June, thus far

There is so much to write that I am going to recap instead of trying to back date my posts and feeling overwhelmed in that process. The month has been a gorgeous one. I am so content and happy with where I live and this amazing place that I get to call home. It has been comforting to be in one place, despite my whirlwind travel fun, and to nestle back into my house.

The Contemporary Dance Wyoming performances the weekend of June 15 and 16 were highlights, giving opportunity for the visual and performance arts to mix and mingle. It felt good to stretch my creativity and see it come out in a new art form for me, costume design. Watching the awe-inspiring dancers move in my creations, how the costumes would move and change with their bodies, the organic nature of the movement and material and shape coming together. Both the costumes and the dance changed during every performance: the dancers energy altering the feel of the piece and the pods crushing on the costumes in new and intriguing ways. I would check the costumes and repair any minor damages after each show and it was thrilling to see the shapes that the wire and clothe would take, different every time. This was a magical opportunity that only reaffirmed my respect and true devotion to Dancers' Workshop and the artistry that resides there.

Another moment was just last week, while catering for and with my friend Karen and her new business  Firebelly. Karen has a mobile wood-fired pizza oven that she trucks around to events and parties, creating delectably crispy pizzas with creative toppings for attendees to enjoy. A true art. It has been fascinating to learn more about pizza dough, about how to construct a good pie, and to enjoy some of the concoctions. We catered at this amazing home high on a Kelly butte last week, the Tetons and the Gros Ventre river stretching out before us. The sunset didn't disappoint, with yellows, pinks and oranges inking across the sky, framing the grand mountains. The owners have a pet crow that they rescued at birth (along with seven fabulous dogs. Someday I will have a pack.) that is tame and sits on the shoulders of those she is friendly with. I got to hold her and look in that fabulously intelligent bird's eyes and see her expressions up close, her clawed feet griping my arm. Only an hour before I rescued a stunned hummingbird and held the little bird on my finger tip before he flew away safely and soundly. The green of his wings and the purple of his chest...and the littlest eye imaginable blinking at mine. A magical evening of nature at her finest.

Lastly, my trip this past weekend to the City of the Rocks in Idaho, one of the most magical, tucked away places. Although it didn't seem so quiet due to the crowds (surprising), it was still wonderful to get away from the cell phone and computer and be surrounded by the huge masses of rock in a high desert surrounding. Camping with great friends and terrific doggies, climbing for three days after being away from the sport, relishing the feel of rock against fingertips and feet-a great weekend of fun. Climbing pushes me in ways that are both hard and so rewarding. I really think that the sport is one of the best metaphors for life, for working through fear and trying, whether your foot slips or not. Some days end in tears, other in smiles, and it is all okay. The new sliver moon was growing while we were there and on our last night, we were able to scale the rock next to our campsite and enjoy the sinking of the sun, our vista allowing us 360 degree views.

Space

I love exploring art galleries in new cities, navigating the streets and peering into windows. Finding them is much easier with the addition of a smart phone, its infinite wisdom directing you when and where you should turn. The days of holding a paper map with a forlorn lost expression of a tourist is gone.

One of my favorite galleries that I discovered recently in Seattle was Gallery IMA. I was immediately drawn in by the intimate drawings on board that were found on their white walls. Drawings made up of multiple fine lines, meticulously drawn with an architects hand, placed over free-formed, watered-down oil washes.

This photo doesn't quite do the piece justice, as you have to peer close to admire the intricacies and small details that artist Paul Lorenz finds in the oil puddles and shapes that form. The space that he creates in these works though, the depth and the feeling of floating through loose but controlled environments, is astounding. It was hard to leave and pull myself away. I realize that the more I look at art, I am so attracted to work that is, at first glance, simple and about the process more than the product. The attributes of color, space, texture, and composition are more appealing to me than any narrative or recognizable form. It is about a feeling. 

Lorenz has made me want to return home and draw, return to the exploration of 2-d art.

Artist

Moods are so interesting. How they shift and bend, stretch and linger. When in a mood, it is not easy for me to pull myself out of it, although I have tried to learn to observe it and figure out what is at the roots. Good and bad; it is all a case to study. How our minds shift according to the weather, a conversation, a smile, an experience and suddenly we have gone from the depths to cloud nine. Or vice versa.

Today sailed light years ahead of yesterday. Yesterday was filled with doubt and questions and sadness and fear. Today was filled with more assuredness and answers and happiness and confidence. For me, it often has to do with getting out of my head and talking to others. Mother, friend, stranger.

I want to be an artist. I am an artist, but want to push it more, make more work, be more dedicated, sacrifice a little more. It is not an easy path, but one that makes my heart sing more than any other I can dream up. Looking at artists that I admire, seeing their work and their name on vinyl stretching across the white walls of a gallery, I think, I want that, I want that to be me.

Routine and Inspiration

I had an amazing trip to the East Coast, filled with sensory stimulation on all levels. From tasting  Ethopian food to smelling roses, from looking at art galore to listening to the buzz of a city street. And touching everything with either hand, foot, or tongue. The experience was rich and full. The uniqueness of the moments are what I will remember and the people, dear friends and family, that helped make those moments. I was inspired and touched and pushed and allowed to let lose and be invisible in a sea of thousands.

