New Painting, "Remain Fluid in All Things"

12" x 12" x 1.5"
Oil and Mixed on Canvas
Available HERE

When I completed this painting, I was reminded of the Charles Bukowski Poem, below...

no help for that / Charles Bukowski

there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled

a space

and even during the
best moments
and
the greatest
times

we will know it

we will know it
more than
ever

there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled

and

we will wait
and
wait

in that
space.

~ You Get So Alone At Times That It Just Makes Sense, 1986

And isn’t this the truth?  The space haunts me. It follows me around wherever I go, no matter who I’m with, at any given moment. At the darkest moments, it feels like a gaping hole in my small universe. At other times, the space is shallow, but it’s never full.

This space is restlessness, a longing for more, not be confused with unhappiness or depression. It’s fidgeting, constantly going and moving and talking and thinking. For me, it is a fear of never feeling complete or always adrift in the world.  But here's the thing I focused on while painting this piece...that's not always a bad thing.

But even in the best of times, times when I should feel like I have it all, there is a glint of something missing…

I have always thought that I just wasn’t occupying the space with the right things. It is an ongoing challenge for me to be comfortable there. So, I have always tried to fill it. I have tried to cover it up with family obligations, friendships, yoga, partying and work. But, I realize now, the space can never be filled.

As Bukowski writes, there is no help for that. The space will always be with us. What I strive to do is learn to accept it and face the insecurity, rather than fill it.

The space is not supposed to take us over. It is there to remind us that there is more and there will always be more. It is our motivation to continue searching for those things and people that keep the space small. And  there is nothing wrong with that faint indication of longing…

New Painting, "Look at Your Feet; You are Standing in the Sky"

Look at Your Feet; You are Standing in the Sky

24" x 36" x 1.5"

Oil and Mixed Media on Canvas

Available

Some works come easily and flow through me almost as if I have nothing to do with them but act as the vessel. Not so with this one. I fought and fought with this painting.  


It started off as the one in the middle with all the reds at the top. Initially, it was my favorite in that whole bunch I was working on at the time. I loved it that day when I took the pic below sooo much and thought it was nearly finished...but then things took a downward turn. I kept messing it up. I was trying too hard with it; my expectations were so high from the very beginning that every time I touched it I was disappointed. 

Each time I would go out to the studio I would try and try to make it something better,  more significant. Then for the past week I moved it to a dark area in the studio and have literally been hiding from it.


In a parallel universe, the same sort of thing was going on in my yoga practice. One of my favorite things in the world to do besides love on my babies and paint is to practice yoga. Thanks to this journey into getting to know myself better, as well as wonderful community of friends and teachers at Exhale, my daily practice has become a well that I draw endless amounts of strength, energy and inspiration from. 


The elusive handstand is something I attempt nearly every class. When the kids and I are horsing around in the playroom, we often do our handstand hops. (My five-year-old is pretty fantastic, BTW.) I am far from getting it, but every day I try.   As my teacher Brooke says, "You will never improve at a posture if you don't at least attempt it. it is in the trying that you grow."  Sometimes I can't even get my hips over my shoulders, sometimes I get it and hang on for a second, sometimes I fall.


This morning in class I tried. And lo and behold I caught some air. I could tell I did something differently because this attempt felt effortless. For what felt like an eternity (but was probably more like 8 seconds), I hung out in my handstand.  I could feel the love and support of my teacher from across the room. For some crazy reason, my mind wandered to my art sketchbook from Senior Year in high school, and this particular sketch I had done that had always seemed sort of random but all of a sudden made perfect sense: 

(That is the picture from my actual sketchbook, done in 1997.)  

The words, "Look at Your Feet; You are Standing in the Sky" clicked into realization. And then just as my mind wandered, I fell--very ungracefully, but luckily didn't get hurt--out of my handstand. The moment passed and class moved on, but for me a fundamental shift had occurred.

(detail)

I raced home, filled with energy and adrenaline. Luckily I had time in the studio today, and instead of running away from the painting I had grown to detest, I embraced it full-on, and added the layers of white and cream. Then I scraped away.  Then I added more layers of blues and turquoise, then I scraped away.  Vertical lines appeared, a virtual linear portrait of me in class this morning. 

Triumphant, the painting emerged.

So I will try again tomorrow, and again the day after that to do handstand. And I may get it but I probably won't. And my body will continue to be a vessel, a conduit, of energy and life and creativity. And I will remember that every day is a journey. And the journey itself is home.

