Sustainable Art

Last weekend, when Maddie was sick, it made me remember a wonderful morning just a couple of days before with two visiting artist friends from Reidsville. After combing the creations in Eclection, Vintage Jane, and Renew, we sat talking away at Amalfi’s about how to be artists in and around our lives as mothers. It’s a subject near and dear to my heart, as I have tried to work this thing out for nearly 16 years now…pursuing art and all that it encompasses from learning to creating, to exhibiting. Motherhood is perhaps one of the most interruptive jobs one could have. No two days are alike. Just when you get them into the school years, so many other things arise, visits to the doctor, dentist, orthodontist, sports. And of course, sick days halt whatever artistic goal or path you had hoped to pursue that day.

Suffice it to say that I’ve been, for many years, on a quest to find a sustainable art, though I wouldn’t have been able to articulate it that way. A couple of summers ago, on our trip to Michigan, we met up with old friends there. The wife’s job was to work with companies to make what they do more “sustainable”. As I listened to her describe what this meant, I gathered that her job was to help companies do what they want to do in a more humane and gentle way both for their employees as well as for their clients and to the environment. Over the long haul, these new or improved ways of doing things would allow for resources to not be used up, for employee satisfaction and less burn-out, and clients who feel served over a long period of time.  Something about what she was saying made me think that this was what I had been trying to figure out in my artistic life. At the time, I felt I was actually finding the answer.

When I began to paint and draw in earnest at the age of 32, I did so in and around the busy life of a mom of little ones. I grabbed whatever time I could when my children were napping or asleep at night to paint and draw things that would hopefully be purchased in an art show or gallery. Several years into this, it began to feel very difficult to keep up this pace. I was schlepping paintings hither and yon to broaden the exposure of my artwork, while soccer games, gymnastics, church activities, etc. vied for the same slots as the openings for these shows. It was getting increasingly harder to justify the expense of framing all the works on paper (my preferred medium), to buy the tubes of paint, etc. It was also getting harder to find space in our small house to store these paintings if and when they didn’t sell in the exhibit or gallery. It felt incredibly hard to work as an artist of this kind, trying to keep it up. I got to a point where if I only had 30 minutes to paint, well that just wasn’t enough time to really do anything so I just didn’t do any “art” that day. Several of these days strung together and became a year, then two, where I didn’t do any drawing or painting.

Fast forward to this post here, when I discovered Peter Reynolds book, Ish and Danny Gregory’s book, The Creative License. I began to work (play) in a sketchbook, getting down all the “paintings” in my head, using any and every medium I enjoyed, in any and every method I wanted to. Total freedom. Easy on the pocketbook. Much easier to store. Portable. Do-able in and around a busy, chopped up, life of a mom.

What has been most lovely for me is to find working in a sketchbook to be a sustainable art that I can participate in no matter the circumstances of my life. Though I can still draw and paint for an art show when I want to, I am no longer limited to that. I can draw and paint anytime, anywhere: when my kids are sick, or at the orthodontist, or at a college orientation day, or on trips, or at the hospital, or ANYWHERE!

This may not be important to some artists, finding a sustainable art, but it has been to me. And one must find the artistic expression that is authentic to them!  This is also why I love knitting and crocheting…a portable art form that can be sustained in and around a busy life as wife, mother, and teacher.

**Note: The above sketch was made along with My Balloon Tree post. Again, one of those times where the meaning of it is unclear while making it. I see it now with me standing outside my home, Balloon Tree in the backyard with an endless stream of lovely balloons of creativity flowing from it.

A Place to Call Home

The most delightful part about commission work, is the people I meet through the process. Yes, I love the drawing and painting. Yes, I like the challenge of trying to climb inside someone else’s head to bring forth an image they might like. But the best part is meeting and getting to know the people who commission me.

In the fall, Nelie contacted me through a series of serendipitous online connections (to tell you the whole story would take a bit of time, but is the very best example of how connected we are via the internet). We met downtown Kernersville, at the Factory, to discuss what she would like.

She is getting married at the end of January 2013, to a wonderful man named Edwin, whose birthday was late in December. She wanted to surprise him with a painting of their new home in Raleigh, NC. Armed with only the realtors photo of this town home, there were certain things she hoped I could add and adjust. Truly I never know whether I am ABLE to do these alterations for folks, but I guess I’m crazy enough to give it a go. So I try.

