The Artists Life - Christmas Wishes

   It's Christmas Day 2017 and as I write this, it's snowing a pretty good clip as they say here in Maine. My husband Dave and I celebrated and exchanged gifts with each other, our daughters, as well as our grandchildren at three separate times. My youngest daughter's two boys are spending the holiday as well their week's vacation this year up with their father. As a result, we visited with them earlier than expected last Thursday afternoon and evening due to an incoming winter storm that arrived the next afternoon and lasted into Saturday afternoon. We all had a grand time eating home-cooked food, engaging in play as well as heartfelt laughter.

   By Saturday morning, the snow had changed to rain as the temperature rose to 45 degrees - and promptly washed away all the snow we received the night before. This was good news for our oldest daughter as she had to finish up some last minute Christmas shopping. We watched our two oldest grand-kids for over four hours so she could get everything done, home and hidden. We decided to give our presents to those two while they were here with us. It also gave my granddaughter and I time to get creative as one of her gifts was, as she put it, a "whoppin' art can". It was good to create designs and art projects from the heart and the imagination. My grandson and my husband are "pretty tight" as my grandson puts it. While the women created, the guys went into our den and Dave pulled out his toy car collection. He'll be 55 in 2018, and he still collects these little cars. He's done so for the past 51 years. He's passed a good number along to all his grandsons as well as our daughters. It's part of who he is and I think it's one thing that helps him stay young at heart.

   The festivities kept rolling along on Sunday as Dave and I went to our oldest daughter's house for a Christmas Eve gathering and meal - because yet another snow storm was coming tomorrow. The adults exchanged gifts and the grand-kids laughed as Dave had to plow through God-knows how many layers of duct tape. Sometimes I think I have a really weird family, but it's our creativeness and uniqueness shining through. My daughter gave me a framed enlargement of one of her photographs of a Maine harbor in the fall. The photograph was absolutely stunning!

   The best gifts and times are from the heart. Give me a piece of yourself - your imagination, your creativity, of what's truly positive inside you. You can't buy that at a store or on-line. Stepping back a bit in time, I received my first Christmas card this season on Black Friday. Ironically enough, one of my neighbors gave us a picture of herself and her cat. What could be more reflective of the giver? Over the past few weeks, we've received dozens of cards. Some were comical, others more serious and spiritual, one was of a Christmas tree full of photos of the staff of one of my doctors staff down in Portland. That one made me laugh because it was personable and unexpected.

   Here's my heart-felt gift to you. Most who know me, know that I'm a flower person. I've always liked poinsettias and I was moved to create a doodle and paint one that was inspired by a card I received last week. Enjoy!

   Until next time, enjoy all the holidays!
   Jill

The Artists Life - Christmas Angels

   Over the past year, seeing, or more to the point, being able to see, has been my main focus (no pun intended). If you remember, I began this year almost blind in my left eye. Believe it or not, I didn't notice any real difference at first. Then one day, while drinking a cup of tea (which blocked the vision of my left eye due to raising it to drink), and reading a book, I noticed the words I was viewing looked like I was reading through a funnel. I finally told my husband a few weeks later, when it wasn't improving, that I thought I needed a new pair of glasses. My husband whom has worn glasses much longer than I have and a family history of eye problems, told me to make an appointment with my eye doctor asap... like now! He very rarely "tells" me what to do, so I knew he was extremely serious.

   About a week later, my optometrist confirmed a preliminary diagnosis and promptly made an appointment for me at an eye surgery center in Portland about a week later. The diagnosis - a small hole in my macular which is part of my eye that's beneath the lens. My doctor and surgeon informed me that surgery was necessary or I'll lose sight in that eye completely. He informed me that he would insert a gas bubble into my eye and the pressure from it would close the hole. Needless to say, I was speechless from this consultation. However, he put me at ease and informed me he had done over a thousand of these same type of surgeries. I would be fine.

   Fast forward a few weeks later; the surgery went off without a hitch and I healed up just fine. The only downside to this process is that it accelerates the growth of a cataract to an extreme level - like within six months I would need cataract surgery. Fast forward again to last week; I had my cataract surgery and again my other phenomenal surgeon took care of me without even "batting an eye". While I'll need a new set of glasses in the next month, I can finally see out of both eyes. All the better to create and paint, my dears.

   Yesterday I had the chance to deliver Christmas cards as well as carol with my sole grand-daughter. We had a blast! As we walked around my neighborhood, we didn't even notice the chilly weather we've been having for the past few days.

   The bottom line is, we all have special gifts and talents to share with others to make their lives a little less sorrowful and that much better. Be sure to give a hug, or a smile, or even a casual hello. Don't let "just because it's Christmas" as an excuse to do it - practice it all year round. Spend time with someone who may not have the chance to spend time with friends or family this season. Spread the love and become a Christmas Angel. It will do you a whole heap of good as well.

   Until next time,
   Happy Holidays!
   Jill

The Artists Life - Wonder

   As the Christmas holiday quickly approaches, I am filled with a quandary; it's not a question as to whether to shop online or not, or what gift to buy, or just who to send cards to this year. I am swamped with mixed emotions. I realize that I'll never have the Christmases of my childhood back. In all reality, my childhood wasn't as bad as some other kids I knew, even though I lost my biological father at age five. Even at that young age, I had discovered art - I hadn't realized yet that it was an emotional as well as a creative outlet, but dang, was I having a blast! Looking back further, I never thought I would miss the loud, crazy chaos of a big family gathering. I'm a quiet person. So - what's my problem?

   I look out among the elderly people in my neighborhood and I know they won't be spending Christmas Day with anyone and I get instantaneously depressed. And I'm not even living their life. The days of having my own children to dote on are long gone. My youngest daughters kids are going to their fathers house for the holidays as well as vacation, so we'll be celebrating with them early. While I'll be celebrating Christmas Day with my other daughters family, her two children don't believe in Santa Claus anymore. We were all at a Christmas open house last weekend at a local transportation museum (which both kids love) and Santa arrived via a Cessna airplane. Even with all that hubbub, my granddaughter said to me afterwards, "I'm sure that guy who played Santa was good for the little kids, but he doesn't do it for me anymore." I wanted to cry. Our grand-kiddos are growing up, and it's getting a great deal more difficult to pull any wool over their eyes.

   The past is gone and the future hasn't arrived yet, so I wonder what this season will hold for us. I know it will contain the annual parties at several friends houses, church services and events, as well as visits with family and friends galore. However, my granddaughter said it best; "I just want to make people happy."

   One day at a time. I make myself happy with love, self-respect, and faith. I have to love myself before I can love anyone else. Note I didn't say "in love", but "love". If I was "in love" with myself instead of "loving" myself, I'd be a self-centered, egotistical bitch. Not fun. One way I made myself happy this week was continuing to dabble in my doodle series of works. I am happy with the results. Next month starts the sketchbook project that will end up in New York. I'm excited by the anticipation that I'm feeling now.

   As for another right now, since I've finished writing this weeks blog, it's off for a walk in the season's first snowfall. Fresh air, fresh snow, and fresh ideas for art works! Can't beat that!

   Until next time, may the small things that are ordinary bring you joy,
   Jill

The Artists Life - Windows To My Soul

   I just finished reading the book, Five Wishes - How Answering One Simple Question Can Make Your Dreams Come True, by Gay Hendricks. The author is at a party schmoozing, but he hates making small talk. He meets a fellow named Ed who asks him to "...imagine you're on your death bed, tonight or fifty years from now. Was your life a complete success? If you're life wasn't a complete success, what would be the things you'd wish had happened that would have made it a success?"

