Adventure of Another Sort

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Making art is available to anyone!  The only vehicle you need is your imagination and a bit of daring.  I’ve said it before and it bears repeating, we are all artists.  We are all writers with a story (or more) to tell.  We are all poets because we each have a voice.  We each have an imagination.  We can engage fantasy worlds if we allow it.  And, there is value in this.

I had a special friend, now gone, with whom I could engage a sort of time travel–imagining places we’d never been, people we hadn’t met, odd creatures, other times, alternate realities, outer space, the vast universes.  We had enlivened conversations.  We wrote poetry together.  He always rhymed–it got annoying at times.  I asked him if he could try not rhyming.  I don’t think that he could.

It is true that writing, poetry and making art, whether it be painting or crafting or knitting or sculpting…these provide the means and opportunity to access deeper ways of being and seeing.  When we take the time.  When we make the time.  We give ourselves excuses that we aren’t an artist or poet or writer.  I beg to differ.  It is perhaps that we don’t dare ourselves to explore these aspects of ourselves.  Some of us have more time on our hands these days, forced as it is.  One young man has decided to systematically learn to read and write Japanese during this pandemic!  What challenge could you give yourself?  Something that you’ve always wanted to do, but haven’t had the time to explore.

And it is an exploration.  And it is an adventure.  It involves discovery of the inner landscape.  The one where we don’t dare go…might we not return?  There truly are universes within.  We are a reflection of the macrocosm, our little inner microcosmic world that we often overlook because we’re outward oriented.  Which is good–actually a balance between both is better.  These days, with the virus dictating our movement in the world, what an opportune time to take this journey.

Who is in there after all is said and done?  Who wants to be seen and heard, primarily by yourself?  Do you give yourself this time and space?  Are you going to make it happen?  Get a journal, write, draw, splash color, cut and paste.  Express what’s been untapped on the blank page or canvas.  It’s a good thing.  You might discover–yourself.  Begin.

Musings on What is Hard to Comprehend

how much longer

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s hard to comprehend that a virus could be so powerful on so many levels.  It makes people sick, it takes lives, it travels across continents, it halts the workforce, it stops education as we’ve known it, it damages economies–giant corporations and small businesses alike are affected, it creates arguments of politics around to wear or not to wear a mask (in America anyway).  It separates families and friends.  It brings inequities, injustices to light.  It commands that we save the world with better choices as to how we use the world.  On and on.  I bet you can add to this list and that if we analyze the list we make, it seems that we could find good and not so good within it.

I appreciate the perspective that the virus is giving us feedback.  That any response from the earth is feedback to us as a human species.  Often we act dumb in the face of such feedback.  Often we ignore it for as long as we are able to.  Often we try to outsmart it or upgrade our technology or continue more forcefully in the direction that we’ve been going.  Even while we see that’s not helping.  In fact, proceeding as we have been is making things worse.  However, we don’t seem to know how to stop and turn ourselves around.

Why is that?

Why do some people accept that wearing masks could halt the spread of the virus and adamantly wear their masks in public?  Why do other people vehemently object to wearing a mask at all?  What is the motivating force beneath each of these stances?

These days, I am fortunate to live in an area that isn’t highly populated.  Although we are now getting tourists in the summer.  And our numbers have increased accordingly.
I get out very early and shop for groceries–when I shop early, the store aisles feel a bit more spacious and I feel calm as I shop.  This is one thing that I can do to lessen the intensity of these times.  When I shop early, I’m in better shape over the course of the day.  Returning home with my weekly groceries, as I handle each item, wipe it down or rinse it in a pan of water, I am tuning in more to the particular item.  I give it attention that I might not otherwise–a type of gratitude.  Hmmm.  Interesting.  I note this.  I could consider it a big hassle and I have…but today, no, I’m grateful.

I also notice the accumulation of plastic bags…the ones that don’t break down in a landfill, the ones that end up choking the sea creatures that we conveniently forget have a life down there in the astonishing depths.  What am I to do with these plastic bags?  Isn’t there, I wonder, an alternative to plastic!!!  How brilliant are we that we can’t come up with a solution here?  Wouldn’t our minds be put to better use in learning and practicing how to harmonize with our planet in reciprocal and beneficial ways?   Instead of strategizing war tactics or how to make it big in the stock market.  Think of the jobs that would materialize if we put our heads together to make the world a better place for all creatures great and small and including the earth.

“You may say I’m a dreamer but I’m not the only one…” from a song that we all remember.  The truth is, we need to proceed wisely in a better direction or we won’t be earning our keep here.

