LIFE vs a big screen tv

hello out there...

I was going to write a post yesterday

about how crazy ridiculous we've become

as pathetic consumers.

The whole Black Friday thing
makes me nauseous, to be honest.
We've become addicted
to having stuff.

There are people on the planet
who don't eat
and we trample one another to death
for a big screen TV.

And we still see ourselves
as more evolved than other animals.

Sometimes, i really am fucking disgusted
by the things we do.

The whole thing just makes me sad
that we value things
more than we do a life.

I was going to write about consumerism

when i awoke yesterday.

But then the news came

that there had been a car accident near here

and four teenagers had died...

Four young men,

who went to school with my son...

Three who graduated last year,

one who was graduating this year, with my son.

The Christmas prom was cancelled last night,
and instead, they opened the school
for friends to gather and grieve together
during a difficult time for so many.

my heart broke...

It is still broken, but slowly piecing the pain together
in a way that is manageable.
And i am not THE parent... i am a parent.
i cannot imagine such sorrow.
We must never lose sight
of what we have in one another.
We must never lose sight
while we have one another.

Thank you for being here.
Hugs to all of you.
xox

why is she successful and i'm not?

hello folks!

I want to talk about something

that's been on my mind lately.

The importance of making art

for the sake of making art.

Regardless of credentials

or recognition

or career path

or sales

or gallery representation

or status

or success

or failure...

Making art for the joy of making art.

Period.

Writing to write.

Painting to paint.

Singing to sing.

Many moons ago, 

whenever i would look at the artwork i had

just sitting around the house in boxes,

unsold

i would see this as confirmation

that i must be a failure as an artist.

I knew many artists who were selling,

who were in galleries

who were chosen to be published

in the art book of the year.

But i wasn't one of them.

So i was a failure as an artist.

Or at least i thought of my work in this way.

Still - i kept painting.

I kept writing

and sketching

and doodling

and drawing.

Many moons later,

i realized the importance of these

finished, unsold artworks

lying around the house in broken boxes.

I began to recognize the value of my work.

All my work.

The good, the bad, and the ugly.

It is necessary for an artist to make art.

A lot of art.

Bad, good, ok, crappy, beautiful, embarrassing, exceptional art...

ALL of this is necessary

to one's growth as an artist.

To developing your skill.

To finding your style.

Your comfort zone.

To knowing your happy place

and becoming more comfortable

in your not so happy places

if that's where you must go

to make the art that must be made today.

To write the book that must be written,

to play that song in your heart

that wants to be set free into the world.

I no longer question or doubt myself as an artist.
i am an artist because i make art every day.

I face those nagging fears

and dark doubts

about whether or not

my work is good enough -

and simply squeeze more paint out of the tube,

and continue painting.

My work is good enough.

And what makes it good

is not the quality of the final product

but the process itself.

The fact that i AM painting.

The purpose is not for me to paint a masterpiece.

The purpose is to paint.

To keep working.

Period.

Don't let the success of others

get in your way of making art.

Just make it.

Trust that it needs to be made.

xox

how art and Leonard Cohen heal my heart

hello everyone...

I am not a big fan of social media
and neither is this little bird,
even with the tweets. ;-)

This past Sunday was a difficult day,
but when evening came,
along with it came relief
that day would soon turn to night
and night into a new morning.

During the early evening,
I found my way to the blue room,
and played with paints and paper for a while.
(a great remedy for a sad heart)

If i was a doctor,
this is what i would prescribe to patients.
Solitary time
in a room with a view,
pens, paper,
and a box of Crayolas.
Maybe some music.
And some wine. ;-)

I was all over the place
with sketching and collaging and painting.

Like i had a thousand images in my head that wanted out...

Then i opened a book i had nearby
and landed on this page
and it was fucking poetic.
Don't you love it
when something comes together?
When you read something
or see something
or hear something
at what feels like exactly the right time?

Then i read this one...

What do i do?

i paint.

i write.

i listen to Leonard Cohen.

i count my blessings.

i see miracles in the every day.

Not in heaven,

but here.

In the every day.

i light a candle.

i pay attention to my breathing.

i walk along the ocean.
i read.
i remember.

i look at the moon & stars

and consider how minuscule i am

and how vast the universe is

and yet...

and yet.

xox

(what do YOU do?)