   Wow! How do you answer that? However you answer this pondering thought, this question penetrated to the heart of an issue he needed to face; What am I really doing here on this planet? What is my life purpose? Do I have a sacred mission? The author's first wish was for a long term loving relationship, which thank God, I have. Going on 33 years and still strong!

   Now take whatever wish you thought of and turn it into a goal, then bring it into the present tense. Right here, right now - as if it's happening at this moment. In the author's case, he could take that wish and say, "My life is a total success because I am enjoying a long and happy marriage with a woman I adore and who adores me. I'm enjoying a lifelong blossoming of passion and creativity with her." His wish did end up coming true because he decided to make a commitment to the woman he was with. He allowed love to grow. The experienced the same result with his second as well as his third wish, which was about totally completing tasks 100%, as well as completing a written record of everything of significance he learned while on Earth.

   Concluding his wishes were to feel the presence of God all the time; to know what divinity is and how the universe was created in addition to have the gift to truly savor life. He wanted to go beyond being here here now, for the magic of life happens in the now. Take it easy... breathe...

   For me, I can honestly say that I am content and successful in my day to day living. I've learned to call on God first everyday and meditate and I have my true soul mate. I've cleared the wreckage of my past, and I flow in the river of love daily. I continue to work at being genuinely happy and doing things for my own personal development. Still being able to create art after all these years, sharing it with others, as well as making a few dollars from it is just gravy in the grand scheme of things.

   "From the perspective of your death bed what matters in that your final breath comes in with the sweet satisfaction of a life fulfilled and goes out with the blessing of a life complete. Even in the perspective of right now, what matters is that your next breath energizes your intention to fulfill your destiny." The challenge is to change one's life. I was fortunate enough before it was too late to realize to take the action to change mine.

   Until next time,
   Jill

The Artists Life - Mapping My Journey

   The featured painting in today's post is one of my early works; Rainy Day Irises. The oil painting is also still one of my favorites. I was inspired to paint it while my two then-young children napped. I needed something to pass the time and it was absolutely pouring out on an early June afternoon. I peered out one of my living room windows and my gaze fell upon my flower garden. How beautiful, I thought - even in the rain. During that period of my art career, if you could call it that, I was using a wet technique of oil painting on canvas. Most of my subjects back then were either floral or landscapes and I used the local scenery as inspiration.

   In the late 80's and early 90's, I used to use a primer called Miracle White, that not only primed the canvas, but also kept it wet, so blending was much easier to do. When actually doing the painting, I would use light strokes and somewhat minimal paint. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, as my husband and I didn't have much money to spare back then and my supplies went farther! The real challenge with a wet technique, however, was if one used multiple strokes especially when combined with a substantial amount of oil paint, the result was usually a muddy mess. This process worked well for me at the time for several reasons; I could finish a painting in two hours or less, the canvas had a quicker than average drying time, and both of which were key with two kids under the age of four!

   The iris painting was a little different compared to the works I had done in the past. This painting was lavished with a thicker coat of primer than normal and before it was dry, I layered the background with a pale dark teal blue. I also used a painting knife as my primary tool. The entire process lasted just over an hour, but the satisfaction of a job well done has lasted me for more than 20 years. This painting is the only work of it's kind to have survived from that time period (1985-1995) that is still in my personal collection. Just about all of my works from those first 10 years were painted over, although a good number of smaller works (and one mural) did sell. By the early summer of 1995 was when I completed my degree in Fine Art. My professors had taught me detailed, dry techniques that I use to this day. And I must admit years later, that the dry process is far more forgiving than just one or two brush strokes.

   The wet / one stroke technique demands planning, clarity of thought, and allows zero room for second guessing a choice. There is only marginal area for correction. If the work is deemed a "mistake", then usually the entire canvas is painted over and the process begins again. The dry technique is a much slower, but less demanding process that does allow a person to change their mind and/or direction. It's also possible to paint over just a small section rather than the entire canvas.

   I, as was my art, changing in the Spring and Summer of 1995. Prior to that, a wet technique was all I really knew or was familiar with. It's similar to life that way - we do what we know to do - until we learn a better way. It's all in the journey.

   Until next time,
   Jill

The Artists Life - Art History 001

   Yesterday my husband Dave and I thoroughly enjoyed the company of our two oldest grandchildren. Our oldest daughter, was having a heck of a time with a migraine that came out of nowhere in the early morning hours and asked if we could take the kids until at least early evening. Sure... not a problem. The holidays and all that involves is right around the corner and I know we won't see the grand-kiddos on some weekends because they'll want to go shopping in Portland. Strike while the iron is hot. Time stands still for no one. Whatever.

   Since it was a beautiful sunny day, and even braving the temperatures in the mid-30's, we began our afternoon at the local playground so they could burn off a little energy. After about 45 minutes, and yours truly getting cold from bench sitting, we headed home for a late lunch. One can tell our oldest grand-kids are getting older - even though they're just over a year apart, they are so diverse from each other. Everything from music, to food, to movies. It is nearly impossible to get them to agree on something mutual. However, while my husband and grandson were being foodies in the kitchen, making some very creative muffins (and who knows what else), my granddaughter and I engaged in some art. She found a coloring book and markers in the "kid corner" of our living room and began finishing a swan picture she began last Spring.

   Out of the blue she asked, "When did people begin making pictures?" Wow... like wow. In an instant, my mind went rolling back through the decades to when I was in college and a class that was required for my art degree, Art History 101. How in the world am I going to explain, centuries - if not thousands of years - of creating to a 10-year old who thinks waiting more than 10 minutes for anything is "like... forever." Old school verses uber-millennial. Ironically, we bond together like Earth and water, so I'd tried psyching myself up that this won't be too difficult.

   "Well," I began, "people began drawing pictures on cave walls with burnt wood from fires, kinda like charcoal, of the animals they wanted to hunt for dinner. It was a way of communicating, planning, and praying so they would hopefully get some food."
   "Was that like before you guys were born?" she asked.
   "Oh no honey, it was more like after the dinosaurs left," I responded.
   "Whoa, THAT long ago?" she pondered.
   "Yes - then after the cave men, people moved to places like Babylon and Egypt. They used dried plants as paper, small pieces of burnt wood, and even other plants to make colored ink out of." As I was reeling this off, I couldn't help but notice how rusty my memory had gotten. "All kinds of people from way back used pictures and symbols and art work to communicate. Those symbols eventually became letters. People added sounds to the letters which became words as well as writing. Eventually, it evolved into computers, keyboards, and screens. But all this took several thousand years."

   Satisfied with my answer, thank goodness, I also realized that time has truly wrought many changes. If we didn't add the words, does the picture tell it's own story? My husband agreed with me where sometimes it does; sometimes not. There are instances where words are not necessary. At other times, it adds to the picture, even when we know full well what the subject is.

   The story can make pictures come alive. I had four doodles to chose from this week - one of rain drops, the second was of a sunrise over the ocean, a third was one of the seashells on one of the window sills in my studio, and finally a ladybug planter holding a Parade Rose. I chose the rose because I received it as a Mother's Day gift from my oldest daughter. I appreciate this gift a great deal because of the joy I receive when I think of my daughter and all the happy memories I have of her. My granddaughter reminds me of her as well... especially when trying to teach Art History 001!

   Until next time,
   Jill

The Artists Life - Visual Hopes

   Art is "engaged" work that is top-rooted in the issues and circumstances of our lives, whether political, ecological, or spiritual. I become a catalyst for creating positive futures as I nurture my hopes into visual action through my practice, processes, and projects. This is compassionate altruistic and transformative work. My visual hopes are actions that forge enlargements in different ways. Some are generally profound and imbued with subtlety. Some empower solidarity through collaborative exchange, while others address underlying misalignment's through direct activism.