A Mythic Meaning

She Rises1

This painting (not finished  yet) was all about exploration.  I used a liquid masking fluid, played with creating a pool of water.  A Goddess (with uneven eyes) rising from the depths.  Symbolism.  A waterfall cave behind her face.  Her hair, a trellis for a climbing vine.  A butterfly above her eyebrow.  What’s it all mean?

One of these days, when I’m called to, I’ll return to it.  To see where it wants to go next.  For now, it sits behind my sofa in a suspended state.

It seems that artists have a lot of unfinished paintings.  I’m not the only one.  We reach a point of impasse with a piece.  I’m not sure why.  The question “Where do I go from here?” hovers in an air of suspense.  Because we just don’t know.

Being comfortable with the unknown is actually a great quality to have.  The other day, I was not happy with the state of affairs in the world.  Whether the virus or politics or human behavior, geez.  I walked down a road I don’t normally walk down.  Out of nowhere, my cellphone in my fanny pack began playing a song from the film, Frozen.  I don’t know how that song got on my phone!!  The words “I’m afraid of what I’m risking if I follow you into the unknown…” played loud and clear.  These words reflected what I was feeling about leaning into the uncertainty of life in these challenging times in which we are living.

Then, I rounded a curve in the road and someone had written graffiti on a metal gate…
it read “Normalcy is a paved road.  It’s comfortable to walk but no flowers grow on it.”

These two timely messages from the universe shifted my feelings from uncertainty and fear to a sense that I was being (we are being) looked after in ways that we can’t imagine.  That there is something beyond what we can see that is working with us.  And that it wants us to be aware of its presence, its offer to assist us.
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Idina Menzel singing “Into the Unknown” at the Academy Awards.

 

The Walkaway

In the face of Covid 19, the United Nations Secretary-General, in one of his speeches,  declared that war is obsolete!  In these times of the pandemic, war seems to be a non-sequitur.  A virus is now “the enemy”.  Can we stop the nonsense and focus on what’s at hand, like the virus, global warming, overpopulation…and start addressing the real issues of a planet at risk?  Aren’t people experiencing enough trauma without having to contend with war?  We know which people are the first to be attacked during warfare–women and children.  Time for a serious time out!

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This painting and poem were first published on this blog in November of 2017.  This painting originated from a poem I wrote several years before.   He is walking away preparing to board a naval ship, shipping out to Vietnam.  Is he going to return?  If he does return, how is war going to change him…hence the refrain “Did anyone ever come back from Vietnam, I wondered.”

When I was eighteen years old, a girlfriend and I volunteered at the USO club on Market Street in San Francisco.  This was in 1967-1968, during the Vietnam War.  One night a week, we showed up to dance with the sailors and soldiers.  To sit and talk or play games like chess or checkers.  It was an intense time as these young men were either preparing to ship out overseas or had just returned from a stint overseas.  The poem tells the story of one young man who took a liking to me.

The poem:

Circulation
by Christine O’Brien

Don’t dance with just one boy,
make the rounds–
circulate.
Play chess and checkers
card games
no dating them outside of here.

The USO–
we’re here to
provide a home
away from home.
You are the girl next door
…a reputation to uphold
no loose behavior.

His name was Mickey
–from Mississippi.
He wanted a girl
more than anything.
He was being sent off to Vietnam.

Did anyone ever come back from
Vietnam
I wondered?

He claimed me;
threatened all the other soldiers
to stay away.
But I’m supposed to circulate,
I said.
He picked me up after work,
treated me to a soda,
rode home with me on the bus,
met my family,
even loaned my dad a book.
He was scheduled to ship out
in two weeks.

Did anyone ever come back from
Vietnam
I wondered?

His friend drove him to my house.
We kissed in the back seat of the car.
Hard kisses
from him who wanted
to know a kiss
before lips grew cold.
My lips were uncertain
but compliant.
Suddenly I pulled away,
fearful
withdrew into my house
tossing him a good night.

Did anyone ever come back from
Vietnam
I wondered?

He had been so cool
on the dance floor
smooth, sexy dancer.
In his dress blues
bell bottoms
swishing the slippery floor.
I could never attract
a guy like that
I thought.

He wanted to marry me NOW!
The urgency of youth
the uncertainty of undeclared war
leading one to declare love.
I cried all the way home on the bus.
He comforted me
not knowing that I was trying to
break up with him.
He threatened suicide
wasn’t going to Vietnam
suicide enough?

