Category Archives: Art and creativity

7 Steps to Let Art Happen

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7 steps to let art happen copy

With less than 24 hours to go before the 7 cities Conference on Housing First and Homelessness started, one of our keynote presenters took ill. We met as the organizing committee and the decision was made that I would give the address at noon the next day. It was specific to a play that was to be performed, one which I had a deep understanding of. It was my eldest daughter’s play which she’d written as a 20-year-old volunteer in the art program I’d started at the shelter where I used to work.

I knew I was best suited to set the stage for the play, but I was a tad panicked. I still had the official conference powerpoint to prepare and the final tweaks to the EMCEE notes to finish off. Plus, I was meeting the team at the hotel to help set up that evening.

Panic, fear, anxiety were not my friends.

I had to let them go. I breathed.

And then I breathed some more.

I arrived at the hotel for the opening reception and afterwards asked the team if they were okay setting up without me. They had no problem. It was all my head dancing with fear (and a little bit of procrastination) that made me feel like I ‘needed’ to be there.

I came home and worked on my presentation and suddenly, where I did not know it was already germinating, a presentation appeared with 7 key points to highlight how it was that art happened in a place where survival was the name of the game, and art was not considered part of the survival path.

That was my first lesson on how to Let Art Happen — anywhere. Trust in the process.  

In letting go of fear and giving into trust, the ideas and words and underlying framework of the presentation appeared. Which is also what happened when I first set up the Possibilities Project at the shelter. I simply trusted in the process. Trusted it was the right thing to do with a donation that had been given to the shelter from a church – they wanted to support art in the shelter. I knew I could make that happen simply by trusting in my own creative and artistic abilities.

The second step that became clear was Persistence is vital. I started writing the story of a man who kept refusing to come up to the studio space until one day, after weeks of asking, he simply said, “Now’s the time.” He became one of the cornerstones of the project’s success.

Find value in all things was a challenge the day I discovered much of the art stored in the large multi-purpose room had inadvertently been thrown into a dumpster on the loading dock. We salvaged much of it — and I used that event to leverage the value of having a dedicated art studio for the project.

Watching how the artists were delighted for each other when they sold a piece at the art shows was a true lesson in how to Be Grateful for all things. It didn’t matter if they sold a piece for $5 or if another sold 10 pieces to their one. They were all grateful for the opportunity to share their work.

From a man holding a paint brush for the first time in 20 years breaking into tears and committing himself to another path, to a woman selling her first piece and deciding to connect with supports to find a way out of homelessness, Always believe in miracles was vital to the success of the project.

We do not know what will happen when we Plant seeds of possibility. We can be confident something will. Seeds of possibility are closely linked to miracles — you need the seeds planted to grow into those beautiful miracles of life dancing all around.

Every life is a work of art. It’s important that we each Be the artist in our own lives. Artists honour their talent. They trust it and respect it. They value its presence and treat it with love and compassion and do not give up in believing in themselves, even on their darkest days. Artists let their creative expression out. Always. When we become like the artist, miracles happen, possibility explodes wide open and life expands into limitless opportunity to be ourselves, in every kind of weather, no matter where we are. All because, we Let Art Happen.

Let Art Happen.

  1. Trust in the process
  2. Persistence is vital
  3. Find value in all things
  4. Be grateful for all things
  5. Always believe in miracles
  6. Plant seeds of possibility
  7. Be the artist in your own life.

 

PS. The play was amazing. More about that in another post!

If you don’t like your life today, paint over it.

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The Long View 26" x 32" Acrylic on board 2016 Louise Gallagher

The Mystery of Seven Archangels
26″ x 32″
Acrylic on board
2016 Louise Gallagher

It happens every time. No matter what painting I’m working on, there comes a point where I just want to ditch it all. To throw it out. To forget about it and move on to something new.

Sometimes, the critter’s call (you know, that nasty voice inside that likes to call you a loser and all sorts of other names) is so strong, I ponder the merits of giving up painting all together. Really? Who am I trying to kid? I have no talent. It’s all just a waste of time — and anyway, I’m running out of wall space! Give it up already!

I have learned to breathe, to take a moment to reflect and centre myself so that the critter’s call becomes less strident. In the silence, my voice of calm rises above its cacophony to remind me why I love to paint — it’s not about getting to the end of the painting. It’s about savouring the creative journey.

Years ago, when I first fell in love with painting, my eldest daughter taught me an invaluable lesson.

If you don’t like it, paint over it.

Painting over it has become part of my creative process.

