Language and Imagination

A couple of weeks ago we took a friend, Rachel, to Moab to see the petroglyphs before she headed back to China. She and I were looking at this huge rock panel when a woman standing next to me said, "I believe all of those rake looking petroglyphs are about irrigation. These indians must have seen the Mormons doing it on their way here."

First of all I was floored that she thought that these petroglyphs were created at the same time that the Mormons moved into Utah. I wanted to correct her on her flawed history, but I stopped myself. I realized that she was showing me an important component of language.

First of all, I do believe that the petroglyphs were/are a language, and I do believe that the Pueblo tribes understand this language. However, besides a specific meaning behind all of these amazing images, I believe there is a universal language being spoken as well, and my gut feeling tells me that when they created these images, they knew that they would be speaking to us one day.

I love reading all of the archaeology about these areas, but sometimes I think science gets in the way. I think it shuts down our connection to these symbols and language that obviously speaks to so many. I think a major component of rediscovering this type of language within ourselves is letting ourselves imagine again....let ourselves feel the images. An elder that adopted me years ago told me that our imagination is the bridge Creator gave us to connect with Him/Her.

For instance, I was on a hike this past weekend, and we came across a family from Japan. They could not speak a word of English, and I can't speak a word of Japanese. However, we came to an amazing spot on the hike, and we were able to communicate. I have no idea what he was actually saying, but I could feel his awe, his gratitude for me pointing out the site, and his excitement over what we were standing next to. Not a physical word was understand, but what was behind those words, completely came through. When I am standing in these amazing places that the Old Ones decided to mark with their petro or pictographs, I may not understand the specific meaning, but the universal meaning comes through so clearly most times.

I believe the context of the moment is what truly communicates with us. We can look at pictures of petroglyphs in books, but when you actually hike out to be with them, what they were expressing comes through most times. It is important to be in the place, and another component of Sacred Language for me is how it connects you the environment in that innate way we have all lost touch with. I think their language is a connection back to that aspect of who we are. I think this might be why I come to an understanding of what some of these panels mean. Maybe they aren't about knowing what they were physically saying, but what they are trying to remind us about....that connection with All That Is that is not bound by  written words.

When I find myself before these sacred images, I take a look around to see what actually surrounds me. I sit and take it all in focusing upon my breath, slowing my mind and focusing upon walking within their shoes....within their eyes. What do we both see together? I then sit with the images upon the rocks and simply soak it all in without trying to even figure it all out....just enjoy it....I say a prayer, give thanks to them for what they created, and how they inspire me. At times the meanings begin to sink in....and I just let my imagination flow with it.

So as I look at the rake image, which Hopi elders have stated that it represents their migrations, I can see how she felt that it had something to do with irrigation. The interesting thing is irrigation was as important to the Old Ones as it was to this woman who began talking about irrigating her ranch. A common issue they both shared....a bridge with the past. Without knowing it, she made a connection to the Old Ones through their language that will stay with her forever.

Picasso and Rock Art

Picasso once said about all of the amazing cave art in Europe, "None of us could paint like that." When I read this, it felt so true to me that it triggered me. I got irritated about it. Why is it that we "modern" people can't paint or create like they did more than 35,000 years ago? What did they have that we don't?

I am reading a fascinating book called, "The Mind and the Cave: Consciousness and the Origins of Art," by David Lewis-Williams. So far a lot of the book has been about the history of science, evolution, the battles that ensued over it, Paleolithic history, theories that were embraced only to be abandoned, and finally he is going to get to the reason why he believes we create art. In the book there are several beautiful plates and pictures of the cave art, which they call parietal art in Europe. It is amazing! It is inspiring! And it is so free of any type of inhibition, limitation, or care for judgment! That is when I realized what Picasso was getting at; that is what they had that we don't have today.

Our world is filled with judgement. Things are cast into two categories: good or bad. Artwork that goes into the good category is saved, protected, bought and maybe one day put into a museum. Art that some think is bad is labeled with all sorts of colorful words, destroyed, or simply ignored. Artists of today paint with the hope of being liked and appreciated. If their ego is in full swing, they are hoping to find a lot of appreciation by the name of fame. In so doing, we imprison ourselves. We don't realize how much we limit our creativity, our version of storytelling the moment we seek praise.

That is what we are and have been for thousands of years; artists are storytellers. Those ancient Paleolithians as well as the Ancestral Puebloans weren't painting "art for art's sake", they were sharing their stories. First of all, I can't stand that term about art...."art for art's sake." Art is never created for so flimsy of a reason. You can go up to any artist and ask them about why they painted what they did, and a story will be revealed to you.

What always flabbergasts me is how long it has taken scientists to realize that so much of this "art" on cave walls, rock faces, rocks, etc. is about their rich, spiritual lives. Yes, it is shamanic art at its very beginning.

What did these artists have that I don't have? Well, I can tell you as a person with family on a reservation and having lived there, when we have a vision, it is never judged. The thought of judging a vision someone tells is beyond our comprehension. It is recognized, supported, and assisted in bringing it forward into the life of the vision recipient. The recipient is not trying to seek approval. On the contrary, the recipient is quite humble about it all. It is a gift from Spirit. How could one not be?