I wondered,
did anyone ever come back
from Vietnam?

the walkaway.

 

 

Giraffe

As a girl growing up in San Francisco, an occasional treat was a visit to the San Francisco Zoo.  While I don’t support animals in captivity, I have to admit that while a child, it was an opportunity to see an animal up close that I might otherwise never see.  I remember the giraffe, tall, lanky, that neck that was so long, seemingly fragile yet strong.  I have an image of the giraffe, splayed legs as he stooped to pick up a piece of fruit on the ground.

The giraffe has a very large heart, larger than any other land mammal.  The biological reason could be due to the lengthy map of a giraffe’s body.  I know so little.  However, I have read that the giraffe, though not sanctioned as such, is an endangered species.  This saddens me.

In the wild, a giraffe can live for 25 years.  In captivity, it varies.

giraffe

 

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I honestly don’t know why this giraffe is blue.  Perhaps that was the color on my brush at the time and I didn’t want to waste it.  So onto the canvas
it went.  What frequently happens is that I see an image in a work in progress, in this case the giraffe, and I bring it forward.  I create a background for it.

Though not realistic, this giraffe certainly has personality.

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In a sense, with this sheltering at home, we have an odd opportunity.  We are experiencing a time that seems outside of time.  For those of who are blessed to have enough and to have our health, we have this sort of break where we can engage our imagination.  How could things be different?  How could things be better?  We are so yearning to return to “normal” whatever that means to you.  Really, was normal so great?  What about our lives and times could be reimagined?  What could be made better?  Not only for some of us, but for all of us?

I read that the Navajo Tribes are facing life and death challenges with the Covid 19 virus.  Most of these people don’t have running water and we know that washing your hands, cleanliness is crucial to preventing the spread of the virus.  I’ve read that the federal government has allotted some monies to help them but the Tribe can’t access the monies due to bureaucracy.  Really!  In a time of emergency direct assistance is blocked!

Can we imagine this scenario a lot better?  Shouldn’t every household in the US have running water, at the very least?

On the altruistic side, 21 medical personnel from UCSF in San Francisco have traveled to the Navajo Nations to give medical support  through its Department of Medicine’s Health, Equity, Action and Leadership initiative.  Doctors, nurses and other health care workers in the two-year fellowship assist with health care needs in rural and disadvantaged communities around the world.  Thank you.

Alright, I step off the soapbox (for now)…but this has brought up something I feel passionate about.  What are you feeling passionate about as you shelter in place?  How can you reimagine it better?

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A sweet video clip of this beautiful animal.

These Times

This is truly a strange way to realize that we are united, as one.  Through a virus.  I’ve been thinking about what I want to contribute at this time, through this blog.

For now, less words and more images.  Starting with earlier paintings.  I took up the paintbrush in 2014.  Words had served me well.  Suddenly, I felt entrapped by them.  The same circle of thoughts.  I needed something different.

There was an online class called Brave Intuitive Painting taught by artist, Flora Bowley.  I think that it was five weeks long.  That was the beginning of my painting journey.  There is an abstract quality to this style of art.  And you definitely are lead by your intuition…which color, what symbol, what emphasis.

When I look back at the first paintings , I didn’t have a sense of what my style was.  For many of them, I can’t remember why I went the way I did with them.  While I don’t dislike the abstract, I seemed to always want to pull a recognizable image from the background that was emerging.

I’m going to post the art I created, one at a time, from 2016 forward.  If I can remember the prompt, I’ll share that.  I hope this uplifts you and tunes you into your own creative nature.  I want to encourage you to pick up a pen, pencil, paintbrush or use your fingers in paint and find and follow your inner creative being.  We all have one.

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This painting is called Lanterns and Fans.  It’s painted on a 12″x12″ canvas.  It was one of my first paintings to sell.  Looking at it now, I see that it is too busy.  And I would find a way to tone it down.  As with many paintings, they are best appreciated in person.  That said, any painting has an energy that comes through it.  And I do remember somewhat the space that I was in while painting this mixed media piece.  I have a feeling for some Japanese symbols, i.e., lanterns and fans.  Colors self-determined and the collage materials were sifted or cut from earlier paintings.

Because I gave myself the freedom to express myself, I think the viewer was able to tap into that sense of freedom.  And a bit of frivolity.

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Perhaps, today, you can consider some symbols that have spoken to you in your life.  The ones that you come across regularly or feel drawn to.  Take some time today, to draw them.  Draw them several times.  Repetition has a place in art.  It’s practice.  Artists practice a lot!