To Journal Or Not To Journal

journal
Many artists journal, daily, occasionally, have or carry a sketchbook. They say it helps them to call in their creative spirit. They say it helps them to grow as artists. It’s highly touted. I haven’t done this since I was in school because I became a “headsketcher”. I work out visual problems in my mind while I’m doing some unrelated tasks, I’m thinking it through, line by line, color by color, layout, etc. Now I do fulfill my need for moving marking tools on paper by doodling on napkins, tax returns (for some reason frowned upon), and recently, a tablet; but no real work through it record nor calling in my muse on a regular basis. However, I was faced with a dilemma. My current project is too large and has too many components. I’m writing and illustrating a book, so I couldn’t seem to stay motivated because the project is too large for headsketching. I was hitting a wall, a very large, very strong, very nasty, white brick wall. Got the image? So after pondering and questioning myself, do I really want to do this journal thing? I decided to jump in the water thinking maybe there’s something to it and what could it hurt, I was already in the weeds so… I did it and it’s wonderful!
I’m taking an online journaling class with Julie Fei-Fan Balzer because she follows the more is best notion and seems to throw control pretty much out the window but don’t let that fool you. She definitely knows what she’s doing and why. Her process allows one to throw caution and perfection to the wind and just have fun. But it is really helping to stretch which is something I think we probably all need. I’m being fed as an artist while playing, that’s a win-win. I look forward to beginning my day with this half hour and who knows, maybe I’ll keep it up forever. It really does jump start the creative process. So thanks Julie, I’m having fun while feeling more creative. It looks like I’ll get that book done after all.

Hang In There

eggs
Wednesday was the first day of spring…REALLY?!? It’s so cold here these eggs need coats but because my annual ritual of standing eggs during the vernal equinox worked, I know spring is here even though it doesn’t feel like it outside. Sometimes when you’re in the middle of something unpleasant or difficult, it’s hard to hang in there believing things will improve, they’ll work out, and brighter days can be ahead.
I am not a fan of winter but this year it seemed to be especially challenging. Many years ago I heard somewhere that the only day of the year that you can stand eggs is during the vernal equinox. I don’t know if this is true or not but I don’t care. Dealing with winter is a challenge for me so I needed something to make me believe that spring is here no matter what the temperature is so every year I can hardly wait to get out my eggs on March 20th. This year was super special because I was able to stand three eggs in less than six minutes, a record for me.
Lessons: keep at it no matter how bleak it looks, believe even when it seems like it will never be ok, you actually might get better at something if you keep practicing (I’ll remember that one for my piano lessons) and know that eventually…things will get better.

Knit the Bridge, Pittsburgh

Copy-2-of-Sewing-Women-with text

Women have been doing handwork forever. They have gathered together for centuries working on individual or community projects permitting them an opportunity to socialize while making necessary items. After WWII women became busier outside of the home and this wonderful practice was viewed as old fashioned. Times have changed and ba-zing, this has once again become a part of our society.

Except it’s been updated with a new concept – yarn bombing, a fun way to celebrate public space while bringing communities together and once again, women doing hand work. Knit the Bridge, Pittsburgh is a massive community arts project bringing together the many diverse communities of Pittsburgh and Southwestern Pennsylvania together to create a large-scale, aesthetically stunning, fiberarts installation on a bridge in downtown Pittsburgh.

I recently attended a meeting where a few of the women were knitting and crocheting their panels for this project and I said I didn’t think I had time and I don’t crochet anymore. I was wrong. I was sitting between two women. One handed the other a ball of yarn and a hook, she set right to work for a while, over and under, and then nonchalantly handed me the piece asking me to continue. I immediately, without thought, started crocheting. I was quickly reminded of the peace that hand work brings and how calming its natural repetitiveness is. So I am calmly working on my panel and pleased to be a part of this community outreach project. I’ll show you a photo of my panel when it’s finished. In the meantime if you’d like to participate in this really cool project while enjoying the personal benefits of hand work, visit Knit the Bridge. You’ll be glad you did.

 

Pink is for girls and blue is for boys…always??

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For many years it has been assumed that pink is for girls and blue is for boys. This wasn’t always the case. It used to be practical to dress both genders of babies in white dresses. White could be bleached, the outfits could be used for either gender allowing one to reuse all of the baby’s clothing.
In the early 1900’s pink was chosen for boys since it’s a stronger color and blue was for girls because it was more delicate. People couldn’t seem to agree on this concept and preferences went back and forth until the mid 1980’s when we finally settled on the pink=girl, blue=boy thing. Something had to be chosen for mass marketing reasons and pink was the chosen color for girls in France which often dictates fashion. So, there you have it.
If you want to know more about color trends, symbolism, and the emotional characteristics of color I will be teaching at the Pittsburgh Knit and Crochet Festival in March. Hope to see you there!
Oh, and if you want to know who’s in the photo, go to the Smithsonian magazine online

Hello, I’m Jane

me with mask_adjI think it’s time I introduce myself; my name is Jane. I am Donna’s inner self. We wear our outside masks to show others the person we want them to see, the person they expect. I am her strength and her sense of humor assisting and guiding her through difficult moments. I am who gives her power to wear her mask and not let others see how deeply she feels and that she isn’t always as confident as she may appear. I make space and time for her when she thinks she must take care of responsibilities. I can be very arrogant and clever, extremely confident but sometimes fearful. I don’t consider what others may think. I take time to stare into space, kick rocks, and read the same poem a hundred times no matter how much laundry she insists must be done.
Each of us has a Jane within. The trick is embracing your inner self and acknowledging that part of you, baring yourself and letting the world see who you really are. As an artist, I tend to look into people, not at them so I can try to get a glimpse of who they really are. My masks are an opportunity to bare one’s inner self to the world. See others’ masks on my website www.dbkcolorstudio.com
Jane and I are becoming very close friends.