We discussed size and medium choices along with the additions and adjustments. When she saw the finished painting, she said that it exceeded her expectations…and that is music to my heart. But the best of it all is the story about these two lovely people, near 60 years of age, who are embarking on a new life together.

You see, Nelie and Edwin grew up here in Kernersville, on the same downtown street, right next door to each other! Edwin is the youngest of four boys whose dad was a doctor in town for many years. With the exception of a few years that Nelie and her family moved and lived in SC, the two families grew up on the same pew at Main Street United Methodist Church. Nelie has two grown children, but Edwin never married. They lost touch with each other for 26 years or so.

Their wedding will take place at Main Street United Methodist Church followed by a reception at our brand new restaurant Giada’s. They are the delight of Kernersville. And I had the privilege of painting for them and of meeting Nelie.

A privilege I hold humbly and gratefully. I wish them both EVERY happiness!

Widener University Holiday Card

In this and the next post, I’ll share with you a couple of commissions I received prior to Christmas. I have truly been blessed to be asked to create artwork for some wonderful people. One of them was for Widener University in Chester, Pennsylvania.

The above drawing was created from a handful of photos sent to me of this military University’s main building. In fact, the name of the building is Old Main. Years ago, this was the only building on campus, housing all the dormitories, classrooms, and administration offices in one.  It is a beautiful building, with it’s sweeping lawn and statues.

I was asked to made certain additions  to the drawing: have snow (there was no snow in the photographs), add some students, keep the flag, etc. After a few adjustments to the first “draft”, all parties were satisfied and this became their holiday card sent out to all the alumni.  I think it turned out well.

The best part was working with Kathy, a fellow mom of a child with Type 1 Diabetes. In fact, she found me via a Facebook Page we follow called Mom’s of Type 1 Diabetics. Isn’t that cool?  Though we’ve never met in person, it was great to “meet” and work with someone who you have an instant connection with.

I am continually grateful for all the people I get to meet, whether in person or virtually, through art!

There is Music in my House

I am, as I type, listening to Eileen Ivers O Holy Night, a gorgeously simple violin piece. And I gaze at an ornament on my tree that was made for me many, many years ago by Nan, my violin teacher. I played the violin, learning by Suzuki Method, from age 3 through 8th grade. Took it up again as an adult, getting back up to Book 4, where I’d left off.

My youngest hums tunes around the house. We hear her in the shower singing. We hear her hum while making things and doing homework.

Tunes waft through the house in guitar, mandolin and ukulele from our son upstairs in his room, playing hours on end. Singing along too! Some tunes belong to others that he has taught himself. Other tunes he is creating himself.

We’ve traveled several times to Wingate to hear our oldest sing with her University Singers choir at Wingate. Enchanted, Randy and I  listened to them perform live on WDAV at St. John’s, a church in Charlotte just a few weeks ago.

We attend every Concert Choir performance at Glenn High School since William sings in it now, as his sister did for years prior to that.

We always have Folk Alley’s Christmas streaming through the speakers. Or we play all our gathered Christmas music favorites through iTunes.

We head to Pittsboro, NC to enjoy my brother and sister-in-law singing in their band Trilogy on the 22nd of December. This is one of the highlights of our Christmas holiday.

Many of the gifts under our tree are music related.

Both of my parents were music majors in college. I knew this about my mom all along, having studied at UNCG. But I just recently realized that dad had been a music major his freshman and half of his sophomore years at ECU before switching to study theater at Cornell Univeristy. ECU wouldn’t let him major in voice and minor in violin. (The things you never knew about your parents!)

I love this.

I have a friend who lives alone. Every time I visit her I say she needs to be playing music! For me, music is so much more than a background tune. When I am cast down, it uplifts. When I’m weary, it soothes. When I’m blah, it cheers. When I’m dull, it fascinates. Music is amazing. And the more my kids study it, the more I’m amazed.

And there’s a Music that runs in my heart and mind that is woven in and through the voices and instruments no matter what kind of music they play. It’s a tune that has to do with the Christmas story, with what follows that, with a Person who was God come as a Babe. Even when there are no notes in the air, this music still plays on.