   My work and artistic presence in the world is mainly derived at bringing beauty to public awareness. I stand up ad in for all that is beautiful in life. The critical needs of our planet that are going unmet is due to a lack of caring for the beauty that engulfs us. We pollute the air, seas, and land in some way - we all do. Pollution is the greatest suffering upon the Earth, as people - even in our own country - do not have clean water. The human psyche is hard-wired for beauty.

   The nature of my artistic "actions" is to display my art work in the hopes it will inspire viewers to seek beauty and to keep clean their corner of the world. God shapes my perspective of hope in that good always overcomes evil - as hokey as that sounds in these modern times.

   I believe it is important for me to keep creating. Exploring the nature of a doodle is part of my creative process now. How does a doodle change the world? By changing me and my feelings about any given day. As long as my outlook is positive and I effect others with my smile and genuine well-wishes, then I've made the world a better place - at least in my small corner of it.

   Until next time,
   Jill

The Artists Life - Wild Wonders

   The weather this week stormed in, quite literally, with heavy rains and almost hurricane wind gusts. Trees fell, limbs toppled onto power lines, and some folks were without power for five days. I prayed for the safety of my family as they all ventured out to work or their college classes. My youngest daughter found out she had no classes last Monday once she arrived at the university, which is a 45 minute drive one way. Ont the return home, she got stranded in the town of Searsport when a large tree fell and totally blocked Route 1. For a moment, she thought about taking other routes, but reports of debris blocking other ways home, made that option inaccessible. So, she did the next best thing - waited things out with other stranded travelers at the nearby Dunkin' Doughnuts. That's my girl!

   I feel extremely privileged to be able to work from home, especially on days like these. Even with that blessing, it was still difficult for me to concentrate on either painting or writing with the wind howling and the rain pelting hardily on my windows.  In the midst of all this, I'm in the process of changing things up yet again - stretching my creative muscles if you will. I completed my latest project, which was 30 abstract 7"x10" inch gouache paintings that will be sold as some really funky clothing and/or textile designs.

   I was chatting with a friend of mine to see if she still had power and was weathering the storm (as if I could do anything about it at that time). Somehow, after about 20 minutes, we got on to the subject of doodling. According to Wikipedia, a doodle is a drawing made while a person's attention is otherwise occupied. Doodles are simple drawings that can have concrete representational meaning or may just be composed of random and abstract lines, generally without ever lifting the drawing device from the paper, in which case it is usually called a "scribble". When I admitted to my friend that I never doodled before, my phone nearly dropped out of my hand by her reaction and surprise. "You've NEVER doodled before?!? You're kidding! I did it all the time in high school when I was bored. Try it - just put the pen to the paper and don't stop moving. At minimum, don't think too much about it."

   I've been reading a book entitled, "The Muse Is In: An owner's manual to your creativity" by Jill Badowsky. She highlights the book with quips and quotes and then inspires the reader to either compose a poem, draw a doodle, or do some free-writing about what the particular quote meant to them. This past Thursday, I gathered my drawing ink pens and chose the one with the thinnest nib. I was weary and unsure of myself. To ease my mind a little, I began with a scribble. After a minute or two, I reaffirmed to myself that what I was doing was not doodling!

  Okay - at that point, as short-lived as it was, I threw in the towel. To make matters worse, and adding to my distraction, there was some sort of construction going on across the street with all kinds of digging, trucks, and back-loaders. However, a few hours later after all the noise stopped, I reassessed my scribble. I began associating words with it; What do I see? How do I feel? Once I had these concrete ideas and concepts down, my scribble at least had a theme.

   After I was done scribbling, then doodling, and then drawing, I took out my gouache paints and added color to the composition. In the end, I really didn't know what to call my work that I just completed. I kinda labeled it an awkward doodle-painting. The piece is not like any of my other works and I'm still not sure whether I even like it or not. To be honest, I never thought of doodling as work. Even so, I'm finding it difficult to just "Let go and let it happen".

   I have no idea what will come out next.
   Until next time,
   Jill

The Artists Life - Make Life Your Art

   Everything in life is art. Think about that phrase for a moment. One of my many mantras fro years was "Make your art your life." However, after all these years, I have to change it - make your life your art. Why? Because every positive thing that comes from you or me is art. From your walk, to how you smile at a passing stranger, to how you warmly love someone, even the way you chose to feel is art.

   When I was younger, I used to think my mother was absolutely crazy. Every month, magazines galore would arrive in our mailbox and she would pour over them. She would find one creative idea after another - anything that "looked interesting" to her. At some point afterwards, she would visit the local craft shop or department store, in search of supplies. Once the bags of seeming odds and ends would arrive back home, she would assemble these "interesting looking" projects to the best of her ability. You name it - she was creating it.

   I didn't realize it at the time, but my Mom was showing me one of her secrets to her happiness. I'm currently reading a book (yes, another one) on creativity and towards the back, it lists creations that the reader can do every day of each month, providing one has the time of course. I also have a wonderful artistic friend who has been blessed with the room, the time, and the money to host wonderful events - ranging from cookouts, to holiday parties, to the most recent event this weekend, the annual pumpkin carving party. Yesterday afternoon, my husband and I drove to her home and shared in a festive good time along with about 20 other people. The get-together was filled with pumpkins, spider guacamole, ghoulish meatballs, devilish cheeses, chocolate / pretzel witch broomsticks, and plenty of laughter.

   The design I chose was of a crescent moon, a pumpkin, and a bat. Then began the arduous task of cutting around the stem for the lid and scooping out the seeds and the guts inside. The feeling I get when I'm performing this task is not very high on my "yippee" list - as I'm not a fan of the sticky, slimy goop. My husband, on the other hand, says that's half the fun. He had his work cut out for him (n pun intended) as he did a skull that seemed to be a combination of Mardi Gras, the Day Of The Dead celebration from Mexico, and something from the early 70's all rolled into one. We used scooper's, big and little knives, and my hubby used a battery-powered mini caving saw.

   In the end, the pumpkin creations were as varied as the personalities that attended - one could say as unique as each persons fingerprints. They ranged from a barn, to traditional Halloween favorites, to a bubbling cauldron complete with fire underneath. Everyone was into the spirit of things and had a great time. I will admit, I am out of my element and my league when it comes to crafts. I hate following directions - this is why I paint. It is also the reason why I hate to cook. But that is me. To thine own self be true. I hope you can "find your fun" and turn your life into art.

   "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments, both big and small, that take our breath away." - Anonymous

   Go have fun - until next time,
   Time for me to paint,
   Jill

The Artists Life - Warm Wishes

   I just finished reading one of my favorite books, "Make Your Creative Dreams Real" by SARK (Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy) and when I turned one of the pages, a Christmas postcard from a deceased neighbor dropped out and landed face up on the floor. Memories flooded me - not only about my neighbor, that former neighborhood we used to live in, but also the dream of creating cards.

   Most people wouldn't know it, but I'm a nostalgia buff. The postcard depicted a cozy fire in a brick fireplace with festively-wrapped presents off to one side. I briefly thought of our old farmhouse we owned over 15 years ago and then sold in 2006 when my husband and I started to downsize. That farmhouse made me feel "at home". The cape that was built in 1820, with it's antique decor, wide pine floor boards, and rainbow colors, surrounded me like a warm familiar comforter blanket. Ironically, as large as the house was, there was no real studio space for me to create like I had before and since then. Back at the turn of the millennium, I still worked a full-time position in a local school department, working with junior and high school students as well as teaching art. Whether it was at the end of the day or the week, there was precious little time left to pursue my private activities, although somehow I managed to squeak in some journaling as well as being able to finish a painting over the course of 1-2 months. Back then, I had artistic dreams all over the place; from painting full time, to making cards, to God knows what else.

