There’s nothing like a day in the studio…. music turned up full blast, paints spread out all over the table, my sweet puppy Juniper growing more and more annoyed with me that I’m not playing with her. It’s been a while since I’ve put a whole lof of energy toward my art. I’ve been obsessed with words instead. But my recent announcement that I’d once again be offering drishtis this year changed all that. I’ve had a handful of orders so far, with others possibly on the horizon, and I really needed to create some balance within my creative endeavors. That being said, I have to remind myself that it’s not about perfect balance. Some days, a particular chapter I’m working on grabs ahold of me and won’t let go. Other days, burning or painting is highly addictive. And some days, I’ll completely fall on my face and find myself trying to ease the overwhelm by vegging and watching Netflix. But if I keep myself moving forward in one way or another, I can usually stay grounded in my work. Imperfectly.

So I paint a little here, write a little there, hoping that by the end of the day, I’ll feel somehow complete with what I’m accomplished. Which is not always the case, but it’s something to strive for…

these times

These are strange times, aren’t they?

It seems only fitting that as the days get shorter and the leaves cascade into rivers of oranges and reds and browns that I would begin another blog, as it’s that time of year when I feel sentimental, inspired, and a little bit regretful, all at once. Especially after the last couple of years of covid.

I seem to have formed this mindset my friend Jennifer Louden calls “why bother” in her newest book. Mid-pandemic, on a whim, I decided to do away with my website altogether, leaving me no way to share my creative process at all, and this piece in the photograph sat on my easel for months untouched. There was a strange incompleteness to just about everything as we all stood by, waiting for life to become normal again.

Menopause and being in mid-life might have contributed to that as well, I suppose. It seems that I’m neither here nor there… but rather stuck somewhere in the middle of everything.

The blessing in all of that is that it has given me the mental space to write, and write in a focused yet gentle, non-pressure-y way. I can actually see the end of my book in sight, but it’s a bit scary to say that outloud. I just can’t put a timeline on it for fear I might disrupt the flow. There are days when I write multiple pages, and others I’m lucky to write a paragraph. To that end, the temptation is to surrender to the call of winter approaching, wishing for snowdays so I have yet another excuse to not have to engage with the world beyond my studio door. I love to hibernate. But something is nudging me forward, telling me it’s time to emerge from my veritable cave– perhaps on tiptoes (shhhhhhh)– as quietly and softly as possible. And with the recent facebook debacles, I can’t see that being a sustainable way to stay connected over the long haul, so I thought I’d re-imagine my internet home and see what happens. Not from the ground up, and nothing fancy. Just some check-ins, some sharing of works-in-progress, and perhaps some art offerings (check out my gallery! I’m opening up my heart and my time to working on a few drishtis for 2022 if you’re interested!). If you want to stay connected if and when I decide to do away with my facebook account like I did with my website, you might want to sign up to receive updates from my blog. Easy peasy. Just add your email address below.

So welcome. I hope to share something atleast once a week, but my book is my priority right now, so please forgive me if I skip a week here or there. And admittedly, I have no earthly idea what I’m doing, and I’m an emotional mess. But then again, my memoir is all about seeing my sensitive side as a strength, not a weakness, so to hell with it. There is so much uncertainty out there right now that we’re a bit more tender than usual, right?

“The very idea that you’re too kind, too sensitive, too emotional, too enthusiastic, too loving is bat-shit preposterous.”

~Meredith Marple

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