Owl Mine

A lovely little surprise was waiting for me in the mailbox today. My friend Tiffany sent me this card after I spent an evening whining to her about deployments and stay at home mothering.

Her words were exactly what I needed to hear (and she has excellent penmanship, too). What a sweet blessing. People really should send cards more often. Even if her words had fallen on deaf ears, the image on this card really resonated with me. She said that it reminded her of me. This is ironic because I am working on a very similar owl painting right now. This card was definitely meant for me :)

Thank you, Tiffers, for radically brightening my day!

New Avenues

Since I have taken so many classes with amazing instructors and artists recently, as well as discovered so many many other artists whose aesthetic is similar to mine, I've begun to really feel lost in my art. I have a hard time following prompts in my classes and even just finishing a painting. The only paintings that have really progressed to me liking are paintings that had zero influence from other artists. I guess that's part of finding your own voice as a budding artist, but it's definitely frustrating.

Doodle I did for A Year of Painting with Alena Hennessy using a resist technique

Learning about new techniques and products can be overwhelming. I've been feeling like someone who just discovered cake for the first time and wants to east ALL. THE. CAKE. And inevitably gets sick. It's been overwhelming but also joyful.

Recently I've become really interested in digital art - mainly pattern making, and scanning art to digitally manipulate it. When my husband had to get a tablet for work, I mentioned wanting an art tablet and he bought one for me on the spot, saying I needed it, need it to grow. The fact that he has such faith in my potential astounded me and overwhelmed me. I am not tech savvy. I sit her typing - heck, pecking - away at the keyboard with two fingers. So when I got home and couldn't even figure out how to install the dumb thing, I became really scared. I had this huge lump in my throat, couldn't sleep, and wouldn't touch the tablet for days.

Thank God for the internet though, because one thing I'm really good at is research, and so I watched and read a lot of tutorials.

I have A LOT left to learn, but in the mean time I am having an insane amount of fun on this tablet. (It is a wacom intuous, by the way.)

Above is my first finished "painting". I used stencils, paint, paint roller, collage paper, and even some hand drawing (the flowers were hand drawn - that was the hardest part. Drawing on a tablet while looking at the computer screen is a huge adjustment. I really think those flowers unite all the abstract elements of the painting, though. Love!)

It's exciting to see how many possibilities and options there are out there for growth as an artist. I haven't found my niche yet, but I know I will.

A Process

The past 5 months or so I have really focused on painting. I've never painted all that much, even though I was always involved in art in one way or another, because I found the medium too unforgiving. A year and a half ago, when I spiraled deep down into motherhood depression, art really saved me. But I wasn't really that good at it, and I didn't really further my skills at all. i painted what I was comfortable with, and if I tried to branch out and hit a wall, I let that wall knock me down.

Last August I took a leap and, with my husbands support, dropped a good chunk of change on an online course with Kelly Rae Roberts. After that, I discovered Alena Hennessy (who I am now taking a course with), and many other artists who have really inspired me. I began to paint intuitively.

30x40 custom piece I did for a customer

Even though the art I learned to create with KRR, and especially intuitive painting, didn't teach me technical skills, it did teach me something really important. 

11x14 custom piece

9x12 custom piece

Painting this way, so freely, taught me to be BRAVE.

It taught me that paint is in fact very forgiving. It taught me that you don't need to take college level courses to figure out how to hold a brush. It taught me that people like my art just as it is, and that if I never try to take it a step further, I'll never know if I can or not.

One day a few weeks ago I took a leap.

And I created this.

16x20 (SOLD)

And then THIS.

30x40, Not currently for sale

And I found that as long as I follow my urges bravely, they never really fail me. Even if the piece of art doesn't work out, there is so much learned in the process, it is always a WIN.

So I would encourage you, if there is something in you telling you to touch some paint, to dip a brush in joy and go to town, follow that urge. You never know what you might discover about yourself.

Same As Mine

I was painting in my studio a bit ago when I heard my daughter - now a whopping 7 months old! - crying so I went to comfort her. I picked her up out of her crib, and she immediately wrapped an arm around my shoulder and laid her little head on my chest.

It made me think of how different my relationship with her is than the one I share with my son.

