the artist forgets the present, Monotype of the Day #746

Day 15 of Year 3

I am grateful for the way having a long term illness has prepared me for this moment of sweeping change and unrest in the world. I've written before about learning to give things up and dealing with disappointments, but it's more than that. When you are faced with a complex illness, you literally don't know from day to day how you will feel, if something major will go wrong or if it will be business as usual. Very quickly on, I learned not to think about the future. I doubt I would even be able to get out of bed if I thought about all the negative possibilities- most completely out of my control. So I get up in the morning and with whatever energy I have, I do what I can to care for myself and then squeeze the most life I can out of each day regardless of my circumstances. Some days this is easy, the sun is shining and all is well, but some days it requires active listening for the good in an otherwise trying situation. I'm applying this same muscle to the pandemic and the political state of our country. I'm doing my best not to let possible futures (which may never come to pass) steal my present moment. Looking at tonight's print, I feel the damage and weight of dwelling on what might be but how deeply that is woven into the fabric of our humanity. Those future worries may always be there but with practice, it is possible for them to maintain a respectful distance.

the artist forgets the present
#monotypeoftheday
Day 15 of year 3
(Total project days 745)

the in-between, Monotype of the Day #739

Day 8 of Year 3

There's been a lot of chaos in my house the last few months. Between a family member moving home, a puppy, planting season, and having to vacate part of my studio to make room for online dance classes my head has been spinning. But the puppy has calmed, I've gotten my studio back and I feel like I'm catching my breath again for the first time in a long time. I'm so grateful to have this daily practice to anchor me no matter what winds are scattering my life.

Waking Up
By David Allan Evans
for Jan

We wake up again to the sound
of those same birds just

outside our window. I can’t
name them, wouldn’t need to

if I could, but only guess
what they seem to be

saying over and over.
Listen: We are here,

we are here,
we are here.

Published on A Year of Being Here http://www.ayearofbeinghere.com/2014/04/david-allan-evans-waking-up.html 

hand, Monotype of the Day #726

726.jpg

Day 356 of Year 2 (Actually Day 361)

I had a break though tonight. The piece is fine, but what happened in my mind was important. The number one limitation on any artist is their mind, the unconscious rules that shape our actions. This is particularly true in printmaking. The plates must be lined up, no marks on the paper, etc. etc. etc. Somewhere in my head, I decided I couldn't add more color to a print unless it was printed with a plate. Tonight I painted in a touch of color on this print to wake it up. It's a surprisingly small thing that has the potential to transform the way I work. Will it? I don't know, but anything that breaks through the hold the mind has on possibilities is a good thing.

windows, Monotype of the Day #697

Day 327 of Year 2 (Actually Day 332)

I haven't been spending as much time in my studio lately between the puppy and just trying to manage a lot of the things I usually have help with. Even though I'm in the studio everyday I still miss it. There are lots of ideas I'd like to explore. So, I'm just being patient and trusting that this limited working time is allowing more energy to cook below the surface. Already I feel the tendrils of new work pushing up through the soil, wanting to see the light.
windows
#monotypeoftheday
Year 2, Day 327
(Total project days 697)

eyes, Monotype of the Day #665

Day 295 of Year 2 (Actually Day 300)

It's been a month since we got our puppy and the house was an absolute wreck until this evening. Puppy shreddings everywhere. I have limited energy so I don't tidy up as much as I'd like. One day I looked and the piles had become too much. I literally couldn't think straight. Especially in my studio, I felt that mess bearing down on me like a weight. It's a good reminder that art isn't just what happens in the studio, it's the woven threads of the artist's whole life creating a framework for the universal creative flow to come through. If an artist is stuck in the studio, the answer often lies elsewhere. If we tend to our lives patiently, flow will return. This is the cyclical nature of life on earth, every ebb must be followed by a flow. Change is constant and nothing stays stuck forever. xo

thought bubble, Monotype of the Day #658

Day 288 of Year 2 (Actually Day 293)

This piece and the yellow piece from two nights ago were both done using the ghost ink from the night before they were made. The ghost ink dried enough so when I rolled the fresh ink on top the next day, it kept its form instead of being mixed in. I like the delicate, ephemeral quality this technique brings to the image.
I am posting tonight's poem because we are all a little peckish here and the house feels worn out with our constant presence. We are in a time of ups and downs and I know it us only a matter of time until this passes and we, in our little quarantined world, are in harmony again. This poem reminds me of the beauty and possibility in home (both inner and outer).

The Work of Happiness
By May Sarton

I thought of happiness, how it is woven
Out of the silence in the empty house each day
And how it is not sudden and it is not given
But is creation itself like the growth of a tree.
No one has seen it happen, but inside the bark
Another circle is growing in the expanding ring.
No one has heard the root go deeper in the dark,
But the tree is lifted by this inward work
And its plumes shine, and its leaves are glittering.

So happiness is woven out of the peace of hours
And strikes its roots deep in the house alone:
The old chest in the corner, cool waxed floors,
White curtains softly and continually blown
As the free air moves quietly about the room;
A shelf of books, a table, and the white-washed wall --
These are the dear familiar gods of home,
And here the work of faith can best be done,
The growing tree is green and musical.

For what is happiness but growth in peace,
The timeless sense of time when furniture
Has stood a life's span in a single place,
And as the air moves, so the old dreams stir
The shining leaves of present happiness?
No one has heard thought or listened to a mind,
But where people have lived in inwardness
The air is charged with blessing and does bless;
Windows look out on mountains and the walls are kind.

From May Sarton: Collected Poems https://amzn.to/2zMRtfu A wonderful book! Shout out to https://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/ where I

ponder, Monotype of the Day #657

Day 287 of Year 2 (Actually Day 292)

Today was a cleaning day so I am tired! How messy is your quarantine house on a scale of 1-10, 10 being a disaster area and 1 being clean? I expected that we would be a full 14 by now, but we have been keeping it a respectable 7-8. Cleaning is physically challenging for me and with the house in chaos from a new puppy and a teenager. I'd say we are doing pretty well. (Mainly because my husband is a saint!) The message here is it okay. We are all doing our best. Maybe it doesn't look as well as we'd like but this is what we can do right now. I accept that. I hope you are being kind to yourself too.

PS I found a few more sheets of torn paper!

at home, Monotype of the Day #651

Day 281 of Year 2 (Actually Day 286)

I'm really tired today and I barely got this print out, but it feels good to have it done. Life is so different right now, I'm sure you feel this too. Many regular maintenance activities that keep me going, like acupuncture and bodywork, are out and I feel the difference. I also miss my large art studio which is being used for my son's online dance classes. So I am working on embracing and accepting what is actually happening rather than fighting it. Many things are occurring in my house that we all thought could never work, like choreography in the living room, and yet they are. It makes it very clear how deeply the rigidity of our minds has limited us. I am grateful for this lesson. It is one of things I plan to hold onto when we resume life outside of the house once again. My love to all those who are sick or suffering.

The Thirsty Fish
By Kabir, Trans. Robert Bly

I laugh when I hear that the fish in the water is thirsty.

You don’t grasp the fact that what is most alive of all is inside your own house;
and so you walk from one holy city to the next with a confused look!

Kabir will tell you the truth: go wherever you like, to Calcutta or Tibet;
if you can’t find where your soul is hidden,
for you the world will never be real!

From the Winged Energy of Delight: Poems from Europe, Asia, and the Americas Robert Bly https://amzn.to/2VyRaNK