My guess is that the people that created this amazing art through the centuries either showed talent early or received a vision that they were to be the storytellers for their people; an amazing honor and responsibility. Their people supported this without any kind of judgment, so the artist/storyteller could create with absolute freedom. Every stroke or peck was done with a prayer as my Unci taught me to do not too long ago. He or she was not seeking anyone's approval....simply sharing their experiences for the future generations, and this is why Picasso said what he said.

Within our current society, I do not believe anyone can create or paint the way they did. Maybe this is why I began this journey to discover the way back to this sacred and old way of expression....maybe it isn't about the art at all....Maybe it is about finding that freedom within myself, and no longer worrying about what anyone thinks. So many times people have walked into my booth stating that I must suffer from schizophrenia or do copious amounts of LSD to work with the color the way I do. At times, yes, it has hurt. Most of the time I ignore it or laugh, but I do believe that something deep within me listens a little more than I want myself to. I would love to express Spirit in the way that they once did with the freedom that they did. I think this is a journey about tearing down my own personal prison that I really wasn't aware of until recently.

Surfaces

I have been sick with the flu, and today, the Spring Equinox, is the first day in a bit that I feel human. I am sorry that I am late with this post, but sometimes circumstances force me to slow down. I am trying to get back into the swing of things, and I thought I would start with this blog, which seems perfect on Spring Equinox.

One thing an artist is always considering is what type of surface to do their work upon. Will it be on canvas, paper or board? Or will the artist work with metal , wood, or clay are a few of the many, many possibilities we all consider.

For me the surface is as important as the oil pastels or acrylic paints I use to create the image. It is the base, the foundation for what I wish to share with others. If the surface can't support what I wish to share, it will crumble and be of no use to anyone. I personally like to work on white surfaces, because of how it keeps my colors true to their nature. I like to work on a smooth surface and build my own texture. The surface excites me, because it invites me, challenges me, and provides an opportunity to create. It also can become my psychiatrist, because that surface makes me face my fears, problems and all of those hidden items that we all try to avoid. It also becomes a place for me to share my spiritual experiences....

A week ago we headed to Moab, but this time we were on the other side of the river from where I shot the video showing all of the petroglyphs. Why that surface? Why those rocks? Well, they are amazingly beautiful as they dramatically erupt straight for the sky while skating along the river's edge. But what else caused them to work there?

Well, they are smooth....they are warm. Most of the petroglyphs are south facing. The Old Ones wanted to share their stories with the sun. Even when the sun leaves us during the winter, we can still feel its warmth when we face south. The rock is very smooth. I doubt they had to do much of any work to smooth it out enough to create their mysterious masterpieces. There is also quite a bit of desert varnish/patina on the rock, which creates a black surface over the red rock. It creates a dramatic look without ever having to bring out any type of mineral to paint with. They simply peck through the black and find the red. They perfectly illuminate each other.

I think these petroglyphs tell many stories. There are stories about migrations, offerings, ceremonies, hunts, dancing, animals, and clan affiliations that once lived there. The interesting thing is that when they are in the sun, it isn't so easy to see them. The best time to look at them is in the morning, before the sun climbs too high into the sky. This is what makes me think they are sharing their stories with the sun.

However, just as that thought passes through my mind, the reflection of the sun dancing upon the river water is mirrored upon the rocks. These rocks are also where they whispered their gratitude for the gift of life that the river and all of the natural springs provided them. The sun and water dance upon these rocks. Moab is an amazing place; hot desert filled with water, springs and waterfalls.

Where would I paint if I wanted to share my stories with the sun and river? It would be right over there....in the warmth, along the beautiful, flowing, Colorado River. How can one be here and not want to speak with the Two at the same time? They are sacred, and the rocks are the perfect surface to reflect this.

I spend a lot of time hiking in the forest not far from my home. I wonder what would be a natural surface for me to work on to reflect my feelings and experiences for this forest? I don't know right now. I will get back to you on that maybe in my next post.

Sacred Art/ Sacred Language

This has been a very difficult weekend, but it seems to be the best time to go public with a new body of artwork that I want to embark on.

I live in Western Colorado on the edge of the Ancients. If I head west or South, it is hard to not stumble upon some sign of an Ancient world. It has captivated me, spoken to me for years. Many years ago an elder adopted me, and when I asked him about the meaning of some petroglyphs I recently discovered, and he told me I already knew. What? I didn't have a clue what they meant, but he insisted I did. This planted a small seed within me that has been slowly germinating for years.

Walking through canyons and deserts I've come to realize that as much as I enjoy and appreciate the artistic value of all the petroglyphs and pictographs, they really are not art in the modern sense of the word. They are a language. They are the first written language upon this continent and all over the world.

I want to embark on a journey of new artwork where I try to rediscover within myself my own sacred language. My relatives come from France, and who knows, maybe they were one of the people that wrote upon the Lascaux caves. Maybe my Ancestors are whispering to my heart.

For whatever reason, I feel that this is important. I keep seeing images of unplugging a television from a wall with the words written above, "In order to reconnect, you must first disconnect."

Art has always been about communication I believe, but back then it was an actual language; just ask the Hopi. In the book Canyon Spirits, Florence Lister writes, "Some scholars argue that the rock are left on craggy canyon faces, the polychromatic murals painted on kiva walls, and the geometric and naturalistic patterns laid on ceramic vessels were a form of written language in being messages to the spirit world." Scientists aren't allowed to make creative leaps to understanding what is upon all the rocks in our region, but artists are not limited by those rules.