This Christmas, I’m grateful for music. For the Music of the Ages and the music through the ages. I will always be a violinist though I do not play it anymore. My ukulele provides the outlet I need for music making. But with so much wonderful music in my house, I am content to listen, to get caught up in the hums and tunes throughout our halls.

May your Christmas be filled with Music! I wish all my online readers and friends a holiday filled with beautiful Music for your heart, your soul, your mind.

Give and You will Receive!

As a special thank you to ALL who have already given and to any who might wish to make a donation to Maddie’s Mission to Cure Diabetes…I will give you a Genevieve Print of your choice!!

Just click on the highlighted words Maddie’s Mission to Cure Diabetes and for any $15 donation or greater, I will send you one of the above Prints of Genevieve (value $12) to thank you!!  You choose which one you want!

This offer closes on Saturday, October 27th, 2012…the day we Walk!!

My Delight: Portraits #18-19 & #20-21

It is my delight and honor to be asked to paint a portrait of someone’s children.  I can’t really describe why…something to do with the privilege of trying to express the personality of the kids coupled with the love the parent has for them.  It seems a tall order.  One that excites and energizes me! And one that causes fear and trepidation!

I learned something anew with this commission to paint the beautiful Summerell children, Robert and Catherine.  I learned afresh that my calling is simply to show up at the blank page.  To do whatever it takes to be there, facing the pristine 140 lb. Cold Press Saunders Waterford paper…and begin.  I knew I would be given what I needed to accomplish the high calling of portrait painting.  I knew that help, in the form of ideas and ways to solve “problems”, would show up when needed.  I knew it would be ok. I just had to draw. And paint.

Now before you gag on such artsy fartsy lingo…i do acknowledge that I have studied and continue to study how to paint portraits. I do practice. Daily. I do continue to learn and evolve.  I put in my time.  But when it all comes down to it, when the commissioned portrait is about to begin, I have an overwhelming sense of being woefully inexperienced and inadequate to the task at hand! I simply must rely on the truth that my part is to just SHOW UP.  Of course, I will apply all that I have learned and am learning to the task.  Of course, I will wrestle with, undo and redo what I feel is necessary.  But the one thing I am responsible for is to be faithful to show up to the page.  Whatever else happens feels a bit like magic…something out of my hands, outside of my ability or experience level.

And when the parents view the portraits and are pleased…When the mom has tears in her eyes…I know I have done my work and it has been somehow translated beyond my own contribution to the page.  Art has happened.  That inexplicable, wonderful communication between the paint and paper to the viewer.

My delight becomes their delight! And I couldn’t be more delighted.

**To view more commissioned portraits, click here!

A Grateful Girl!

A couple of Sundays ago, Maddie told me on our way home, that in Children’s Church, the teacher asked them all a question:

What is something you are thankful for and why?

“Mom”, she said, “I’ve always felt thankful for insulin, and that is what I said.  But I don’t think it ever really hit me, because the reason I said I was thankful for it is ’cause…I wouldn’t be alive.”

I looked back at her in my rear-view mirror.  A sweet smile was on her face. No self-pity there. No desire to be dramatic. Just glad gratitude.

I was the one struggling with the self-pity…or the pity for her.  It  made me remember back to being at Brenner’s, when she was first diagnosed. We had been there a day or so; she was receiving regular shots of insulin. We were all learning the ins and outs of this new life called Living with Diabetes.  The nurses had given her a JDRF bear with a toy shot so she could practice giving him his insulin shots.  I remember her also practicing on us.  And before she would give us the “spot”, she would say, “When I give you this spot, you will never be thirsty again.”

She had realized even in those first hours of her new life, that insulin was what made her feel so so much better.  Her thirst was going away.  She was able to make it to the bathroom and not have to go so much.  She wasn’t hungry all the time.  Her energy was returning.

I am grateful too! I cannot tell you how thankful we are to JDRF and to the support we receive through this organization locally!! Won’t you join us in our gratitude and make a THANK YOU donation to Maddie’s Mission to find a Cure for Diabetes.  They are close! In the next decade we may see a cure for this disease! Wouldn’t that be amazing?

Maddie (and I) will be even more grateful!

And we are so very grateful to those of you who have already given to Maddie’s Mission!!! A big hug to you today!

