The Artist's Way

My hands were shaking, clammy. My stomach in knots. I approached the podium in the basement of the Sheraton hotel where over 100 faces stared back at me. I extended a warm welcome and proceeded to introduce the three people who comprised the artist’s panel at the FOCUS conference. Rachel Ross, a museum curator from DC and culinary artist; Tom Stroka, an architect who graduated from Notre Dame and now worked at a world-renounced architecture firm- Duncan Stoic; and Father Peter Musset- a graphic designer, potter, jeweler, and photographer.

Each possessed portfolios and experiences that were far beyond the scope of anything I’d done. I was honored to be participating in this panel as the MC, but utterly dwarfed in terms of creative output.

Growing up, my mom- a water color painter and all around creative force- encouraged me to be creative. She was the kind of influence you’d hope for,  warm, encouraging, delighted in anything I’d make with a sincerity and enthusiasm that was totally undeserved. Despite my mom’s encouragements I could never get beyond my own short-comings, lack of skill, and imperfections. Plus, I’m not very good at drawing so I thought that ruled me out as an appreciator of art but not an artist myself.

Being that I was a self proclaimed appreciator of art and not an artist, I couldn’t explain what I was feeling sitting there in that low lit basement room, hearing these artists speak about their creative endeavors, making claims about the possibility that art and beauty can save the world, and speaking specifically about the benefits of making art yourself. I was moved, inspired even, to try and begin creating. I felt as though a single flimsy match was being lit- by no means the fire that you can warm yourself by, but the potential for a beginning.  As the panelists made their final points, Father Peter extended an invitation to the group- “if you are interested” he said, “I am beginning an artists’ group to start reading the Artist’s Way.” I didn’t know what the Artist’s Way was, but I did know I was interested in meeting with artists – even if I wasn’t one.
  
We began meeting – 7 of us in all. Ranging from writers to painters, landscapers, to undeclared like me. We went through what Julia Cameron deems the “basic tools” morning pages, 3 pages of free hand stream of conscious writing first thing each morning. The Artist Date- a one hour date each week with just you and your artists doing whatever your inner artist (often described in the book as a little child) decides to do, and the creative cluster – that support group that helps you to wade through all the muck and get to the pure gold of creativity.

These basic tools are the building blocks for recovering your artist self- and I made a commitment to my group and to myself to employ them all for 12 weeks. Morning pages EVERY DAY, artist date and Creative cluster each week. Somehow I was hoping that being involved in this group would connect me with that artsy thing. That thing that would help me to express myself, to communicate that pint up feeling of being unheard. That’s not exactly what happened, but what took place was more than I could have imagined.

In addition to the basic tools, each week focused on a theme. These themes each seemed to correlate with the goings on in my life. When I was feeling less than fiscally responsible I read the chapter on recovering a sense of abundance. When I was challenged at work beyond my strength the theme was recovering a sense of power. And each week the themes served as sculpting tools – removing the access material from the clay mass that was my heart. Safety, identity, power, integrity, possibility, abundance, connection strength, compassion, self-protection, autonomy and faith- each week a new theme each week a new challenge, each week a new breakthrough.

This is a piece from my recent art show.

As this process continued I still had no clarity about what I wanted to make, how I wanted to make the world a more beautiful place. In fact, I still believed I belonged in the “appreciates art, but is not an artist” camp. I maintained the grueling task of waking up 30 minutes early each morning and writing. I took my little artist on a date… and after 10 weeks of meeting with my group I realized that the masterpiece I was creating was me!! I was so much more in touch with my emotions and thoughts. I finally made time to do the things that refreshed my soul. I was free to be a little quirky.

It took many months before I was finally able to find my favorite medium – in my case collage and fibers, but the true achievement was the masterpiece of my heart.

I think when Julia Cameron wrote her book the Artist’s way she titled it that because it’s not about the art- it’s not about the creation- the final product… it’s about the path. Each artist takes to come to understand that when we create we are doing something powerful. We are breathing life into the world, we are inspiring hope and as artists- as people who are capable of creation it is not about the destination.. it’s about the journey. In other words, it’s about the “way.”

