The dictionary defines painting as “The process, art, or occupation of coating surfaces with paint for a utilitarian or artistic effect.”

I must say, I hate to paint walls. I really do. I’ve had to do far too much of that lately. I find it frustrating and boring. Yet, I love being in a freshly painted room in my house.

When we talk about painting in an artistic way, the actual, physical application of the paint to the surface is a means to an end. It is communication. Visual language.

I do the obvious, necessary things that must be done before starting a painting. I put a canvas on my easel, open my paint, choose a brush.

Other than that, I guess I live my life, think thoughts, feel all of the emotions that life brings. Yeah, they make their way right into the creative expression.

There is no switch in my studio, or my brain that turns on my artistic mode. I’m an artist every day, in every other activity I participate in.

So that simple act of dipping a brush into a color is really all that is needed to start a painting.

There are other preparation type things I might benefit from… like changing out of clothes that I don’t want to get paint on!

The brush has a habit of flying out of my hand from time to time.

There is always a future for painters. Always has been, always will be. The earliest known paintings by humans date back about 30,000 years. We’re still painting.

For many of us, there is a need… an intense craving to interpret our experiences through art. That includes, but is certainly not limited to painting.

If I were to be reborn on earth, I would definitely want to come back as an artist. It’s the only way I can imagine me being me. It’s what I know. If I came back as a gifted musician, but without the ability or desire to paint, I’m sure I’d be happy expressing myself through music. But this is the current artistic version of me talking.

There are people who don’t appreciate paintings. The average time a person spends looking at any given painting in a museum or gallery is only a few seconds.

There are also a lot of people who love and appreciate art. Not that every piece of art speaks to them.

It’s ok. Sincere and genuine expression is valid. It’s important. If you feel something deeply enough to share it visually, I can guarantee that someone else has felt that, too. It will find an audience. A receiver. A connection. We’re made of the same stuff.

Regardless of your culture, spoken language, gender, age, beliefs, or any other distinguishing factor, we’re humans who perceive and interpret the world around us.

That is why, after 30,000 years, I recognize and appreciate the beautiful paintings in the Chauvet cave.

When the cracks of prejudice, greed and fear seem inescapable, how do you as a writer, sculptor, Potter, woodworker, glassworker, painter encounter the chaos? How does your creative process invite the light in? Where do you see muddle and magnificence in the natural world? On the North Shore? How does the natural world create new models for you? Do you seek to soothe or expose, clarify or challenge?

Spirit of the wilderness ( call to artists)

Prejudice shows itself when I least expect it, and sometimes from what I thought was an unlikely source. Racist comments from a friend recently took me by surprise. When confronted, the friend said “maybe I shouldn’t be so racist.”

MAYBE I shouldn’t be so racist???

Prejudice, greed and fear seem inescapable, because they are inescapable. Our instinct to provide for and protect ourselves triggers reactions that, if not recognized, can turn very ugly in our treatment of and attitude toward others.

What is our autonomic nervous system telling us? How can we recognize the perceived threats and respond in an appropriate and kind way?

Painting gives my mind an opportunity to process these questions, encountering the chaos in the safety of my studio. Sometimes the paintings speak directly to what I’m pondering, sometimes not. The very act of painting helps to straighten out some of the jumble in my head.

The light is there. Sometimes you just have to turn it on.

Muddle and magnificence coexist everywhere. Sometimes I’m hiking, and have to keep my eyes on the path. There are tree roots, rocks and mud that I need to be aware of for my safety. So I trudge on, head down, seeing the muddle. Then I stop and look around me at grand tree trunks soaring up from the forest floor, and the brilliant blue sky above. I just had to look.

The north shore is a perfect place to experience the natural world. It hasn’t been paved over, flooded with artificial light and sound. All you have to do is step off the highway, and you will see it.

You will see it, and you will be it. We are part of this creation. The natural models always have more to tell us. Nature is a dynamic place. Just watch. It doesn’t stay the same. The light shifts. Shadows creep along surfaces. Leaves and rain fall, the river stampedes by.

Mountain ranges rise, tectonic plates shift. How much time do you have?

Art is a language we can use to soothe or expose, to clarify or to challenge. The message is up to us. Art is the conduit.

There is a big difference between being childish and being childlike. We were all children at one time, but many of us have grown into adults. This process has taken place one day… one moment at a time. It wasn’t a sudden transition.

Life’s events change us. Sometimes when we are hurt, we begin to close ourselves off from things in order to avoid being hurt again. From one day to the next, we may not see a change. Especially after our bodies have grown to their full height. Difficult things come our way, and we react.

