I have a friend who is an art professor at the local
college. I don’t know how
many times he has told me it shouldn’t be essential
for me to like my art, I just needed to make art, even if I despised it.
I have a much better time when I like what I create.
What I am showing you today is a mixed media piece I
finished this weekend which I really like. Its foundation was a plain, oak
colored frame. Blah, I thought. I painted it last week and waited for inspiration.
I had painted pages of Silas Marner by George Eliot I have used in a writing
workshop so I pulled them out to see if they would fit well. They did. And then
I thought, “Why not experiment with my new inks?” so I did, using the glass of the frame as my canvas.The final touch is a diary page from a woman named Bessie who was cataloguing her day in January 29, which is exactly twenty years before I was born!
Here is the outcome:
I'm so curious about the history of everyday people. Who was Bessie? What happened to her?
I have actually created some
collages to show you for next week AND I’ve been doing quite a bit of photo
editing. If you look at my blog for the A to Z Blog Challenge Series you will
see these photos on each blog post I write.
Thank you for visiting & Happy Creating!
*Visit CreativeEveryDay if you would like to participate in this artful challenge.*
I call this photo "Prayer Hands" because the Process felt as if I was praying the entire time.
I call this photo "Prayer Hands" because the Process felt as if I was praying the entire time.
My favorite method is not to use a brush or a pencil, if at all possible.
Sunday I
created a piece I call “Dividing Line” at a Grief-Art workshop at the
Art and Spirituality Center at Mercy Hospital in Bakersfield. The piece
doesn’t feel finished yet though it will be on display in an upcoming
art show. Perhaps, like grief and like the General Assembly at the
United Nations, it is never finished, it is just experienced
differently.
I closed my eyes in the making of it.
I
started in a much more organized manner. I didn’t know what I was doing
with pastels as I have never used them much in the past. I started with a
white pastel on the black paper. I moved it back and forth, soon
discovering I liked to use the chalk on its side more than using it like
a pencil or pen.
It was a
large piece of paper and I was using my non dominant hand. Up and down
and all across the page in circles and colors and sweeps. I crashed into
the end of the table cloth and my chalk seered down the edge, tracing
the stitching of the table cloth.
It jolted me.
I adored it.
This is
how I have been taught to grieve: behind a line, behind a veil, in a
space where no one else might be made uncomfortable by the rawness of my
emotions.
How
many times have we heard it at a funeral? When the family members are
stoic and showing no emotions, we say “Oh, they are doing so well!”
Maybe we should say “Are they on too much medicine to feel the service?
Will they remember it at all? Do they have a safe place to express their
loss?”
Yes, we all grieve differently.
I am a loud, active, deep feeling, very reflective griever.
I respect each of our methods of grief.
What was
difficult for me when I was younger is I never had any grief models. I
was never allowed to go to funerals. I didn’t get to talk about loss or
death. I remember when the call came in that my grandfather died, I was
with my mother. I looked at her with an odd, six-year-old excitement,
“Should I go tell Daddy?”
I still don’t know how he was told.
I still don’t know how he responded. He was in the midst of a worsening relationship with alcoholism though.
I do
know when I facilitated my brothers Celebration of Life nearly forty
years later, all the grievers stood in a circle, holding hands, as we
remembered John. Katherine, my daughter, said my father’s hand shook
with grief as she held it. I am so grateful he was able to express his
grief and I am so grateful my daughter was able to fully witness it
without fear or anxiety or judgment.
If I had been faced with raw grief like that at her age then – fifteen – I would have been frightened. I had no exposure.
Now I feel like a grief expert of sorts. It isn’t a title I enjoy claiming, but I do value it as an integral part of who I am as a member of the human community.
This post is a part of Going Green: where the best posts are "recycled"
I’m just going to say it: this has been a great morning.
My between six-and-eight-am hours get pretty chaotic, so my
preplanning today carried me through my last minute Mommying.
Before the last rush out the door, though, I had pulled my soul
collage card for the day. I call this “My Zen Card” and basically it tells me
that even on your way to that serious, dressed up, put on a good face place you
are going in such a hurry, there is always time for rest.
Rest lives in each raising of the foot and every returning
to the ground of the same foot.
I had thought “I want to go to Dagny’s this morning!” almost
simultaneously with that, but most of the time when I have inklings like that I
wrap myself up in the fur stole belief of “Oh, I have way too many important
things to do than take an hour and hang out in a coffee shop when I could be
doing exactly the same stuff at home.
I was out of my house by 8:15 and my friend, Kimberly,
texted me and said, “Meet me at Dagny’s later?”
I was meant to go. I brought my creativity supplies because
I knew, today, I was going to create a zentangle on a dictionary page for Art Every Day Month.