Perhaps it is because Liam is so much like me. Liam is a part of me, a piece ripped out of my heart, born of strife and adoration. My relationship with him feels like a necessity, like there was never a choice. Even though I never wanted a son, and I would have stopped at one kid had my first been a girl, he still would have been an integral part of my life. Our relationship is symbiotic, like lichen growing on a rock. He is so much like me, both in temperament and looks.

Maybe it's because she is so unlike me, but I feel like Cambria chose me, as opposed to having always been a part of me to begin with. She chose to be mine and she continues to choose me, every time she reaches to hold my hand, nuzzle my cheek with her nose (something she does to express her love; she does this to very few people), or smile at me until her big round eyes get squinty. In that moment I know she is truly mine, all mine, because those eyes are the same as mine.

Freight train

It's funny how you can feel an episode of depression building like a cold.

And by funny I mean absolutely terrifying because it's like watching a freight train barreling towards you and you're stuck on the track and there's nothing you can do to stop it. All you can do is wonder how long this will last, and what damage it will do to your marriage, your children; what bridges you will burn and how many friends will disappear from your Facebook friends list by the end.

Sometimes it feels like depression is just a physical weight in your head that you could remove if you just tried hard enough. Sometimes it feel like it's just something you use as an excuse to treat others and yourself badly. Sometimes it feels like a film over your eyes that you should be able to blink away but somehow you can't.

* * *

Today wasn't all that bad. It actually started really good. The kids and I got out of the house and did something fun which is really a rare occurrence. Seems like since we moved, life is about nothing but chores and errands and desperately trying to get the minimum amount of sleep necessary to sustain life.

So today wasn't all that bad, but like I said, this "cold" has been building. Suddenly, probably after my soda - my last toxic addiction - wore off, I felt like I wold explode if I didn't get away. The past few days I have been obsessed with the beach. Lying there in a cool breeze with my kiddos. Breastfeeding in the ocean with dolphins and sting rays swimming close by. The cold in this land locked state is doing bad things to my soul, and my body. Sometimes I get to feeling like my bones are vibrating, itching, and when the kid's start screaming it's just all that I can do NOT to leave. 

When I started feeling like this, I made a soft nest for Cambria on the floor with a bucket of toys, and I turned on Gilmore Girls and sat down on the couch with a warm cup of tea to share with Liam. I got to feeling a little better. I asked my mom to call me just so I could have some adult conversation. Then both kids started screaming again and just didn't stop until Patrick came home and a that point I excused myself and left to take a bath. While I was bathing, I had a good stress release cry. Then I thought of a friend who hasn't appeared in my newsfeed much lately. I searched for her on Facebook and saw that she had deleted me.

This person isn't a close friend, but we travel in the same circles and see each other at least once a month at VBAC support group meetings. While she and I have wildly differing opinions on most things, we haven't had any sort of altercation nor do we ever have conversations talking about these things. So I really don't know what I did to upset her, especially to the point that she had to delete m instead of just unfollowing me. She and her family are moving to Germany in May, but in the mean time all of the meetings we go to etc will be incredibly awkward. In fact, I probably won't go, and quite frankly I am upset that she would put me in this position.

Quite frankly, I am upset with people in general.

* * * 

By nature, I am a giver and a servant. I won't pretend this is altruistic. In fact, for the most part I don't believe in altruism. I do things for others because it makes me feel better about my own crummy self and my pitiful existence.

When people have babies I bring them food. I offer emotional, financial, and whatever other support I can.

When people move I help pack, clean, paint. 

When people need to run errands or have appointments I watch their children.

When people are sick I bring them food and medicine. 

I do, do do. And I don't do it so people will do things for me. But at the same time, when I am in need and there is absolutely no one there to offer me support, even if only in the form of a shoulder to cry on, then I get pretty upset.

I don't understand why people think I am good enough to accept help from, but never good enough to give help to.

I am tired of feeling like a second rate citizen.

I usually try to make happy posts. I try to focus on beauty and on joy.

Today I can't see those things.

Acceptance + Happiness

I've been having a lot of big AHA moments recently. They are sort of intertwined, and I think they can all be traced back to Kelly Rae Roberts and Vitamins.

I talked about KRR, one of my favorite artists, a while back. I recently started taking her online class. It's really helped me explore new mixed media materials and also helped me tie up the loose end in my paintings. They feel more complete now. Not totally perfect, but much better. Below is the favorite I have done so far; I actually added in some more details after I snapped this photo, but you get the idea.

