Thursday, November 12, 2009

goosebumps and happy tears


A response from Sheila Berger to November 4 post~

"...I was struck by your last name--the painting you chose and have felt compelled to write you.


When I began the blue series, I spent many hours at the Natural History museum in NYC. I would look endlessly at the bioluminescent
creatures that lived deep in the ocean. Nature is so incredible-living things adapting to darkness by lighting themselves up became a metaphor to attempt to find the light within myself and others.

Finding clarity and light are what we all seek, I believe--so in that spirit, I thank you for your blog and believe it was not an accident that the Lumen found the BioLuminescence...."


http://www.sheilaberger.com/
pictured above Aquatic Dreams on Land, 2006, 14'' x 18''

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Pond at San Juan Capistrano Mission

“When we do things with only a part of the mind, we are just skimming the surface of life. Nothing sinks in; nothing has real impact. It leads to an empty feeling inside. Unfortunately, it is this very emptiness that drives us to pack in even more, seeking desperately to fill the void in our hearts. What we need to do is just the opposite: to slow down and live completely in the present. Then every moment will be full.” —
Eknath Easwaran  
                                                              






Monday, November 9, 2009

Bad Art Thingies & the Inner Snick

About a decade ago I read an article about building community through making ‘bad art thingies’ together. The idea: A neighborhood host volunteers his home and kitchen table, and participants bring potluck food and recyclable materials -- empty cereal boxes, fabric scraps, sequins, wrapping paper, old birthday cards, toilet paper tubes, etc.

The host provides basics like scissors, crayons and markers, construction paper, glue and staples, and decides whether to open up the creative possibilities by including hot glue guns and paint.

The process: Sit down at the table and make something out of the stuff. It could be an oatmeal container with glitter, two straws and sections of the comics taped to the side. No rules, except talk, eat, share supplies and techniques. Then take home your thingie. Or swap thingies. Toss thingie.

This made me unexplainably, wildly happy. I ran to the garage and pulled out an empty laundry soap holder.  I brought it into the studio and started covering the sides, using old wallpaper, stamped cardboard, scraps of old paintings I never liked, postcards, spiraled pipe cleaners, etc.
Breathless with the complete absence of the ‘inner snick’—I was in kindergarten again, smiling and singing away.  The humble nature of the materials freed me up. The only part missing was that thick paste with a paddle attached to the lid that smelled like wintergreen lifesavers.
My husband who didn’t read the article, saw my thingie and said, “Uh, honey, where are you going to sell that?”

I still have it. I invite you to make one. Feed the Beauty.
If anyone knows where I can find the article mentioned above, please let me know.<