New Painting, " I Can Hear You Singing to me in My Sleep"

I Can Hear You Singing to Me in My Sleep

11" x 14"

Oil and Mixed Media on Canvas

Available here

All day I think about it, then at night I say it. Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing? I have no idea. My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that, and I intend to end up there. You are so weak. Give up to grace. The ocean takes care of each wave until it gets to shore. - Rumi

(detail)

There is something about this one that really captures my state of mind at the moment. A definite longing for the sea has come over me as Dallas descends into the lazy hazy days of summer.  My whole life has drawn me to the ocean, something at once that is at once calm and tranquil, tumultuous, vast and knowing, mysterious and deep.  Something that is a part of myself that I have yet to find...thinking of the sea reminds me that every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.

Yoga and Creativity

My daily practice has transformed me physically and spiritually, but also creatively as well, which has been an unexpected but much welcomed bonus given my profession.

 Who would have guessed that yoga and creativity are inextricably linked?  

I am so grateful to my fantastic teachers at Exhale for helping me see this.  The two paintings below are just a few that would not have come to fruition if not for their loving guidance.

And You Will Rise Up Like the Sea
will be on display at my upcoming 4/16 show at Elle Realty in Lakewood.

So how are yoga and creativity connected? After all, one is a physical and mental discipline, and the latter a manifestation of innovative thoughts and ideas. But what seems like the ultimate mismatch, is in fact deeply entangled. 

Both have lead me to a newfound way of thinking and seeing the world.

The Secret is the Love,
currently on display at the Lovers Lane Antique Market

Yoga has deepened my mental awareness. The meditative aspect of yoga helps eliminate unnecessary thoughts cluttering the mind, freeing up valuable imagination real estate. When my mind is clear, ideas flow easily and freely. The best inspiration comes from a calm mind that is free of constant distraction. My practice has helped me "grow up" mentally and gain the confidence to express my ideas.

The breathing techniques I practice in yoga also help me keep unnecessary distraction and negativity at bay. A mind free of dark thoughts breeds clever ideas without playing devil’s advocate and dismissing what may be constructive or worthwhile ideas.

Yoga also makes me mindful and subject to a higher plane of  thinking (thinking about thinking) when in the process of creating. The importance of this is that I am constantly made aware of the background, possibilities and limitations of my work.  Everywhere I look I see the art in it...it's almost as if a veil has been lifted and the universe is revealing its beautiful secrets to me.  It's like I am tapping into an unused part of my brain for the first time.

Yoga has helped me surrender my ego and give into the creative process. One thing that severely hinders the creative process is the need to control it. Drop the ego and immediately one is less defensive, more open minded and more creative.  This is something I work on every day.

This enhanced focus my practice gives me is one of the reasons I have chosen to practice yoga early in the morning. I feel more centered and productive during the day. Yoga calms me and aids me in concentrating on what matters and shifts the focus to my art.

It's important to realize that creativity needn’t necessarily be painting, sculpting or writing a novel, one can be an artist in the smallest of his or her endeavors from doing chores to planning out an afternoon. People are creative when the things they do are executed with passion, imagination, a sense of humor or a new approach.  Namaste!

I think we all could stand to use more SAT words.

The blogosphere is incredible. I was lucky enough to have my artwork found by someone across the world in Noosa, Australia, who used my painting, "Your Voice Was Smooth; Like Water Running Over Rocks" to illustrate her word of the week, "Mellifluous.  Thanks, Felicity, for sharing my artwork on your lovely blog and also for expanding my vocabulary.

"Mellifluous

[adj.]  flowing, like honey.

Sweet or smooth, generally used to describe a person's voice, tone or writing style.

From the latin mellifluus ["flowing like honey"], from mel [honey] + fluo [flow].

Today's word is one of my favourite, not only for the musicality as I say it out loud, but also because I love what it describes.  The artwork I've chosen to illustrate this word is by Gina Marie Dunn and is titled 'Your Voice was Smooth; Like Water Running Over Rocks' which evokes dulcet and mellifluous tones in my mind."

This painting is 24" x 36" x 1.5". This is one of my favorite sizes to work with. It is available for purchase, contact me for details. 

New Painting, "Transformation"

 Transformation

24" x 36"

Oil and Mixed Media on Canvas

I am fascinated with the journey of the lotus flower. It starts as a small plant down at the bottom of a pond's mud and muck. It slowly grows up towards the water's surface, continually moving towards the light. Once it reaches the surface of the water the lotus begins to blossom and turn into a beautiful flower.

