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I love art....and when I am not creating art, I am thinking about some aspect of it.  I might be looking around for inspiration, it might mean checking the art suppliers for good deals, or looking at other artist's websites to see what they are up to.  Maybe I am reading art business articles or books, or planning for an upcoming show.  But in the back of my mind, always there is art. 

Tonight, as I was riding the lawnmower, in the withering heat, I watched the grass change shade as I made pass after pass.  The color began as a light, frizzy yellow green, but as I passed again and again, a deep velvet green was revealed.  Smooth as a carpet.  Along the flower beds, the brown, crispy pine bark changed  from a burnt umber to light ochre.  Chunky patterns edged against repeated strokes of green. The sky, deep cobalt as the day turned to dusk, faded to gold around the setting sun, lengthening the shadows of the red, lavender and pink crepe myrtles that lined the drive. 

Out by the pond, the koi popped their lips at the surface of the water, letting me know it was past their dinner time! Their white, orange and black patterns flashed among their smaller goldfish pondmates.  The lilies had closed for the day, and lilypads, green above and rusty red undersides, contrasted the reflected sky in the open water.  Water slipped down the small stream past round, smooth rocks before falling gently into the pond.  The night came, a cooler breeze followed. It was time to go in, and move on to the next task.

It struck me that my art life, my calling, gives me a gift of seeing beauty  in the most mundane of chores, revealing art in the ordinary.  Responding to beauty recharges my art batteries. No, that's not entirely true.  Responding to beauty recharges my LIFE batteries. What recharges YOU?

I think I was born to be a seeker.  I honestly think my first word was “why?”  My parents had high expectations for me, and in turn, I had high expectations for myself.  Finding the right destination for this seeking wasn’t easy.  I took a winding path, looking for that special something that would keep my interest.  I grew up and one day, someone formally introduced me to ART.  I had heard about ART, even flirted with it growing up, but actually meeting ART was like a lightning bolt.  ART enthralled me, challenged me, and eventually conquered me.  For almost 30 years it has consumed my time, my attention, and my waking thoughts (and sometimes my dreaming ones, too).

In the first throws of infatuation, I tended to overlook the major hurdles to my relationship with ART – lack of formal training, ignoring the financial pitfalls that following ART would bring, winding along wherever ART led, believing without question that ART was meant for ME.  I lost patience with ART, even tried to leave it once years ago, but ART just waited me out, and soon I returned, hanging my head in defeat.  The attraction was just too strong. My family and friends had to learn to share me with ART.  Dinner was sometimes late, weekend plans consumed with openings, gatherings with friends canceled, chores were left undone.  Patience was needed when the art supplies spilled out from the studio to the living room, and frames and paintings hid behind bedroom doors, waiting to be shown. My husband and children were forced partners with ART, but resentment turned to admiration as they grew to know ART. My ART has found a place in the homes of my family and friends, welcomed, even loved there too.

So now, years later, I feel ART and I have built a good relationship. I see ART for itself, and for what I can bring to this partnership.  I still feel challenged with new perspectives, new opportunities, and new techniques.  When I go to the studio, there’s ART, waiting for me in anticipation – what will we think of next?  We’ve worked out the rough spots, and even though there are still times I scratch my head in frustration, ART is patient and waits me out.  I’ve reached a point where ART provides for my financial needs, as well as my creative ones.  I can depend on ART to calm my nerves, enlighten my spirit, delight my sense of beauty and reinforce my sense of purpose.

Admittedly, ART hasn’t taken me everywhere I want to go – yet.  But we’re enjoying the journey, enriching life with beauty and inspiration.  I see the world differently because of ART.  The funny thing is that ART has that effect on a lot of people!  Are you one of them?

This summer in the South, it has been more than HOT.  We are sizzling!  We've had much of the same hot weather we had last year, but lately we've had the added feature of  tropical thunderstorms in the afternoons.  We've been watching the skies.

As a landscape painter, I'm easily distracted by the LAND, and often focus on that aspect of a composition first.  As the sky is just as important a part of the design, and critical to conveying the sense of the moment, I have to balance my fascination with earth to look up!  After all, wait a bit and clouds MOVE!  They change shape, change color, and transition continually. 

I used to spend a lot of time as a child stretched on a quilt in the back yard, looking up at the clouds.  I loved to watch them evolve into all kinds of shapes and colors.  I still enjoy watching the sky, and as I have developed as an artist, I am keeping an eye to the sky.  Part of being an artist is being able to see what is truly there...not what we think we see.  Using the sky as a daily "sight practice" is a good way to keep your powers of observation keen.  What color is that cloud - really?  It is rarely white, often light blue, dark blue, grey, pink, orange, lavender, gold, or deep purple fading into a distant horizon.  Use your powers of observation to keep your skills sharp, and look to the skies!

Just finished a painting of morning color on the marsh of the lowcountry. 

Only it is now late in the evening, with a rumbling storm on the way from the south, flickering in the night sky.   I've just spent a little time on the lowcountry marsh, watching in my mind's eye as the sun has risen over the marsh grass, light dancing on the water.  It was a mental vacation, imagining the cheep of birds, the cool damp breeze blowing over my skin.  Thankfully, I can edit out the nipping bugs! 

How fortunate we as artists are -- to create our world and live in it!

Memories are important to us all, especially to anyone who shoulders responsibilities of adult life.    My sweet husband has lost much of his short term memory due to illness.  Thankfully, he can remember some basic things, but daily living is a challenge.  He can no longer remember how to travel from point A to point B, or when bills need to be paid, or what he told me about the day before.  It is just one aspect of his illness, but an important one. As we have traveled this road together, I have become his memory.  He depends on me to get him where he needs to be, prepare his medications or manage his life so that he is safe and secure. 

As I reflected on my role as “the rememberer,” I couldn’t help but see the important role my memory plays as an artist and creator.  I paint a lot of landscapes, and I take many, many photographs of the places I go.  I very rarely use one as a direct reference.  My clients often express amazement that I paint “from my head” and not necessarily what I actually have seen.  (Plein air paintings are the rare exception, but most of my efforts are done in the studio – away from the bugs, heat, snakes, alligators, well, you get the idea.) 

I rely on my memory to remind me of the smells, textures, light and shade of the scene that trigger my creative vision.  When I’ve been away from the lowcountry awhile, I will bring out the photos and revisit in my mind all the places I love to paint.  It’s a refresher course for my memory, and refills my creative tank.  It’s my mental vacation.

It is not always photos that do the trick, though.  Last night, I was in the studio rearranging…aren’t we always rearranging?  I picked up a substantial zip-lock bag full of tiny seashells collected on one of my first trips to Rockport, Massachusetts.  Most were grey swirls with pure white interiors, with an occasional bright yellow or white shell showing up in the stash.  When I picked out a favorite or two, the memory of walking along Loblolly Cove, the crunch of the shells and rounded rock under my feet, the swift chill breeze on my face, and the heavy salt smell came to mind.  I could picture the massive boulders just above the retreating tide, draped in seaweed that swirled like mermaid hair with each rise and fall of wave.  I could still feel the salt residue on the shells.  It was if I was back to that place…one of my favorite places.

In my creative processes, memory is my constant companion, and plays a critical role in how I do what I do. I use the echoes of things present and past to enhance my work.  My vision -- my creations -- capture a flicker of the beauty and experience that surrounds me.  It is something that I can share through my art. And I’m grateful for each and every memory. How do YOUR memories shape YOU and YOUR art?