Some of you may have noticed that I moved from Grand Marais to Virginia, MN.

I bought a cute little house with commercial zoning with the thought of opening a gallery some day.

The past year has been difficult for me, and the time was right for me to make a change.

I feel like I am on vacation, but this is home now. 

My cats and I are settling in. Every day I unpack more boxes, and run more errands.

I will always love Grand Marais. I was in my former house for 30 years, and I thought I would be there for the rest of my life. In some ways, this move seems like it happened all of a sudden, but I know it’s been coming for a while.

My brother found this drawing at my dad’s house. I must have done it when I was about 10 years old.

2 @ 24”x48”

I stretched and primed this canvas yesterday morning and painted most of it yesterday. Before I went to bed last night I painted some more, and then got it to this stage this morning. 

I just wanted to paint. I’ve been in a somewhat dry spell over these past seven months, too concerned about a problem that seems to be resolving now.  I hope it is resolving, anyway. 

I’d almost forgotten the joy I get from painting. Painting is very different than thinking about painting. Thinking makes it a chore.  The activity of painting is so present and personal. No one tells me I shouldn’t use that color, or I should wash my brush. No one tells me what I can’t do or that I’m doing it wrong. I don’t care about that anyway, except that it annoys me when people do that. 

I love to sell paintings, but I don’t think about that when I’m working on one.

It’s hard to say what I do think about, because either the thought and the action are the same, or the thought is just a soundtrack that accompanies the brushstrokes.

I wanted to share the image in progress, because art is communication. It is language. It says things I can not say with words. 

I’ve had feedback since posting the image, and this makes it a dialogue. A conversation that only adds to the joy. The process just keeps getting better. 

When certain “experts” get too exclusive and pompous about art, they drain all the fun and wonder out of it.

People love to ruin things by attaching their rules and arrogance to something that is naturally validating and organic.

There’s a place and an audience for their lectures, but we don’t need that in order to create or appreciate art. 

Some artistic endeavors turn out more successful than others, but they are all valid. In the end it’s the expectation that makes it work or not. What was your goal in documenting this creative urge? Some have claimed that art is never finished. Or art is never finished, only abandoned. It’s also been said that a work of art is finished when the artist achieves their intention. 

I love hearing kids talk about their art. They speak with confidence, and trust their hand to make images that are just right. This boldness inspires me.  I’ve received so many messages that make me doubt myself, especially when painting a commission or a portrait. 

Confidence is attractive, not only in art, but in every aspect of life. I believe confidence is a characteristic of a leader. It’s less important to know where you are going than to just go there and discover something.  Maybe you will discover a wrong answer. That would be helpful, because you will have learned something along the way. You can keep trying. If you don’t give up, you will find a solution. 

Today I wanted to paint. It was a rainy day, so I was inside the house. I wanted to paint, but was feeling sort of uninspired. Here’s how I got over it: I put a canvas on the easel, and opened some paint. Even if I’m not inspired, I can apply paint. 

I reminded myself that I could paint over anything I didn’t like.  There was no risk. 

I started with black, and made marks with paint. Without cleaning my brush, I switched to yellow.  After a little while, I added blue to that green.  As that began to dry, I mixed some light aqua, and then a little plum. 

I went and did something else for a while, but now I was feeling inspired.

The act of painting inspires me to paint.

When those cool colors had dried, I came back with red, then orange, then yellow. 

Cobalt and white rested on the surface, adding dimension, receding all the way back to that black that was still peeking through in places. 

Tomorrow I will look with fresh eyes and see what is there. I will be more detached, looking without a paintbrush in my hand. I think the painting will tell me what it needs.

I can’t trust my feelings. I didn’t think I had a painting in me today. Just colors lined up in my arm, waiting for their chance to slip through my fingers and out the end of the brush. 

Some of my art has gone to Australia.

And this one went to Texas:

I am at a crossroads. The time for a change is coming, and I need to keep my eyes open so I’m ready for the exit. 

Every exit is an entrance somewhere else.  The transition comes with loss and hope, like reading from one paragraph to the next. We carry the information we gleaned. Transformed, the new stretch of highway becomes our path, and our life story continues. 

The scary unknowns become familiar. We survive and wonder why we were so worried.