Art is about emotional expression or sharing a scene that we love. It is storytelling to some degree, but when you stand underneath a huge panel covered in images along the Colorado River, you know that something much deeper is going on. Archaeologists believes that only the shamans did the actual writing upon the rocks, at least among the Fremont People,

because they discovered pigments buried with the shamans. I believe writing was a sacred act. The power of an image can create or it can destroy.

Fritz Scholder was one of my favorite artists. He said that in this time we need more Shamanic artists. I believe he said this because he saw how disconnected we are becoming from Nature. Maybe this body of work will help some find their way back.

Lighthouse on a Foggy Night

"Ouch!" I yelled after cutting myself on a nail. My hand was bleeding, and the area of the cut immediately began to throb. I didn't need eyes to know immediately where I was hurt. The pain told me, my body told me, and I listened intently. I knew that I needed to do something, so I immediately went to wash and bandage it. Pain told me exactly where I was wounded and helped me identify exactly what I needed to do. to keep it from becoming infected and how to take care of it. I simply had to listen to it.

Why is it that we only do this for those moments when we experience physical pain and not for those emotional/mental moments when we scream out in pain? Why don't we listen? I remember once falling backwards on my skates knocking all of the air out of me. The fall didn't scare me as much as the fact that I couldn't breath. I started to cry, and immediately I was told that big girls don't cry. That hurt me even more than the fall. I felt uncared for. We are taught to swallow our pain and then do what we have to do to not admit that we are even feeling it. We run from it. We try to bury it. We smother it with food, drugs and alcohol, and no matter what we do, it remains right there screaming, "Ouch!"

The more we run and say "No" to it, the louder the scream gets. It seems to haunt us, and if we choose to use drugs or alcohol to drown it out, it works temporarily, but soon the scream comes back even louder.

For others our pain is a shield or a badge of honor to carry around to show everyone. They relieve their stories over and over as they show their shields to all they meet. You might think they are listening to their pain, but they really aren't to what their pain is trying to tell them. They simply are addicted to their stories and love sharing them over and over again, so they can gather all the attention they need to feel validated.

We are a world that is addicted to the fear of our pain, and those fears are making horrible choices. We see it every single night on the news. We see it in our own families and relationships; the wreckage and destruction caused by the fears of our pain.

So what is our pain trying to tell us? "Ouch!" It is saying, "I am hurt, and I need you to help me heal it." When we ignore it, it festers and becomes an infection like any physical wound. It spreads into many areas of our lives. You might think that it is absolutely impossible to heal now and it is best to keep running. However, there is an antibiotic for these emotional and mental wounds, and it is the word, "yes."

Yes means that you are not running away, and you are choosing to believe in yourself. It means that you are standing in place looking directly into the eyes of your pain. Yes means that you are asking it what it needs to be healed. Yes means that you are beginning to listen to your needs and take your power back from your fears.

I ran for many years, and it got me no where. I thought the next curve in the road would reveal a much better life. However, that was a pipe dream. The moment that I stopped saying no to myself and found the strength to say yes, I knew that I could survive it. I listened, and I began to heal just in that simple act. I took the necessary steps to support my healing process that my pain told me it needed. Like physical pain I found the correct emotional and mental bandages that allowed my wounds to once and for all heal. Pain is a like the lighthouse on a foggy night. It is the light that will guide us to the exact place we need to be in order to heal.

What it all comes down to is the choice between two words: No and Yes. Which one will you say to yourself when you hurt? I challenge you to sit down with yourself with as much compassion as you would for a dear friend. Allow yourself to find forgiveness, love and a gentle place within your heart to find your way through this. Give yourself permission to be there for yourself.

Sleeping With The Earth

Last night I had a dream, and it's a dream that opened my eyes in a new way. In my dream I slowly sunk deep into the soil of the Earth. Instead of feeling scared, I felt safe. The Earth smelled of that Spring soil that I love to dig into after the winter thaw melts away. I saw seeds being planted and the roots emerge from the seedling as the sprout shoots through the Earth towards the sky. I saw how the roots took in nutrients to feed the sprout as it grew stronger and stronger, but I also saw how the roots gave back to the Earth; nourishing Her as well. Suddenly, I saw this seed planted deep into the Earth, but it grew differently. It seemed angry, painful...fear was in it. Instead of green, it was covered in a sludge. It spread rapidly. It grew at a pace that did not seem natural whatsoever. More and more of these seeds were planted, and it seemed like the healthier seeds were losing ground. They were malignant seeds planted by angry words, violent actions, greed, depression, and fear. Suddenly, the more healthy seeds descended into the soil, as if a collective healing thought was being planted, and I watched it take over all of the malignant seeds. The stronger and healthier the seed, the stronger it was against the malignancies. I saw it go back and forth several times, and if the malignant seeds seemed to be gaining strength, the Earth Mother would call in the rains, droughts, or shake; She would do whatever She needed to do to find balance. This was the end of the dream.

I believe this dream is showing the horrible emotional storms we are creating through vehement, personal attacks upon others simply because of our own fears. For me this dream is challenging me to become even more aware of my thoughts; that if I want to see the change, I need to live it by example.

I hope this all finds you well and in a good place....

