emergent, Monotype of the Day #315

So I made a lot of truly horrendous prints tonight before I got to this one. The learning curve is steep with my new graphite ink. You might think this is funny, but making terrible prints is wonderful. It keeps you on your toes, challenges you, puts a spring in your step. Unfortunately, you really can't see the full beauty of this ink in a picture. When it's fully dry it sparkles and shimmers with a life of it's own. Which brings me back to something I've touched on before, will I let social media change the way I work so it’s more presentable online? No, I won't so you'll just have to come to my next open studio to see these pieces in person.

Variation On A Theme By Rilke
by Denise Levertov (The Book of Hours, Book I, Poem 1, Stanza 1)

A certain day became a presence to me;
there it was, confronting me -- a sky, air, light:
a being. And before it started to descend
from the height of noon, it leaned over
and struck my shoulder as if with
the flat of a sword, granting me
honor and a task. The day's blow
rang out, metallic -- or it was I, a bell awakened,
and what I heard was my whole self
saying and singing what it knew: I can.

xoxo

Listening, Monotype of the Day #314

I was running low on paper and had to go to the art supply store. My fellow artists will confirm that it is almost impossible to leave an art supply store with only what you came for! So, I picked up a jar of graphite-colored ink. It’s very different to work with. Experimenting is important. Ruts must be avoided at all costs, this as true in art as in life. No poem tonight. It’s been a long trying week and my brain refuses to cooperate. Luckily my hands are still on board. What do you think of the graphite ink? xoxo

the artist receives healing, Monotype of the Day #313

At Home

Such a pleasure to have my green ink back! Am happy to be home. Sometimes it’s important to work, sometimes it is everything just to be with those you love I will revel in that feeling and leave you with this print and poem:

#1 From Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore

Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life. This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new. At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable. Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.
—
If you haven’t read Gitanjali, I highly recommend you do! It’s great to have my books back! xoxo

The Artist and the artist, Monotype of the Day #312

Hospital print day 4

Going home tomorrow, only here 5 days! (I did a print at home before a came the first day). I’ll let this print speak for itself. I’m missing my poetry books at home. Much can be found on the Internet but not all! Sending you lots of ❤️ xoxo

waiting, Monotype of the Day #311

Hospital print day 3

Today I’m thinking about how we choose to spend the in between times in life. So much time is spent waitiing, it would be tragic to waste it all. By thinking of something as a waiting period, an artificial boundary is formed that stops energy from flowing. A lot can happen while waiting if we are open, connections can form, ideas can be received, we can feel love. Often I use waiting times to meditate. I especially love to meditate at the doctor’s. Here in the hospital, however, where it is almost entirely waiting time, and when I’m not 100%, it’s difficult to do. Instead, I’m trying to stay open to whatever happens and receive all the love that has been flowing my way, and there has been so much. I am truly grateful.

The Patience of Ordinary Things
by Pat Schneider

It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be.
I’ve been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window

supported, Monotype of the Day #310

Late night tonight! Hospital time requires patience. 😊 I may have overworked this print. Knowing when to stop is the trickiest part of making art for me. When I’m at home and really listening it’s easy to tell. But the moment my mind starts to run, I lose the sense of my body and that’s how the direction comes through. Here it’s more challenging to stay present especially when it gets to be this late at night. Still, it’s such a blessing to be able to continue my work. I remind myself that my job is not to judge myself or my work, but just to work and have faith in the transformational nature of the creative process.

You who let yourselves feel: enter the breathing
by Rainer Maria Rilke, trans. Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy

You who let yourselves feel: enter the breathing
that is more than your own.
Let it brush your cheeks
as it divides and rejoins behind you.

Blessed ones, whole ones,
you where the heart begins:
You are the bow that shoots the arrows
and you are the target.

Fear not the pain. Let its weight fall back
into the earth;
for heavy are the mountains, heavy the seas.

The trees you planted in childhood have grown
too heavy. You cannot bring them along.
Give yourselves to the air, to what you cannot hold.

It's me again, Monotype of the Day #309

Hospital print day 1

So I’m back in the hospital again hopefully for a short stay. Normally I would never mention this but it’s so much part of the journey of these prints, I feel I have to include it again in my commentary.

There is something fun about printing in the hospital. I feel like I’m getting away with something illicit, sneaking it in in between rounds when, in fact, no one seems to care at all. They’re all to busy to even notice. 😊

I really wanted to use green in this piece but I forgot the yellow ink. I felt pretty upset about it for about a minute, then I let it go and got to work. This story perfectly encapsulates what it’s like being in the hospital: things don’t go according your plan, you have to accept what is happening and move on or suffer over not getting your way. In the hospital your illusions about any control you have in life are stripped away. It’s great training in surrender, acceptance, and embracing the present moment.

