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Hand Forged Vessels
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Sunday, May 30, 2004 |
It's not often that I read a book for the second time within a few weeks of the first reading. One of the rare exceptions is Susan Vreeland's new novel about Canadian painter Emily Carr, aptly entitled "The Forest Lover." Of course such a title would attract me immediately, not matter what it was about. To find the subject a woman painter who struggled with her role in life, felt out of place in her community, and eventually won acclaim and a full sense of her work - well, how delicious!
You may know Susan Vreeland for her earlier novel, "The Passion of Artemisia," about the first woman painter to succeed on her own. I loved that book too. But "The Forest Lover" is closer to my heart. Nothing inspires my own work more than the forests where I live. They're not Emily Carr's forests of the Canadian West. My forests are tamer forests, populated largely with the same trees with which I grew up in the midwest. But I understand Emily's passion for the trees and for the wild places.
Here are a few quotes from my first reading of "The Forest Lover:"
"To go to my grave without knowing whether it was lack of talent or lack of perseverance that failed me, without feeling that I'd probed deeply, without sucking the joy out of hearty work, that would be self-inflicted pain I could never forgive myself for." (p. 275)
"Someday, when some God-quality in her was fully in accord with the God surrounding her, she would achieve that one true painting." (p. 278)
"Do you like better to paint or to feel communion? They are the same." (p. 312)
"...how she could make love to the universe by painting." (p. 323)
"Maybe it was the nature of artists to crave praise. Something had to feed the inner person for the lifetime labor of bringing a perso's work to maturity. The trick was to keep praise from hurting that work, and to keep on seeking." (p. 323)
"It's your own reckoning you have to go to bed with." (p. 323)
3:04:13 PM 
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Friday, May 28, 2004 |
It's been over a month since my life partner had a medical emergency. At the time, it seemed as if my life was getting smaller, more constrained. For some undetermined time, perhaps forever, I'd need to be available for any emergency, keeping my time flexible.
Most artists have backup options for when the work isn't selling well. Friends and I used to joke about working at the local resort dining room. In fact, artists did often work there when times got tough. More recently, my backup options included restarting my computer coaching business, or getting a part time job or, if worst came to worst, a full time job.
All those backup options disappeared in the face of needing to be available 24/7 in case of medical emergency. I wasn't even sure how much I could isolate myself in the studio. Did I feel sorry for myself? Yes, I admit it. Did I get over it? Yes, absolutely. Compared with the privilege of being with my partner, none of this mattered.
But the medical emergency also intensified my sense of needing help. My usual sources of help weren't enough. And I was scared.
Here's the good part. I can see now, looking back over the last month, how much I've opened to new possibilities. I've started meditating every day. Not surprisingly, I've prayed a lot more than before. And I'm saying yes to new opportunities I might not have even noticed earlier.
My mind used to be full to overflowing with my goals, plans, ideas, and urgent things to do. Of course, a medical emergency knocks all that aside. It all falls like a house of cards.
So there's been room for new things to come in. I'm grateful. Is life perfect? No, and of course I'm not perfect either. I still get frustrated, impatient, angry, envious, and more. But new opportunities are managing to get through, and I'm saying yes to them. And it's exciting to meet them.
2:53:30 PM
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One of my favorite art quotations is from Robert Frost:
"I don't make poetry by the day or week, but by the years."
When I start to feel rushed, this is a good thing to remember.
9:38:31 AM
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Wednesday, May 26, 2004 |
Made a wonderful experiment today, to see how much painting I could do in just one hour. The day was getting away from me, and that's the only free time I had left before an appointment. Usually I'd consider an hour much too short a time to use to start new artwork. I like to have a really open ended studio time.
I had such an urge to paint that I decided to try it anyway. Luckily I already had an "opening routine" for setting up to paint. That went quickly. Started five new small paintings! It was delicious fun and very satisfying.
It's great to know that I can use "only an hour" this way. Maybe it will inspire similar experiments with other kinds of artwork. I hope it will encourage other artists too.
Today I worked on a friend's website and did some other things. The day was getting away from me. I had agreed to go do errands at a certain time, so I only had one hour left free.
3:45:07 PM
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I'm working to add more paper vessels to the website. Here's a preview link to one of the Chi Energy (TM) bags from the heart chakra series:
http://www.cjmorgan.com/paper-vessels/life-is-beautiful.htm
 This one is called "Life is Beautiful." Remember the wonderful Italian film of that title?