The lotus flower has become a symbol for awakening to the spiritual reality of life. As the lotus flower grows up from the mud into a object of great beauty, people also grow and change into something more beautiful (hopefully!). To me this symbol represents the struggle of life at its most basic form and the reminder that the journey is precious and beautiful.

This painting will be on display in January at Starbuck's in the West Village. Contact me for more details or purchase information.

(detail)

"Best of the First Year"

 "Sometimes I Feel Like I'm Falling in the Ocean"

24" x 24" x 1.5"

Acrylic and Mixed Media on Canvas

My painting was chosen "Best of the First Year" by Austin-based art magazine, W5RAn.  W5RAn is an indie online magazine displaying  content that covers all areas of art and design and I was excited to have "Sometimes I Feel Like I'm Falling in the Ocean" chosen among the thousands of pieces of art that they feature as a standout. The original is still available for sale on my Etsy site and is currently at my home studio. Private appointments are available if you want to see it in person.

A Poem for Wednesday

The Edge of The Deep Green Sea 16" x 20" Acrylic and Mixed on Canvas Fine Art Prints are available of this original painting, email me for details. Annabel Lee by Edgar Allen Poe It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love- I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsman came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me- Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we- Of many far wiser than we- And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride, In the sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea.

A Poem for Wednesday

Sometimes I Feel Like I'm Falling in the Ocean
24" x 24" x 1.5" (2 canvas panels, 12" x 24" each)
Oil and Mixed Media
This painting is available on Etsy:


Still I Rise
by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

The Edge of the Deep Green Sea

16" x 20"
Acrylic and Mixed Media on Canvas

"and so we watch the sun come up
from the edge of the deep green sea
and she listens like her head's on fire
like she wants to believe in me" -The Cure

The tentacles of an octopus first inspired this painting, sort of a reflection of how tied down I feel at times. With the children so young, there are often days when I don't leave the house or even make it out to the studio to paint. (If I don't make it outside for a morning run before the household wakes up then I'm REALLY cranky.) As much as I love all three of my precious babies, it's simply a hard time feeling so occupied with constantly meeting their basic needs.

As I worked on this piece, I noticed this painting slowly started to take on a more abstract look while preserving the feeling of something aquatic. I almost quit working on it because it was frustrating me so much and I hate feeling like I am fighting with my paintings, but then I had a breakthrough on Friday. Friday happened to be a special day as my husband and I were celebrating our fifth anniversary. I like to think that April 2 is a lucky day for me all around, and I'm glad a little luck made its way onto the canvas.

Am feeling very "oceanic" lately...ever since I did the two paintings below I feel like I am stumbling upon a new series inspired by the mysteries of the sea.

Sometimes I Feel Like I'm Falling in the Ocean

24" x 24" x 1.5" (2 Canvases, 12" x 24" each)
Acrylic and Mixed Media on Canvas

Am feeling a little overwhelmed by life lately. I painted this as a reminder to myself just to try and relax, even when I feel like I am drowning, as a reminder that if I remain present in this moment anything is manageable. I was trying to come up with the title for this and while on a morning run, the Blue October song, "Into the Ocean" came through on the Ipod and I knew I had found it:

Now floating up and down
I spin colliding into sound.
Like whales beneath me diving down.
I'm sinking to the bottom of my everything.
That freaks me out.
The lighthouse beam has just run out.
I'm cold, as cold, as cold can be...be *sigh*

I wanna swim away but don't know how.
Sometimes it feels just like I'm falling in the ocean.
Let the waves up; take me down.
Let the hurricane set in motion, yea.
Let the rain of what I feel right now come down.
Let the rain come down.

Where is the coast guard?
I keep looking each direction for a spotlight; give me something.
I need something for protection.
Maybe Flotsam jump will do just fine...
The Jetsam sunk I'm left behind.
I'm treading for my life, believe me.
How can I keep up this breathing?
Not knowing how to think I scream aloud, begin to sink.
My legs and arms are broken down
With envy for the solid ground.
I'm reaching for the life within me.
How can one man stop his ending?
I thought of just your face...
Relaxed and floated into space.

I wanna swim away but don't know how.
Sometimes it feels just like I'm falling in the ocean.
Let the waves up; take me down.
Let the hurricane set in motion, yea.
Let the rain of what I feel right now come down.
Let the rain come down.

Now, waking to the sun I calculate what I had done.
Like jumping from the bow, yea, just to prove that I knew how, yea.
Its Midnight's late reminder of the loss of her; the one I love.
My will to quickly end it all
Sat front row in my need to fall.