Doing Art - the Why of it

Why do I do art? Why do I love art so much? It speaks to me. It touches the very core of my spirit. I cannot look around me and see all that is in this world and not see the 'art' in it. It's simply impossible. When I look at the sky I see the very blue that is, there are many different blues. I see the shapes in the clouds, the lace of the tree branches and leaves against the backdrop of the sky. I see the horizon, the broad distance and expanse, and I envision myself laying it all down on canvas or paper, or taking a photograph of it. I see people and I catch myself staring all the time. I seem to be pulled into a face sometimes and I touch every angle with my eyes, studying it, remembering it. Faces are so beautiful, the young all the way to the old, I love faces. I wonder how there can be so many faces and yet to draw them there is a set of 'rules' and 'guides' to conform to to capture those faces. I am drawn by flowers too and the magnificent beauty and individuality of them. I love how the sunlight dances on things through my window and I can't help but get up and place more objects in the sunlight, just so, this angle and that, capturing the light and the shadows. I am intrigued by reflections too and sometimes try to visually see them the opposite way, with the reflection the reality and the real object as the reflection.

I play with what I see and imagine with my eyes and my mind and it makes me happy. It feeds my soul and brightens my spirit and my mood and I can de-stress. It's like a visual massage without the cost. Perhaps that's also why I enjoy teaching art. I want everyone to enjoy it, to feel it, to grasp it, to be engulfed within it. I want everyone to de-stress and begin to enjoy. Part of it is the creative process, the mind searching or the mind freeing, whichever mode I am in at the moment. But part of it is just the freedom to do it because I want to.

I have included a scrap page I made of my grandson's artwork at age 5 and 6 and one of another grandson working on a painting. He spent some time with me during the summer so I gave him some art lessons and we worked on this painting. I think he did a beautiful job. Can't wait for the next one!

Life Changes

Life changes. There is nothing we can do about it - it changes. There is something we can do about how we feel about it. We might as well accept it. Accepting it doesn't mean we have to like it (although some changes are very like-able and can be downright pleasant). Accepting the fact that we know change is inevitable takes a lot of the stress out of it. That frees us up to then go forward and deal with that new change, that new adventure, new challenge - whether the change is a good one or a bad one.

The flower that blooms in adversity (change, strive, struggle, challenge, etc.) is the most rare and beautiful of all. God formed us, knit us together. We are fearfully and wonderfully made. God created us, God created life, God created change. We must go through changes in order to learn and by learning we grow, we mature, we become more accepting of others, we discover what life is and what love is. Every morning when I arise I think to myself "What will this day hold? What change or challenge will I face today? Whatever it is God will walk me through it."

The purple rose is one of my photographs. Purple represents God, the King, royalty. The rose represents tenderness, fragility, the natural course of new birth, growth and death. I hope you enjoy it.

The photo of myself was taken when I was elected to public office. The campaign, politics, speeches, and then serving the public upon my election was a big change for me and a huge challenge. It changed my life. I believe it is a place that God put me, for a time, for a purpose.

My Father

I wanted to do a post about my father, back when it was Father's Day, but I have been so very busy this past month. I wanted to add a scrap page or two about my father and I hadn't had the time to complete the pages until now.

My father was a very important person in my life. I think I always was a "Daddy's Girl". When I was young I would follow him around, sit as absolutely close to him as I could get, and dance with him while standing on the tops of his shoes. I liked to climb into the back of his T-shirt and hold on real tight while he tried to move around fast and dislodge me. As I got older I began helping him in the vegetable and flower gardens or work in the orchard. I so admired his ability to do anything and everything. As a teen he would pick my friends and me up from school and take us to the drive-in for sodas and fries. I ran track for awhile and he helped me train for that.

I have many wonderful memories of my Daddy. He is in Heaven now, with our Father. I miss him a lot. I often wonder what he'd be like if he were still here. I wonder if I said "I love you" enough, gave enough hugs, or squeezed his hand enough times. I can close my eyes and picture him just like he was: that loving, charming smile he gave so freely, those eyes that seemed to light up that handsome face, and that spark he had when he laughed. When I think about him my memory goes back to a time when I was a young teen and all giggles, rather than an adult with more serious issues. Daddy was happy then, at least by my perspective.

I was 25 when Momma went to Heaven. I was 34 when Daddy arrived there. That is quite simply too young to lose ones parents. We need them far into our adult lives, whether or not we are willing to admit it. Cherish your time with your parents. It ends far too quickly.