In Memoriam: A View for Laurie

Ninth grade rivaled as one of the darkest times of my adolescence. Perhaps as a consolation, that year the universe gifted me with two of the most influential teachers I ever had. Each shone brightly, cutting through the darkness and pain, leaving an indelible mark, which I would not fully realize, or appreciate, until adulthood. I wrote about one of those teachers in a previous post; the other person was my art teacher, Laurie Teague, whose artistic aesthetic and musical taste set my struggling spirit free.   

At the ripe age of 15 while perpetually feeling like I was from another era, I was steeped in the music of the late 1960s and early '70s. I recall discussing the music of Jefferson Airplane and Janis Joplin on many occasions with Laurie in the moments before class began. When I had difficulty with a composition for a class assignment, she often came over to offer guidance or words of encouragement. She was a gem. Unfortunately, the end of that school year in 1992 was the end of our time. Due to changes in the school district the following year, she would not teach at that high school again before I graduated. To think where I might have gone artistically had she been guiding me for the next three years...

 

Following the death of my other teacher from that year, I found Laurie on facebook in 2015, and we picked up where we left off. She would regularly react to my new artwork as it was posted online, which echoed the encouragement she used to give me all those years ago.

 

Contemporaneously, I asked her about the colors and natural elements that resonated with her most, to which she dutifully replied. She ended her message with, "What are you up to, anyway?" With the kind permission of Canadian artist Barbara McMahon to use her photograph, "Remote", and the answers provided by Laurie, I got to work creating a collage to convey my gratitude for Laurie. By November of 2016, I completed:

 

"A View for Laurie"

This collage was a labor of love. I used India ink to create the free-form lines on the window panes and then an Xacto knife to cut away different sections of the photograph, into which I inserted images from magazines and original artwork and photographs of my own to create a composition filled with things I knew Laurie loved. Having the opportunity to create and send it to her was... something I can't quite put into words. Her appreciation of it meant everything to me.

 

Laurie and I would go on to exchange many messages and holiday cards over the years. In the spring of 2020 she posted a photo of some of her recent artwork, and I messaged her to tell her that I was buying one of them. After creating a piece for her and then getting to purchase one of hers, all that remained was to make a trip down south to see her again. I could not get down there fast enough, as she passed away in November 2021. Upon learning of her death, I posted the following on facebook to her daughters, "you don't need me to tell you how wonderful of a person your mother was, as you know that more than anyone. My heart dropped when I learned of her passing just this evening. She was my art teacher at Carver School in 1991-92, and the impact she had on me was profound. It would take me years to realize that. Fortunately, I reconnected with her through facebook in 2015 and was able to convey my gratitude for the intangible gifts she gave me. I am grateful for the 5 or so years of holiday cards we were able to exchange, and for the opportunity to purchase one of her original paintings a few years ago. It hangs in my home office. I will treasure it, and her spirit, always. I only wish I was able to travel to see her once again. Words can't convey how sorry I am for your loss. May she reverberate through both of you in all that you do." 

 

She continues to reverberate in the artwork I create. Thank you, dear Laurie.   

Featured in this post: A View for Laurie
All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

Colors of the Heart: Meditating on Emotions

As mentioned in a previous post, I have had a predilection for hearts since early childhood. When I visited beloveds in the summer of 2016 and learned that they would regularly ask each other, "how does your heart feel?", naturally, the ritual resonated with me. When I returned home from my visit, I introduced the ritual to the new relationship that I was in. The question morphed into "What’s the color of your heart?" which still explored the feelings in the heart, but with emphasis on the colors. I knew I wanted to bring this ritual to my artwork, and in typical form for me, something deeper was drawing me to this.

On September 1, 2016, I used markers to create a heart to reflect how I was feeling that day. The next day, I used paint to create another heart. On the third day, alcohol ink was the medium used to create another heart. I enjoy working with collections in art, creating menageries, so after posting the first three on social media and seeing the response to them, I knew there was something here to explore further, so I decided to make this a daily ritual for the whole month. Each day, I would tune into the feelings in my heart, the colors would emerge, the medium would come to me, and a little heart was created, posted online, and added to the growing pile of finished hearts. It wasn’t until the following February that I brought together all 30 hearts into a single piece of artwork. In September 2017, I embarked on the same month-long ritual and tied those 30 hearts together into a single piece of artwork in February 2018. These 2 separate rituals yielded:

 

"Colors of the Heart 2"

"Colors of the Heart"

Some of these hearts reflect general feelings of the day, while others reflect very specific beings or events. In the time since then, I can’t see hearts in artwork without thinking about these 2 pieces. They are ever-present in my mind’s eye. Both chapters of the experience were transformative. Little did I know then that this was the beginning of an awakening, as contemplating patterns and colors of the heart would help me overcome the lifelong obstacle of expressing my emotions to others.