Well anyway, this happened...

I couldn't find my coffee mug this morning. I was looking all around my room and even went back to the bathroom where I last had it. Then I realized it was camouflaged by the damask box. Hilarious! 

Feast of St. Valentine

Tuesday was the feast of St. Valentine (and Saints Cyril and Methodius, but that's neither here nor there.) It was a day to celebrate love and the fruits of love - marriage, friendship, and joy...and I'll venture to say, life!

To honor this wonderful day for love I took a personal day which was just so refreshing. I had an appointment in the morning and afterward had a little Downton Abbey viewing party with my roommate Jen. We were both effectively stirred up by the amoral Grantham family and their antics. After one hour and fifty three minutes of a spinning plot, the death of the only virtuous character, and the continuation of drama between Mary and Matthew I was ready to take care of a few things in my own life

For the next hour or so I cleaned the house while listening to my new favorite band, Paper Bird.

Once the dusting, vacuuming, and sweeping were complete I moseyed over to the Laughing Latte where I was met by a thousand red rose-petals and the friendly face of Mindy a new barista there.

I found a seat by the window where I read LOTR over long drinks lavender infused chamomile tea.

After a delightful afternoon with Merry, Pippin, Gandolf (the white), and the men of Rohan I walked back to my house. Shortly following Trish, John Paul, Anne and I went to dinner and then to the Ellie Caulkins Opera House to see the Marriage of Figaro. 

Certainly love was in the air on Tuesday and I think it was mostly coming from God and being reigned down on me. I hope your Valentines day was full of love too. 

Food for Annie!

Dear Annie,
Life is rough when you can't eat bread, chocolate, nuts, fruit...dairy... It's rough. Rough indeed. Here is a little list of all the foods that have kept me going these past 26 days. I know you can do it, girl! Don't give up! Love, Jen


Main Dishes:

Chicken Drumsticks  -this is a new staple

Carnitas - Put a 2-4 lb roast in the crockpot with a chopped onion and 5-10 garlic cloves and a tbsp (ish) of cayenne pepper (you can just season to taste) let cook on low for 7+ hours or high for 3-4 hours. Serve with tomatoes, avocado, 

Braised Chicken  (just don't include the flour part)

Cauli rice I add chicken to this and sometimes do mexican seasoning instead 

My ghetto chicken: in a pan I sauté onions and then put in as much chicken as possible (because I like having leftovers for salad etc) and add pepper, cayenne, lime or lemon. Cook it on both sides for a few minutes and serve with veggies or over chicken. The next day it's great over lettuce (keep some of the onions for the salad- it adds a lot of flavor)  ...you can also season with ginger instead or just salt and pepper 

Sides:

I pretty much cook all veggies in olive oil or coconut oil and chopped onion and garlic - kale, asparagus, green beans, peppers, zucchini, chopped brussel sprouts (that's good with a squeeze of lemon on top... or check out this recipe for brussel sprout hash)

 

Etcetera: 

Here are some things I've not tried, but might be good. These are just basics for ideas. Obviously if it asks for splenda etc. just omit. If it asks for canned tomato just chop tomatoes and put them in a pan to soften for a while.

Cabbage Soup

Green chili with chicken (no cream...)

Frittata (take out the cheese and add peppers, onions, and tomatoes) 

Beef Kebabs (nix the vinegar)

Carne Asada (obviously, no tortillas)

You can do it!!  I'm so proud of you! 

New Year's Resolutions 2012!!!!

Here they are, folks! My resolutions for this year:

1. Go on a road trip (>5 hours of driving)

2. Love with reckless abandon

3. Relinquish control

4. Do things that scare me

5. Find a local band and go to at least three of their concerts 

6. Save money every month

7. Spend at least 5 minutes per day looking over my finances 

8. Be before God

Auld lang signe! (Which, by the way, means days gone by...) Here's to a brand new year! 

