Athena Dreams Design

A New Moment on an Ordinary Wednesday Morning

On a wednesday morning, early in the studio, I take a look around to see what my world is made up of these days. I notice many things in process, unfinished, being contemplated, in flux, in planning stages, sketches. 

And instead of seeing things not done, not finished, I am trying on some new eyes, just for size, and looking at all these pieces as possibilities, things that will be, ideas that are being born.

It is all a matter of perspective I think, all a matter of looking at the positive, at the process, the flow.

Twyla Tharp in her book The Creative Habit talks about ritual, pattern and repetitive memory to tame and quiet the fears and the self-doubts and the ugly, awful voices in [my] head. And so this is a change in ritual for me. To see the unfinished as potential instead of seeing it as things I have not finished, plans I have fallen short of, ideas that have not bloomed with the fruition I had hoped for, projects that have [gulp] failed.

"When you have selected the environment that works for you, developed the start-up ritual that impels you forward every day, face down your fears, and put your distractions in their proper place, you have cleared the first hurdle. You have begun to prepare to begin." -Twyla Tharp

And so, I begin with developing a new Start the Day Ritual: looking at what is ready to burst forth, what is wanting to lay still, and thus, prepare to begin, and see my days, my work, and my life with these new eyes of mine: looking for the positives, stepping up to take my place at my painting table and begin this new day, this new ritual of creation.

Wish me luck, as I wander down this new and alternate path, with a new faith and these brand new eyes with which to see: the water feels great over here, and I am jumping in.

The New and the Everyday

There is a long list of Things that Make Me Happy, and one of those, I must admit, are new clothes. New colours to blend into the clothes already in the closet, new patterns and textures to touch and look at, and an all around new feeling inside my person when putting on and wearing the new clothes.

There is a part of me that feels like I should be less in love with buying new clothes, that there is something a bit... shallow, a bit crass, but, then I think: since it is more accepted to be out in public dressed, rather than, undressed (at least in my zip code), I may as well buy some things that will make me smile inside when wearing them. 

Buying new clothes always, always, always sends me back to that shop for new school clothes which happened in our family every August. All the new clothes, carefully chosen, and the new pair of nice shoes, to put away in the closet: All the clothes that I had outgrown removed from the closet and either claimed by my younger sister or put in a pile for Goodwill. Such a ritual, just like the new notebooks and book covers (ah but paper supplies, that's a different entry on the List of Things that Make Me Happy) that were purchased every year. 

The new clothes all put away so lovingly, so carefully, even organised by colour, and outfit; and, for the first few weeks of school, returned to the closet or folded carefully after laundry day, eventually became familiar, ordinary even, and more often than not, never made it off the floor of my bedroom in between washings (and, truthfully, that hasn't much changed).

There is a different smell about new clothes, even after washing them, they have an aura of specialness, a feeling of rarity, even a sense of daring. Perhaps wearing these clothes will make me walk differently, perhaps I will fall a little in love with the feeling of the new linen skirt brushing against my calves, perhaps I will see a new and different aspect of the person that lives deep inside of me, perhaps wearing these new clothes will shift something in my perspective. Or, more likely, they will just make me ever so happy, way deep inside, the first few times I wear them, and then they will blend in with all the other colours and textures in my closet, and become more ordinary, and special in their everyday familiarity: Friends.

Finding My Conundrum

It has now been 3 weeks since making some changes in my life, in my work, and in my schedule, and Ifind I am wandering around, wondering what I should be doing. I have all this time to paint, and now, wander away from my painting table.

It's a funny thing, making positive changes, and putting them into practice, and then, finding myself at a loss as to why I am still not on a crazy work/create/life schedule like I have been for the last 10 years. The peace makes me feel antsy, not relaxed, not creative, not focused. The quiet, well it does the same thing.

I have cleaned, I have purged, I have lined up ideas and sketches, and I just wander in and wander right back out. Can't force the moment, I tell myself. Can't force myself to focus on the painting, it's a conundrum.

Aah, a conundrum. Such a funny word, it makes me think of when I was a little kid: my brothers and sister and I spent lots and lots of time (in fact, as much as we could) with my grandparents. My grandfather was a cabinet maker/woodworker on weekends and holidays as he used to say, and we always begged to be able to be his assistants in his wood shop. There were rules, rules that were strictly enforced. You had to be a certain height to come within 3 feet of the table saw, and your hands had to be a certain size to turn the handle of the big clamp he used to hold 2 pieces that were gluing, and so on and so on. The important rule though, was a new word.

We had to learn the meaning and spelling of one, long, multi-syllabic word each time we were shop assistants. [I realise even now that there are quite a few words I might never have been acquiainted with if it had not been for this rule] On one occasion it was the word Conundrum:

[kuh-nuhn-druhm] 

–noun

1.	a riddle, the answer to which involves a pun or play on words, as What is black and white and read all over? A newspaper.