Featured in this post: Colors of the Heart 2 and Colors of the Heart
All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

Empaths, Mass Violence, and Circles of Humanity

Everyday one-on-one interactions can be difficult, or even draining, for empaths while those same interactions can barely register on the radar of others. Mass violence events, such as 9/11, school shootings, and other horrendous tragedies, elicit emotional responses from people on a massive scale, but they are seismic for empaths. As the news breaks about tragic events, there is an over-saturation of information and not a lot of answers. At those times, it's like slipping into a trance as I step outside of myself to absorb massive amounts of energy being released by others and channel them into something different, something positive. It's how I, and many emphaths, survive such events. The Pulse nightclub shooting on June 12, 2016, was one such experience.

The victims of this mass violence event weren't on the front lines of a war, they weren't charging into a burning building to save lives, they were... at a night club. And now they were dead. The senseless death of so many people so quickly was incomprehensible. I purchased alcohol ink and yupo for the first time shortly before this tragedy, and before I knew it, I was sitting on the living room floor working with dozens of pieces of yupo, all colors of ink, and masking fluid. The masking fluid was used to create circles. The collage artist in me took over and began cutting the pieces of yupo. In the days following the tragedy, the ritual was the same: meditate, cut, arrange, until finally emerged:

"Circles of Humanity"

Throughout the creation of this piece, I couldn't shake the feeling of how connected we all truly are. When tragedies like these strike some, they strike us all. In life, how we respond to our circumstances forms the narrative of our story. Through our story, with its twists and turns, its sadness and celebrations, we connect with people. Over time, some of these connections strengthen, some of them fade, some of them damage us, and some of them light the way. We are colored by these experiences. Through these colors, stories, and connections, we weave this tapestry of humanity. In the end, we are all connected; we are all humans, feeling love and pain. What we do today matters, so always choose love.

Featured in this post: Circles of Humanity
All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

Stories of Healing: From Violence to the 1st Art Show

Six months ago, I was asked to submit my work for an art show. Having never had one before, I had no idea what to expect. When the show debuted earlier this month, I never dreamt it would be the success that it was. As I walked home that night, under the almost-full moon, another epiphany moved through my spirit, as they often do in the presence of the moon. The origins of this art show became clear to me, and once again, I was lead back to an act of violence.

Over five years ago, I was the recipient of workplace violence. ('Recipient' may sound odd, but I don't view myself as being a victim.) I addressed this experience in this post, talking about how it was a gift in that it lead me down a different path, pushing me straight into my career as an artist. What I did not mention in that post is that after creating the piece mentioned in that post, "Leaving the Darkness Behind", I sought out a professional to scan it for me. Enter Buffalo Big Print, who scanned that piece and who has scanned all of my artwork since 2014. They are the ones who approached me last year about holding an art show in their gallery, and because of those wonderful people, this was possible:

As the pieces for this show were selected and the threads of the show were coming together, the show's title revealed itself to me. After all, these pieces were all "Stories of Healing". 

Back in 2014, in the days and weeks following the violent incident, I thought the universe had already bestowed its gifts upon me, that the doors of opportunity that were going to open had already opened. Yet, as I walked home on the night of the 7th of February 2020, I realized that the biggest gift to come out of this was given to me that night: my first art show. The second-biggest gift to come out of this was given to me that night, too: the kind hearts of friends and strangers coming out to make it a successful show. There was so much laughter and love in the space that night. That wonderful experience was worth the moments of violence 5 years ago. I hold deep gratitude for the violence. Its sharpness and abruptness were necessary to alter my trajectory. The doors continue to open, all these years later.


All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

Deciphering Dreams: Altering the Color of my Mind

One of my first online handles was pisceandream. Without knowing it at that time, I was telling the world how much water and dreams factor into my life.  Often they work in tandem, as flowing water and patterns in blue figure prominently in my dreams. In February 2016, the deep waters of my spirit were stirring once more, which drew me into the studio again.