Seeds of Life

While roaming around Ancestral Pueblo (Anasazi) sites, I saw this image....a hand extending out from a building offering corn seeds to me. I realized how each one contained knowledge and lessons for life. An entire story came in with this painting, which I am working on recording for the book...but this I can say...as a gardener, the mysteries of life are all revealed within the growth of a seed. I really have no idea what causes one seed to sprout and another to remain dormant. There are a few basic ingredients that I give it such as soil, sun, and water, but it is up to the seed as to whether or not it will grow. I always offer prayers that I was taught to say upon planting a seed. I was once asked, "What are you going to plant with that seed? What exactly do you wish to see grow?"

When it does sprout, I see how strongly it fights for life, how it reaches for Pappa Sky and how deeply its young roots grow into the Earth. I see how it accepts whatever help I may try to share with it. It doesn't say "no" or push me away. I also learn how I need to give it the space to do what it needs to do. If I crowd it, I could break its delicate stem. As it continues to grow, I become a witness to determination and flexibility. The spring winds here are so strong, yet the new plant doesn't lose its balance as it flows with the winds. I learn about creation as it reaches its goal and it blooms sharing its beauty with all of life. The bees, hummingbirds and butterflies all share in its bounty as do we. How can one not take joy in the beauty of a sunflower or the sweetness of corn?

These are a few of the things to think about....Will you take a seed of corn? If so, what kind of prayers or thoughts will you plant with that seed? What will you grow?

Lessons from a Porcupine

The other day I was feeling frustrated and stuck. I live in a very small, beautiful community that doesn't really provide me a lot of opportunities. I would love to open my own gallery, but I just don't see it happening here. Watching the news and hearing about the stalled economic recovery agitated me even more. I took off for the woods just to get away from myself. I blocking myself each step of the way with my own thoughts. I needed to escape me.

I headed down a long forgotten road that the Forest Service closed off years ago. I barely could see where it once was, but I didn't care. I decided to simply follow the path my heart wanted to take, and it was heading straight for a stand of firs way off in the distance.

My steps at the beginning were frustrated and clumsy, but as the aroma of the land started to penetrate my thick cloud of thought, I slowed down and began to see what was around me. My heart opened up to the environment, and I felt my frustration begin to melt away.

I shifted from focusing upon what I thought was lacking in my own life to what I had. How lucky was I? I can drive ten minutes from my house and find myself in this beautiful place? Deep in the woods without any sounds of humans and surrounded by a forest and mountains that I dreamed about as a child. Yes, things are tough, but I love the land. I love it here.

I sat down in a circle of firs and looked up towards the sky taking it all in. That is when I heard the sound....a loud rustling in the trees not too far from me. I wasn't scared but I wasn't thrilled. I wondered if my heart led me to a not so great choice. That is when Mr. Porcupine came stumbling out from behind a tree and into the clearing I happened to be in. He took a look at me, sniffed the air, and then went about his business.

Porcupines will leave you alone if they don't think you are a threat, and he obviously decided that I was not one. He totally ignored me and in a childlike wonderment began exploring everything around us. He would sniff the grass, dig into it, taste it, look at it from different angles and then move on. His favorite find was an old tree that fell years ago. Part of it was hollowed out, and his curiousity dragged him into that hollow. Boy did he have fun looking at it, feeling it, and checking it out in every which way. He climbed in...he then backed up and stood at the entrance and looked in...he then climbed on top of the log with a little bit of difficulty and looked into it...he went back in and started exploring what he found in there. Every which way he could, he became intimately connected with that fallen tree. He reminded me of me when I was a little girl, and how every magical aspect of life needed to be explored.

As I watched him I started thinking about how we all need to approach life with a bit of porcupine's curiousity. Instead of thinking that there is one main way of doing things, we need to remember and call forward our childhood wonder of things. Let it explore our situation and look at it from all different angles, in all lights, and see if we discover any new ways to approach the situation that is frustrating us; whether it is a piece of art or what to do with our art, jobs, selling our homes, how to survive in this economy, or whatever is perplexing us in this moment. There are so many different paths that lead us to the same place.
And there are paths that haven't been walked upon in years, or paths that we never thought about forging. Let that little kid explore!

So as I write this, I have my notebook next to me. I am writing down all of the different ways I can achieve the things I wish to achieve. I am looking at it from all sorts of angles, and I am realizing, I don't need to do things the way I thought. There are many more, interesting possibilities.

I hope this finds you all well...

Sprialing In a New Painting

I have been very sick for a few days, which is unusual for me. Rarely do I get sick even though everyone around me is. I fully surrendered to it this time around, and slept for almost three days straight. I had several dreams, but there is one that stood out. It had to do with painting; a painting that we all take part in through our life.

I saw everyone being born into the center of a spiral. In this place, everyone was still fully connected with the Divine and their true nature. However, as life began to develop, each and everyone of us began to walk around the spiral outwards away from our center. There were different stops along the way for all of us where an image was painted onto us by others or situations we experienced. We let these images be painted onto us, because we were trying to survive, learn or simply we wanted to please the ones we love in our life. We were given instructions by the adults in our life that told us how to behave and what to do, and we accepted those instructions into our lives; thus adding more to the mosaic that others were creating for us.