As I've been taking this class and following along with the videos, I've adopted a similar style to Kelly Rae, I think. That wasn't intentional, and I am really trying to find my own voice in all this. For now, my intention is to create happy, inspiring art.

This has really always been my goal, but it felt phony in a way, because I am not a happy person in general. I suffer from chronic depression and anxiety disorder. This is in large part due to malnutrition, as crazy as that sounds. Even though I eat extremely well, I have nutrition absorption problems, so I just don't function like I should. Not to mention I am always angry because I feel like I am starving 99% of the time. I recently started taking some high quality vitamins and that has helped a lot. I feel like a new person. But the art has helped too. I was in a fake it until you make it situation. I wanted to be happy, so I made happy art. The happy art made me happy. I hope it makes others happy, too.

When I was younger, I always fancied myself a very accepting person. Not in a hey you abuse your kids and that's okay with me sort of way. Just in a we are different and lets embrace those differences sort of way. Over the past 6 years or go I have become very rigid in what I will accept. Not necessarily in a person, but more in the way of art, style, and personal creative expression. If art didn't fit in a perfect mold of what I considered "good" (including my own art!) I couldn't find any positive value to it and mostly wouldn't even consider it art!

I've recently discovered Alena Hennessy. The image below is one of her pieces. A year ago I might have thought this piece was rubbish. A third grader could do it. But do you know how much abandon has to go into a painting to be able to paint like a third grader? That's a major accomplishment. It may not be photo realism, but it definitely has its own merit. It speaks to me so deeply. My soul responds to this piece and many others of its kind with acceptance, awe and gratitude.

It's simply beautiful.

 In a similar vein, I am learning to let go of all the things that cause me distress, like a dirty house, and focusing instead on the things that bring me joy. Like "wasting" the kids' precious nap times watching my favorite artists paint on youtube. This is a tough hurtle to over come for me. But in a way, looking at all the clutter and the mess in my house right now - which was sparkling clean two days ago! - makes me feel really good. Because it reminds me that instead of performing - albeit, sometimes necessary - labor that would only be undone in a day or two, I did things that helped me grow as a person, as a mother, and as an artist. And that is something priceless.

Can you say, AHA?

Intentions

I've been feeling really restless since we moved to OKC in late June. Though we have been living in our house since early July, in many ways it still feels like a hotel. So much of our furniture was ruined in the move, doesn't fit right, or doesn't even exist (Cambria doesn't have much to her name at all) that everything feels empty and disorganized to me.

I am the kind of person who feels very panicky when things aren't in their place. It truly causes me anxiety, and I hate that feeling brewing inside of me. I hate how it surfaces in the form of anger and discontent, and that I don't set a good example for my kids.

I struggle to create a place called HOME for them, where they are deeply rooted and feel content, because I never had that. Granted, my kids are 2 and 4 months, and there is time for that yet.

Every day is a battle between wanting to let things lie and not seem so crazy, and the deep need to clean clean clean.

My other issue is utter boredom. If you know me personally, you know how bored I am as a stay at home mom. However, I won't leave a babe to go back to work until they are at least one. To combat my boredom, I often go into a cleaning frenzy. It's like an endless circle though, because when I am cleaning instead of spending time with my kids, I end up feeling all this guilt, like I am neglecting them. I recognize that everyone has to do chores and get things done and can't hold their baby 100% of the time.

But mommy guilt still gets me.

If I am not cleaning, the boredom... I don't even know how to describe it. I don't want to move. I don't want to take care of my children. Each day I watch my husband leave with despair and envy. No, I don't have Post Partum Depression. I am just struggling to find joy in this season of my life.

When Liam was little, we were out every day doing things and having adventures. That is a rarity now. I am not sure where that got lost a long the way. I do know that I have anxiety attacks almost every time we leave the house, and it keeps sending me home to sit in boredom again.

I am ready for all of this to change. I am ready to be more intentional about how I spend my time, and especially how I raise my children. I feel like I've set an awful example, and instead of raising Liam, I am merely allowing him to grow up in my house.

Here's to being more intentional.

There is a time for cleaning. A time for relaxing. And most of all, times for adventure.