The near-death experience of my best friend just 3 months before transformed many aspects of my life. Undulating amidst those changes was the end of a relationship. My dreams during that time were enigmatic, causing me to dwell on them during the waking hours. All I could see and feel were the changing shapes and shades of blue from my dreams. They clung to me with such intensity that had I not been pacified by them, I would have thought they were haunting me. 

My time in the studio creating this was fairly brief. With the underlying theme of water, naturally I turned to watercolor paint this time around. With the segments of blue in place, I applied artists' tape to conceal individual sections before painting over everything with metallic acrylic paint. Even with the finished piece, I still did not know what to make of or call it, so I spent more time deciphering its message than I did creating it. It wasn't until I came across this quote by Emily Brontë that I began to understand, "I have dreamt in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind." The truths that I knew through my dreams, presented in changing patterns of blue, were ushering in a new version of consciousness for this water sign. They were, in fact, forever...

"Altering the Color of my Mind"

Featured in this post: Altering the Color of my Mind
All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

Finding Her Place in the Universe: Our Own Spiritual Journey

2016 was, for all intents and purposes, about finding and reclaiming my true self. As described to a friend, certain landscapes reached this year felt like I witnessed them before birth and I have been making my way back to them ever since. My next mixed media piece symbolizes and illustrates this.

The lapse of time spent working on this piece spanned close to a year. The sunface came first. When I created her in the early part of 2015, I had no idea what would ultimately surround her or where she would end up. The round sunface spent several months sitting in the art studio, watching in silence as I worked on other pieces. Occasionally, I would look into her eyes in search of where she belonged, but to no avail. Then one day, while working on another piece, I had what I like to call a "happy accident" with some acrylic paint mixed with water. Just before I discarded the paper it was on, I thought, "wait a minute," and on a whim, I cut out some triangular shapes. The paint just so happened to go with the paint I had used on the sunface from several months before and these triangular shapes would go on to become the rays around the sunface. By the summer of 2015, the sun was assembled and complete. I placed her on a sheet of white paper, where she remained while the backdrop to the piece came together over the next several months.

Independently of this, I used the same "happy accident" technique to create swaths of blue, black, and purple throughout autumn. What I thought would be the foundation for a different piece ended up serving as the backdrop to this piece. Leftover pieces from a holiday craft project found their way into the piece in January 2016. These strips of blue construction paper with gouache were added to bring intrigue and asymmetry to the composition. The final element emerged in early February. While listening to Gustav Holst's seven-movement orchestral suite, The Planets Op. 32, I was inspired to create planetary bodies out of semi-diluted acrylic paint. With those in place, this sun truly was

"Finding Her Place in the Universe"

From the time we become self-aware, we seek to understand ourselves and to discover our purpose in life and our place in the world. Some step into it with ease, others have to search for it for years, and still others never manage to find it. After years, if not centuries or millennia, this sun has found her place. She has her own corner of the universe that's as unique as she is, where she is safe and accepted, where she has devoted satellites, where she can reach her zenith, where she is free to just be. Through this piece, I began to understand my own place in this vast universe.

Featured in this post: Finding Her Place in the Universe 
All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

Signaling the End: Sandstorm of my Mind

Sometimes being an artist is like being a cryptographer. The universe gives me messages that I have to decode. Instead of breaking the code with words or numbers, I rely on the language of colors, shapes, patterns, and textures to reach the place of understanding. With the next piece in my portfolio, I did not know what I was creating, or the meaning behind it, while working on it. Even when it was complete, I still knew as little about the piece as when I set out to create it. For the first time ever, it wasn’t until I began writing this blog post that I began to break the code and thus understand what the piece truly represented.

I was first introduced to Peter Gabriel’s superb score, “Passion: Music for the Last Temptation of Christ”, in Autumn 1999.  I was immediately mesmerized by the score which varies from epic, sweeping tracks to minimalist pieces. Naturally, some of the epic tracks are stand-outs, but some of the more subdued and obscure pieces really shine as well. “Sandstorm” is one such track that has always been a silent favorite of mine.

It wasn’t until 17 years later, one morning before dawn in April 2016 when I awoke unable to calm my thoughts, that my connection to this song would come to fruition. In the early hours of that morning, I stepped into the art studio, inserted my headphones, scrolled directly to "Sandstorm", and instantly I felt it reflect the spinning chaos of my emotions. As the music pierced my soul, I began creating the initial layers of what would become this piece. At the end of that first painting session, all I had was black, white, and grey on the paper. “And this means what?” I asked the muses, to which they gave no reply.