As we progressed along in our lives, we started adding to the painting ouselves every time we heard or spoke the word "should" regarding how to live our lives. Each time something new gets added to this painting, we get further and further away from who we really are and what we are really supposed to do with our lives while here. All of the colors used are muddy with some brilliant splashes of color here and there as we briefly connect with who we really are.

Something happens that wakes some of us up, and we turn towards the center of the spiral. We begin walking back towards our true nature spiraling in, and we start peeling off all of those muddy colors. Things become clearer, and we choose brighter, richer colors to paint ourselves with as we become reacquainted with who we really are.

If we are lucky, in this life, we make it back to the very center of who we are, and oh my goodness, the paintings I saw were so amazing. They were beyond what any human could ever try to create. I woke up in tears at the beauty I saw and the inner potential that we all hold within. We truly can be amazing the moment we begin to let go of everyone else's definitions of who we are and try to figure it all out on our own. Then I saw how this once again spirals out and causes so much of life to heal and find balance again....

Surrender those masks, let go of those "should's"....and begin painting/dreaming in a better way of life.

Fire....

I have always been fascinated by fire. There is so much power in it....the power that creates such destruction yet creates new life. I fought fires for years in the forests, and I found myself at times standing there in absolute awe of what it created. It is a living being that creates the conditions it needs to live. A fire, when it gets big enough, can generate its own wind storms, it's only lightning to feed it, to keep it moving, to keep it consuming. When you stand within those fire created storms, you realize how powerless you really are. It is a humbling and beautiful moment...and it can be terrifying.

The last fire I worked on was Los Alamos, and it broke my heart to see all of those homes destroyed. I worked on the Los Alamos grounds for most of the night, and the next day they assigned me to put out some hotspots in the area where the houses burned. We were digging, tearing apart...basically doing what we had to do to make sure it didn't flare up again. A bus drove the owners of those homes by us. I will never forget the looks on their faces as I stood in the rubble. Devestation, tears, anger and shock were a few of the emotions that roamed across their faces. I felt so much guilt for digging into what was left of their life in that moment. I walked away after that fire.

That doesn't mean I still don't feel that call, and now I do more than ever. There is a fire burning a few miles from my home. I watched it grow to a major blaze within a few minutes. Our winds were between 50-70mph. They are climbing to the same today. We had to go to Montrose, so somehow they let us drive into the canyon. Bill drove next to an oak brush that suddenly flared up, and the flames licked the side of the truck. The heat filled the cab, and I knew we needed to get out of there. I saw this before, and I knew what was coming.

My sadness grew through the evening. However, it is yet another lesson from nature, from the river for me and everyone about impermanence. Nothing lasts forever, even those places that mean so much to us; that inspire us and create so many beautiful memories. Fire washes the colors out and bathes the landscape in varying shades of greys, and I must say that those grays are beautiful...such different shades with hues of blues and yellows and purples. Greens always emerge where the fire didn't touch. I can see the different ways in which the fire moved and danced through the canyon and into another. A living being doing its dance of destruction and creation.

We seem to forget this...wherever there is destruction, something new is born. I watch the oil spill, and my heart breaks with the gulf. I am crying tears for it, for the canyon, but I do know that nature is amazingly resilient. I do know that she will bring life back to places we think it is not possible. All we have to do for reminders of this is look to Mt. St. Helens where the side of a dead mountain is now filled with life again. That doesn't mean we don't take responsibility for our errors and do what we need to do on our side of it to clean up the mess...to reseed...to save lives of the animals affected....but I do know she will come back.

As I stood in the canyon looking, crying, I heard the sweet melody of the river flowing by and many, many birds singing along to her tune. I know that life will keep flowing in whatever way She creates it....

Earth Day and Art

Today is Earth Day. The first time I celebrated this day as an adult I was living in New York City. They closed down 6th Avenue/Avenue of the Americas for several blocks in Midtown and booths abounded everywhere about everything. Much was about recycling, planting trees, alternative energies, philosophy, politics and spirituality. It was an amazing day for these young eyes that felt like they were at the best feast of knowledge one could find. I bought several books, signed up for countless newsletters, and headed to Central Park to watch the free concert put on by the B-52's. Not one arrest that day, and everyone was in such a joyous, festive mood. It was fantastic!

As a kid I was always hiking in the canyon behind my elementary school looking for the mountain lion that everyone talked about, exploring the plants, smelling the wild flowers, and simply sitting and watching everything. My parents often took us caming in Oak Creek Canyon, and for me that was like heading into the mystical forests created by J.R. R. Tolkein. Of course lets not forget my beloved ocean that I spent countless days of my childhood exploring. To this day I can never get enough of simply closing my eyes and letting my other senses take over; the sounds of the waves, the smell of the salty water, the sounds of the seagulls, the natural pull and push of the ocean...I may have grown up in a city, but I was always an outdoors type of person. When I went to that Earth Day Festival in New York City, I got the itch to one day live in the woods, to let all of those concrete towers go in favor of lush trees, bears, soaring eagles, and the mountain lion that I was always trying to find.

I just got back from my daily hike into the Colorado woods, and I can't even begin to tell you my love for trees. Yes, I am a tree hugger through and through simply because I love them. They are amazing, and every time I gaze upon them, I think of our interconnection, how everything in this world needs one another; that mystical, spiritual web of life. Those beloved trees of mine create oxygen (as do all of the trees within the ocean), so we can continue to breath, and what we exhale keeps them alive. We need one another. We are part of Nature whether you want to accept that or not. We might seem so different from it all, but if you really spend some time in a park, at the zoo, in the woods, or by the ocean you will see how similar we all really are.