3:38:23 PM
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Tuesday, May 25, 2004 |
This morning when I first went out to gather maple leaves to press, all I saw were leaves that had been nibbled, torn, or otherwise marked. I grieved for the late April days when the leaves were new and pristine. I'd look at a leaf the size and shape I wanted, and wish I'd come to gather it "at the right time."
After a while I remembered something I read recently. I can't remember whether it was in a Deepak Chopra book, or another book called Effortless Prosperity. In shamanic cultures, if a hunter complains that he can't find any game, the shaman helps him find out what's going on inside the hunter to keep the game away. Neither the shaman nor the hunter assume that the problem is that the game animals aren't there to be found.
So I decided that the perfect leaves I wanted, in the sizes I wanted, were there. What could be keeping them away? Duh. Well, how about my attitude that I'd completely ruined my chances? How about my focus on the leaves that didn't meet my needs? I started to expect to find the leaves I wanted.
Needless to say, I began finding perfect leaves, beautiful leaves. Then I began finding larger and larger perfect leaves. I ended up gathering plenty of gorgeous maple leaves. The hunter had changed.
9:36:53 PM
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Out gathering maple leaves this morning, I found myself thinking what a privilege it is not to have to worry about being eaten. Being eaten seems to be the general condition in nature. Almost all the leaves in our woods have now been nibbled by something - someone, I should say. Most other animals, even predators like ourselves, have animals who consider them dinner. We human beings are dinner to almost no one - polar bears being a notable exception, and perhaps grizzly bears too.
Of course after death we become dinner . But it's quite a privilege to live day to day without wondering who's trying to catch and eat us. This is one of the privileges usually taken for granted.
As a child I didn't take it for granted. I used to imagine what it would be like to be eaten by a bear. The bear always started with my arm. Who knows, maybe it was a fantasy of escaping my obligations to use my arm to do everything perfectly. Makes sense.
Still, I think children, with their urge to understand life, are aware of things that adults have learned to forget. I remember how at age three or four, I was mystified to hear adults telling lies. (Of course in my family they were considered "white lies" for politeness.) I didn't see the point of lies, because the truth was so transparent. Later I learned not to know the truth so clearly, so it's not longer evident to me when someone is lying. Is this better? I doubt it.
It does feel good not to worry about being someone's dinner. I like this. I'm also glad to realize what a privilege it is. It gives me a lot more time and energy for making art.
12:36:24 PM
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Thursday, May 20, 2004 |
Today I took pleasure in adding 19 paper Chi Energy (TM) medicine bags to the website. They're all throat chakra artwork for awakening and healing the throat chakra. Of course, many of the pieces are associates with other chakras as well.
 This one is called "Speak the Truth in Love." It's the turquoise color that associates it with the throat chakra. The four folds and the black lining make it a root chakra vessel as well. I like the balance between stability and expressiveness. This is one of my favorites.
Still have lots more pages of Chi Energy (TM) paper vessels to add to the site. I have to say it was thrilling to make the pages today. I relaxed and enjoyed looking at them.
A few days ago I added the shopping cart to the site, so now all the available artwork has an "add to shopping cart" button. Payment is by PayPal or check. I'm ready! Come on everyone!
5:21:27 PM
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Saturday, May 08, 2004 |
Yesterday and today I've been gathering leaves to press. It's an investment for next winter. Yesterday I had some doubts about taking time to do this. Wouldn't it be better to be painting and making bowls now? I could use some income.
Today these doubts were completely dispelled as I was gathering oak leaves. It's early May, just past the full Leaf Moon here. But already most of the oak leaves have been torn or nibbled. Now I remember how difficult it can be to find complete leaves even in mid-summer.
As I took leaves from an oak, I found myself saying to the tree, "I want to make you immortal." A bit later, I remembered that a disease is threatening all the oaks. Maybe what I'm doing right now is more important than I thought. Certainly I feel more sure about it than I did yesterday.
Every spring I feel a certain sense of racing against the season. All gardeners know this feeling well. It's the same for an artist. There's so much to see! Every growing thing seems to be changing from moment to moment. How to take it all in?
I've been feeling the urge to collect and press leaves for several weeks. Our household medical emergency kept me from it, then my own exhaustion. It's not too late - not quite. But I'm racing the ants and other insects and who knows what else, in my search for the leaves.
