Yesterday's Tomorrow

Time is a gift

It’s OK to do what you love.

Or do nothing for a bit.

Rest from the stress.

Then try again.

t’s been a bit rough here, tumbling in the tsunami of news.

How are you doing?

All my teaching is gone. I feel adrift. But the birds sing in the morning. So rich. And so loud - because the city’s traffic has disappeared. Slowly new ideas emerge. A new schedule seems possible. Old truths emerge, new again:

• Call your friends.

• Keep a journal. “Write down what’s really happening,” says my historian daughter. “Those diaries are how historians will piece together what it was like to be alive now.”

• Help. Sew masks. Donate blood. Bring supplies to your local shelter. Buy takeout. Order anything from anyone who’s self-employed.

• Laugh. Share happiness.

• Cook . Leave some with the neighbors.

• Make stuff. You are creative. Get out the supplies.

• Get a good night’s sleep.

What’s helped you the most? What’s hardest? What do you hope for? Leave a comment and I’ll put your name in the hat for a cheerful give-away. We’re in this together.

Collage Give

away

Leave a comment for a chance to win. I’ll draw a name next Friday, March 27.

Iteration, or: Try, Try Again

look again

then look again

We bathe in the illusion of perfection. A touch of the keyboard brings videos, museum pieces, curated images: a tsunami of ideals. In fact, none of these arrived without effort. Like the feet of the duck, paddling madly under the water, every creator works hours, days, years to craft their art. I tell my students, great artists had trash cans too. We just never see what’s in them.

For most of February I struggled with tulips. The glow of their petals. The complexity of their leaves. Check out this time-line - just a fraction of the attempts. Notice how my attention traveled: from the simple fact, to color mixing, to the shape and volume, to the sheer glow. I’m not satisfied yet. Something explosive and colorful is coming. More work to do.

If you’ve been struggling with an idea, an image, take moment and read  this. Successes like Dyson and Pixar go through thousands of iterations.. So have faith. Try again.

Work from what you love

let the beauty

of what you love be what you do - Rumi

Some days art feels hard. Devil dogs hound our brains. Monkey voices chatter about work to do. Yes, there will always be more to-do: laundry, bills, bookkeeping, internet, news, cooking, cleaning… But to live we need to stop. Step out of the to-do zone, and just be.

Step away from the internet, the news.

Pick up your pencil, brush, camera.

What is it you see? What fascinates you? Pulls you in?

Start there.

For me, this week, it was $5 worth of flowers. They are the promise of sunshine. They speak of the earth’s longing to survive. They are full of light and warmth. So with pencil and paint, I’ve studied them til they faded. Then painted how they made me feel.

a work in progress…

You are an artist. You notice what others walk past. You’re entranced by what others take for granted. In this fascination you will find your work. Spend time with what you love. Why does it hold your attention? What fascinates? How can you make that more? How can you express it in your work?

“Why do you never find anything written about that idiosyncratic thought you advert to, about your fascination with something no one else understands? Because it is up to you. There is something you find interesting, for a reason hard to explain. It is hard to explain because you have never read it on any page; there you begin " - Annie Dillard

Spend time exploring what you love.

Why I work with Alzheimer's folks

Love persists

where so much has been lost

My father died with Alzheimer’s. So did his four siblings. Undiagnosed dementia clouded my grandmother. So once a week I pack paint or collage supplies to a locked ward, and lead a art class with residents with dementia.

I am the person who comes with color and ideas. For one hour, residents can be creative, however they can. If they want to watch, if they fall asleep or walk away, that’s ok too. Making the choice, making art, says “I am here.” Those who paint leave with an echo of time in their hands. The moment is soon forgotten. but remains visible, proof of effort. Often at the end of class, residents start talking, admiring each other’s work.Every class is a journey for me.

This week we made Valentines. It is my favorite class, partly because, as a shy person, I’ve always loved being able to speak with pictures. As always I prepped materials, including “staging:” adding something to the blank paper to focus residents on the work. This week, I glued a doily and a red rectangle on each page - not always in the same place. The goal never is identical work. I printed out love words, romantic stills, and cut out a slew of birds and hearts.

Once brushes and glue came out, the table was quickly covered with supplies. “This is like being a kid again,” observed the woman who once was a physician. “I’ve never done anything like it. It’s hard!”

One quiet resident could not manage glue, so I gave her paint. The busiest resdient filled her picture, studied it, and declared, “That’s too much.” She peeled off several birds. “There, that’s better.”

One new resident, nearly blind, worked hard to make a surprise Valentine for a friend.

The best moment came at the end. A gentleman who’d worked a long time, sorting out the pieces he wanted, finally glued down just two: one heart, one bird. Would he sign his piece? (Some folks have lost the ability to write, but one always offers the chance.) “I think you can do that.,” was his polite response. What would he like the card to say? “MaryJane and Bernie.” After some debate about what to do, he decided. “I’ll take it home now” and disappeared down the hall.

Then he returned. He held my hand. He thanked me. I told him he did the work; he should be proud.

“But this is like nothing else,” he insisted. “You made me tears.”

He pushed a finger under his glasses.

“See?I have water on my eye.”

I do so hope someone brings me art supplies someday.

Mail Art - Introduction to Collage

Happiness

friends and art supplies

This weekend I taught Mail Art at my studio in Lowell. It’s a playful day of paper collage, designed for beginners or anyone interested in a carefree afternoon of art.

This groups’ talent and bravery was inspiring.

We started by tearing out magazine pages, to create a mini-stash of images and text. Next we painted junk papers with acrylic. This step was a real surprise to my students, so lots of discoveries and questions.

After a lunch, we reviewed collage basics and they began their personal work. We were working small, but they amazed me and themselves with the complexity of imagery created.

Several pieces were good enough that framing was in order. An alternative to shipping it off as a card. So added a talk on how to save and reproduce your work to share it. So much easier now than when I started a million years ago.

The goal: a foundation for creative work at home. They succeeded.