In the painting over process, the underpainting informs and illuminates the final. The textures and colours of what is beneath enhance what becomes the finished project.

Like life, painting over is not about erasing all that came before. It’s about using what came before to enhance what is happening now. It’s about learning from what happened in the’ there and then’ and allowing it to inform what is unfolding in the ‘here and now’.

Yet, no matter how many times I have painted over only to discover something I like even more than the original, I still hesitate at the moment of applying a coat of white to mask what was there.

I worry. I stall. I ruminate on it all. My mind veers off into, ‘you’re a loser’ territory, wanting me to believe I just can’t do it.

Silly mind.

Doesn’t it know I’ve recognized the critter’s voice?

Doesn’t it realize that no matter how insecure or indecisive I might feel in the moment, once I take a breath, fear loses its power to drive me into hiding as courage draws me out with its instinctual impulse to create?

The painting above began as an experimentation in texture. Hidden behind the clouds are the names of the seven archangels which are spelled out with wooden letters and affixed to the canvas with molding paste.

I had a vision for the painting, but it just wasn’t working.

I kept painting and still, the names of the archangels didn’t make sense.

I was very attached to my vision though and didn’t want to let it go.

But still, the painting wasn’t working. I clung to my attachment.

Finally, after weeks of the canvas hanging around the studio without my touching it, I decided to let go of my attachment and dig into the creative impulse. I took a breath and began to cover up the words with more molding paste.

I kept painting.

It is all part of the process.

In my original vision for the painting, the names of the seven archangels were visible. They were the painting.

Now, hidden behind the clouds, they remain part of the painting, but not the focal point. Yet, like in life, their mysterious presence remains part of the mystery, shimmering in the light of grace, adding context and texture — whether we know or believe they are there or not.

I’m still not sure if I’m finished creating with this painting or not. What I am sure of is in allowing the creative process to unfolding, in painting over, I continue to delve into what makes life so mysterious and divine.

It is all part of the journey where, if I don’t like the way my life looks today, I have the power to create something different simply by changing my perspective and seeing it through another lens.

And sometimes, that means, painting over what was there so that I can see what is possible when I don a brand new pair of glasses.

 

A Thursday Thought: Fear is the enemy of greatness.

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fear is the enemy of greatness copy

Fear is the enemy of greatness.

Love always conquers fear.

Love always.

Create a little beauty in the world everyday

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Create a little beauty copyDo you remember learning how to write? Or count? Or tie your shoelaces or  do a thousand things you do everyday, without thinking, now that you’ve mastered their doing?

Do you remember those first hesitant movements to create a consonant or vowel on the page? Or those first tentative thoughts adding up two numbers?

In this world of information overload and technological connections spreading news as fast as a wildfire searing through the woods, learning to read and write and do arithmetic is a seminal activity. Anything is possible once the letters and numbers on a page become clear.

I was reminded of learning to read and write last night as I headed back into the studio. I took Beaumont for his walk. Emptied the dishwasher. Thought about watching some mind-numbing TV or playing solitaire on my iPad.

I chose to walk into the studio instead. Like learning to read or write, or any new task, it can be scary to face the possibility of creating something out of nothing. It can be daunting. It can make me want to go and clean the toilet just to avoid the expansiveness of that blank page calling for my creative expressions.

I did it anyway because I want to Everyday, create a little beauty. Share a lot of love.

And the only way I can do that is to take actions that create the more of what I want to have in my world.

Everyday, create a little beauty. Share a lot of love.

Part of art journalling is the allowing myself to experiment, and to learn.

My nature is to want to make it all perfect. Yet for me, art, by its very definition, is perfect exactly the way it appears, not the way I think I need to make it happen.

To allow perfection room to appear in its own creative way, I must allow myself space to breathe into the perfection in every imperfect stroke of paint, little dot that’s not quite completely circular or cursive letter that isn’t quite equal in size or weight to the letter before it.

I must let go of judging the outcome and allow the outcome to be the perfect expression of my creative process. I must give myself room to be imperfect to savour the perfection of the moment.

Just me and the page. Me and the paints and inks and tools of the trade that bring such joy to my heart I feel at times it just might burst.

And of course, now that he’s perfected the art of the stairs, I get to enjoy having Beaumont on the floor beside me, chewing on a rawhide or playing with a toy, or, as happened last night, one of my shoes he surreptitiously carried down to the studio for his own personal chewing enjoyment.

Now that’s perfection!

Faith: The art of differing views. The ultimate un-guide to surrender.

