The "50" Year Mark

       Several people have been asking what I have been working on recently.  I have been hard at work on several projects.  None of which are ready to be seen yet.  I am in a phase of starting and working on things but not to the "all done!" mark.
      I turned 50 last week and followed that with a significant Maddie melt down.  It's been a couple of month since that has happened so I was taken by surprise.  I don't know if the two are connected or if it was because I was working on a life reflection piece (not finished). 
     As I got past the tears and started pulling myself through the depression that always follows the tears, a spark of rebellion surfaced.  So I lit into a Barbie.  I gave her grey roots and carved wrinkles in her face.  A Clairol dye bottle became her less than perfect body.  With every move, I shed more of the yuk I had been feeling. 
       By the time I shared her with one of my roommates, I was giggling. 

 

 

          Come on!  I know deep down you would like to take your shot at dear old "Barbie."  I give you permission.  In fact I dare you!  Only one thing...I wanna see what you do.

 

    

Work Coming Out of the Studio This Week

I seem to be working through some spiritual unity thinking through faces.

My Face Obsession: 

 

Wooden hand charm with handmade copper wire and fabric beads.

A mass of faces come together in this large wooden salad bowl.

Small salad bowl of faces.

My Rusty Obsessions:

I love rusty stuff!!

Amazing Creating Space

I love to look at the amazing artist’s spaces now being published on the shiny pages of magazines.  I also have to laugh.  I have never known an artist whose work space was picture worthy.  Perhaps a fire marshal’s concern but not a show place. 

My studio

I spent a lot of time worry about the constant chaos I seem to naturally create without even being aware it is happening.  As soon as I think about someone walking through the door, I see it all with a different light.  My piles of books, fabric, threat, paper, beads, rusty things, paint and supplies cover every surface.  Partially completed projects are stack on the top of most piles.  Little pieces of drying detail bits are poking out of everything else like hidden jewels.  The floor is like a crunchy collage of little scraps of paper, beads and other interesting things. 

The thought of someone seeing my “mess” used to tie my stomach in knots. Guilt, shame, and embarrassment would kick into overdrive.  All the voices of judgment from my childhood sound off like a chorus of cheerleading chants.  Obviously I was not who I should be!

Something has happened in the last few years.  I have a different understanding of myself.  A diagnosis of ADD explained my constant struggle with organization.  It is not an excuse.  It is a realization that my mind works differently than many.  It is part of who I am.  With the ADD also comes an imagination and creativity that is in constant motion, the inclination to take risks, and the ability to get a lot done. 

 

The mess of my studio is really a reflection of my mind.  Before you cover your mouth with an “OMG!”-- wait.  My mind is busy and clutter with a multitude of ideas, memories, dreams, curiosity, awe, and a jumble of other things.  I have interests that span a large spectrum, not far enough to include football or country music, but big enough for me to teach college level logic or figure out how to make it possible for the most severely physically impaired child to paint.  I rarely get bored and I can carry on a conversation with almost anyone.   

It no longer bothers me to bring visitors into my studio spaces.  Did you catch that?  I have multiple spaces.  I have an outside area, a place to do messy tools work (saws, sanders, drill press, etc), a small room for glass, and my main workspace that doubles as my bedroom.  I never fail to be inspired to create something when I am in my different spaces. 

As I have been more willing to bring people into my space and my creating, I have found myself embracing my crazy messiness.  People are drawn to different things.  They ask questions.  I explain techniques, help problem solve, and receive ideas and suggestions about different projects.  I am part artist, part tour guide and part teacher. 

There are far more people who seem relieved by my mess and hear more confessions about other people’s messes than I ever hear people trying to fix my issues.  Most important to me, I discovered as people come into my workspace, they find motivation and inspiration.  Nothing makes me happier than that.

In my mind I carry two images of childhood.  One is the neatly planted wheat fields which would emerge from the piles of snow each spring.  The other image is of an overgrown yard of an abandon house.  Some times in the height of summer, the house was barely visible.   Various plants, flowers and weeds fought the way through an old wire fence.  Inside plants competing for ground, water, and sunlight covered the ground hiding whatever else was there.  The image of the field was and is a sign of hope of the coming spring and summer.  But the lot of the abandon house called to my soul.  I wanted to explore.  I wanted to discover what treasures were hidden there.  I wanted to know about whose house it used to be.  It was a magical place in my imagination. 

 

The universe itself is like the lot of the abandon house and my studio.  It is cluttered with birthing, living, and dying things.  It has its own beauty and mystery.  It has its own music.  It calls me to discover new places inside myself and beyond. 

Painting the Background

I woke in the middle of the night with the thought, “You need to let go of your church.”  Instant anxiety! I knew I would not be going back to sleep for a while.  So I headed into the studio.  I needed to do something—anything really.

 I painted green on a canvas covered in book pages that at some point I had painted the edges pink.  I have no vision where it is headed.  I set it aside to pick up a couple of stars I had painted “Be the star of your own life!” Although I like the idea, I don’t like how it looks.  The letters are too big and awkward. So I pour out some yellow, orange, and red paint.  The paint didn’t begin to cover the lettering.  So the other one I went after with sandpaper and then an alcohol wipe.  That worked much better.  I painted it.  When I moved the tray the stars had been resting on I uncovered a canvas I had started a while back.  I remembered my vision.  I used some of the green paint left over from the first canvas to add some high lights to the background.  Thinking about what the face would look like with hair, I got out some brown paint and started.  I then realized I should have painted the Gesso’d face with a flesh tone before I started painting hair.  I dumped a flesh tone next to all the other colors.  One swipe of the brush told me I wasn’t going to be happy.  The flesh color was too pale and too red.  I dipped my brush in the brown and mixed some in.  I tried it on the face.  Better but still not what I wanted so I added more brown.  It took seconds to add color to the face.  I could not add hair until the flesh dried.  So I pulled out a couple of small canvases.  I used the colors from the stars to paint background.  I found myself totally enjoying the process of the colors combining to make new shades and tones.  I have no idea where I am headed with those two canvases.