I'm soaking my mind in these thoughts

This week has been a montage of time with family, friends, and good reads.

 From the gifts of these conversations and epic trilogy The Lord of the Rings is emerging a morsel of truth. The truth that God is whispering is both assuring and sobering. Here it is: life is hard, but it is totally worth it and full of help. There will be moments, days, years even that seem impossible but help from God, friends, and family is abundant. Frodo is a prime example of this - he is responsible for a task that would crush him on his own. He must rely on the help of his motley crew... or at least the faithful companionship of Samwise to carry on with this seemingly impossible feat. We all have our own ring to carry. Something that seems impossible and, in fact, might be if we try and go it alone.

Here are the thoughts that  keep me going on my own perilous journey:

• Finding order in life is like riding a unicycle- you constantly have to be moving and readjusting ...this paraphrased comment came from Curtis Martin by way of a great chat with Hilary. An apt comment when thinking of the challenges that await us in life. Never is  there a dull moment and never is there a moment when autopilot is an option. Like riding a unicycle you constantly have to be assessing the situation and making little adjustments. 
• "Have patience. Go where you must go, and hope!" In this episode of LOTR Gandalf is charing the dwarf and elf to continue being faithful to their journey. He is not merely ushering them on, but challenging them to see the possibilities that lie in the future... possibilities that are full of hope, not dispair.  
• "Be very small and very loving" ...this was advice from Father Dave Nix and I just can't stop thinking about it. How true!! If you are very small and very loving you can also be very patient, very maleable, very humble... and not take yourself too seriously. 

I feel like Christmas continues to be a big hug from God. A quiet God. A simple God. A humble God. A God so humble as to make Himself a tiny child. This God is willing to become so small to show His love is asking me - tiny me - to become big in order to be His hands and feet on this earth. His request requires thoughts like these about order, hope, and being loving to go where I must go. Bear my own ring. And to hope. 

Art

I was struggling to feel that art had a viable place in my life. I mean, what is it really? What is it's role? How is it different from being just plain materialistic? I wrestled for almost a year with this question and then I got my answer. 

A few months back I journaled about my heart. A common topic for me to write about, but this entry seemed to articulate something that had not yet been said. This time I described the landscape of my heart. A heart that has been tattered and warn. One that has known love and war. I described the walls, the wild garden, the goings on there, and I even wrote about a single chair in the middle on which I sit. I had spent plenty of time thinking about my heart, but never quite described what it looks like. I had never made time to take a survey of its topography. 

Two days later, on a cool afternoon, I took a little walk through my neighborhood. Per usual, I admired the architecture, the colors, and the gardens. I moseyed by victorian tutors and modern duplexes, vacant lots, and overgrown ones with broken windows. And then, almost suddenly, I found myself walking with a spirit of purpose- like I was looking for something, but with no idea what. I passed by a cafe and a man walking his dog, and then a construction zone. My speed picked up as I completed the stretch of sidewalk where the beat of hammers echoed and power tools declared their presence.  I emerged past a chain-link fence and saw to my right a beautiful scene. On a large corner lot, surrounded by wispy greenery, was my heart. Three walls, crumbling and ready for collapse. Some wild flowers in the distance. And with impecable placement- the chair. I was moved almost to tears to see for myself the exterior scene which I knew to be real interiorly. I climbed up the small hill and gingerly sat down on the rickety chair. I took everything in as the chilly breeze caressed my face. In a matter of days the walls would be torn down, the land repurposed, and the chair gone. But for that moment I just sat. I was sitting in my heart. I was thinking about how grateful I was for the structure that once stood there. Grateful and yet sad for what had taken place and for all those who visited. And then, perhaps carried by the breeze, I experienced hope for what was to come. Hope for the structure. Hope for new visitors. New experiences. New life. And then, because it was time, I got up and walked home. I left my heart to be reshaped and repurposed. 

As I reflected to an artist friend on my stroll he shook his head and uttered to me, "now that is art." I think he's right.