In and out

I wanted to make this drawing all weekend because I've been thinking about a lecture I went to last week.  The lecturer talked about dealing with your inner critic.  She focused on the plasticity of our brains and how our minds adapt to what and where we focus our energy.  For a brief minute she spoke about the proportion of our thoughts that are directed inward, and the ones that go outward.  She passed the topic quickly, but I kept thinking about my own thoughts and what direction they are going in.  What direction should they even be going in?  Inward thoughts, the ones that parade around inside all the time, are vital, they make us who we are.  We should nurture those thoughts when they are good, let some of our inklings and wacky ideas become real.  Spend more time with those inside thoughts, don't lock them up or turn the lights out on them in exchange for doing something easy or habitual just because it is easy or habitual.

I picture our bodies like treasure chests where we have to do some digging around, polishing and trusting that what we think is beautiful, really is.  There are endless thoughts inside each of us. We are like a giant popcorn maker full of kernels, and when we give our thoughts the energy, time and friction they deserve, they start popping, and pretty soon, they are zinging all over the place, and what we thought was a small bowl of kernels is actually brimming. I love inward thoughts, the ones that brew deep inside us.  There are however, a barrage of negative thoughts that I feel like we are at war with daily.  The 'inner critic' that tells us a thousand different things that are probably not true.  We can take inventory of where these thoughts are coming from:  are they thoughts of comparison we inflict on ourselves?  are they coming from outside sources that we could get rid of?  How do we get rid of the bad kernels?  The ones that will never form into something light, but rather will grow ever blacker and harder the more we let them stay.


The speaker in the lecture was trying to make the point that all of us are inherently self-centered and thinking way more about ourselves, as in what other people are thinking of us,  than we do about other people.  I kind of agree, but in a way, I think the best place for us to spend some time is in our own head.  Maybe we need to do some sorting out, like a closet clean out.  Maybe there are thoughts that simply aren't serving us and when we stop to really confront them, aren't true.  Is it time to toss those out like that stretched out, thrifted shirt you've been keeping around for so long?  What about the surprise wonderful thoughts that have been shoved to the back of the closet, is it time to give them some credence?  Maybe we need some new thoughts all together.  Books?  Prayer?  a challenge?  a little time outside the old comfort zone?  nature?

In the drawing above, I'm not sure which marks would be the thoughts directed outward, and which ones would be the ones directed inward.  I'm working
for a sort of symbiosis, a happy equilibrium where I trust,
love and nurture my own thoughts enough to send them on a journey outward.

Octopus and Duck

 This duck is feeling very special, someone left this party hat on his school desk as a surprise.

This octopus is skipping she is so happy thinking about the time she found the golden egg at last year's easter egg hunt.

Love Paintings.

I love these three paintings.  They are about three people I love.

And since this is a week of love, I thought them appropriate. 

In other news...

I am really working on my children's book.  Presently, and for as long as I could form words with a pencil, have such a hard time with plot. Actually, it was going on long before then when my best friend always wanted me to have a clear story and reason to our games and I was just blowing about, going with whatever fancied me in the moment. How anyone knows what they are going to do or say beyond a paragraph is difficult for me to fathom.  When I hear that someone is writing a novel, with twists and turns, and an ending where everything is accounted for, I nearly shiver and I hope I am never called upon to do the same.  

Despite my inability to give these characters a perfect story, things are coming along.  So far, a buffalo, a fox and some other secret animals are nuzzling their way into my heart, and I have a very good feeling in my gut.  I was totally the kid all growing up who covered her paper during art and writing time because I was too embarrassed to let my neighbor see, most likely because the most inevitable response would be, "What?!" "Ha ha, what were you thinking?!" and then attention I very much did not want would be rocketed to me and I would have to explain myself, as I realized that I was doing something in fact, a little bit strange.  That is why I must keep things mostly a secret about this book, lest I get too embarrassed and shove all my papers under my closet door.  

However, if you want to give me any words of encouragement, I have no shame.  I could use them.  Turns out, doing the things you most want to do is a little bit terrifying, and also terribly exciting.  Sort of like getting seat belted into the seat of a roller coaster. (which I actually did recently, and unbeknownst to me, until I got off at the end, I apparently screamed 'Nooooooo!!!!' the entire duration of the ride.) 

Here is Remy and me, not taking naps.

portraits

I've been making lots of portraits for people lately. This is very lucky because I love painting and drawing people, and they have all been so very nice.

Twin Flamingos

If there were a teen series based on these flamingoes, it would probably be in the vein of 'Sweet Valley High' or 'Sister, Sister", both of which secretly I loved. It would dramatize the lives of teen twin girls. One would be more popular and pretty and one would be smarter. It would have ups and downs, but in the end of every episode, they would love each other.

Disappointed, plus some birds.