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I wish I could show you,
When you are lonely or in darkness,
The Astonishing Light
Of your own Being.

~Hafiz~

Source:  talesfromtheconspiratum

If we do not stand together, we fall alone.

The thought drifted through my mind as I rose out of meditative silence this morning.

We fall alone when we do not stand together.

When in darkness or feeling lonely, if we do not allow others to show us our Astonishing Light, we see ourselves standing in the darkness of our own Being, alone and separate.

Yesterday,  a jury I was sitting on for a City art project, met to review the final concept for the project. The process to get to agreement was extensive and exhaustive. There were many t’s to cross, many i’s to dot to ensure public engagement was complete and an impartial, yet informed decision made.

This was the second time the jury of seven met. First, to select the successful artist group out of 15 or so proposals tendered, to develop the project response. And then, a year later, to approve, or not, the proposed idea.

I am in awe of the process, and the artists, the relevance and importance of each carefully considered step in the jury process.

It struck me that when we hold together in the belief that if we have faith in the jury process, if we trust in the structure within which we were making our decision, the final selection would be a reflection of a group, not just one person. In that group, the collective vision of the city is held. Not one person is responsible for the selection. All of us are.

In the all lay our strength.

Each jurist shared their own brilliance, their unique perspective, their common ground.

We were not all artists. We represented differing demographic, socio-economic groups, with varying needs and voices.

Our diversity strengthened our ability to make a fair and measured decision. Our diversity added value to the final outcome.

Within the process, our differing perspectives found room to be heard and honoured from all points of view in ways that allowed for a fair decision.

Kudos to the Calgary Public Arts  team. Their capacity to create opportunities for public input and to allow for diverse points of view in public art selection is creating a city where the arts are integral to the vibrant and colourful tapestry of our city street and park scapes.

Kudos for Dawn F and her team who have faith in the need to add citizen voices to the public art process in our city.

 

 

 

The Poetry of a river

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FullSizeRender (25)

Art Journal Entry February 17, 2015 ©2015 Louise Gallagher

The poetry of a river
is heard
in the depths
of its joy
flowing freely
into the sea
of life.

The poetry of life
is found
in the river
of joy
flowing endlessly
into the heart
of Love.

I can’t remember where or when I read or heard the line, the poetry of a river,  but I remember thinking, I must remember that, it’s beautiful.

Last night, when I entered the studio to spend some contemplative time, the line appeared and the word/art flowed.

I am grateful for the quiet. For the time to simply be present in front of a blank canvas or journal page.

In the presence of its invitation to let creativity flow, my mind empties and I become full of wonder and awe at how easy it is to find my balance when I let go of holding onto the thought, ‘I must find my balance’.

I am neither out of or in balance. I simply am where ever I am, living whatever label I give myself for where I am.

In letting go of needing to find my balance, I find my path through the questions that are percolating on the edge of my consciousness.

I am in a phase of extreme busy at work right now.

I am planning a large event for 400 people for March 3rd, which entails not only planning for the event, but also editing, publishing, printing a large report along with a website and video. It is work I love but the timeframe to get it all done is very tight given that the date for the event was set at the end of January.

It’s meant some busy days, and as is apparent by the time at which I’m writing, sleepless nights.

Spending time in the studio is essential for me to keep balanced and present. Spending time in the studio is something ‘the critter’ would like me to avoid.

“Just veg out Louise,” he hisses into my left ear when I change out of my work-a-day clothes into my paint splattered comfies. “Go on. Sit in front of the TV and turn your mind off. You don’t need to create.”

Of course, there’s the voice of ‘uber conscientiousness’ trying to cut in too. “Louise. You have not yet read that report on Collective Impact. What is your problem?”

Ever notice how critters and other nefarious voices have a definite style and place? Mine sits on my left shoulder, jumping up and down in its attempts to get me to pay attention, flinging its arms and flapping its tail as it whispers un-sweet ditherings into my ear.

He likes to ensure he’s hard to ignore!

Fortunately, I know what’s good for me even in the face of his insistence he knows better.

Fact is, when immersed in busy, I need to give myself the gift of time to create in order to let go of the pressure building on my list of ‘to do’s’ if I am to avoid the panic that sets in when thinking about all I have yet to get done.

What’s your path to balance? Where do you go to give yourself space to be present?

