The Art of Capturing Memories and Inspirations

sketch from my journal

My only big regret in life is that I didn’t take the time to document my experiences more.  I’ve kept a journal on and off since I was 16, which is admiral, but I wish I had expanded my entries to snippets of sensory experience and fascinations other than just emotional spew.  But, in my defense, I was a teenager and  I avoided language arts classes finding them tedious.

Looking back even recording one thing that made my day would have been such a precious collection to look back on.  No one told me then that those little vignettes from my life in Alaska, raising my son, and those hilarious “kids say the darndest things” moments teaching 6th-grade science would be so longed for. Of course, I have hundreds of photos but without some words as accompaniment, they are incomplete memories. I was always too busy, thinking I would remember everything.  Then “poof” those clear memories vanish like steam.  The same goes with some solution to a nagging problem or those creative inspirations I get as I drift off to sleep.

Continue reading “The Art of Capturing Memories and Inspirations”

The Goddess of Lost Things

The Goddess of Lost Things“If you’re not careful you can spend your whole life looking for what you’ve lost.”
― Moïra Fowley-Doyle, Spellbook of the Lost and Found

Being a creative soul, my brain is constantly mulling over new ideas and possibilities for my visual art and writing.  Being absent-minded really means not being mindful of the reality is in front of me in exchange for the reality I’m experiencing in my brain.  My head is often somewhere in the clouds growing flowers.  A really annoying side effect of that part of the creative mindset is losing things- constantly.  I’m working on it.

A few years ago I welded a piece from junk objects I call ” The Goddess of Lost Things.”On her arms, I hang earrings and I have lost in hopes they will return to me (there have been mixed results). Her headdress is made from a rusted pair of garden clippers, some kind of plumbing fitting for her head and various bits of this and that I came across for her body.

This month”s prompt for “The Nuthatch Society,” My petite writing group was “loss,” a topic that can be explored so many ways.  Rather than the serious side of loss, I chose this everyday part of my life.

Where the Lost Things Are

Tucked in burrows, sheltered from the obligations of daily use

I imagine they are gathered

Possessions I once held in my grasp that broke free and claimed their independence

The khaki hat I wore on the Camino de Santiago, left at a resting stop under a tree

How I missed its wide brim as my eyes squinted and my brow perspired under the Spanish sun- such a lucky find for another pilgrim

My prescription sunglasses in a case of mustard yellow, guaranteed to catch my eye, my name address & phone number in black sharpie on the back

No strategy foolproof

The red leather wallet lost years ago that fit so easily in my pants pocket.  Where are you little one?

Earrings – always my most cherished

The mates, now single, put into service as zipper pulls, charms, and bling for art projects in memory of when they made such a darling couple

Hats, headbands & gloves fallen from pockets on ski trails through snowy woods- usually the ones hand-knitted by dear friends

Sets of car keys

The scarf that dropped from my neck as I walked through the bonny highlands of Scotland

Then the myriad of expensive striped wool socks that enter the wash as pairs and then exit a party of one

Unfaithful jokesters

At times the lost return by chance or effort

Like my favorite watch of silver and turquoise from Santa Fe

But not before I bought a replacement on Ebay

Now I have a spare

In the end, it’s the curiosity that haunts me, the perplexing questions of how, when and where the lost were lost

Questions I would like to be answered complete with videos and maps before I die

Have the socks and earrings joined in more diverse pairings?

What new adventures did my khaki hat have?

Unsolved mysteries that will most likely remain as such

But for now blessings to all my lost possessions

Thank you for your service and blessings to the finder if there was a lucky soul

May you go in peace

As I do as well

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“My Head is Full of Flowers”  mixed media monoprint by the author

 

 

 

 

The Art of Germination

Growth drawing

It’s the growing season and my garden is being planted in stages.  I marvel at the magic of seeds- how something so small can germinate to become a huge sunflower or a plant that offers juicy red tomatoes.IMG_2158

With the exceptions of weeds, seeds cannot manage successfully on their own in a garden.  The soil must be tilled and enriched.  Then once the seeds have been planted they must be nurtured with proper watering and attention lest they be eaten by some pest or choked by weeds.  It’s work to bring seeds to their full potential of flower or food.

Ideas are so much like seeds.  The soil of the mind must be fallow and fertile.  To have a fallow mind, one must be open and ready to receive the seeds of ideas.  Fertile means paying attention and being open.  Ideas often come when the mind is relaxed like when you’re taking a shower, on a walk or doing something innocuous like washing the dishes.  Having a head full of earbuds and social media is not conducive to collecting seeds the muse has to offer.

