate your life. I write to bury you deep inside the earth. I write for the future of other little girls who run to books to help them understand their ever evolving worlds. I write when I feel like hiding. I write because the world is ending and there is no way other way to stop it.  I write to smell the night air and lose myself in the dusk. I write because there is no point. I write because the moon is ablaze, then it blinks and its gone. I write because I want to fly away. I write to try to understand if there is god or something like it and what that means. I write because I don't believe. I write because I want to believe something. The truth is buried deep down and it's a relief to break through the tangled mess of words woven throughout time. I write to live forever. 

I write to heal the broken and I write to break the strong. 

If you write...why do you?


If you don't write...why don't you start?