'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS...

The owls have quieted and now the rain begins again. Softly, it falls on the rooftop (no reindeer hooves, for sure...not yet, anyhow.) 

The hour is late and peaceful. The day has been full, with sunshine and good news aplenty. My heart feels full, but I trust that tomorrow will fill it even more.

Yet, in the midst of this joy,I want to remember that there are others not quite so fortunate. There are those struggling with sorrow and loss, homelessness and hopelessness and more. Let us not forget them.

My wish for ALL is for a holiday that is merry and bright and the best it can be.

BLESSINGS OF IMAGINATIONS

Imagination is such a rich and wonderful thing. Best of all, we all have it and it need not cost a thing. Something wondrous can be conjured out of nothing.

Imagination can go in all sorts of different directions. It can take us into a world of fancy and fantasy; it can bring the past into the present; it can solve problems, write screenplays and novels and poems; it can paint pictures in remembered or fanciful images...and so much more.

Where do we draw the line? How is it that we often find it difficult to go from that which we can visualize, create, conceive to assuming its truth and expecting it to happen? What is needed to transition from the imagined to the "real"?

Commitment? Action? Probably some of both. Imagine you can. Take steps to make it happen. Then, Providence gets its chance; serendipity comes into play.
Begin. 'Cause why not?

BORROWING BLOG

She would have appreciated the inherent joy here, I think

A busy week with birthdays, losses, and more, it seems there just has not been the time or the moment to write--though I wanted to, for sure.

And here, some more borrowed words from a master of the written word that I dedicate to an artist gone too soon, Michele Taylor:

When you look back on a lifetime and think of what has been given to the world by your presence, inevitably you think of your art, whatever it may be, as the gift you have made to the world in acknowledgment of the gift you have been given, which is the life itself....That work is not an expression of the desire for praise or recognition, but the deepest manifestation of your gratitude for the gift of life. (Stanley Kunitz)

OPENING

It is not yet spring, but the Round Robin Art Journal experiences I have taken on (thanks to student Cindy Schaben) are a bit like watching the opening of flower buds.  My heart sings when I open my email to see some of the comments from participants in this monthly experience.

"This is so great!"
"Can't wait to add my two-page spread."
"This is so fun."
"I love the beach scenes."
"My fingers can't stop touching it!!!! I'm dancing in the aisles! Yippee!"

The beauty in all this is that, not only are the participants creating art pieces, they are also sharing the experience, building a community, helping each other, stretching, exploring, and boldly spreading their wings.

If you have not done an art journal, whether Round Robin or solo, I recommend you give it a try.

FOR THE BIRDS

Not at all sure how it has come to pass, but I seem to have birds on the brain since late spring.  Is it because I have spent far too little time in the great outdoors or if the birds are simply sending out some sort of call to me?  At any rate, even the raucous neighborhood crows have had their way with me, making their way into my art in myriad small ways.  A "Fun Bird" of packing paper is making its steadfast way around the Sawdust Festival, spreading good cheer.  The air-dry clay birdies continue to titillate and excite me and prod me to, for some unfathomable reason, enlarge their feet and lengthen their legs on each go-around.  Stay tuned.  Who knows what crazy bird stuff lurks...

The real deal

THE BIG TEASE



A little birdie told me...

 This week my muse is just a big tease.  We had Preview Nite at the Sawdust Art Festival on Tuesday night and somehow my muse and I managed to get new work completed and up for that.  Then I crashed, sick with a bad cold that had me down and out.  The only problem is my muse is not finished with me.  Feverish, hacking, runny nose and all, the muse expects me to listen to its persistent urgings.  I am trying, but only able to follow in short bursts.  Hopefully, my scanty note-taking will help me recall some of what seem like really cool ideas.  But...maybe it's only the fever.  I wonder.  Meanwhile, I'm sure having fun with these new "Little Birdie" sculptural pieces.