   Fast forward to October 2017. I've had an interesting week - I still managed to paint every morning for about an hour and a half on abstract designs. My husband and I then photograph the paintings, transfer the files onto our computer, where we use a program to create a quad-reverse (also known as a 4-fold mirror) and transform the design into something totally new that ranges from beautiful to totally off-the-wall. I hope to sell these designs to textile companies or through art licensing companies.

On Wednesday, I had a new acquaintance stop over to my home and she commented on a large 30"x40" oil painting that her recently-married daughter would absolutely love. I let it go to a newlyweds home. Thursday was my Zumba class, which I always look forward to. In recent weeks, we've welcomed a new instructor and she's been full of surprises. One week she wore electric dance leggings (not literally, but design-wise - I may have found an outlet for my designs). This past week, she brought in scarves with silver medallions all around them. These scarves were tied around the waist (and covered our butts). When we moved our hips - we jangled as well. I took a sky blue scarf and tied it on... and started wiggling. I was a kid in a candy store. This one little accessory ramped up my dancing class to a whole new level of fun!

   On Friday morning, my abstract painting reflected my energy level. I felt young, excited and eager to face this day. That afternoon was also the party to celebrate my 2nd oldest grandsons 8th birthday. Prior to that, I walked a 2-mile trail through the woods near our local medical center that meanders down by the ocean. Along this path, people leave and take Grace Rocks (which I also painted for a number of years - another dream fulfilled). A vast number of different rocks have been exchanged all summer. The best one I've found so far read "Shine On". To top the week off, my husband purchase some day-glow orange (literally) nail polish since it's getting close to Halloween.

   So what does my past week have to do with fulfilling dreams? That while I need to keep painting - I also need to stay full of positive energy. This will keep me in the proper mindset and maintain the drive to keep pursuing my dreams and allow them to come to fruition.

   Until next time, warm wishes.
   Jill

The Artists Life - Methodical Me

   I was on such a creative roll last weekend, that I wrote this week's blog seven days ago. My husband and I were returning from one of his photo shoot engagements and I chanced stopping into another artists gallery which, until that day, was "never open". Lo and behold, as we approached the old green building, a big "OPEN" flag was waving in the afternoon sea breeze. Dave and I entered this fellow artists gallery, and we were greeted by the artist himself. He was very laid back and personable - which was a real plus. Most people know that artists love to create but usually can't stand to sell and/or market themselves, so personality can be a slippery slope with artists and especially painters. I've been meaning to talk to him about his business, not necessarily his art - even more slippery. I was curious to know how he made a living - he was on a state highway where the speed limit was 50mph past his gallery. Foot traffic is non-existent. He was only open in the summer, and whenever I drove by, his establishment was never open. Was he just another wealthy retiree, (no offense to my readers who are wealthy and retired), who had money to burn on his "hobby"? The reason for all these questions, is that my husband and I are in the process of building, (very slowly but surely), a house that is not in a downtown area. It is much more rural. Would I be able to make a living with my gallery in that setting - much like his?

   First off, he thanked us for stopping by - a very good start. Then he told me that his gallery hours are 10-5 daily from mid July to mid September. All other times by chance. He does go back to Kentucky for the winter and most of the spring. He also weaved a short story about how he has been an artist for almost his entire life, (he is now 75 years old), and taught art in college after he graduated from college. It took him a number of years, but he was finally able to branch out on his own. He's also co-authored several books about his works as well as his creative process. I asked my questions point blank, still being a little nervous; "Do you make a living?"

"Well," he replied, "I'm not to disclose how much I make a year, but yes - I do make a good living." Most of his paintings sold for at least a few thousand dollars and some for even as high as $70,000. Two paintings were already boxed up and ready for shipment. He had four more to package up. I guess he does make a living. I also asked what percentage he sold locally and he responded it was quite low. About 90% of his works are sold to customers who have read about him in a magazine, or through his website, or some other avenue. "I sell very little locally - in order to make a living, I must sell worldwide," he finished.

     Dave and I took our time walking around his gallery. This particular artist paints in watercolor as well as egg tempura. Oil painting is completely different, and that's a good thing. His colors are somber, mine are not, and that's okay. His style is realism. Mine is all over the place... and I like it that way. I am not about any particular shape, form, color, subject, although I do have a single creative process. I'm still young, vital, alive, and bursting with energy.

   I've looked at my works over the past 30+ years and sometimes I can't seem to tell who created them even though my name is on all of them. My husband tells me, the same process occurs with his photography; our style will change. Our influences will still be present in some way, but our works will change. This is because we are improving, growing, learning. I wonder if this is true, because I've painted realism, abstracts, and expressionism that lies smack dab in between. Others tell me, "Paint what you love!" Big problem - I love everything! I love the ocean, flowers, sunrises, sunsets, old barns, you name it. And there lies the deeper question - who exactly is Jill Langdon and what does she paint? One artist on Main Street in our fair city told me he was painting "abstract in reality." Hmm... I wonder what that would look like?

   Lately, I've been working on 7"x10" abstracts painted with gouache. I've been painting one a day since September. I still plan to paint more through November and into December. Starting in January and going through mid-February, I'll be working on a sketchbook project for the library collection that's in Brooklyn New York. At this juncture, I have no clue how all this will come together. My colors verses real life? Where do I end and the paintings begin? Can they stand alone? I am the cheese.

   I paint because I was born to paint! I absolutely love what I do. I honestly don't care about the money, even though I would love to make more of it through my art. However, I have to be good with my art, as well as myself, regardless if I make $100,000 a year or not. If I'm no good with it, I'm no good without it. Another idea I've been batting around is to complete 10,000 paintings during the rest of my lifetime. Only time will tell, one day at a time. Will there be a method to my madness? How will I be able to find me? And how will I know it is in fact me? Light and beauty are my signposts. Onward I go into this journey, one brushstroke after another.

   Until next time,
   Methodically,
   Me

P.S. I need a gallery again! Throughout the blog are various shots taken at galleries over the years.

The Artists Life - Symbolism

   Symbolism is an art term that means one thing represents something else. This week, a couple unique situations presented themselves with a variety of symbols. During one of my daily walks for exercise, fresh air, and rejuvenation, I routinely see signs; some belong to businesses, while others belong to Mother Nature. They range from the common-place like stop signs and crosswalks to the extraordinary magic of watching a tree slowly change color as more leaves turn from green, to yellow, orange, then finally red and brown, only to float to the ground in the end.

   As I write this, it is Friday October 6th. I have been a nervous wreck all day anticipating the art show opening that Dave and I have this evening. In an effort to get my mind off the event, my youngest daughter along with her two sons took me on an outing in the morning. We went to an ocean-side playground in a neighboring town. However, as we drove there, it started lightly raining. My daughter and I didn't know how long we would be able to stay outdoors. In an effort to stay as dry as possible, we sat under a large oak tree - so far, so good. As I looked around, there were squirrels scurrying across branches. Acorns fell all around us. A lobster boat was leaving the harbor. Through it all, my grandsons played to their hearts content. I also noticed an orange construction cone where an old merry-go-round used to be. The last time we were all here, we played on it despite how rusty and rickety it was. Now it's only a distant memory. I'm wondering if the town will install a new one next Spring...

   After a while, the rain came down much harder. We gave up the playground and drove to the library in Camden. While the rest of my family used the restrooms, I wandered into the gallery where Dave's and my art works are. I noticed my portfolio was opened to a different page - "This is good", I thought. "People are reading about myself and my work." I then joined my family in the children's room. In the same room, there was a young couple with an 18-month old, who talked with my daughter and I. He was a sailor for one of the windjammer boats and had the day off. "I'm an artist and my work is in the Picker Room," I replied. By the way, the Picker Room is the official name of the library gallery. "That's yours - it's great," he expounded. "I really love all the colors." "Thank you," trying to sound as graceful as possible as I felt a little overwhelmed with emotion.