Mr. Whicker & Maddie: A Diabetes Story

In early December of 2009, Mr. Whicker knocked on our front door.  My parents answered the door, as Randy and I and Maddie were not there.  My parents had come to stay with our two older children since we were at Brenner’s Children’s Hospital.  My parents told Mr. Whicker where we were and why. Maddie had been diagnosed with juvenile diabetes.  Mr. Whicker’s eyes filled up with tears and he stood in our doorway and wept.

When my parents recounted this to me, at first I marveled at his compassion. And as my dad continued to tell me that they reassured him things would be alright for Maddie, it dawned on me that in his generation, children who were diagnosed with juvenile diabetes often died, or at least were bound to develop all kinds of eyesight, heart, and nerve problems due to the disease.

We live in a grand time when insulin and so many other discoveries and technological advances have made it possible for children and adults who are diagnosed with this disease to LIVE!!  Not only that, but the efforts of JDRF and others, have made living with Type 1 Diabetes so much less cumbersome and allow for a greater degree of “managing” the blood sugar levels.  As blood sugar levels are maintained within a healthier range, the debilitating effects of diabetes are lessened.  It is still by no means an easy disease to live with.  Compared to “normal” kids, even today’s technology seems cumbersome.  But compared to what it used to be like…we have come a long way!

We celebrate today that our daughter LIVES!!  She enjoys the benefits of so many things that JDRF has played a vital role in providing for her.  Here are just a few:

Maddie’s Test Kits

Won’t you join us in celebrating the HUGE advances the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation has been a part of?  Consider donating a few dollars to this organization so that they can continue down the path of finding a cure!

Mr. Whicker and Maddie will be so glad you did!

So will I!

Maddie’s Pump and Inset

Remember! We Walk for the Cure on October 27th!! Come join us if you’d like!

Portrait #16: The Gentleman Farmer

To attempt to paint a portrait of Mr. Leo Whicker, born September 3, 1927, is like trying to harness (with paint and paper) the wisdom of years and experience, coupled with an effortless joy that is surely hard-won through life’s ups and downs.  I have had the privilege of getting to know Mr. Whicker through numerous conversations with him over the past 8 years.  I think I could write a book about him.  Here are a few things I have learned:

The land on which he lives and farms (and which is directly next door to my house and neighborhood), was his grandfather’s land.  At some point, his grandfather sold the land to send a son to law school.  And then, at some point after that, Mr. Whicker (pictured above) bought the land back.  This land encompasses acres and acres and is sprawled in many directions throughout the southern part of Kernersville, in an area known as Sedge Garden.

Mr. Whicker and his wife Martha, had a son and daughter.  Up the hill from where I live, is a small house (now a rental home) where he and his family started out.  As the children grew, he built a larger home for them just yards away, perched on a small rise in the land.  You can see the house here in the charcoal, just a bit of the porch, complete with rocking chairs.

Mr. Whicker’s wife Martha died young, of cancer.  When he speaks of her, you can hear a love and affection for her that leaves you aching and thinking he must still ache and miss his dear wife. Both his son and daughter live in Kernersville and have families of their own. Mr. Whicker is blessed with grandchildren and extended family who live in the area.

In fact, as I’ve been able to gather from Mrs. Gail Smith Love, another neighbor whom I’ve had the privilege of getting to know, Mr. Whicker is considered an Uncle to many from the Smith clan.  She recounts that growing up with Smith land and farms right next to Whicker land, the two families’ children all called the other dads “Uncle”.  So he was Uncle Leo to her and many others.

Mr. Whicker has memories of his grandmother telling him that soldiers used to hide out in caves on their land during the Civil War.  I have a feeling if I could sit for a while with him, I’d hear many stories of historical interest that are tucked away in Mr. Whicker’s vibrant mind.

Mr. Whicker has many barns beside his home.  The barn you see here, and in the above charcoal, can be seen from the road, Silver Dapple Lane. It stores his baled hay on one side, and keeps farm equipment on the other.  You can see a glimpse into the back side of this particular barn in the above portrait of him.  Sitting atop the tractors and equipment are various, huge stuffed animals, such as Kermit the Frog (seen above) and Scooby Doo.  These are here, says Mr. Whicker, to chase away the birds.  Apparently, birds have a bad habit of nesting in the tractor’s engines.  And when he goes to start one of these tractors, the poor birds are lost, and they can cause damage to the equipment.  I wish you could’ve seen the twinkle in his eye as he explained why he had these unexpected furry friends in the barn!