My art has always been about this connection, whether I knew it or not. The seeds were planted in my early childhood, and they didn't begin to grow until after my divorce from my first husband. That is when I finally gave permission to that little kid in me to start talking and expressing herself. I think ever since then I tried to show the similarities that we all share rather than the differences in hopes that it will create more compassion and loving kindness as we walk upon this Earth. Maybe someone will start recycling, maybe someone will donate money to protect the lions that are losing their habitats and are endangered....maybe someone will install a flourescent light bulb instead of the old fashioned kind. These are some of the hopes and prayers that I put into my paintings.

The differences? Oh, how these need to be appreciated and loved. What makes us different is where we can learn the most...where that compassion we just developed gets put to the test and grow stronger and stronger. The differences are where we develop true appreciation. They are nothing to be frightened of or anything that needs to generate hate or violence. They simply are there to help us broaden our horizons, explore and accept. That is when we truly walk back into our natural skins.

By the way, I came face to face with that mountain lion many years ago, and she was more beautiful than I ever imagined as a child.

So on this Earth Day what will you do to put the Earth first?

Creating Something New From the Ashes

I have grown to despise the word "should". It is a word that has haunted me all of my life, and I think it has most people. It is a word that when you break free of, so many amazing things can come in.

I hear a lot of people talking about how they want to totally get rid of an aspect of themselves, because they simply can't stand living that way anymore. I totally understand this except for the part of wanting to get rid of that aspect. Yes, that is a should whenever we think in absolutes.

Every part of you is amazing. Every part of you is a piece of a puzzle, and each piece is needed to create the whole picture or painting or sculpture. Yes, along the way we may have picked up some tools, or ways in which we react, that aren't always the most functional or healing. In fact, they create a lot of dysfunction and pain in our lives, so you are probably wondering why I would say to not get rid of it right?

Well, I am a firm believer in transformation. Living here in the Rocky Mountains, I watch transformation everyday. Nature again has been my teacher. I watch the seasons give way to one another. I see how the vibrant bud becomes an emerald green leaf, which eventually turns to yellow and red. When Winter arrives, it is finally brown and it falls from the tree to the ground where it continues to transform into soil. The butterfly first starts out as a caterpillar, creates a cocoon where it turns within two weeks into a miraculous butterfly. Everywhere you look, you will see signs of transformation.

I say don't get rid of, but embrace those aspects of you that you want to get rid of since they will be your greatest teacher. Sit down with them, treat them as you would a friend who is suffering, listen to the story, and when compassion walks into your heart, you will begin to see how to transform this aspect of yourself from something dysfunctional to functional, from something that causes pain to something that heals, and finally you won't be walking around with a big gaping hole in your life. You are now that butterfly flying around from flower to flower.

I recently faced such a moment in my life. I have been creating a lot of muck in the studio. It happens when something new wants to come out of me into the world. However, in order to let this happen, there is something I usually need to face. For me it was all of those "should's" that so many people lovingly poured upon me when I first started working as a professional artist. I admit that I was very insecure, and I listened. I listened way too well. I heard such things as I should only paint flowers, I should only paint animals, I should give up using oil pastels and only work with oil paints, and the list goes on an on.

My husband brought home a piece of copper to me during this time that he rescued from the trash. He thought I could turn it into a piece of art. I listened to one of those should's and I painted sunflowers on one side of it. However, on the other side of it, I painted my prayers without being fully aware of it. Well, I hated that piece of copper when I was done, and I stared at it for three years wondering what in the world I would ever do with it.

Suddenly, last week I knew that I needed to destroy it and then recreate from whatever survived. It was my way of transforming all of those "should's" into "could's" or possibilities. I got out a hammer, a dremel tool, and a torch. There are a lot of ways to work with copper properly, and I'll be honest, I didn't do any of them. I lightly sanded the surface leaving the paint on, but creating a texture for something to hold onto if need be. I then started working without any preconcieved ideas, and I haven't felt this free and trusting of myself in a long time. What it became is really unique, and it is something I am very happy with. I am hoping to continue working with copper and to keep turning caterpillars into butterflies.

I am calling these suncatchers.

Absorbing

Yesterday was an interesting day. We took our niece to Moab for some hikes and warmth. Our first stop was Moonglow Canyon. It is along the Colorado River, and recedes from the road into a magical canyon. The Anasazi once did ceremonies here as is evidenced by the beautiful art at the opening.

I don't know why I do this, but sometimes when I go into places such as this, I go deep into an altered state. I am mesmerized by the Spirit of the land, I can feel the ceremonies of days gone by, and everywhere I look, I see art....Great Mystery painting Her/His Soul upon the heart of the Earth Mother.

I become silent and wander off by myself as I gaze into all of these paintings....patterns in the soil, brushstrokes through the rocks, light and water dancing with one another, and yesterday I saw the remnants of Fall touching the newness of Spring.

I can feel myself walking in the tracks of the Ancient Ones, and yesterday I heard their whispers. We think they are gone, but no they are still with us; guiding us if we open our hearts to them.

Yesterday I deeply pondered the direction of my art, and They kept showing me the possibilities.