   Soon it was near lunchtime, so we departed and my daughter dropped me back home. The sun had returned by now and was heating everything up to an above normal temperature for this time of year. Once home, I changed into fancier duds. I figured now was a good a time as any to be dressed for the opening which was only in a few hours. I found my teal shirt and matching scarf soon enough, but the black pants I wanted to wear were nowhere to be found. All of a sudden, I was in panic mode. I tried remembering where was the last place I saw them. Couldn't remember. I thought, "What would Dave do? He's so good at finding my stuff when I can't." That didn't work - he wasn't home and I'm not him! Damn! I ended up going through multiple drawers, shelves, and even a remote pile of clothing or two. I did finally find them... in the last place I looked. Still I was overjoyed.

   By now, Dave was just about due home from work. To pass the time, first I made myself a cup of tea. This particular brand of tea has inspirational sayings on the tag at the end of the thin string. Today's tag; "Peace of mind comes piece by piece." Obviously, this is a huge sign from my Greater Power, who also has a tremendous sense of humor. The second thing I delved into was to finish the painting I started this morning. I still had to fill in the background and some tiny spaces. I have a one track mind and honed into what I was doing. It took a good 45 minutes to complete.

   About the time I finished painting, Dave arrived home from work. He brought in the food for the opening reception, readied on our serving platters, and changed into his dress clothes... in a matter of fifteen minutes. I love my husband with all my heart, but sometimes his efficiency makes me want to strangle someone. We drove to Camden and arrived about 15 minutes before the reception started. The events coordinator, I believe, was a little nervous as she has not done this many times before. She was pacing when we walked into the gallery. We set everything up and were ready to roll.

   Slowly but surely, people strolled in - some people we knew would be there, others complete strangers. Some stayed and chatted for over 20 minutes, others came, saw and left. During a brief break while talking with patrons, the events coordinator handed me what looked like a very small ceramic spike. She mentioned she didn't know if it was part of one of the paintings, or it fell off from something as she found it while browsing through my portfolio. When I informed her it wasn't any part of the current show, she offered to throw it in the trash. I replied that I would keep it as it was an enormous symbol to me. Back in my 20's, I created eight ceramic pieces that I created for a college class. The idea began with a blow fish all puffed up with its spikes. The other pieces followed suit, whether it was a vase, or a sea plant, or whatever.

   Over the years, Dave and I have moved to different locales. Despite our best efforts, many of the spikes have fallen off. The spikes represent the defiance's of the blow fish. At that time of my life, I felt I had to always "be on guard" - my defenses - my walls were impenetrable. To be given a spike after all these years was a sign to be friendly and outgoing. I don't have to be so defensive anymore.

   Over the next two hours, numerous people stopped and engaged in our work. People of all ages, including children. Just about everyone found something to engage with - whether it was the colors, textures, the lines, the patterns, what-have-you. We even had one gentleman state that he didn't like any of the works... right to the events coordinator. Oh well; it is what it is.

   After the reception was over, we cleaned up, packed what little food and drink was left, and headed back to Rockland. Dave and I were going to celebrate at one of our favorite restaurants, but being Friday night during the early evening, the establishment was packed. We decided we had had enough of the public and headed home. As I finish writing this, I'm in comfy clothes, we have some mellow jazz on, and the lights are low. I'm winding down... content. It was a good day to talk about art and it's meanings - both big and small.

   Until next time,
   Jill

The Artists Life - Anticipation

   As I write this, I am currently between art shows; one ended last week at a gallery in Tenants Harbor Maine and the next one I set up this morning, (as it started this afternoon), and runs all month at another gallery in Camden Maine. I must admit, the last showing "retaught" me a great deal, as it had been five years since I last displayed in (and had the wherewithal to deal with) a gallery. Communication is still key, especially when there are personnel changes on the gallery's end. Communication about set-up times, who is taking care of the opening reception, and what is expected as part of the "show".

   Feedback from gallery employees was also helpful. Some galleries just require an artist statement. This gallery also wanted a sheet telling about the "why" of my art, as I wouldn't personally be at the gallery all month to answer questions. So, that form was a beyond-last-minute type up. In the end however, the show was a success, despite a bumpy first day or two. This is what can happen when the gallery events coordinator leaves the job approximately 3 weeks before your show starts!

   This morning my husband Dave and I hung our works for our current show. Displaying in Camden has always kinda been a dream of mine, as it is rather difficult to "get into" gallery space in this sea-coast town. It is extremely tourist heavy from May through October and is a very affluent town; which I hate to say, is that the town attracts a great deal of people who spend lots of money. And as superficial as it may seem, other people suddenly view your art in a different light. I haven't changed; my art hasn't changed; it's other peoples perception of it that has changed because of the setting. The opening reception, by the way is Friday October 6th starting at 4pm. Details are on my Facebook page as well as in Village Soup; both the local paper as well as on-line.

   My only desire from this moment right now, is that everything will go off without a hitch. Things have a way of working themselves out. I anticipate a wonderful time to be had by all as another dream of mine comes true. At least I was less stressed about this showing; and that's another good thing.

   Until next time,
   Jill

The Artist Life - Insights

   As I write this, I am sitting length-wise on my living room sofa with my legs propped up by a few pillows with the air conditioner humming in the background, doing it's noble best to cool the place, while pondering what to write about this week. I could write about the way-above-average temperatures (85+ degrees) for the first weekend of the Fall season, but that's hardly anything to do with any artists life. Accomplishments comes to mind - as Dave and I took down our remaining art works from a gallery in Tenants Harbor; a small coastal village (and big on tourists) that's halfway down the Saint George peninsula here in mid-coast Maine. All in all, it was a good show. We each sold one of our works, and the curator thanked us again for displaying. Apparently, the town was all a-buzz with the "abstracts" that were on display, and they were received warmly. Just about everyone enjoyed the change of genre for the past 30 days, except "...the old fogies - it really stirred them up," as quoted from the curator who was also smiling widely.

   One piece of advise from another experienced artist who viewed our works, told us to raise our selling prices even more. That has always been a struggle for me. As of this writing, my works sell for $2 dollars per square inch, which seems to be a going rate, since my works are currently not in a huge local gallery that's going to take a 70% commission if a work sells. The other artist told me, "You want people to think they are getting a priceless piece of work. It adds value to the original work and the customer feels better about their purchase and investment." I feel strange about raising my prices, as only one work sold out of fifteen. I took the other artists advise with a grain of salt, especially when I asked her if she had sold any works over the past three months and she replied that she hadn't.

   One of my dear friends, who hadn't seen my paintings in a while, but went to see the display, was a little surprised; "I was expecting sunflowers. But it looks like you found your true self in these paintings." I love my dear friend and knew she what she meant. However, if it was a casual acquaintance, I would be a little unsure if it was a compliment or not. If anything, this show proved I've reached yet another epoch in this series of works as well as development. On to the next series and adventure as well as to pursue my dream of being self-employed artist again who makes a living at it. A "living" by my terms.

   A second accomplishment this week was I worked each day and achieved five new designs in my smallish sketchbook. I worked in quash paint for a few hours and was able to freely create. In a way, I was grateful my painting only occupied a few hours, because the weather (except for Tuesday night into Wednesday) was stunning. And with the temperatures being at ten degrees above normal, I had to be outside and soak up the sun. I know - a real Cadillac problem; but these warm sunny days will disappear faster than we realize. It's hard to believe next Sunday will be October 1st.