That twinkle in his eye is rooted in his faith.  Leo Whicker is a faithful congregant at Sedge Garden Chapel, just a stone’s throw from his home and farm.  He is, and I suspect has been for most of his life, devoted to worshipping his Creator with the folks in this small and humble church.  Hardly a conversation goes by without him asking me to pray for something on his mind, after inquiring how my husband and children are doing.

There is so much more I could write here.  The description in this post is merely the tip of the iceberg.  Talking with Mr. Whicker (as with other persons of mature years), makes me think I’m in the presence of a stately oak tree.  That tree has seen many years, all kinds of weather, lots of history.  It has withstood storms, change, seasons, “progress”.  It has been rooted in something far more enduring than this world, and its roots are deep and far-reaching.  At first you may only see a trunk and its weathered bark.  But as you get to know the tree, the expanse of the branches and canopy, the gnarled sections leading out to youthful buds and leaves, you realize there is something grand going on here which is very difficult to describe, much less to paint.

Mr. Whicker would never think of himself in this grand manner.  He was indeed a bit reticent about having his picture taken so that I could create a portrait (or two) of him. I just feel that his story needs to be remembered, and that his family would enjoy a painted portrait.

He is indeed, a gentleman farmer.

Fè: Portrait #13

Persons of mature age seem to embody a single-pointed purpose.  I often wonder if I will be that way in 30 years. My life now seems so fractured into a zillion purposes: parenting my three kids, nurturing a good marriage, teaching and working, caring for my Type 1 daughter, being available to family and friends, and the ever-elusive desire to pursue an art career.

The widowed women I have known, seem to stand, however feebly, with a solidity that perhaps only the years of living so many different lives has afforded them.  Each white-haired woman has been a child, a teenager, a young adult, a newlywed, a mother, a career woman, and then a widow.  They have served the people in their lives with huge generosity of heart, with ache and concern for others’ well-being, and with dignity in the small things.

Fè Arasmo, born March 20, 1924, was just such a woman.  I met her in her final years when, before her first stroke, she crafted beautiful beaded necklaces for every woman in our church.  She just gave them to us.  She lived with her loving daughter, Helen, and found ways to light up the lives of every one she met.  Her infectious smile, her lovely Filipino accent, her laughter…all belied her small stature and left you with a sense of largesse and joie-de-vivre.

How she continued to live her last year with that beautiful smile, I do not know.  She fought to regain strength and mobility after the first stroke, only to have another one, as well as other health issues, land her in the hospital numerous times.  I cannot imagine what it must be like to have your mind as spry and quick as ever, yet not be able to tell your body to get up and walk.

But the day came, on July 20, 2012, when Someone came to her and said, “Talitha koum…dear little one, get up and walk.”  And so she got up and walked out of this life into the next… happy, whole, bright, and probably not just walking.  The twinkle I often saw in her eye suggested to me that she probably skipped and twirled when no one was looking.  And so I imagine her leaving in this way.

I have a feeling that if Fè could whisper something to me from the other side of the Veil, she might tell me: “Jen, it’s not about the art exactly. It’s about the Faces of all you see, all whom you come into contact with, all the loved ones, the friends, the people who live and work and leave this world.”

And so, with this in mind, I’m wanting to return to my 100 Portraits Project, which only made it to #12 I think.  It may only go on for another 12.  So be it.  This seems to be how my “art career” unfolds: with fits and starts, with courses altered, plans redirected.  Mine is not so single-pointed as I imagine these women of mature years to have.

Perhaps this single-pointed purpose…hard-won as husband and loved ones have passed away and left them outside the mothering years, the marriage years, the youth years…perhaps the thing to which they signal for us is that one day, we too will have a Hand stretch out to us, beckoning us to “get up and walk” out of this life.  How do I live this now?  Am I able to have this single-pointed purpose now at age 47? Is it only possible in the years following the stripping away of all we have held dear?

I do not have the answers for this. I don’t really need to.  I just need to live today.  And to peer into the faces of others to see glimpses of the Face I will one day see face-to-face…alongside Fè Arasmo, a dear lady, friend, mother, and teacher, who is skipping and twirling right now.