2.	anything that puzzles.

Gramp's conumdrum was: Do you walk to school or carry a lunch? We spent days, weeks even, trying to figure out what the riddle was, what we were missing, what the trick was. And when I went back to him weeks or months later to tell him we had not figured out the riddle in his conundrum, he laughed and hugged me and told me that that was mostly how life went. It takes awhile to find the riddle, and occasionally there is nothing to find, but we keep looking.

So, these days, a bit of a conundrum, where I am not sure whether I walk to school or carry a a lunch, but things are turning, moving, rearranging molecules are settling, and something new will arrive any day now. In the meanwhile I am wandering a curvy path, thinking curvy thoughts, and readjusting to a new schedule in this conundrum of life.

A Day to Remember

Today is my grandmother's birthday. She hasn't been here with us for a long long time, but I think of her almost everyday, and most especially on her birthday, On my list of people who have inspired, influenced, encouraged and even dared me, she is at the top.

An artist, an inspired gardener, a writer, a reader, and a woman beyond her time. She was not encouraged to be independent, not encouraged to be an artist, or a traveller, she was encouraged to marry and have children, because that's what women did in her era. And she did that, and also painted, and designed gardens and organised reading groups with her friends, and lived a life that on the outside had little in the way of frills or accessories; but on the inside was rich with beauty and ideas, and deep thoughts.

 

on her honeymoon

As my grandmother though, she told me at a very early age that I could do anything, be anything, have and be a part of anything that I wanted to be. She told me I was special and unique. She encouraged my dreams and my hopes and my wishes for my life. She encouraged my independence and my sense of self. In effect, she gave me permission to be myself all the time, in a world where conformity is the safe and easy route. 

 

with mum and uncle Johnny

My relationship with her was like an open door: it was like walking to and fro from room to room, while in the midst of a never ending conversation, punctuated with other characters entering and leaving, kind of like a one act play, that just keeps going and going. I think of her as my first role model for a generosity of spirit that I since have always looked for in friends, in business partners, in romantic partners, in life. And I think that if I had not had her my whole young life, I might never have known that that kind of spirit existed out in the world. Because truthfully, as we go through school, through jobs, through relationships, as we grow and change and move through our lives, those kindred souls, those open spirits, filled with kindness and generosity and support, and the purest kind of love and devotion, do not come along around any old corner. They are the rare and most gorgeous jewels in our lives, and we are always the luckiest for having found them, or for they having found us.

 

I like to think that she found me, that is still my young girl's daydream, I like to imagine that the first day she saw me, she knew who I was, she recognized me, and I her. I like to imagine she was my fairy godmother, not necessarily finding me the prince, but definitely turning my pumpkin into a carriage, and the mice into horses to take me anywhere I wanted to go.

 

She loved her life, though she did not get to live out many of her dreams, but she always said she got to live may of them through me. I still hear her voice in my head, her energy still vibrates in the universe, and she is still encouraging, me, inspiring me and daring me to do more, and ever more.

Happy Birthday to my best and most wonderful jewel, to the rarest gem I have ever known, my grandmother.

Getting More Focused

How time passes when things are in flux... I have made a few changes in my life recently that will allow me to spend more time on my artwork and my own design, rather than designing for others, and the lead up to the changes seems to have been more time consuming and more tiring than I would ever have thought. 

So, there's a month gone by, it's almost officially Summer, and tho I made these changes to allow me more time to paint, it seems all my time has been taken up with cleaning, and purging, and cleaning, and giving away, and filing and basically taking care of all the things that I never have time to do... the drekky stuff, but the stuff that keeps my life organised and running smoothly (at least I tell myself this). 

I also just want to say a very big Thanks to everyone who has stopped by my little Etsy shop and looked around, I so very much appreciate it. 

And so on to the good, rich, gorgeous stuff: creating! More coming soon!

Places I Once Was .:. Sacred Life

I have been revisiting memories of some of the places I have lived, and Greece has been speaking to me loud and clear these past weeks. Maybe it is the changing of the seasons .:. spring into summer .:. maybe it is the blooming flowers and trees, or the clear blue skies, but I have often found myself these days, back in Greece.

I lived in Athens for a bit more than a year. Most people make a face as if to say "ick", and ask why I didn't live on an island. I did do that too, but Athens, I loved Athens. Each neighborhood a village unto itself, unique, individual and identifiable. I loved the white wash buildings, the noise of this particular city, and the sun, and the most of all the people.

I loved moving to a place where for a while I didn't understand the language at all. I could sit outside at a taverna, and hear voices but was not able to take in most anything that was being said. There was something freeing in it, something unnameable about it that I loved. I was there taking it all in, and yet, I was somehow just slightly removed, just slightly beside myself, not understanding, and allowing myself to revel in the non-understanding.