   With all this beautiful weather, I'm still able to get out for a walk, get some fresh air and exercise. One would think, that after all these years, and all these walks, that I would tire of the same ocean vistas that I view daily. Believe it or not, I don't. Not because I'm a being a bitchy snob holding the fact over people that "I live by the Atlantic and you don't - don't you wish you were me", but it gives me a chance to see something different every day. It's never the same view twice. These memories propel me forward with the knowing that Spring and Summer will come again... and with it, more opportunities. Opportunities to create, show, and sell.

   But, being the typical artist, I'm jumping ahead of myself here. Come next week, my husband Dave and I will set up our next art show, this time a few miles north in Camden. Having the insight that Camden has the demographic to support higher pricing, we are redoing our placards to reflect just that. This along with artist statements, receptions, as well as other aspects that go along with showing (and hopefully selling). It's all part of the journey.

   Below is one of my new designs in my next series of abstracts that was painted this week. I'm hoping to transfer these designs onto clothing like dresses, etc. Kinda funky and psychedelic, but I think it will work!

   Until next time.
   Jill

The Artists Life - Flash Dance

   We seem to be on a slight roller-coaster this year - I have changed the name of the blog yet again. While I've gone back to an art theme, this time the theme is more encompassing. It still does not solely involve painting, or spreading love. It involves my life - which under that umbrella is art, painting, love, and anything else I may come across! To my own self be true.

   Last Thursday, I was attending my Zumba class, where we welcomed a new instructor who also brought her own music for us to dance to. One of the songs she had was "Flash Dance" sung by Irene Cara way back in 1983. I hadn't heard the song in like 15 years, but some of the lyrics moved me -

 - First when there's nothing, but a slow glowing dream, that your fear seems to hide, deep inside your mind.  All alone, I have cried, silent tears full of pride, in a world made of steel, made of stone.
 - Well, I hear the music, close my eyes, feel the rhythm, wrap around, take a hold of my heart.
 - What a feeling; Being's believing; I can have it all; Now I'm dancing for my life.
 - Take your passion; Make it happen; Pictures come alive; You can dance right through your life.


   I followed the movements of the dance while singing (not too loudly) to myself, and thoughts came to me with the lyrics. A slow glowing dream (a new painting), deep inside my mind (most definitely). I see colors - colors dancing in my life. It's my passion - pictures coming alive. It takes hold of my heart, and I'm painting for my life. Take my passion and make it happen... what a feeling!

   The problem was, after the song was finished, I wanted to go straight to my studio and paint! One problem - the new gouache paints I had ordered had not arrived yet. I wouldn't have them in my possession until Friday (the next day). Later on that morning, after I arrived back home, I got into my head and started thinking, "What should I paint? How creative process should I use? What colors should I select? When would I have time to paint?" I tried with due diligence to visualize what the finished product would look like, but to no avail. Desire, need, blockage, and excuses... I was full of all of them.

   Painting, or any type of art for that matter, cannot be forced. No drill instructor method for me. I have set a goal - practice painting daily on a 7"x10" sketchbook. Let the journey begin. Experts have said that in order to create a habit, you need 21 days. So, here goes nothing - creativity unleashed.

   Believe it or not, painting small frees my mind. I don't have to set aside a specific time block, be it eight, six, four, or even a two hour span. The painting I did this afternoon was done in an hour. I feel exhilarated. I've begun on yet another new path. It seems like in a flash, I feel alive. Do what you love, follow your bliss, because this is what makes life worth living.

   Until next time,
   Jill

Spread The Love - The Artists' Life; Process Of Branding

   It has been said that a personal brand are all of the experiences, knowledge, and impressions a person has about your work. It is the gut reaction that people associate with what you do.

   The Artists Life: My Unique Story

   I am participating in a writing assignment that is in the latest issue of Professional Artist magazine to assist me in determining how I want to be branded.

Question #1: Who are you and how do you want to be defined?
   I'm sorry, but in my humble opinion, the first half of question #1 is a loaded question. To me, it's too personal. It's akin to asking someone not only what color underwear they're wearing, but if it's a thong or some other style. I'm feeling flushed... embarrassed. Moving forward onto the second part, however, is a matter of getting down to basics. I am a painter who loves color and movement - abstract expressionism in style. For example, my latest painting was done in oil paint using the spectrum (yellow, orange, red, green, blue and violet) as my color palette. What started as a design in circles, ended up with dabs and a three dimensional affect, complete with glitter acrylic enamel, also known as nail polish. I am currently using this work on the front of my business card.

Question #2: What is the inspiration behind your work?
   The best answer to this at this juncture, is I am on a soul quest. To clarify further, I have studied the ancients where they found that our bodies are made up of different energy centers called Chakra's. They are composed of different colors of the spectrum. People radiate energy and have auras around each of us. Flowers and plants radiate energy as well. All this energy inspires me - call it a feeling inside. For example, I'll pick up a certain color and use it only if it "feels" right. The inspiration behind my work is my own energy force using natural, organic forms: discovering the beauty within.

Question #3: Create a short story from your biography that's unique to you.
   Ironically, the game changer in my life happened when I was only 6 years old. My father passed away very unexpectedly from a motorcycle accident. Unlike today, back in the early 70's, there were no grief therapists to help young children through stages like this. I literally groped through the dark. My once bright finger paintings morphed into black charcoal drawings depicting landscapes in winter, fallen sails on a sailboat, or storms at sea. Very dark ideas for a child under the age of ten. For years, I missed my father terribly, my mother was grief stricken, and we did not get along.
   I found comfort in one particular school teacher named Mrs. Pauline. She was always compassionate, helped me in so many ways, and help boost my confidence. Later that year, I convinced my mother to purchase a set of colored pastels. With these new tools, I changed my drawing subjects to things that were bright, colorful, and alive. My life was becoming more full because I had less time to brood.
   This art in color became a life-long mantra for me. It also has helped me establish a strong connection with God. When I am deeply involved in a creative endeavor, I lose all sense of myself... God, my Higher Power, takes over. Love and color lead the way. Deeper into a trance I go. I am on a soul quest.
   Making art is like mentally preparing for an event. I have to have a finely tuned mind. I must remove all blocks and distractions. I have to catch the energy - open myself to a new height in learning. Where will this quest take me? Who will I be at the journey's end?

Question #4: Putting it all together.
   I'm a painter who uses multiple mediums covering many genres and subjects. This is one of the main reasons why I do not like being defined. Defining means rules and pigeon-holing. If I had to be defined, I'd say beauty and color define me. People have said that I have happy energy with the paintings I have on display in a local gallery. My paintings have been influenced by certain periods in my life - from finger paintings, to charcoal, to pastels. The same is true for how my subject matter has changed throughout my life. I've charged, evolved, and grown. I'm a painter who pulls from life experiences and I can create wherever I'm at giving myself extreme versatility. My painting "style" goes from here to infinity.

   A simple brand: Beautiful Langdon Colors.
  
   Until next time,
   Jill

  

Spread The Love - Like A Sunflower

   This past week, I feel like the enlivened Phoenix that rises from the ashes. Pretty strong description, no? Why this massive turn in attitude? I met a tourist from California a few days ago who is also an artist - a painter specifically. We were at a meeting in our state's capital in Augusta, and once we both discovered we were painters, there was no stopping the conversation. She shared with me about the "Sketchbook Project" that is based out the Brooklyn New York Public Library. Once I arrived home, I researched this project on-line and immediately got on-board with this project. The library calls it, "A crowd funded sketchbook museum and community space."
In a few weeks, they will mail me a blank 5x7 inch SBP sketchbook and some starter materials. I will then sketch, draw, color, paint, and/or do whatever I wish with the book based on a particular theme of my choosing. I'll mail the completed project back by March 31st 2018, and my work will be in their big art show later that year in June. From there my book will reside in Brooklyn Art Library's permanent collection, travel to exhibitions across the country and become part of a massive worldwide community of creative people. Lastly, for a nominal fee, they will digitize each page of my book (which will be no more than an inch think) so it can be viewed on the library's website. People, in turn, look at all the art works and then commission artists to do other larger works.