There is nothing wrong with children. And there is nothing wrong with keeping that childlike sense of wonder and fun alive throughout your life. Sometimes good things also get lost along the way. We don’t always nurture the child that we were… the child that we still are inside.

Age doesn’t make you a different person! You are still the child that you were, even though those minutes and days have ticked by and you’ve grown as tall as you will ever be.

I tell people that I am at time traveler. Sometimes they don’t believe me. But I have traveled almost 30 million minutes so far. That is a lot of minutes! I’m trying to see how far I can get.

I usually start with a plan in my head. I don’t sketch, except in that those first brushstrokes are a sketch.

I have an idea… a reasonable vision of the finished product. But I play along the way. My hand gives me surprises that I like to follow.

At other times, I just paint with no finished product in my mind. That is also how I write most of the time. I trust my brain and my hand to cooperate in expressing something authentic to my neurons and striated muscle cells… my stream of consciousness, manifested by my physical body.

I’ve said this many times before, but the main thing I need to do is pick up a paintbrush, and dip it in some paint. I don’t believe in some magical state of mind that takes an ordinary human and turns them into an artist. Clark Kent just has to take off that business suit. He’s already Superman.

When I’m writing, too, I just keep a grip on the moving pen.

Different pieces have different messages, but I definitely feel that art is a language.

Some of the messages in my paintings are that you are special. There is nothing wrong with you, and you are only limited by self imposed restrictions.

People love their rules! I don’t.

Have I ever been unable to express my creativity to the fullest? Always! I think the well of creativity is so deep we could never express it to the fullest. We express what we know, or what we think right now, but you know that critical eye we use when we look at the work? That eye tells us there is always more to say. Or it tells us what to fix.

Sometimes, my eye tells me I did alright! That is a good feeling. But doing alright is far from expressing to the fullest.

I think you can have passion and reasonable expectations.

Speaking of which, one thing that inhibits me is expectation. Maybe someone else’s expectation, for example when I’m doing a commission. Or my own expectation. The moment I think I’m going to create something great, you can bet it’s going to be junk.

I didn’t choose my passion any more than I chose my foot size or my eye color. I guess you could say I chose to work at it. You’re good at what you practice. That’s true of skills like painting, writing, photography as well as your attitude or outlook. If you practice complaining, you’re going to get really good at it and have a negative outlook. If you practice being awesome, you can be good at that, too.

I feel most creative in the bathtub. That is no joke. I think some of the reasons are that the bathtub is a private, quiet place. This was especially true when I had kids in the house. I was rarely interrupted or disturbed in the tub. Now I live alone, and bathe with the door open. My cat likes to visit me when I’m bathing. Also, in the bathtub, I am warm and comfortable. I’ve always enjoyed soaking. I do most of my writing in the tub. Now, after all these years, the tub is kind of a trigger for the creative thoughts to swim out from under the rocks in my head, like a gong can be a trigger for meditation.

Ideas come from everywhere. They come from nature, literature, music, conversation, dreams, memories, wishes… anywhere!

Our brains interface with the world through our physical senses. Nerves are conduits for information to be transmitted into our brains. This is a mystery to me, even though I am a nurse. Our brains are changed by everything they perceive, and from that raw information… that sound, that texture, that smell, that visual image or taste… our brains create the unique, intangible yet specific and complex force that is us… our personality with memories of the past and plans for the future. It’s the operating system and hard drive that transforms the cells of our body into a person.

No two people are alike! So your ideas and my ideas are different.

Art lets us take that invisible storehouse of impressions and make it visible again, through the filter of our amazing brains.

To take it one step further, all that processing and physical manipulating of material (your artistic expression), can then become one of the sights my optic nerves transmit to my brain. And then what? Your creative work becomes part of my visual vocabulary, and informs the art that comes out of me! How many pieces of art do you think I have seen?

On and on it goes. Generation after generation of humanity sharing an incalculable amount of information and interpretation that makes you, you and me, me.

And it also makes us sort of alike. Homogenized.

As I have said, ideas are all around us. They are everywhere. We are inundated with them. So I think the first challenge is in recognizing the idea when it is perceived. It will influence you regardless, so don’t stress over this.

I paint. That is my expression. Because I do this already, my arm and hand become sort of like the GI tract of my brain. When my brain is done digesting the inspiration, it comes out.

When other people see my art, the cycle continues. You may like it, or you may not. I don’t think it really matters.

Do I want you to like my art? Sure.