I went to a lecture by some published children's and young adult book authors. I was so disheartened and discouraged by the end of the 50 minutes that I actually shed a real tear on the way home. It wasn't a wah wah tear, just one that made me realize how much I do care and believe in art and writing as a way of shaping the world for good. It was more in the way that I get emotional way too easily and I can't help it, I am a watery-eyer (you should ask my cousin about watching the Biggest Loser every Tuesday together). Luckily, I don't think Carl noticed the pauses mid-sentence or the brisk wind in my eye.

In this lecture, nothing about artistic merit or quality work was even close to mentioned. Rather, the discussion revolved around the fact that you don't have to write anything of value, or be a good artist or writer to publish, you just have to know how to play the game right. And contributing something new? something not done or a piece of work that might really make people think? Don't even consider it. The publishers want something "new and fresh", but that's already been done before. No boundary pushing. You won't get anywhere that way.

Don't we want our kids to think hard and question? Don't we want the parents who have to read the books to children to also think and be uplifted by what they are taking into their home. The books I read as a kid literally shaped my view of the world; Roald Dahl, Rudyard Kipling, Strega Nona, The Eleventh Hour, Blueberries for Sal, Beatrix Potter, the old Winnie the Pooh, Beverly Cleary, a rather extensive list could continue.

I am so grateful for my parents and grandparents for having good books and for reading them to us, or for sometimes not reading them to us, but just looking with us. Bless especially my mom for taking us to the library every single week, sometimes with bags of books so big it took two of us to carry them to the car. In the lecture today, there was not one comment about the purpose of children's literature or the possibility it has to make the world a better place.

Granted, the people speaking were successful in the business, and I imagine that they do care about their craft, and they are correct about many things, but I feel like it was not the place for me, I wouldn't be successful in that arena. They were nice people and I think given a different context, I would have a lot to learn from them, but the overall picture was hard to swallow. So where does that leave me? I've been thinking about it all day. I think I may just self-publish a small run of books and do a book tour of sorts. I would rather 500 people receive a book that means something to them than make a bunch of money that I don't feel is my honest effort or intention. Does this sound totally snobby? I hope not. I think it might. I was just so sad to realize that one of the areas in which I felt that creativity and intellect were valued over making tons of money was actually not so. (that is not to say that i have all the creativity and intellect, just that I hope to challenge myself in that direction). So this has turned into a bit of a rant. I do feel like there are things to learn from understanding the industry, and the professor I met with earlier that spoke a little tiny bit in the lecture was so nice, and I've heard many fantastic things about him, I just feel like I don't know where to start with this project in terms of making things beyond little watercolor paintings. Any suggestions, advice, corrections? In the meantime, here are some birdies.

This cardinal does not want to stay inside and practice the piano. All his friends are playing four square outside.
This bird just bought a new blue mink for the fancy party downtown. She thinks it was perhaps a bit overpriced.
This warbler is sweet and obedient, like a second oldest child.
This blue bird wants another piece of cake please.

Three animals

Two giraffes engaging in literary conversation, perhaps about a Dicken's novel.
Baby hippo watching cartoons early on a Saturday morning before everyone else is awake.

Surprise.

Some of you may have been tricked into thinking that I am busy getting an MFA in creative writing. Really, I just paint birds and fish under said guise. Just kidding, I actually do write papers, and essays and poetry that will maybe someday come to fruition, but in the meantime, here are some new little guys. Flaming who never quite fit in, at least in high school.
The prettiest bird in town.
Seagull who would happily, and sneakily steal your sandwich on the beach.
Very smart and contemplative bird who has been pacing around the study for hours.
Sandpiper who is wearing a new suit for work.

Monday things.

I think these kookaburra's are so funny. The top one reminds me of an elegant mom that might be wearing pearls, and the second one reminds me of a little kindergartner who may have a short attention span, except for coloring on big sheets of paper. In other thoughts: I had a tinge of feeling like a mother for a moment myself. I got back my first stack of student papers for the semester and in their writing reflections students said things like, "I didn't think that I would be able to ever write, but I feel proud of what I did in this paper." No! I feel so proud of what you were able to accomplish in this paper. Teaching is a lovely thing. Also, check out hopefullymormon.blogspot.com (that's mine!). You should submit!

Some more felted things.

Some Birds

some paintings i made

Titles:  Going on a trip with someone I love

Caught in a storm

The nice bird

The church in a tiny town


Also, if you put your name by a painting or poem at my Bfa show, but didn't get it yet, I have them all with me and you can get in contact with me so we can coordinate.  and another:  Prints of these paintings are available on ashmae.etsy.com for 8.oo bones. 

some more of me arts.!

lately when i paint i staple up about 20 pieces of paper on the wall and then go until i love them or hate them. here are a few as of late.