By the end I was ready to come home to my quiet corner of the world, full of so much stimulation and visual imagery. I have found though that with the break has come a forgetfulness of patterns that I value so much. I realize as I get older that I like routines very much, despite hating to admit it and grasping at the image of myself as a spontaneous person. They are a great comfort and provide so much sustenance to me, from writing to meditation to yoga to making art. Lethargy has been hanging over my head since my return to Jackson and the groove that I found myself in before I departed seems to have evaporated. I know that it will return, that it has to be relearned to some degree, but the situation is intriguing to me. Here I was, traveling and seeing the world, seeing other art and artists that moved me, yet part of me just wanted to stay in my routine of life at home, stay in the rhythm that I had found of getting up, taking care of me (and my dog) and then going to the studio to dive into creativity. Working towards the life that is in my dreams, is what it comes down to.

I have been disrupted, for awfully good reasons, and I am about to leave again for another week-long adventure, but there is the part of me that is already looking forward to coming home to continue carving out the path that is my future.

Refuge

This has been my work space for the last couple of months. At first I was scared that I would treat it like my old studio in The Factory, a place that I rarely visited. Now, because of a change of priorities, I feel a little sad when I don't make it down there. I love having an open space, hearing what others are listening to and working on, and having a big window full of sunlight and views of the mountains. Behind the studio are trails that wind up the buttes and into the canyon, offering needed escapes from the art-making, to cavort with the little dog and watch while she glides through the sage brush in pursuit of chiselers. Blue-its were out yesterday with the little bit of rain, a promise of spring despite the snow-topped trees above.

I am working on a dragon head for the Bra for the Cause and three pod-costumes. What could be more random but magical than that?

Wanting to Eat Dinner in the Morning

This is how I feel at times. Putting the cart before the horse. Wanting the end product (what is that?) before going through all of the steps to get there. Putting the time in is the hard part but necessary to reap the rewards. This idea keeps coming up this week as my mind bounces around, discovering what I want to do, sweeping away the layers of cobwebs that cover my purpose in this life. I know that I live like this a bit, wanting to eat dinner when I first wake up, too eager for what is to come rather than enjoying the moment, the light of the morning, the feeling of leaving dreamworld.

It is alright to have an image of where you want to go, seeing yourself at your epitome. But when this image trumps what you have in the present, that is trouble and only leaves you sitting unable to move forward, frozen by the overwhelmingness of it all. Goals. Setting goals. Making baby steps that work towards those goals. Celebrating when I make it to the first step. The second. The third and the fourth.

I talked to a great friend today and for the first time, as I told her what I am doing with my life in this moment (semi-jobless), I felt proud of the big step that I took to get here. Not shame or guilt or remorse, no feelings like, who am I to think that I can do this?

I discovered a book at the newly reopened library the other day (how I missed this building for the two weeks it was closed) by Rick Hanson called  Just One Thing: Developing a Buddha Brain One Simple Practice at a Time. He has listed 52 practices that guide you towards a "buddha brain" and therefore, a better way of living. A background in neuropsychology, Hanson approaches Buddhism with a scientific slant, recognizing that we have the power, through practice, to change the neural pathways in our mind. Our stories don't have to be our stories. I have decided to read a practice every week, working on that insight throughout the week and keeping it present as the days pass. This week the message is Be For Yourself (because that means that then you can be there for others in your life).

Namaste.

Yes, Yes, Yes!

What if you could unleash everything great in your life?

Oprah is a pretty remarkable woman. She has developed a Lifeclass that she is taking all over the nation, broadcasting it on her TV channel and streaming it on the web. Trying to inspire many to overcome obstacles, face their fears, live their best lives. Last week she welcomed Tony Robbins, inspirational life coach who has made it big, who talked about overcoming fear, a perfect topic for me at this place in my life. Although a bit tacky at times, a little cheeseball ( he has clients yell out Yes, Yes, Yes loudly to motivate themselves), Robbins had some nuggets to share that have stayed with me over the past week.

Firstly, he talked about the stories that we tell ourselves about ourselves. How these are often constructed from childhood, how they bear no factual evidence in regards to who we are. How we need to divorce the stories that don't serve us and create stories that do reflect our true nature. We repeat our stories, good and bad, enough times until we believe them and make them part of us.

Robbins went on to talk about massive action, living out the positive stories of ourselves through body language, the way we hold ourselves, the words we choose to speak. Find the part of yourself that is fearless and act it out, give that state of self a name and summon it out when you choose. It is how we carry ourselves.

Courage is feeling the fear and doing it anyway. Our lives will be smaller by not walking through fear; by challenging ourselves to act we grow and our capacity for love blossoms. Even in small ways, small steps, moving forward reaps amazing abundance.

I like the idea of speaking to oneself in a positive voice, making a persona within (because we all have one) that lives, breathes and oozes confidence. I know that there are many stories that I have created that don't necessarily have to be true except that I make them so. That I am the shy, quiet girl unable to have a voice. That I am driftless and not a hard worker. That I don't make art regularly enough so I can't be an "artist". The lists continues. There are positive stories too, but somehow those always seem to get rather lost in the pile. Divorce those that do not serve you. There is neuroscience research that speaks to this, our ability to change our thought patterns, to coax and teach them to form new pathways that make our life richer and less degrading.

If I could unleash everything great in my life, each day, each moment, would feel like an utter gift.