Every single one of us must do our due diligence in life. We are responsible for what we say and what we do. There are consequences and rewards for our words and our actions. Is what you say what you really meant to say? Do you even know what you believe? When it comes to religion, politics and the shape of the earth, my truth may differ from yours. I can not believe something that is not believable to me. If I say something I do not believe in order to be accepted and validated by someone else, that would make me a liar. That is not kind, even if my view differs wildly from yours. Even if it hurts your feelings, or you fear for my immortal soul. So you can be offended if that is what you choose. You can turn and walk out of my life if our differences dictate that you do that. If so, goodbye, I love you and I wish you all the best. I’m not saying my conclusions and current opinion are right and yours are wrong. You see, I think each of us has our own truth. It comes from our experiences and our observations. I don’t begrudge anyone their faith or their understanding of things. Our relationship wasn’t based on those things in the first place. I tend to get my information from people that make sense to me, just like you do. I do not get my science from a Bronze Age book. I put even less stock in someone’s interpretation of said book. I do not get my politics from liars and rapists. My science changes when I get new or better information. I don’t believe everything I hear. Especially from people who have an agenda. I even enjoy watching fake shows about alien encounters and mythical creatures. It’s entertaining. Hate is not entertaining. Fear-mongering isn’t kind or acceptable to me. I can tell the difference between fiction and a lie. As I have often said, I would rather be kind than be right about everything. Furthermore, if the apocalypse comes, I don’t want to remain alive afterwards. If you do, good luck with that.

Sometimes I forget who I am.  I forget to paint. 

When I get busy, when I’m feeling down and doubting myself. At least those are the excuses I give when people tell me I should be painting. They say my paintings are beautiful. They say I can sell them and make money. 

The longer I go, the easier it is to not paint. I watch tv and I feel pointless. 

Today I got up all of a sudden, in the middle of a nature show, unwrapped a new canvas, and just started painting. 

The early stages are messy. I just want to get some paint on the canvas. I know it’s just a canvas, and it’s just paint, but I start with blue because in my mind, I see a sky. I already know where this is going.

The simple act of applying color wakes something up inside me. I tap into that dormant purpose.

When I have a paintbrush in my hand, I unlock something and I’m able to think. Not judge. Not swayed by anyone else’s opinion, I just do what I do. I do what I like. I don’t really care whether anyone else would like it. 

I don’t ask for anyone’s advice. It’s personal. It’s intimate. If someone thinks I should do it differently, that’s the painting THEY should be creating. 

I am influenced by other people. I am inspired by what other people do. I take what I like and leave the rest. 

Twenty seven years ago today, my daughter was born. I’ve heard other artists describe their artworks as their children. Mine are not that. As Paula Cole said, “they are only stops along my way.”  Yet I feel new life coming into me when I create. Like a deep breath after swimming under water, I’m revived and I emerge hopeful. 

My art changed when she was born. I went from black and white to bright color, and the subject matter changed, too. So this is a significant day for me. One to think about life and hope and color and love. 

What a day to be alive. 

I bought this cd from Tower Records in San Francisco on 10/16/96, when my daughter was one day old. She was in in a pack strapped to my belly.

Every painting I do is a self portrait. It is made of brushstrokes that create an image that only I can paint.  They are recognizable as my brush strokes, and the painting will be something that only I can create. 

The top layer, the visible layer, is what your eyes can see. The other brushstrokes lay hidden under layers of paint.  They are still contained on the canvas, and their influence made the visible layer possible. 

I don’t think of it that way while I’m working on an image. I’m communicating something that I want to share with you. The subject or theme could be anything. Could be trees. With or without fish in their branches. It could be a street scene or portrait of a person or an animal. Whatever it is, it is something I chose to paint. Does the image look angry?  Frustrated? Peaceful?  Chances are I was feeling that way when I applied the color. 

We don’t control everything we say. Our body language will give away the truth, and so will the marks we make on a surface. 

I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. I feel like it’s just major life changes catching up with me over the past nine months. 

The changes have been good. 

I had been wondering if change was possible, but then things sort of clicked, like when your car on the roller coaster engages with the chain that pulls you to the top of that first big hill.  The wheels are in motion, and you can’t stop it or control it. Just enjoy the ride. 

Rides may take you beyond the reaches of your comfort zone. This can be intimidating, but I can see it as an opportunity.  Once I go to the unknown place or do the uncomfortable thing, it becomes part of my life’s experience, and my circle of comfort expands. 

We want things to stay the same, but they just don’t. 

Minute by minute, hour by hour, year by year, we’re learning new routines. In the moment, I’m just coping. I’m getting through the next task. Later, when I look back on my life, I say oh yes, I went here and there, I did this and that. It’s not scary, it’s just my life. 

That’s also what it’s like to paint. I might struggle with brush strokes, and question my progress. That’s part of the journey. Later on, I’ll likely say oh yes, I painted that. It was easy. 

I know that the things I think a lot about manifest themselves in my day to day life.

Thinking about a painting leads me to create an image on canvas. 

After seeing the Green Hornet movie, I found myself with a 1965 Imperial Crown. 

The best example I can think of, though, is how I ended up in my new house and community. I walked around the blocks on google earth. I imagined riding my bike around the local lakes, and traced the path of the Mesabi Trail through my neighborhood. I was focused on being here, and now I am here. 

When things aren’t going the way I had wanted or expected them to, I need to understand.  I need to talk or write about it so that I can either change it or accept it. 

Sometimes the “negative” thing is actually the better option for me. I can only know this by exploring it.

Dark and light are both necessary and inevitable. I don’t have to hide, deny or keep silent about anything that I feel. 

I wrote earlier about the scary things in my life. They are part of me, and worth investigating so that I can move ahead. 

It’s not good enough for me to sweep things under the rug and pretend they are not there. Those uncomfortable things, those intimidating things are just outside of my comfort zone. It is no reflection on them, but on my understanding of them. 

Just as there are valuable antique bottles buried in outhouse pits, there may be priceless artifacts in the pits within my life. 

So I probe and dig cautiously. Still, I dig. 

Autonäyttely