   As of this writing, I can't quite put a pulse on as to the why, but I do know this much; I am on fire. My theme will be a subject I've always been passionate about - sunflowers. Over the past few days, my mind has been reeling with ideas as well as sunflower images. Questions like, should I work safely in one medium or should I display my vast repertoire of knowledge of a variety of tools? For those of you who may be wondering, am I giving up on writing my book? No - not by a long shot. I plan to finish the book between now and the end of 2017, where my husband Dave will add his portions to the book, and proof-read (which he is way better at that than I am - I don't have the patience!) I will start the sketchbook project in January 2018. That will give me enough time to complete that.

   Some of the preperations undertaken to date - I decluttered quite a bit of my studio, especially of older artworks. Currently, I have fifteen paintings on display at a gallery in Tenants Harbor Maine until the end of September. They are all for sale and I'm hoping they all go to good homes. The ones that do not sell, will then go to another gallery in Camden Maine for the month of October, where they will be joined with other new works, if necessary.

   I realize as an artist, that my studio (which is quite small) isn't prime for a large customer base. Marketing myself has always been a rocky journey, even though I've sold works at every venue I've ever displayed at. My husband is a huge help, however, he has a 45 hour per week job and he has to market his own photographic works. Needless to say, the logistics of time and effort have not panned out financially like I would like. I realize I need a broader client base.

   What this all boils down to is, I have to become a serious artist / painter again. I must practice my trade every day. If you've noticed, over the past several months, I've stalled out as a painter; gone on hiatus; literally come to grips with giving it up permanently. I've had a hard time creating a routine. While I have numerous daily rituals, I allow people to occupy a majority of my time. I have come to the conclusion, once again, that I need a balance. A balance between work (art and writing), family and friends, and my husband. I need equal time for myself as well as others. The big question is, do I have that balance? Will I achieve that balance?

   As the summer season winds down, I will be making some changes. First things first - God, then myself, then my husband, then my family. My social life has been flourishing all summer, as this season is way too short (at least it seems to me). I have made the best usage of it as possible. However, I feel the time has come to buckle down, reschedule my time, balance my life, and get to work. I've had to cancel some coffee dates during the week until next summer. My friends understand, and we will keep in touch every week. If I'm not careful, I have a tendency to isolate. They also know that - that's why we touch base frequently. Some of my choices will be hard to make. I did not chose my talent; however, I do chose to honor it. Painting is my life. Yes, I have other interests and even passions, but painting is still number one.

   Until next time,
   Jill

Spread The Love - Children As Teachers

   Some days it's easier to write when compared to other days. When preparing to write (or paint, or what-have-you), the questions are the first thing to flow like a river. Where do I begin? What do I write about or what do I create? Will anyone find the finished work interesting? As I write this, my husband Dave and I are at the harbor in South Thomaston Maine on a beautiful sunny day watching a tidal river race inward towards land, because the the tide is coming in. We just finished visiting our favorite beach - and no, I'm not going to tell you where it is; that way it remains a secret - and there were a few tourists there, but mostly locals. And even then, it was fairly empty for late August. There were the usual mix of kids present, and they were the only ones brave enough for the barely 70 degree water, save for one other woman. No fear.

   Getting back to my writing setting, we noticed a moderate sized art gallery that now stands empty and is for sale, most likely for some stupid outlandish price. Speaking of art galleries, earlier in the week, Dave and I finished setting up our art show in Tenants Harbor Maine. You can tell it's been a while since I've set up in an art gallery. Boy, was I stressed. Somehow, Dave was relaxed and took it all in stride. Why can't I be like that? He can drive me nuts sometimes...

   Last Friday night, my only granddaughter called me on her new cell phone. She's ten. I'm still trying to get used to fact she has a phone. Both her and her brother attend the local middle school where they live, and both of them having cell phones help their parents keep track of their whereabouts after school if they attend an after-school center which is located next door, or go to the town library, which is about three blocks away. Our conversation went something like this;
"Grammy, I miss you. When can I see you again?"
"How about tomorrow afternoon," I replied.
"Great! What can we do? I would like to go to that art class we go to in the winter. I miss that," she stated.
"Well, that's not happening right now because it's summer," I reminded her. "I was thinking either swimming or bowling."
"Bowling - definitely," she decided. "See you tomorrow. Love you, Grammy. Bye."

   Okay then. I'm glad we got all those details worked out. Despite our short conversation, I do still feel loved. Bonus points for the fact that she called me; didn't text, didn't IM; actually called me. It's amazing what a simple phone call can do for people - so much more positive than Facebook. By 12:30pm on Saturday afternoon, we picked her up (her brother had already made plans to go to a friends house). We went to the local bowling alley which has been a landmark since 1960. My granddaughter is definitely getting better at candle-pin bowling. She came oh-so-close to getting her first strike, but was robbed as the last pin just wobbled there. However, she took it all in stride. Would I have done the same if that happened to me? After a few strings of bowling and a few arcade games, we all headed back to our house for a late lunch. We played cards while Dave made us all lunch. I taught my granddaughter a new card game and she almost beat me. It was a close one right up to the last hand. She was perfectly fine with the games outcome. Why do I have to be so competitive?

   The next morning, Dave and I attended church, but went to the 11am service instead of our usual 8am worship. The sermon was on how to love one another in the face of adversity and disagreement. As Christians, how do we take a stand against hatred, racism, and violence? Who are we on the inside? About 2/3rds of the way through the service, a young girl, no more than 4 years old, made it a point to go around the church, shake hands with as many people as she could in a timely manner, and to say "Peace". She was letting her love shine and was a crystal clear example where, if each one of us showed each other even a little bit of love on a regular basis, there would be peace on earth.

   Who were the real teachers this weekend?

   Until next time,
   Keep spreading the love,
   Jill

Spread The Love - Hot Air Ballooning

   Go with the flow... let it all go... you cannot control people, places, situations, and things.

   The weekend was all set - our ride was planned for 6am Saturday on August 19th, 2017. On Friday afternoon, Dave came home early from work, we packed our bags, and hit the road. No matter how many times we travel the great state of Maine, there always seems to be two seasons; winter and road construction. Our trek to Lewiston Maine, about an hour and half  long, began innocently enough. Then about 15 minutes after hitting the road, the road construction started hitting back. The first part of our journey on Route 17 west wasn't too bad as by mid afternoon, it had been raining in earnest for about an hour. No construction crews were to be seen. Despite the grooved pavement, we drove easily the first 35 miles or so to Route 126 in Chelsea. We cruised through Gardner and Litchfield, until we hit more construction. Again, no road crews, but they left us a wonderful puddle-ridden, crater-filled one lane road that lasted for about 3/4's of a mile too long. Undaunted, we continued on past many a picturesque farm.

   We stopped in a local Hannaford supermarket to pick up dinner that we would eat later once we arrived at our hotel. Even though we were hoping for a room with a king bed, we instead took the larger double-queen room that had a huge bathroom with a grand-sized tub. This was one of the big reasons why my husband Dave booked this particular hotel, as I was looking forward to a royal tub soak. After our dinner, I thoroughly enjoyed my lavender bubble bath.