A Feast For My Muse

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Welcome to my studio, at least part of it. As you can see, there’s a lot going on. Slim is in progress, music is up for an upcoming silkscreen workshop eagerly waiting for its place that will be done later, dolls are hanging, and the largest project I have ever done covers the boards; more about that in a later post. It may seem like there’s a lot to look at but my muse is ecstatic, thrilled, energized. She doesn’t like a neat studio, to her, its borrrring. I threatened her with a new year’s resolution – cleaning it and making it neat. That didn’t go over well so I quickly dumped the idea. Imagine planning on going to dinner to a wonderful Italian restaurant and you’re drooling thinking about the vast array of goodies that will come to your table – hot crusty bread with a saucer of rich herbal olive oil, good wine, a lovely salad, pasta with Bolognese, tiramisu, YUM! And then… the server brings a plain bowl of spaghetti and that’s it, now there’s a bummer if ever there was one.
My muse expects my workspace to make her drool, like the Italian dinner – I’m getting hungry thinking about that dinner. Anyway, it’s been suggested to me by a few professionals that I may “suffer” from ADD. I don’t view it as “suffering”. I see it as accommodating my muse, presenting a rich meal for her to feast on. If I do that for her, she’ll give me that same satiating feeling that one gets after eating that beautiful dinner. Do you feed your muse? You should.

Shhhh

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Shhhhh, the garden is sleeping. If you have children you know that everyone tiptoes about when your child has fallen asleep after a very active day. That’s how winter is in the garden; you must let it lie quietly. You know you can’t step in the planting areas and disturb the soil for fear of unpleasant surprises when the snow melts. You worked so hard through spring, summer and fall nurturing, playing, and guarding against dangers. You were proud of its beauty, pleased with its strength, amazed with its growth and now is the time to sit back and reflect…and quietly smile. It’s like sitting back with a nice cup of tea at the end of a beautiful day that you’ve watched your child grow, have fun, and reward you with that playful giggle that you can hear again and again. Shhhh, let the garden sleep. It’ll be time to play again soon.

Santa and the Soldier

 

merry_christmas
This week’s post was going to be about Christmas carols since they seem to transport many folks to a spiritual place and amidst the festivities we are celebrating, a little spirituality can go a long way. C’mon, we could use a little spiritual boost. But, we received a Christmas card from friends who support the Disabled American Veterans www.dav.org and Ed (my husband) asked me to post from it instead. The card contains a poem that some of you may have read before but I’d like to share it anyway. It’s titled Merry Christmas, My Friend by Lance Corporal James M. Schmidt, a Marine. There have been a few versions of this poem written to include all branches of the service and each version is lovely reminding us of one of our very special gifts. This is the version that was in our card. The original version can be read at http://gospelweb.net/Christmas/marinechristmaspoem.htm     Wishing you peace and joy, Merry Christmas to all.

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Red & Green

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Have you ever wondered why red and green are the traditional colors of Christmas? Here’s the skinny.
The early Pagans celebrated a festival honoring Saturnalia, birth of the invincible sun, during the winter solstice. The Roman church was trying to win over the Pagans so they decided while the Pagans were already in a party mood they would set the official date for celebrating the birth of Jesus on December 25th. So, the church presented The Paradise Play, the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. They needed to set the stage and since there weren’t any apple trees available at this time of year, they fastened apples to the branches of a pine tree which was to represent the Tree of Good and Evil. Red symbolized the blood of Jesus and green was the color of the potential for eternal life. The Christmas tree and these traditional colors then became common practice and used in Christmas displays each year thereafter. Following the church’s example, people began assembling pine trees in their homes and decorating them with red apples. This introduced two modern traditions: the Christmas tree and our seasonal colors, green for the pine tree and red for the apples. Holly, which consists of green leaves and red berries, is meant to incorporate both red and green to symbolize life and blood. As far back as Roman times the holly was brought in to decorate homes during Saturnalia. Holly was brought into Celtic homes to protect the occupants from ill-meaning faeries or to shelter spirits that the druids believed inhabited the tree’s sacred branches. So, there you have it. Have a Merry Holly Red and Green Christmas.

The Rainbow

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Today we are still mourning, trying to understand how and why this horrific tragedy in Newtown could have happened.  The whys and hows must be left for another day when we are thinking more clearly. The biggest immediate hurdle for each of these parents after having lost their child is trying to get through the fog of this moment, each moment, and contemplating what to do tomorrow. When I lost my son I grasped at anything that would ease the pain and help me face the tomorrows. Sometimes just words can bring a small smile, and the warmth of a small smile at a time like this can be a milestone.  This poem is from a grieving parents’ website and hopefully can offer a small smile.

I have not turned my back on you
So there is no need to cry.
I’m watching you from heaven
Just beyond the morning sky.

I’ve seen you almost fall apart
When you could barely stand.
I asked an angel to comfort you
And watched her take your hand.

She told me you are in more pain
Than I could ever be.
She wiped her eyes and swallowed hard
Then gave your hand to me.

Although you may not feel my touch
Or see me by your side.
I’ve whispered that I love you
While I wiped each tear you cried.

So please try not to ache for me
We’ll meet again one day.
Beyond the dark and stormy sky
A rainbow lights the way.
~Authour Unknown