18×24 inches oil on canvas
20×30″ oil on canvas
and it feels good.
Changed title. “Do Not Go Gently” 30×30″ oil on canvas.
I generally like to put words on metal as texture for my silver pieces. But I am dumbstruck by the current upside down world. I have no words, only gestures that seem to be looking for order.
I am inexorably drawn back to painting. The jewelry studio will be tidied and moved aside for a time. The last jewelry market is coming soon. I feel relief at that thought. Yes, it is harder to sell paintings but it’s drawing and painting that have been channels to the heart of things, the channels to home. Here might be one of the last little ones:
Lately I have been asking myself why I keep making things. It conflicts with my desire to reduce the number of my possessions…except earrings, maybe. I like earrings. And then there is this rush of visual pleasure seeing glass fuse to silver, so I make more things.
It’s the magpie in me, it’s strong and won’t be denied.
Today was my first full day making jewelry after a semester of teaching. The political climate in the USA can be felt everywhere, even in the classroom. Like a pinched nerve, it nags the spirit. In the studio, I felt like a castaway on an island surrounded by treasure, not really sure if I ever wanted to be rescued. I made two collages and a couple of necklaces. The work flowed out like a long sigh. It will be several weeks before I return to teaching. Until then I will enjoy being marooned.
I found my words again although the geo-political atmosphere continues to be contaminated. Lots of shit flinging, a behavior observed in monkeys and apes, and the insane. And it’s contagious. I’d best stay clear and take a watchful position.
It appears that the heart theme has displaced the spiral theme and enameling has displaced the knotting. The colors make me feel childlike and cheery. The urge to place a heart on a piece seems to be a calling to “take heart”. Loving the clarity of Czech glass beads, too. I feel aligned with the work.
I see the path back to painting. I miss painting like I miss a lost relationship; the effort to reestablish flow is sometimes too much. But the energy is rising.
There are new options on the horizon. I hope 2017 will not be as steeped in loss as 2016 has been for so many of us. Let’s take heart and look to the future.
The election is over. I am grieving. I really want to say more, write more, but I feel mute.
So I am taking refuge in learning new ways to work. Here are the first steps. Torch fired enamels. Fussy like etching, fussy like printmaking. But the colors are rewarding.
My Heart And I – Poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning 6th and 7th verse
Tired out we are, my heart and I.
Suppose the world brought diadems
To tempt us, crusted with loose gems
Of powers and pleasures ? Let it try.
We scarcely care to look at even
A pretty child, or God’s blue heaven,
We feel so tired, my heart and I
Yet who complains ? My heart and I ?
In this abundant earth no doubt
Is little room for things worn out :
Disdain them, break them, throw them by
And if before the days grew rough
We once were loved, used, — well enough,
I think, we’ve fared, my heart and I.