Impermanence
by Dogen

To what shall
I liken the world?
Moonlight, reflected
In dewdrops,
Shaken from a crane's bill.

xo

I'm Listening, Monotype of the Day #308

I haven’t been feeling my best this week, but there are uses for adversity. This poem really speaks to me today.

The Real Work
by Wendell Berry

It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.

meditation: the embrace, Monotype of the Day #307

I had an intense experience today in meditation but it's too late for commentary, my body is demanding sleep! I will let this image speak for itself and, instead, leave you with another amazing Dogen poem.

The moon reflected
In a mind clear
As still water:
Even the waves, breaking,
Are reflecting its light.

by Dogen (13th century, zen monk)

xo

meditation I, Monotype of the Day #306

I recently realized that in order to get where I want to go artistically, I need to up my meditation game. My art practice is about letting the flow of creativity stream through. I need to make more internal space for that to happen. It's a happy goal, and already bearing fruit in my everyday life. I'm shrinking my head and growing my heart. Art and meditation have so much is common. Like art, meditation requires bravery to confront the feelings that come up while practicing. I've always been convinced this is the reason so many artists have been heavy drinkers and generally debauched. It's is because the meditative quality of making art creates space for those painful past moments we run from in daily life to surface. Art helps process and heal these moments just as meditation can, but only if they are held close and felt. If an artist has the courage to do this, making the work will be transformative for them. The energy of the artist's transformation and healing will be captured in the art and passed on to viewers.

My favorite poem about the potential of the meditative state by Zen monk Dogen from the 13th century:

Midnight.
No waves,
no wind, the empty boat
is flooded with moonlight.

by Dogen

xoxo

wait a minute, Monotype of the Day #305

The past few days, I've had an idea pop into my head before I began to work. I consider these moments messages to follow. Tonight though, I wanted my hands to drive not my head. Hands have their own kind of intelligence and insight and in art the body is your partner. Yes I know there is conceptual art where, in some cases, the artist never actually touches their own piece. But this doesn't really interest me. I'm searching for the heart of our humanity, the precious beat that makes us who we are. The body is our inescapable partner in this so I make sure to regularly give it a voice and to listen. This is what she had to say today... Update: Listening to this print has given me my inspiration for tomorrow.
xo

the swan at night, Monotype of the Day #304

Why a swan? I don't know yet, but swans have been swimming around in the pool of my brain wanting to get out. This is how it always happens, I only understand later the meaning of what is coming through. Swans are new and new is good, it means change. An artist must always embrace change

the artist's hand, Monotype of the Day #303

I felt the circling birds in last night's print were too tight. They nagged at me all day wanting to be looser. They wanted to leave more space to be filled so I did my best to listen. A poem tonight by Thomas Merton.

In Silence
by Thomas Merton

Be still.
Listen to the stones of the wall.
Be silent, they try
to speak your

name.
Listen
to the living walls.

Who are you?
Who
are you? Whose
silence are you?

Who (be quiet)
are you (as these stones
are quiet). Do not
think of what you are
still less of
what you may one day be.

Rather
be what you are (but who?)
be the unthinkable one
you do not know.

O be still, while
you are still alive,
and all things live around you

speaking (I do not hear)
to your own being,
speaking by the unknown
that is in you and in themselves. “I will try, like them
to be my own silence:
and this is difficult. The whole
world is secretly on fire. The stones
burn, even the stones they burn me.
How can a man be still or
listen to all things burning?
How can he dare to sit with them
when all their silence is on fire?”

circling, Monotype of the Day #302

When I was feeling really well a few weeks back, I had a glimpse of my old life where I could go out and do what I wanted. It was wonderful and now as I slip back a bit toward my usual state I am so grateful for that experience. It showed me how the mind gets conditioned and stuck in habits. How easy it is rest and then become accustomed to resting without even considering other possibilities. The body has limits, but it's so important not to add to them with limits from the mind. My art provides so much adventure, so much engagement in my life that I rarely feel my limits keenly. But one of the messages of the past few months is to widen my mind and let go of the ruts. There is so much that is possible if we don't dwell on what is not. Today a poem from Rilke ❤️

I live my life in widening circles
by Rainer Maria Rilke, Trans. Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy

I live my life in widening circles
that reach out across the world.
I may not ever complete the last one,
but I give myself to it.

I circle around God, that primordial tower.
I have been circling for thousands of years,
and I still don’t know: am I a falcon,
a storm, or a great song?

seeds, Monotype of the Day #301

The Seeds
by Wendell Berry

The seeds begin abstract as their species,
remote as the name on the sack
they are carried home in: Fayette Seed Company
Corner of Vine and Rose. But the sower
going forth to sow sets foot
into time to come, the seeds falling
on his own place. He has prepared a way
for his life to come to him, if it will.
Like a tree, he has given roots
to the earth and stands free.

xo