   Despite my comfortable surroundings, I never sleep as well in strange places like I do at home and awoke at 3am the following morning. I stayed in bed and rested until the alarm went off at 4:15am. Dave and I showered, dressed, downed two cups of coffee, left the hotel, and promptly got lost using our vehicle's outdated GPS system. Apparently, the city renumbered the dwellings in many parts of the city. We stopped at a local Denny's and got directions from an old timer and managed to get off track again. We then stopped at a Citgo gas station, and while the convenience store attendant couldn't help us with directions, he at least told us what street we were on. Since Dave was now looking on a map via his Smart phone, he knew where we were and where we had to go.

   We arrived about five minutes late to our meeting place destination for our hot air balloon excursion. There's was plenty of coffee and donuts, but we only had more coffee. We were excited enough about our adventure, the last thing we needed was sugar-filled junk. We waited... and waited. Six o'clock came and went and then seven o'clock did the same. The person in charge of all the balloon launches informed everyone that the flight would be delayed and we would all attempt to launch at 9am. Back to the hotel Dave and I went to finally have a decent breakfast. Afterwards, we tidied up our room, checked out, and headed back to the same meeting place. We were 15 minutes early this time...

   The magic hour of 9am came and once again, the person in charge of the flights had to cancel everything due to a cloud ceiling being too low. FAA regulations state that the ceiling must be at least 1000 feet and we never saw anything above 800 feet. Hopeful excitement to complete disappointment in less than one minute. We stood in line to start the process of getting our money refunded as all the other flights we could reschedule for were already booked. I felt overwhelmed and and began to shed small and silent tears. I waited an entire year to do this. It seemed even Mother Nature was against us.

   As the morning wore on, I was worse than a five year old in my disappointment - overtired, hot, and grumpy. Dave and I watched the parade that was part of the festival, but it was mediocre at best. When all the vehicles towing the hot air balloons came slowly down the street, I quietly cried some more. Afterwards, Dave and I went out to eat at one of our favorite restaurants in the neighboring city of Auburn. I asked our waitress "what there was to do for fun in Lewiston and/or Auburn"? She asked a number of coworkers and they pretty much said they all go to Portland which was approximately 30 minutes to the south. Since I wasn't in the mood for Portland, (I've been there over a dozen times in the past year),  Dave and Googled "fun things to do" in the area we were in. A few things popped up, but nothing piqued our interest.

   We ended up driving the extremely-longer-way home route, saw some cool sights, my husband took a bunch of photographs, and we enjoyed each others company. Once we finally arrived home, we just chilled out for the rest of the evening. In the end, I have to go with the flow. When situations do not work out the way I would have wanted them to, I have to let things go. We're going next year and possibly changing our plans to an evening flight instead. Here's hoping... Up, up, and away!

   Until next time, I'll just be chilling... to the best of my ability.
   Jill

Spread The Love - Through The Flower

   Through The Flower - My Struggle As A Woman Artist by Judy Chicago was a book I read this past week. There were many profound ideas presented between its covers and, I must admit, I was duly inspired. Keep plugging; it seemed to say to me. You are not alone. Many female artists do not have large studios to work in, despite what is depicted in major magazines - we are called "kitchen artists." Judy Chicago also participated in the feminism movement in the 1970's. She began an all-woman course of arts in Los Angeles. She opened a co-op gallery in that city as well. However, one of the main issues of the book, of having men understand women's art, was not satisfactorily solved.

   I realize I'm stating the obvious when I say that women experience the world from a different point of view then men do. It's only natural and there is nothing wrong with this difference. However, when women are not respected for the people (and artists) we are, just because someone has a difference of opinion regarding a work of art, then we have a major problem. And despite all the progress we've made, there is still to a certain degree, where our own culture still indoctrinates women to be second-class citizens. We are taught that our natural bodies are not good enough, (Google any story on how much Photoshop and other portrait software is used in the advertising industry), to question our thoughts due to hormones, as well as second guess ourselves on a regular basis (ie; hormones again). The family unit is too dysfunctional. Love takes a backseat (or gets stuffed in the trunk), divorces happen and any children can become pawns in an egotistical tennis match between two people who now, for some reason or other, hate each other. And guess what? If you can't cut it, you just might as well just end your life, because you're never going to be good enough anyways.

   Whew! Got a bit deep there, for a moment. So - where am I going with this? To be totally honest, I'm not sure. I realize that I cannot single-handed change society. I did, however, find a way for me to BE alive, well, and functioning to the best of my ability within this society. It works for me. You are going to have to do some self-discovery of your own, but feel free to use my example if you wish.

   I followed my heart and did what I thought was best for myself as well as my family. I tried, to the best of my ability, to be a good role model for my daughters to pursue their passions career wise. I deeply love all four of my grandchildren and participate in their lives as much as I am able; building relationships, loving them, and respecting them for who they are. I try to nurture their gifts and talents. I tell them, as much as possible, to be the best person they can be.

   Through experience, I learn. This past week was highly interesting and served up prime examples. At the beginning of the week, I was able to listen to a friend as she experienced her child leaving the nest a year earlier than expected. I had been through that change, not once, but twice. And both experiences were different on their own levels. I knew her pain and was able to hold her up as best I could. I did the same to support her when she thought no one else would understand.
   A second friend that I met up with mid-week, said her and her husband were separated after 10 years of marriage and would divorce soon. As she filled me in on other details, as we hadn't seen each other in about two years, I was floored - I was not ready for that revelation. That conversation made me appreciate my husband Dave even more and the relationship we've built up over 33 years. I'm still a firm believer that marriage involves effort on a daily basis by both parties.
   By the end of the week, another friend began a new job and she was stressed with all her new responsibilities. However, as she was becoming more familiar with it, the more she liked it.

   While on the walk with my third friend, I zoned out for a moment thinking about all the drama that goes on in everyone's life, mine included. I was in my own head so much, that I walked out in a crosswalk only paying half-attention and almost got run over by a tourist. I didn't matter that the first lane of traffic had already stopped, that there was a police officer standing about ten yards away, and that I yelled at the out-of-state driver - who just stared straight ahead. There's also the fact that it's a state law to stop for pedestrians in crosswalks. About 20 minutes later, as my friend and I strolled the boardwalk, a women was passing by us and mentioned that she was the one who stopped in the first lane of traffic and was sorry that the other driver didn't even bother slowing down. I thanked her with my heart welling up with love. That evening, Dave said, "I'm glad that you're alive." "Me too", I replied.

   I heard a story once of a boy on a beach full of starfish. The boy was throwing starfish back into the water. At the same time, an old man was walking past and asked the lad what he was doing. "I'm throwing them back in the water.", the boy replied. "What's it going to matter? There are thousands of them here.", the old man chided him. The boy responded, "It made a difference to that one I threw back." 

   Last Thursday, Dave and I got together with our youngest daughter and her two boys. We played a rousing game of tag on and around a jungle gym at a local playground. After a while, I noticed a piece of equipment off to my left near a fence. I asked Dave about it, said it was a sea-saw, and we checked it out. This see-saw was nothing like what we had as kids - there was room for four people, the seats were very comfy, and one could never be slammed into the ground. A politically-correct see-saw if you will. Dave climbed into one seat, and I in another, and we got a good rhythm going. I was transported back to when I was five years old - no cares, no worries, no thoughts, other than having a blast at the present moment. I was overcome with feelings of pure bliss.

   In the end, I had a week full of experiences; interactions with people and read about another persons life experiences. Experience came in each moment. Each moment that comes together and forms a life. On numerous evenings last week, I had sore feet and tired legs from all the walking and playing. Dave asked, "Was it worth it?" I replied, "Most definitely. My soreness proves a life well lived."

   Until next time, how's your life going?
   Jill