While I messed in the paint, I calmed down.  Memories played like a well loved movie in my head.  The first time I went to the church, my baptism, the decision to go to seminary, my first time coming home again, my ordination, the first time I brought Maddie, Maddie’s baptism and the list goes on.  So much of my life was lived with this community of people.  I could not have survived all the events of my life without the love and support of this amazing group of people.  I especially could not have endured the last two years of Maddie’s life, her death, and the dark grief filled days that followed without them. 

I have jumped in and out for the last 3 or 4 years.  Although I am not a particularly angry person, I leave worship feeling sad, angry and frustrated.  What happened to those moments of clarity that used to pop up from time to time?  What happened to those words which touched my heart to reaffirm my faith and the words which stayed with me for days?  What happened to those spiritual experiences that I had no words to explain?  It’s gone.  Many of my friends are gone too, now.  Worship has become yet another source of grief for me.  I actually hate it.  I have become quite proficient at finding excuses to stay away to offset the guilt I feel.

Then something will happen and I jump back in for a time.  It happened again this week.  Last Sunday the congregation voted to sell the building with a plan in place that I didn’t know was in place until after the vote.  I think it is a crazy route to take and is a good  way to avoid focusing on the real issues.  But I also believe in the process.  Then a conflict arose that didn’t need to be added to already conflict ridden situation.  And what do I do?  I jumped into rescue…who or what I am not sure.  But by God I was going to fix it!  I addressed the problem with both parties and made sure a plan was in place hoping no further damage would be done. 

When the problem first presented its self, on facebook, of all places, I was angry at the person who started it.  I felt that mother’s need to protect.  I felt more committed to the church.  When the immediacy of the situation passed, I didn’t want to talk to anyone.  I could not work on art.  I focused or at least tried to focus on writing.  I ended up watching more murder and mayhem then I did writing.  I felt – bad.  I should not have jumped in.  It is not a healthy thing for me to do.  I’m sure it is annoying to the people involved who both think their behavior is justified. 

The congregation needs people who are committed and believe in where they are headed.  They need people who have energy and can make a financial contribution.  They need people who are empowered and find joy in what is happening.

I’m not one of those people.  I spent the last two years of Maddie’s life going from medical problem to medical problem and watching the person I love most in the world suffer more than any person should have to.  I tried to do everything I could to make the way easier but so much of it was out of my control that all I could do was stand there beside her.  It took a huge toll on me.  Selfishly, I am not willing to do the same thing for the church right now.  That is what is happening. The congregation is going from one crisis to another.  Everyone’s need for control is in overdrive.  No one can see past their own hurt and grief to find understanding and compassion for anyone else.

As painful as it is, I think I need to step away permanently.  But it is painful if I stay, too.  I long to be fed spiritually and I need to take responsibility for that myself.  I’m scared.  I feel alone.  I don’t have a vision.  I don’t know the way.

 But then maybe I do.  I’ve been doing it with art for years.  I pick a few colors and paint the background without expectation or stress.  I enjoy the process of watching the colors come together.   When the time is right an idea will come.  If it turns out to be something I don’t particularly like, I add another layer of paint, sand something away, or add some texture.  I am going to learn to do that spiritually.  And for this moment, I need to let go.  I am stepping out of this church for the last time and I am stepping into my own spirit.

 

Ideating a Blog

I have a new favorite word!  Ideate: form a mental image of something that is not present or that is not the case according the Vocabulary.com (See definition)  Basically, ideate is creating with the mind.  When I think about all the things that were originally ideated; well, most things.  Some things are created by accident.  I love when that happens, too.  But for the moment I want to get my head around “ideate.”  I have been ideating for a whole life time and didn’t even know it. 

Wish Goddess Doll

For a few weeks I have been ideating this new blog.  For several years I have been struggling spiritually.  My background as a minister and chaplain did not prepare me for this.  I have not been active in formal ministry for several years.  The church I call home is in the process of breaking apart and its future is unknown.  If I wasn’t already in a spiritual quandary, the religious words of comfort that came my way following the death of my daughter would have been enough to send me there.   

So why don’t I just walk away?  I have wondered that myself.  I have a certain respect for people who are confident enough to declare themselves an atheist.  I think I would save myself significant mental and emotional gymnastics by doing the same.  However, I am, without a doubt, a believer.  I just do not believe in the “God” that many Christians and other religious people keep making smaller and smaller. 

There is a longing to connect deeper and in different ways than I have in the past.  I am not 'a repetitive ritual' person.  I am not a ‘kneel by the bed and pray’ person.  I am not even a ‘I’m in deep trouble. Help’ person.  At this point I have a difficult time sitting through a worship service or at least not the recounting of facebook stories that some call a sermon.  And still there is strong consistent feeling within that a spiritual connection with the divine, and sacred is out there waiting for me to grow to a whole new level.   

No wonder the ideating of this blog keeps popping up while I am working, as I am going to sleep, making my way about the city in my Jeep, and as I crunch through the leaves on the sidewalk.  I am hoping that writing and sharing in this spot will help me understand this spiritual longing.  At this point, the one spiritual connection I can depend on is in the act of creating.  I do not understand it at all!  But I know it deep in my soul.  I will be exploring that experience also.