Then as if to snap me out of it, we went for a hike up to Delicate Arch in Arches National Park. The winds were stong, and the sand blasted my skin clean until it was raw and stung in my sweat. I wanted to turn back, but I was determined to make it up the hill.

Inching along a narrow rock path cut into the side of a cliff, I had no idea what was waiting for me out in the open. 60mph winds nearly blew me off the cliff. I instantly was snapped out of the altered reality of Moonglow back into the natural instinct of life. I crouched down and took some pictures, because darnit all I climbed up that rock! I stood up again, and I felt like the wind was actually lifting me up off the ground. A woman grabbed me, and I crouched back down. I was done. I was fully back in my body, and I wanted off that rock! I told Bill I was leaving, and I descended like a bat out of hell.

The entire day was a journey through so many realms of existence that somehow will find their way into my artwork and life....I am so grateful for it all...

Natural Abstraction Yet Form

I hike all over the place here in Western Colorado and Eastern Utah. I have a husband who loves to stop the car and jump out as do I. We have found some really interesting spots around here, and while he is off looking for who knows what, I am always studying patterns.

I love to look at the ice especially around Moab. The patterns that form in conjunction with the red rocks are amazing. They always take my breath away. I love to watch how the snow here in Western Colorado sparkles in the sunlight and turns into shades of blue and purples in the shade forming these gently curving patterns of color. I love to look at the rocks that have been carved by the river...with all of their interesting colors and shapes...the patterns that the water forms.

This weekend I stumbled across an old tree that fell long ago protruding through the hardened ice of spring. Upon it were the most interesting designs carved by ice, snow, rain, wind and sun...I was mesmerized, and while Bill was off playing in the river, I knelt beside it in awe. It was beautiful. It was amazing...it was a stunning piece of artwork carved by nature, carved by Spirit...carved by the beauty of the seasons. As artists, we have struggled for so long to obliterate form, to move away from it and plunge into the void of abstraction and freedom. However, as I gazed at this old tree, I realized that abstraction exists within form....they exist side by side and there is no need to obliterate one to find the other.

Humans are a species of absolutes; rarely do we allow ourselves to enjoy the wonder of the Paradox. My elder once told me that whenever I found a Paradox, I found a truth. I do believe this, and I believe this old tree taught me a Paradox today..... abstraction and form....no need to separate...enjoy and celebrate the uniqueness in which both can be expressed.

Spring and the River

I have lived here for almost 16 years. The longest I have stayed anywhere, and a lot of that has to do with the San Miguel River. It is my heaven on earth, and whenever I try to leave it, I feel it calling me back.

The river has taught me more about light and shadow and how forms are created through the two more than any art class ever has. A simple rock never looks the same throughout the day or the seasons, it is always changing. It may stay in the same spot, but light, weather, water, shadows always and forever are painting new ways of looking at the same object reminding us that nothing ever stays the same.

I have sat along the river and watched the seasons pass for several years...I've watched the ice melt and fall into the river, sap rise within the trees, leaves emerge, grass turning to green as flowers bloom in abundance while the river roars from the snow that the mountains finally let go of as they embrace Spring. Of course all of the animals are migrating...some passing through, some staying and some leaving until next winter....and then summer comes and the leaves change from that emerald green to a deep, lush green...the birds of summer are here as the chirping of the beautiful hummingbirds dance through the forests...the river is calmer, and the water warms...then Fall comes with the sap descending and the leaves change to yellows and oranges and reds...the grass becomes brown, and the river slows as the warmth begins to fade...the water becomes chilly, and the migrations have begun...and then winter blows in with a cold arctic wind, flakes fall from the sky, and all of life hibernates even if they are still roaming...ice forms along the river creating thick bridges, and everything seems to be at rest waiting for those first warm winds of Spring.

I have learned more about art simply observing all of these changes...noticing the colors as they shift and grow and fade...how light plays with all of life...and the shadows remind us of the mysteries. I have learned more about myself and my relation to this world simply by sitting underneath my favorite pine tree and listening and watching. I am so grateful to have found this place....I don't know if I will ever paint it; this area hasn't asked me to or visited me in my dreams as a painting yet....

Maybe one day when it feels I have learned what I need to learn....

Happy Spring Equinox to everyone...yes, this is early, but I don't want to be late...enjoy, go out into Nature and celebrate the beauty that surrounds you by simply sitting, listening and watching....

Leaving What's Known

Been travelling through the desert...so many interesting colors emerge in crevices and rock formations. I needed this journey after Jane's death. The desert let's you empty the pain in your soul only to fill it back up with the healing energies of the Earth Mother. What amazing colors she expresses herself in. She has gifted with me three new images to begin working with.

Sadness Opens A New Door

I have been seeing everything differently of late. Ever since my best friend Jane died, my visions are changing...dream like visions...angles...lines...light...all so different. I wonder what they will become. Jane was my biggest supporter regarding my art, and losing her has been devastating...but my sadness seems to have opened a different door....need to explore this.