My crayons spilled in the bottom of my bag so I simply
scooped them up and dumped
them on the table and started working with lines,
lines, lines.
I really want to improve my drawing from about third grade
skill to much better, so I am focusing on “line” and that’s it. I managed to
copy the coffee cup on the back of the chairs at Dagny’s and their image became
a part of my Zentangle. I circled words on my dictionary page like I do when I
have writing prompts and I alternated between writing, coloring and grading
some papers: something I do for my part time job at the local college.
I had been sitting there contentedly for two hours when Kimberly
arrived right on schedule.
I found myself wanting to put more lines on my zentangle but
I wrote these words:
I thought, “Oh, a line with black crayon around it all would
be so pretty and it would feel so very finished!” I used self control. “My
zentangle wasn’t about completion, after all,” my wise sage self reminded me. “It
is about process.”
I got up to use the restroom and when I returned, Kimberly
was using one of my crayons on her work, so I giggled and spoke my happiness at
her using my crayon. I dove right back into my crayon box and what do you
suppose I did without even thinking?
I made a black line around my zentangle.
I felt so pleased with myself when looking at my finished…. Oh,
my. I laughed at my silliness. Fewer than ten minutes ago my wise sage self had
spoken.
“My zentangle wasn’t about completion, after all. It is
about process.”
In less than ten minutes I forgot my own wisdom!
I laughed some more and I am even laughing now. How often
does that happen: we declare some thought or idea as brilliant and alas, hours
days weeks months years decades go by and we don’t follow through with that
brilliance or we act in complete opposition to it.
I know my normal response has been to beat myself up for being
so insert your favorite self effacing phrase here.
It feels so much better to laugh and learn something from it
instead. I look at my “complete” zentangle now and I enjoy it, especially
because my wise sage apparently wanted to show my impetuous youth she is still
in charge. There is one segment that does not have the finishing line upon it!
Now that, my loves, is brilliant.
The process of creating art teaches in such a subtle, loving
manner, doesn’t she?
Where have you surprised yourself with your creative process
recently?
This post was written especially for Art Every Day Month. After November, many of us continue to create daily via CreativeEveryDay.com the website from Leah Piken Kolidas. Her website is a fine way to connect, to create and to share your creations.
Today – August 7, 2012 - met me in the same way a seventh grade girl, Melanie, meets her longtime crush, Joey, on the edge of the dance floor. Unsure, a bit wobbly, and slow to make a move forward, morning and I wondered at first if anything would happen or if I would pull away, refusing to believe our relationship would ever feel the same as it did when Joey and Melanie were in second grade, sitting side by side at desks in Mrs. Anderson’s classroom at Linden Avenue School.
First I poured a cup of coffee.
Second I gathered my notebook and pen and went outside.
Third I drew a random soul collage card.
Fourth, I made myself write.
Looking at the card I wrote, “I have a history of hiding under a blanket of darkness. Divinity clothes me in white when she does my bidding. I sit in the center of paradox: the this and the that, the hovering tightrope slowly unraveling, an awkward unwinnable tug-of-war and the solid cord hung firmly and the confident collaboration, singing songs of cheer upon successful completion.
I notice water droplets of water on the leaves.
Sitting here, moving my pen, being a faithful companion to my writing is key to living my story.
This dress on the little girl is so similar to what my Mom would have made me.
I want to remember Mom meant her dresses as testaments to her love for me which she wasn’t able to translate into the language you spoke and still speak. This doesn’t minimize her love.
I want to remember that earlier this Summer I learned about Wolf Lichen after mistakenly calling it “moss” after all these years.
My Rilke reading earlier was another significant companion:
From Wer seines Lebens viele Widersinne:
She who reconciles the ill matched threads
of her life, and weaves them gratefully
into a single cloth –
it’s she who drives the loudmouths from the hall
and clears it for a different celebration
These reminders pour through my hands onto the page.
I look at the collage card, I look at Rilke’s words, I write: “It feels so grand to sit on my front porch, the gentle wind feels like a zen gardener tending my forehead. Worry erased by house finch.”
Melanie holds Joey with just the right closeness as their slow dance comes to its conclusion.
She can feel his breath against her neck, his hands respectfully above her waist.
She is both naïve and knowing. She is a paradox who is a human truth in the making.
Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS & this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she finds the passion & the interest.
Did you enjoyed this essay? Receive emails directly to your inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the Daily Passion Activator. One inspirational essay and poem (almost) every week day. Subscribe here now -
I wasn't sure if I should include this blog post as one of the Ultimate Blog Challenge "blogboost" entries. It isn't a how-to, it isn't a business-y post. It is everyday life poetic: where does that fit amongst social media - how-to's - build your blog I see there so much? Then I decided "This is me. This is what I love to write. Someone out there must need to read this so-be-it, amen!" So here you have it.