We take words in: bits of conversations overheard, the radio or television on in the background, conversations with all sorts of different people, all day long. My mind is constantly working on the words, the ideas, the thoughts. My mind never seemed to take a full rest from all these words until I moved to a place where the words I took in were only sounds. Melodic and beautiful sounds that formed a soundtrack for my first few months in Athens.

For more Sacred Sundays, visit here. And visit some photographs of Athens here.

New Eyes .:. New Perspectives

Sometimes it just takes sitting in a different chair at the kitchen table and drinking my morning cup of tea (or coffee). Sometimes it is just standing in a different spot to look at the hills just west of our house, to see the colours that have been there all week. Sometimes just being able to see the same things in a new way only takes stepping around and over the old perspective, tilting the head, maybe a little squint to create a nice blur, and suddenly, I have new eyes.

That, and painting, reading, listening - all day in my studio. No breaks to do the things I really "should". No distracting myself with other "stuff". I feel more complete, I feel more at peace inside, I feel more positive and I feel like I have more energy. Now, the real test is: how do I get myself to remember that the act of creating is what renews and energizes me, pulls me out of the doldrums, cleans the cobwebs out of my head. That is the hard part for me, I let myself forget what I really need.

I had several beautiful reminders this week, and want to pass them along to anyone who is interested:

This wonderful podcast from Marisa at Creative Thursday. A wonderfully candid and generous talk about making money as an artist, the risks, the perils and the joys and how it all came together for this artist.

This beautiful post about giving ourselves the gift of time to create.

This moment with an artist and her cello.

New artwork and exciting news about a forthcoming book from this artist.

This honest and heartfelt series of posts from one artist's perspective of the Artfest experience.

Spending more time reading instead of watching movies: I am really loving all of these reads just now...

And the painting, and working on a canvas instead of a monitor...

is pure joy. After days, and truth be told, weeks of feeling stuck and tired and completely uninterested in my own artwork, my own creativity, and then, just a small shift in perspective (very much helped by the list above) and the metaphorical faucet is opened.

The central piece on this canvas board is a photo I took of my sister (standing) when she was about 10 or 11, and I was 15 or 16, on a beautiful summers day at Cranes Beach, looking for shells and the ever elusive blue sea glass, and I remember the thrill of learning and mastering my grandfather's old Leica SLR, printing this photo in the darkroom and feeling so completely happy and compelled to keep creating more, every free moment I had. That is the perspective from which I want to live, from which I want to experience this life, this moment.

Calling all Altars

Some altars from around Flickr.

I've always had a fascination with personal altars or shrines. The altars that people create for any number of reasons or purposes: for prayer, for remembrance, for growth, for change, for beauty, for collecting precious items, for anything.

If anyone has a personal altar or personal "sacred space" or special spot to share, I would love to see photos of it. E-mail or by comments.

Silver and Pearls

You know how life takes you in different directions .:. down different path .:. sometimes meandering, sometimes u-turns, sometimes just a slight divergence from the trail you're on? For me, making jewelery was a path I was on, and then life took me in different directions, I sold my business and "moved on".

I still have a huge amount of beads and chain and wire and silk threads, all of which I use on the shadow boxes I make (I like to call it shadow jewelery) but I very rarely make an actual piece of jewelery, you know one that someone might wear, except for a few special occasions (and always for my mum cuz she asks, and she's my mum).

Today I made a quick piece for someone who works with me occasionally, and who I wanted to give a small token of thanks to. What says a small thanks better than some silver and pearls [I ask myself]. Now that I don't have to create jewelery for piles of orders, I find I enjoy it again. The colours, the shine, the depth of a fresh water pearl, the feel of the chain, the solid feel of the tools in my hands. All things that are a pleasure again, now that it is no longer a business.

Making jewelery was one of the first (and so far only) times in my life that making a creative endeavor into a business venture, killed the joy and the spirit of what had been blossoming for me. Making money from our creativity: it can be a risky thing. It can also be the best thing you've ever done.

But for today: I loved the sun slanting into my studio this afternoon, while I wired pearls and watched the silver chain wink and gleam. For today: Taking back the act of making a piece of jewelery, for the sheer pleasure and joy. What a lovely, lovely thing.

Spring has a Way About Her .:. sacred sunday

Spring has a way of tip-toeing in
and spreading the contents
of its travelling trunk
full of surprises and wonders.

Three friends
on a sunny spring afternoon
having a talk
drinking some tea
feeling the warm breezes
on their uplifted and open faces.

Long flowing skirts
wide brimmed hats
and parasols
all set to go out
for a spring afternoon picnic.

Spreading a blanket in the warm sun
having a sip of lemonade
a sun warmed fig or two
and all the time in the world
to talk of all the thoughts

they have been saving up all winter long.

To live so completely at home
on the earth and in the sky
would that we all
could adopt the habits
and the mysterious ways
of the Magnolia
on an afternoon in spring.

Read more Sacred Sunday posts here.