As I hunted through the woods today, I wondered why this race with nature feels less stressful than other races - say, a "normal" race with the clock or calendar. I accept the race with the ants with some grace. I find it much more difficult to relax when racing the calendar, trying to accomplish something by a certain day. And days when I feel I'm racing the clock are my worst days of all.
I conclude that it's because human beings have evolved to race with nature when necessary - to find food, to stay warm, to not be eaten, to keep our babies alive. I'm part of nature. The clock and calendar are quite recent inventions. They have their uses as tools, but as masters they leave much to be desired.
1:15:57 PM
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Wednesday, May 05, 2004 |
Here I thought I'd invented a word. It turns out that Mindstorms is a registered trademark for a Lego system that enables kids and adults to build their own robots.
"Mindstorm" occurred to me today as a way to describe a kind of fierce onslaught of worry, anxiety, paranoia, and turmoil. It can feel very much like a storm. It may grow gradually - first a cloud thought, then a gradually darkening sky, then the pitter patter of grim worry-thoughts. Then the wind may pick up. The storm can get very fierce indeed - like an attack from demons coming from far and wide. It can last for days.
Like any other storm, it ends. The mental sky is clear, even sunny. There's a memory of worries, fears, guilts, shames. But it's only a memory.
Emily Carr is quoted in her latest biography The Forest Lover, really an historical novel, as saying "Weather makes us passionate." As far as I know, she wasn't thinking of mindstorms. But perhaps it still applies.
1:31:04 PM
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Sunday, May 02, 2004 |
Two useful distinctions have popped up recently. In her new book, The Creative Habit, Twyla Tharp makes a distinction between commitment and obligation. She commits to a project wholeheartedly. Obligation, on the other hand, usually gives a sense of burden, indebtedness, forcing oneself to do something. She minimizes obligations in favor of commitments.
I like this distinction very much. With commitment, I can still have a sense of freedom. I'm the one making the commitment.
Another useful distinction came from a recent novel. It wasn't even a novel I liked much, so I've forgotten the author and title. But a character in it makes a distinction between strategy and tactics. It's basically a warfare distinction.
Suppose I have a longterm goal. I want to win a war. Or develop mutually beneficial relationships with fine art galleries in major art cities. (OK, winning a war may be easier, but still....) With this goal in mind, I create a strategy. This is the overall approach. Tactics are simply means to carry out the strategy. At the tactics level, it's important to stay very flexible. That's where the distinction is useful. The major goal is the least flexible (although of course that can change.) Strategy is a bit more flexible. Tactics are the "right now" actions that are the most flexible of all.
How does this help me as an artist? It helps me stay flexible even as I pursue a strategy I've chosen. It keeps me from locking into a routine or activity that's only a tactic.
If you've read much by Robert Fritz, you'll remember his advice to distinguish between goals and means to goals. It's easy to get attached to activities that are really only means to goals. Then you don't see options that might be even better means to your goals. The "stragegy vs. tactics" distinction refines this even more. Is X a goal? A stragegy to reach a goal? Or a tactic within a strategy?
Of course, worst of all is a goal that's really only an obligation. Let's cross those off our lists. Along with all the stragies and tactics that went along with them.
2:10:57 PM
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Saturday, May 01, 2004 |
This is really just a fragment remembered from last night's dream. People keep dying. My friend says she deals with this by POUNCING on life. When I hear this I feel despair. I feel totally unable to pounce on life.
Commentary:
This does seem like what my dream is telling me I need to do - to be aggressive in seizing hold of my life. Grab hold. Pounce on my studio time and keep it in my grip.
How to muster up the energy to pounce? Cats seem able to relax completely from moment to moment. They nap most of the time. Resting seems to be the answer to my despair.
Didn't get enough sleep last night. Or the night before. Rest is the obvious answer. Rest. Then pounce.
11:12:38 AM
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This morning I woke feeling despair about getting studio time again. "There's always something...." I took a shower, not quite able to wash away the blues. At the end of the shower my eyes were attracted to the drops of water on the white shower curtain. Light was shining through the curtain from the other side, so each drop of water looked gray, with a bright rim around it. They were only about six inches from my face, so I could see them clearly despite my nearsightedness.
They were fascinating. I stared. I enjoyed. I played with them by splashing a few drops onto the curtain. The new drops ran quickly down, knocking down every other drop they touched.
A thought crossed my mind. "A normal person wouldn't be staring at these drops of water." Then..."How lucky I am then, not to be normal. I'd hate to miss this."
Feeling enormously cheered, I left the shower.
9:25:19 AM
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