IMG_2164When they come, catch them by writing or sketching them in a notebook less they blow away into someone else’s “garden”.  Then give them the attention they need to germinate.

Like seeds, not all ideas will manifest.  Some are not viable. Then others are past their shelf life.  Don’t be afraid to throw them out and get new ones.

I’ve had ideas like these artichoke plants that surprised me and grew into something much more than I expected.  I started these plants last year from tiny seeds and now they are 6-foot record-setting monsters!IMG_2146

You don’t have to plant a garden.  Just get a pot with healthy soil, some seeds, water them, and enjoy the magic of germination.

 

In Every Seed a Promise

A germ of possibility

Tucked into a tiny package

Waiting to unfurl its cotyledons

Up in the sunlight

From the depths of fertile ground

 

The sprout will grow vigorously

With the right conditions

Beneath the suns rays and the spring rains

With the breath of nature whispering

“grow, grow”

 

Tend it with care

Lest it be choked by weeds or eaten by pests

Then feast from your labors

and natures’ mystery

The wonder of a tiny bit of matter

That waited to reveal its purpose

 

 

 

 

 

 

Staying Tuned to The Muse

 

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“Wild Birds in My Head”  by the author

I’m always staying tuned for ideas (see my post “Where my Ideas Come From”  ) but sometimes they pursue me- relentlessly.  Think about wild birds flapping in your head endlessly or like someone tugging on your apron strings constantly.  Yes, the ruckus will go away eventually, but not entirely.  The inspiration will just go to someone else to be manifested and then pretty soon your muse will give up on you all together and you will be very lonely.

WRITE ME

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The poem tugged on my apron strings

Begging for attention

When I ignored it

It crept into the kitchen of my mind

Rattling the pots and pans with such a clatter

I could bear it no longer

“Stop!”I cried

“Don’t you know I wasn’t an English major?”

“Find someone else to write you!”

But the poem persisted with such a fuss

That I relented,

Sat down and wrote it,

Then kicked it out the door to the internet

Sighing with relief

Until I felt another tug

on my apron strings.

These Lines

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THESE LINES

from my pencil

anchor me to this earth

like a kite on a string.

These lines

form words on pages

giving shape to my thoughts

running wild in my head.

These lines that form words

are lassoed into sentences, then paragraphs

a calm order brought from the spiraling chaos.

My soul is tamed

At least for a while

From the simple act of writing.

On Finding Inspiration

 

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There is a magic in the creative process.  When I am totally in the  “zone,“ it seems as though some divine force plants a seed of inspiration into my psyche & leads me on a journey to bring from the ethos something new & different into the world.  Generally I need to be in a space where I am fully present-  at least with my own thoughts.  I don’t necessarily have to be in my studio.  Often inspiration comes on a walk or doing something as innocuous as washing dishes or weeding the garden.  At this point it is important for me to get the idea either in process immediately or at least written down, for inspiration can be as ephemeral as fairy dust in a breeze.

Sometimes I must plant a seed myself if nothing has been offered from above.  I keep a list spirit-of-g-r-horse-qeof concepts that fascinate me.  For example, a few of my favorites are migration, germination, metamorphosis & salmon.  I will make a list of every sub-concept  I can think of that has to do with that topic, pick a few & then tie them together into a piece.  The Illustrations that are shown in this post are from a triptych titled “The Spirit of Ghost Ranch.”  In these mixed media pieces, my goal was to embody different aspects of Ghost Ranch Retreat Center in Northern New Mexico where I  visit to take art classes & spiritually recharge most summers.

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Then there are times I must “prime the pump” for ideas.  One of my favorite hunting grounds is Pinterest.I can get inspiration from other artists & pin them to my own “board” for reference https://www.pinterest.com/wildntotions/.   One of the beauties of the Pinterest algorithm is that it will suggests similar pins that may be of interest to you, leading you down a rabbit hole of endless possibilities.  I can also prowl about blogs, and storefront galleries as well.  My go to guide when I am in a rut is the book, “Steal Like an Artist,” By Austin Kleon.  It’s maybe an hour read and so very encouraging
and inspirational.  If you need a tow truck, this is your go to guide. I refer to it over and over again.51b3zefka3l-_sx258_bo1204203200_

For the most part I work intuitively.  I just start putting down a scrap of paper,  a stencil, a swish of paint, sentence , or start to work a lump of clay  as bait for my muse.  Once I start down the creative path, I follow the breadcrumbs that she has left to tell me where to go next.  I know that if I am tired or stressed it not the right time for creative work- just like you don’t plant tender seedlings in bad weather.  Now it’s time to do something mindless & let my subconscious work in the background.

It’s all a mesmerizing journey of faith but it works- if you give yourself permission to let go & play.