If Humpty Never Fell

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Break Free Mixed media on canvas 30" x 30" ©2015 Louise Gallagher

Break Free
Mixed media on canvas
30″ x 30″
©2015 Louise Gallagher

“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,”

BY MOTHER GOOSE

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

Source: The Dorling Kindersley Book of Nursery Rhymes (2000) http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/176327 

A bird will never learn to fly if it stays in the nest and never risks falling. A mother bird knows her offspring must fly free of her sheltering wings. It is the call of nature.

A child will never learn it has the capacity to fly freely if the mother holds on too tightly.  We must teach them they can fly, even when we fear they will fall. It is the call of love.

The same is true for ‘the inner child’. The child who feared thunderstorms, snakes and the boogeyman, must learn as an adult that it is free of childhood fears by testing the boundaries of how far it can go today, free of the calling of the past.

We will never learn to break free of our comfort zones if we stay inside the boundary of our fear.

Breaking free is scary. The known fills our vision, luring us back into the comfort of what we are familiar with, those things we tell ourselves that keep us safe from falling.

The unknown looms large upon the horizon, calling us to test the boundaries, to break through the walls of what we believe keeps us safe from falling, just so we can see how far we can go.

It can be terrifying to step outside the walls of our secure and predictable lives to travel the unknown territory of our dreams. Even though we have a sense that the possibility of great reward lies out there, beyond what we know as our life today, we hesitate, make excuses, procrastinate for fear, out there, in that strange and unknown land of living our dreams, we might fall, get hurt, face failure, lose our way.

Frightened of what we cannot know until we attempt it, we negative fortune-tell our way into holding back from stepping forward. To make sense of our fear, we rhyme off our long list of predictions of all that can go, might go, will most definitely go wrong if we risk stepping out from beneath the shelter of our tried and true.

A baby bird will never fly free if it stays trapped within its shell.

We will never know how much we’re capable of if we stay trapped within the limiting beliefs we tell ourselves to keep us safe from falling.

Imagine if Humpty Dumpty never fell. Or, imagine if the all the king’s horses and all the king’s men had been able to put him back together again. He wouldn’t have been the same anyway. He’d have been all cracked up!

Go ahead. Crack the egg. Let Humpty have a great fall. He might like being all cracked up. Or better yet, he may discover he didn’t need the king’s men and horses anyway because the freedom of breaking free of his shell is worth the risk of breaking open and living life off the wall.

Be determined as a dandelion

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Change copy

Journal entry Feb 3, 2015 Watercolor, acrylic, pen

Changing the world is a big job. Changing yourself even bigger. Especially when the change within is not cosmetic, but entails focusing on fundamental core issues like letting go of past hurts and pains, being present, courageous, or finding value in all things.

Change is possible. In fact, change is here to stay. Accept that and it becomes easier to recognize, nothing stays the same, even us. We are creatures of change. From the moment we are conceived, we are constantly changing, growing, evolving.

Yet, even though change is inevitable, we resist and in our resistance, lose the grace that a dandelion possesses naturally.

For change to be graceful, act like a dandelion. Be determined, committed, stalwart. Be rooted deeply into the earth beneath your feet and be willing to let yourself fly to pieces. Surrender your resistance to letting go of who you are and allow the winds of change to blow you in every direction while holding true to the essence of your nature to continually grow and evolve into who you truly are.

A dandelion has to fight for its life. We humans are constantly trying to kill it off because we’ve deemed it a weed, and weeds are not welcome in our gardens. The dandelion doesn’t care what we think. It grows up through the cracks, along sidewalk edges and in the very heart of the garden.

A dandelion believes in itself and its right to be exactly who it is.

For today, be the dandelion.

Let yourself flow freely with the world around you while never losing your sense of self firmly planted in the grounds of your belief that who you are is not a weed. Who you are is a beautiful, inspiring, enchanting vision of ethereal grace continually changing into a bright vibrant flower of life over-flowing the boundaries of your limiting belief, you cannot change.

You can. You are. You do. Continually.

Let go of resistance and make your change a graceful choice to be present in the moment of what is, free to become all that you ever dreamed of possible in your life.

 

Unapologetically Me

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Bird of Contentment Mixed Media 24" x 30" Louise Gallagher 2014

Bird of Contentment
Mixed Media
24″ x 30″
Louise Gallagher 2014

I created on the weekend. Spent time in the studio splashing paint and ideas and feelings onto a canvas that had hung around as something else waiting to emerge as what it was always meant to be.

It is the thing about creating.

Within every creation there is that moment where what is apparent is not what appears. Where what was becomes simply the path to what is.

