My fingernails are covered in gold paint this morning. That’s what happens when I forget to put latex gloves on when I create, especially if I am creating with spray paint, which I was last night.
And that’s okay. Because in the process of creating I found that sweet spot where my mind eases into peacefulness and my heart flutters into rest and I feel the oneness of being present in the moment of creation.
It is the power of creation. The absolute bliss of being aligned with the evolutionary spirit expanding into being present, right now, in this moment without expectation of anything other than to allow what is appearing to find its presence.
I’ve been making Christmas cards.
Okay, well actually, that should read, I’ve been experimenting with making Christmas cards because I haven’t yet perfected my art to the point where I’d be willing to sell these cards.
But I can give them away.
And what could be better than that? To share with someone something I’ve created?
My cohorts and fellow artists, TZ and LS of the Basement Bombshells Art Collective are participating with me in the Benefit Concert for Christmas at the Madison on Dec 8. We’ve agreed that 20% of the proceeds from sale of our artworks will go to support the programs for formerly homeless veterans who are living at The Madison. This year, we’ll once again be buying gifts for the residents as well as preparing Christmas dinner.
And this year, TZ and I decided to make cards and sell them at the show as well.
Except, I’m not comfortable selling these cards. But I can give them away. Maybe, with every painting sold, I can give away a pack of 5 cards?Or maybe, I give a card with every donation so that even if people are not inspired to buy a painting, they will feel moved to donate?
And then I have to stop and pause and consider what is this really about? It’s not about selling my artwork. I do that already. And it’s not about donating to the cause? So… where does my discomfort with selling these cards come from? Is it from that place of truth or that place of insecurity, that place that seeks perfection to hide my fear of being vulnerable?
See, I don’t think of myself as ‘an artist’. It’s kinda scary to go there. And if I hold onto that place of seeking perfection, I don’t have to worry about being judged…
To call myself an artist would suggest I have talent. And even greater than talent, that I have dreams… And that concerns me because…
Well because I still have that voice in my head that heard the laughter and criticism of my loved ones when I was little and thought it was true– or at least, was too scared to push it away for fear it was true. As a child and an almost teen, I would spend hours drawing and painting and creating only to be told, that’s silly. Or, you have no talent. Or, that’s pretty ugly. Or, you don’t really think you can draw now do you? People don’t make a living doing that. Become a pharmacist. That’s a good occupation for a woman….
Living the life of my dreams is scary — because my dreams include doing things that long ago I was told were not suitable, appropriate, fitting for a woman… for me.
It always amazes me when I start out with a subject matter I think is pretty straight forward only to discover beneath the surface is that place of vulnerability, of realness, of truth that needs exploring and even more than exploring, blowing up, expunging, eradicating.
I am an artist. I find myself in the creative act of painting, drawing, designing, writing, creating. Anything.
Whether or not my work is ‘fit for sale’ is not the issue. I love to create. To work with my hands and body engaged in the act of creating something. Anything.
I am also an explorer. I love to begin with nothing on my mind other than an idea and willingness to explore what can happen when I… do this, add that, go there, step here, stretch there.
When I mash my artists soul with my explorer’s spirit together, when I let them have free rein and reign over the creative process, I am happiest.
Just like writing this blog every morning. I seldom start out with a plan. I generally begin with the willingness to allow. To let appear. To let happen.
It is always an exploration into ‘what if…’ for me.
And in the process, I discover truths, and lies, that need exploring.
I’ve been creating Christmas cards. I’ll be selling them at the Christmas at the Madison benefit concert on December 8 to raise funds to support a cause I’m passionate about — creating and supporting veterans who were once lost on the street and have found their way home to the Madison.