Work on this piece spanned several days without knowing where it was taking me. The only thing that was disclosed to me was whether or not I was finished. More often than not, I was told to keep working. Each time that I returned to work on this piece, much like donning a mask, I would step into the music, channeling its energy. As the tempo would build and swirl into a climax, the muses would guide me, whispering that it wasn’t finished. As such, I would create the next layer.

As mentioned above, even after its completion, I did not know what this piece was. “Great, I made an abstract sandstorm,” I initially thought to myself. The second I had that thought, I knew I was on to something, that this was an interpretation of a sandstorm. I couldn’t have known what this represented because I had not yet decoded the underlying message. A few weeks later into the middle of May, I chose the title, but I still did not fully understand this piece.

Through practicing Mettā, I am learning to reside more in my heart and less in my head. Through this practice, I have realized that often my heart comes to a place of understanding and acceptance well before my mind does. In the previous November, I knew in my heart that the long term relationship that I was in was over, but there was a disconnect between my heart and mind. It wasn’t until I set out to write this blog post that I understood that the swirling tempest that pulled me from my sleep that April morning was foreshadowing. My heart was communicating to my mind, signaling the end, and with my mind's reluctance to embrace it, it manifested into the turmoil and chaos that was the

"Sandstorm of my Mind"

Featured in this post: Sandstorm of my Mind 
All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

Somnium for Sarah: Communicating through the Unconscious Mind

Sleep. For weeks on end, my best friend got plenty of sleep. She was in an induced coma following a freak accident. Anyone who knows my friend knows that she is the queen of bizarre and vivid dreams. She has written about them often and in explicit detail. 

Each of those initial days following the accident, when we didn't know if she was going to live, when we all would flinch at the notion or sight of death's door, felt like an eternity. After the shock and grief subsided, I was nothing. I had no one nearby to turn to, due to various circumstances. It was all I could do not to become unhinged. For the first time in the 18 years that I had known her, I couldn't pick up the phone and call her. I couldn't hear the soothing voice of my wise Leo friend. I couldn't begin to imagine the dreams she was having while in a coma. When I realized that she couldn't simply wake up from any of the dreams she was having, feelings of uselessness began to set in. I sought ways to tap into her unconscious mind to communicate with her. Then one day in mid-November 2015, I decided it was time to turn to art and music for guidance. 

With the album Sleep by composer Max Richter playing as inspiration, the muses guided my hands while creating this piece, so much so that I feel it is more their piece than mine. This piece is also a bit of an anomaly for me, in that I created it all within the span of a day. I began by painting areas with watercolor and applying alcohol for added intrigue. Then, taking a cue from my previous piece, I applied artists' tape to conceal stripes within the areas of different color. From there, with acrylic paint mixed with water in spray bottles, I painted over everything. First I applied white paint. Then I added pieces of white lace paper to use as a makeshift stencil when applying the pale yellow color. Interestingly enough, when I removed the lace paper after applying the second round of acrylic paint, pieces of it adhered to the painting. My initial response was panic and frustration, but as I looked at it, I realized that it gave an added feeling of softness, of dreaminess, almost like faint clouds. For that reason, I decided to leave those pieces of it on and chalked it up to being a "happy accident". 

With each musical note and with each brushstroke, I begged the universe to intercept her flashbacks of the accident and bring them to me. In return, I would give her

"Somnium for Sarah"

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All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

Glimpses of the Truth: Life Lessons in Art

When I began work on this piece, I had no idea of the phases and changes it would undergo. I started this piece at a friend's art studio one afternoon in January 2015. I was simply playing and experimenting with watercolor. I put down several large brushstrokes in three different colors and that was the extent of it. I left it at her studio to dry and several months would go by before I laid eyes on it again. That summer afternoon when I finally saw it again, I brought it home and unrolled it onto my kitchen table, where it sat for several weeks as I continued to work on it. I added more watercolor, which added greater density and complexity. I didn't know where I was going with it, I just kept painting. Eventually I reached a point where it became a busy, almost garish conglomeration of watercolor. Unsure of where to take it next, I set it aside.