The Bird of Contentment started out a couple of years ago as a landscape. Dissatisfied with where it was at, I applied a layer of cheesecloth and painted over and into the surface. A forest standing silent under a moonlit sky appeared. It hung around for while until this fall when the dark forest asked to become an autumn woods replete with riotous splashes of gold and red and ochre shimmering on the edges of a stream burbling merrily along its way.

I let it happen.

And still, it wasn’t fully expressed. It didn’t feel like my voice appearing on the canvas but rather, more like what I felt my voice should be if I was painting what I thought was easy, expected, common.

On Friday afternoon, I stepped into the studio and let my voice call me out into expression upon the canvas.

A thought had been forming for awhile about what wanted to be expressed on this canvas. I had heard it some weeks ago and let it simmer, let it percolate and coalesce into a calling forth from within me yearning to be released. Rather than just ‘painting over’, I allowed what was waiting to become apparent to give itself expression using what was already there as the foundation of what was looking to appear.

The expression of the Bird of Contentment evolved from the inspiration of a comment my eldest daughter wrote in her birthday card to me.

“Thank you for being so unapologetic about who you are, and what you stand for,” she wrote.

Birds are so delicate looking, so tiny and innocent and fragile and yet, so strong. They hang around the birdfeeder, sit on wires, soar above or float on the calm surface of a pond and are simply present to what is in the world around them. They squawk and tweet and sing and whistle and make themselves heard because that’s what they do. Birds are unapologetically who they are.

Birds naturally do what I have always dreamt was possible — fly.

I have always dreamt of flying yet, for many, many years, I kept my wings tucked into my body. I was fearful that if I let them out, I would not fit into the world. I truly would be the deep, dark secret the critter within whispered to me in moments of unease. “You are a misfit. You don’t belong. You don’t fit in.”

And, because I so desperately wanted to be liked, to be like others, to be part of the whole of the world I saw outside me, I tried to be who others thought I should be, the someone I believed I needed to be to get along in the world without letting my wings show.

And in my unease, I created a lot of ripples.

I like making ripples.

I like creating waves. Of love. Harmony. Peace. Joy.

But, because I was struggling to keep my wings tucked in, I often, unintentionally, created discord. Sometimes, I hurt those I love. Sometimes, I did things that didn’t make sense, that created bumps in the road and upended smooth sailings into tumultuous rides.

It is still possible to do these acts of discord – but in becoming free to express my voice, unapologetically, I am more adept at seeing when my actions create that which I do not want to create in the world. Discord and unease. Tension and pain.

It is the gift of time. When I see that I have created is not creating better in the world, I must breathe deeply into my unease, acknowledge the discord I’ve created and commit again to the path of creating more of what I want in my world. Love. Harmony. Peace and Joy.

It has been the evolution of my voice. The letting go and surrendering to my heart calling me to live from and through my own unique  voice. To be unapologetically me.

And it has been the evolution of this painting.

From silent dark forest to tumultuous autumn woods to the Bird of Contentment.

I have splashed and sprayed and covered up and over. I have dug into and scratched the surface, I have wiped it clean and coloured it up.

And through it all, I have reached moments of discord. Those spaces where what is happening feels too raw, too real, too revealing, too vulnerable that I just want to stop. Step away. Forget it. Let it go and move on.

And still, I have persevered and persisted. I have kept digging into it. Keep moving through the discord to find the harmony and joy of being real and revealed.

There was a moment on Friday where it was very apparent to me that this painting was going nowhere. Where everything looked discordant and so jumbled up and ‘blah’ that I thought the only answer was to just throw the whole thing out.

I wanted to quit.

But the voice of my wings calling me to fly free persisted.

Don’t give up. You can do this. Be present. Be patient. Be open to letting it happen. Trust.

And so, I trusted in the process and let my wings appear through the messy globs of paint yearning for expression on my canvas.

And in their appearance, the Bird of Contentment arose.

And that’s the thing.

I couldn’t see how the final painting would appear until I got over my resistance to letting go and gave voice to my fear of flying.

In the freedom to be unapologetically present as who I am in front of the easel, what was always there waiting to be revealed appeared and in its appearance, my voice sang out loud and clear.

I am free to be me!

I am content.

And….

Announcing my first ever art Calendar!

I also created a calendar over the weekend of some of my art and words.  It was a fun and joyful way to express myself.  I’ve decided to take a step ‘out there’ and offer it for sale. There’s still time to order a copy before Christmas!  🙂

You can preview and order it here:  2015: A Year To Dare Boldly