Your art is important because it is.

"spinner" acrylic on board, 5 x 5 inches SOLD

“spinner” acrylic on board, 5 x 5 inches SOLD

Your art is important because it is. It comes from the infinite, it returns to the infinite. It is your greatest teacher. Through it, you learn all things. It forces you to confront yourself, to settle into your own being, to stop turning away. It returns you to yourself and allows you to see clearly who you are without the stories, who you are without the running commentary, who you are in the stillness of solitude.

And who is that?

You cannot define yourself, only recognize yourself in the flow that you know is right because the remembering goes deep, all the way to the black core of beginnings, straight through to the light. It is you before, you after, and you all along—you that you forget everyday, you that you try to escape, you that beckons you back, heard through the little voice, felt through the shocks of inspiration that ripple then rip open, you that wakes you in the night, you that is you forever, you who is ashamed over the long distances you have traveled in the wrong direction, and you who weep at your own return every time you step into the studio.

they’re small, they can make you happy

more new small paintings…they’re small, they can make you happy
I will be showing these at 3 Little Birds Salon thru February. Opening reception Saturday, February 2, 7:00pm
If you see one you want, let me know…

Happy Solstice. Happy Guru.

This morning, in the early hours before everyone was awake, I was meditating like I do, and as I gazed in glazed over stillness, the framed image of Guru Ram Das on my altar shifted and in the reflection was the wall in my hallway where 12 oil stick drawings hang.

oil stick drawing

oil stick drawing

And in that moment, the message came into my mind, “Your art is the Guru.”

And Thank You.
(Guru means “that which brings you from darkness into light” Gu = Dark, Ru = Light)

It is the truth and I have known this before, but have been wishy-washy back and forth because of little lolly-lies in my mind that ramp up and grow through repetition and turn into stone walls. False circular ramblings belittle my passion and go something like “art is a hobby” “grow up” “you are a loser” “you are selfish” “you are wasting time”…

Enough already! I am grateful that I have something that reveals myself to me. Because I am my greatest gift. And so are you.

Agnes Martin wrote in her amazing book, Writings:

Say to yourself: I am going to work in order to see myself, to free myself. While working and in the work I must be on alert to see myself. When I see myself in the work I will know that that is the work I am supposed to do.

Happy Solstice. Happy Guru. May you do the work you that brings forth the most light.

Give yourself a gift and go read Writings, by Agnes Martin

Traction for planting the holy on

Someone asked me why I don’t paint on pristine primed canvases… and to me it is a no-brainer, but I didn’t really have an answer right away. After some thought, I realize I am repelled by things that are too refined. A fine line. I love defined lines, but not refined-ness. I would rather paint on a scavenged pieced of lumber than a perfectly white flat panel. I do love the texture, but it is also the process and narrative that attracts me.

The old dirty piece of scrap cast-off that was destined for the chipper is now cleaned up, sanded, primed, painted and glossed to a shiny semi-precious object (depending on the bent of the cherish-er). A metaphor perhaps for hitting rock bottom and being redeemed re-worthy?

Also, I know the soul finds more traction for planting the holy on the bumped up, bruised, gritty and reclaimed, rather than on the slicked over and gleamy new. To me it feels deeper and more rooted than the choke-white slickness.

small paintings: acrylic on scavenged lumber scraps

small paintings: acrylic on scavenged lumber scraps

now showing at 3 Little Birds Salon

new patterns

I am making patterns derived from cropped images of  my wood assemblages…here are 3…more to come…

Egypt.

Chunky masses bury curvy precious materials and remains.
Hot spot on the globe radiates with the purest current
Sent straight up through the earth sphere
And down again from the bluest sky.
Who sits in the center receiving messages from the divine?
Do you sometimes?
Do I?
One time I was locked tight in levitation
Praying to guides and gods
Then a human walked in the room
And asked a question.

{This post is the 6th in a series of writings inspired by the titles of my most recent wood assemblages.}