Verbal exchanges, unpleasant situations, and some serious life events took place while it was on the back burner. Each of these things forever altered my perspective and my life, and in keeping with that difference, I switched to acrylic paint when I finally returned to this piece in November of the same year. For that last phase of work, I started by covering the entire piece in an extremely thin layer of white acrylic paint. Then, using a silicone blade while still wet, I smeared the white paint, revealing some of the underlying layers of watercolor. I was happy with the result and the effect of the multiple layers; however, the piece was still not complete. 

If the events that had taken place taught me anything, it's that when my intuition gets dragged into a situation, then there is almost always more going on underneath the surface. What better way to mask everything than to cover it with solid black. I cut out strips of artists' tape and placed them directly onto the paper. Then I proceeded to slather everything with generous amounts of black paint. I smoothed it out with a silicone blade and let everything dry. When the time felt right, I gently lifted the edges of the artists' tape and began to peel off the strips. What I discovered is that when you begin peeling back the layers of subterfuge, you get:

"Glimpses of the Truth"

Featured in this post: Glimpses of the Truth 
All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

Refraining from Entanglement

That moment when you realize that you've come full circle, when an experience from a previous relationship plays itself out again in a current relationship, is, in a peculiar way, rewarding. It's especially rewarding when this time around you're applying the lesson you've learned. Suddenly, the past makes much more sense than it ever did.

In the spring of 2010, there was an escalating issue in my family that was spilling over into the relationship that I was in at the time. The person I was dating was unhappy about my family situation, and rightfully so. Being the peace-keeper that I am, I was trying to cater to everyone. It worked only for a short while until I could see the anger building in the person that I was dating. He kept wanting to get involved and I repeatedly asked him to let me handle it since it was my family. He eventually reached his breaking point, and, against my wishes, got involved. What ensued was an unpleasant verbal altercation between him and a family member of mine. In the end, the relationship imploded, I had an ugly mess to deal with in my family, and there was no peace among any of the parties involved, which was the opposite of what I had wanted all along.

Flashing forward to the summer of 2015, I was in a different relationship, but a similar situation was starting to arise. As discussed in a previous post, my partner and I had gone through an unpleasant and unacceptable experience with his family a few months before. So this time around, the tables were turned and I was in the role of witnessing things occurring in my partner's family that I disagreed with. Part of me wanted to get involved (in a less explosive way than my ex did) to stand up for my partner, but I struggled with what to do and how to do it. When I presented a few ideas to friends of mine, they advised against it. So out of sheer frustration, I did nothing. As an escape, throughout August and September, I created:

"Refraining from Entanglement - Cognitive"

"Refraining from Entanglement - Associative"

"Refraining from Entanglement - Autonomous"

All three pieces from the series are composed of watercolor and acrylic paint. Beyond that, the elements of each piece varies, with some containing molding paste, gouache, gesso, and various material to help create the shapes and patterns that you see. The series title "Refraining from Entanglement" was inspired by a composition titled "Entanglement (Reprise)" found on the soundtrack to the film Senn. I listened to it repeatedly while I created the first piece of the series. The subtitles from the series "Cognitive", "Associative", and "Autonomous" are the three stages of learning. 

The orange (cognitive) piece came first. It began with the smaller solid orange vertical lines. From there, I created small strips of differing hues, patterns, shapes, and textures. Once completed, I immediately began work on the purple (associative) piece, applying what I had learned from the previous one to this one. After this one was complete, I thought I was finished with this project, but a few weeks later, the green (autonomous) piece decided it needed to be made. Again, I built on what I learned by creating the previous pieces.  

It wasn't until that first piece was complete that I realized what was happening. By creating this work, I was avoiding getting involved in my partner's family's affairs. The artwork represents the idea of separation with each section remaining separate and confined without mingling with another section. Had I allowed the sections of paint to mix, the unique colors and patterns would be lost resulting in a cloudy, muddled pool. In the same vein, the aftermath of stirring things up with my partner's family would be nothing more than a mess. 

Some have disagreed with my stance on this and think that I should have spoken up in the situation. I can see the inclination to do that, especially in the age of social media where everyone is prone to give their opinion on everything all the time; however, my getting involved in the situation would only have made things more difficult for my partner and I might have jeopardized my role as his ally. As I learned from my ex, even when a situation is unfair and you fully disagree with it, unleashing your anger and spouting off your opinions won't help your case. Sometimes, the best course of action is to do nothing and continue observing, remembering, and refraining from entanglement.

Featured in this post:   Refraining from Entanglement - Cognitive     Refraining from Entanglement - Associative     Refraining from Entanglement - Autonomous 

All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.