Wheat Field With Crows

Everyone is always trying to analyze Van Gogh's Wheat Field With Crows. It is an amazing painting that I got to see in person years ago in New York City. There was this spectacular exhibit documenting the last fifteen months of his life through paintings, sketches and letters to his brother. I was there when it opened that morning, and I was one of the last to leave when they closed it for the night. This was one of the paintings that I spent probably an hour, maybe more, gazing at. So many feelings come up as I look at this painting. The colors and movement are fabulous...and yes, there is the dark and stormy sky with the crows flying over an illuminated wheat field. Many say that this was his suicide note, or the painting that showed us that he was contemplating suicide. Yes, it is definitely a possibility.

However, why do we have to analyze things to death? Why can't we just "be" with a painting? Maybe Van Gogh wasn't trying to send us a message about his feelings at all. Maybe he was simply in awe of what he saw. Today I was driving through a snowstorm, and when I got down to the lowlands, the sun peaked out from behind the clouds. I was driving by a wheat field, and the sun brought that field to a blaze. The sky was a purplish blue, and crows were flying on the wind currents just above the field. It was an amazing sight to see. That natural compliments of the yellow and the purples of the impending storm were spectacular. I pulled over to the side of the road and just watched. I felt uplifted from the redundancy of my daily routine. I saw the magic that emerged from a simple glimmer of light that founds its way between a few clouds. The darkness of the crows perfectly accented the scene.

As I look at the painting right now I could say that he saw the light on the other side of the storm that he felt trapped within. Yes, maybe he made his choice as he painted this. However, I also see a gift of beauty that he gave to all of us. I see the awe he felt, as I felt today, witnessing this moment. He felt the power of nature, and he was hoping, maybe, that we would pull over to the side of the road and see it. Remember, the Industrial Age was underway when he was alive. He saw the pace of life quickening. He saw how people were in awe of the machine instead of the sunflower. Maybe this was his note to us to remember, to slow down, to enjoy, to celebrate, and to not miss out on the gifts of Mother Nature all around us.

Mitakuye Oyasin

Colors

So often while I am at an art walk or doing a show I am told, "You must be so brave to paint like that." I am never sure if that is a compliment or not. I rather doubt it. The truth is I'm not brave at all. I am simply painting as I see it.

Ever since I can remember, when the lights go out at night, I see colors swirling through the darkness taking on all sorts of shapes. They then blend back into the swirling colors only to take on new shapes. Everything I look at has these bright and vivid colors swirling through it. I dream in color. Never do I dream in black and white, and for me, I can't even imagine that anybody does.

I'm not sure why I see things the way I do, and I never ask or try to figure it out. I simply accept it and I paint it. I usually start off with a sketch that is in black and white. I have sketched since I was eight or nine years old. I love to work with the pencil and explore all the ways to create texture, depth, contrast, and values. I then stand my notebook up somewhere, and I look at it over several days or months. I let it seep into my subconscious or my Spirit I guess, and then when it is ready, the subject lets me know.

I then go up to the studio and start working. I never choose the colors. They choose themselves. I rarely even think during the process...it is very instinctual and comes from another place that my mind is not allowed to go to. I am usually as surprised as anyone else by the finished result.

You can call me brave...I know what you mean..."Yikes!" I'm nothing of the sort though. I am simply painting how I see it and feel it.

Sprials Swirling Through

A lot of people write to me about feeling stuck with their artwork. They can't get themselves out to the studio, they never have enough time, or all they create comes out ugly.

Well, we have all had those ugly periods, and I believe that they are vital to artistic growth. Lee Krasner went through grey period...everything she did came out in greys. Before I even really worked with colors, I worked in black and white for 20 years. I loved to sketch, I loved to work with contrasts and values with a pencil and white paper. In my opinion, that is how I learned about color...through black and white.

I totally understand about procrastination with regards to getting out to the studio. The studio, which is wherever you create, can be daunting. It is the place where we come face to face with ourselves each time. We look into the proverbial mirror and even if we are painting a landscape, there is something within that painting that contains something about ourselves that we are trying to express to the world. A painting is never just a painting...Art is the most ancient form of communication, and because of art, we can learn from the Ancient Ones that once lived in the same locations we live now. When we paint, or sculpt or create digital art, we are exposing something about our lives or our souls to the world.

Picasso had a very difficult time getting out to the studio. He learned to create excuses to get himself out there. His studio was VERY messy to say the least, so sometimes he would make the excuse that he was going out to the studio to clean it or to clean his brushes. Once he got out there, he would see his paintings and immediately get to work.

I hear a lot of people saying, "I just don't have the time." I know that one very well, because I used to use it all the time. A friend of mine told me to work ten minutes each day and see what happened. I committed to those ten minutes, and as time went by it grew and grew to where it is now my profession! I challenge you to work for ten minutes a day on something of your own...just ten minutes, and see where it takes you.

This past week has been very difficult for me. A friendship came to an end, and this can be the worst time to work on an existing painting. Of course I did, and I turned this beautiful work of a baby deer into a baby deer that looks like it wants to eat humans. If you are upset, pull out an entirely new piece of paper or canvas, and let your emotions out on that....not always a good idea to unleash painful emotions upon a work in progress. However, you never know...it may help.

I was so locked up inside that I couldn't break free. When I get like this, I often do a painting that is simply for me, nobody else, and is my way of breaking loose. It usually is of absolutely no subject matter and is a way to loosen my hand and my eye. I always see swirling spirals before I fall to sleep each night, so I decided that would be a great thing to paint and to loosen up my hand...so this is what I did, and now I am back to painting and creating....