“I early learned to love birds
the light of birds the kingdom of birds
in the high treetops
stricken with light.”
Lawrence Ferlinghetti, “The Light of Birds”
This morning I sat on my porch, my bottom held in place in a chair not unlike a baby’s sling as it holds her close to her Mommy’s heartbeat. The pure pleasure in the closeness the baby feels is not unlike the pure pleasure I felt as I read Lawrence Ferlinghetti poetry. My silent joy gained the trust and presence of a family of house finches who feed from the small wood house I filled with hopeful seeds yesterday, the ones I bought at the discount store and mixed diligently with a brown paper bag of cracked corn.
Samuel comes to me after I have moved inside to bring you into the Ferlinghetti meets my bird loving experience.
“Breakfast” he whispers into my right ear.
“8:00” I whisper back. “It is 7:42.”
“I am hungry,” he says plainly.
“7:50” I counter. He nods and moves to the kitchen, giving me room to speak with you.
I hear him fill a cup with ice and then water.
It reminds me how you and I and Samuel and the sleeping Emma are each and all our own light.
Like Ferlinghetti writes in his poems about the light of different places, the light of birds, overheard conversations of Indiana, we could each write a poem of light of Samuel or the light of the birdfeeder or the light within the discount store. That last one seems like a stretch but I am sure with the right frame of mind, even that is possible.
I know I used to habitually limit myself to the obvious.
Life has gotten so much sweeter since I changed that habit and recognized light, instead, in the gash on the prostitute’s calf as she works a side street in West Oakland and the light in the eyes of the young mother, so tired and lonely as she pushes her two babies in the shopping card in another nameless – characterless – grocery store in another nameless –characterless town in Central California.
Writers – you and I – are the stewards of light. We are offered the privilege of seeing it and translating it to others. Our words are an invitation to sight not unlike the eyeglasses perched on the edge of my seventh grade social studies teacher’s nose.
I have forgotten her name but I remember her eyeglasses and her demand, “Whoever is out there, clicking your pen, stop right now.”
It was me. She hadn’t or couldn’t see me clicking as I concentrated on the blank map of Africa which I was supposed to be filling in with names of countries I had yet to know.
She hadn’t learned to translate the light of these newly free countries: Ghana and Togo and Mozambique with their newly minted independence. Instead she gave us newly minted papers still smelling from the mimeography ink, still damp, still hungry to feel the light of our pencils.
Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS & this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she finds the passion & the interest.
Did you enjoyed this essay? Receive emails directly to your inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the Daily Passion Activator. One inspirational essay and poem (almost) every week day. Subscribe here now -
This is my Ultimate Blog Challenge Writing for the Day. Be watching for my challenge posts which will include Writing Prompts, Writing Tips and General Life Tips and Essays. This is Blog 5/31 for July!
I have been having quite the creative flurry lately. It feels great – and at times a bit overwhelming but somehow I always seem to have something, some creative project to carry me through to the next thing. Then I manage, somehow, to find an extra snippet of time to create a ritual of remembrance of passionate fulfillment.
Last night, after a week of theater, working on my novel, publishing and oodles of family time, I repotted an hand-me-down plant who had been smooshed into a way-too-small planter. For mother’s day the only request I had was for some terra cotta pots so that I could paint them and repot some of the plants I was given last winter plus create new plots by propagating my golden pothos.
I now have three golden pothos plant and my next one will be snipped and put into water today.
Here are my latest: a repotting job in the big plant whose name I don’t even know, and my brand new baby golden pothos.
If you look carefully, you can see the next pot, waiting behind the other two. I let the plants choose which plants they want to live in before I plant them. I also put river rocks I have collected in the pot first, along with fresh soil and poetry pages.
It just feels right to me, as a poet, to be birthing plants that are also growing into poetry as they grow into larger plants.
I think I am satisfied, now, with the home I have found for my now in a larger pot plant, too.
What do you think?
I can almost feel her relief at being in a larger pot. Look how smooshed she is, as if she hasn't realized she may exhale into more space.
As I took this shot, I felt so content. My plant in my purpose room. The whole thing just felt like a perfectly ripe, perfectly right creative space.
Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS & this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she finds the passion & the interest.
Did you enjoyed this essay? Receive emails directly to your inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the Daily Passion Activator. One inspirational essay and poem (almost) every week day. Subscribe here now -
Summer Blog Challenge: --Share a post you've written in the past that you like.I rediscovered this blog post by going back 14 pages of lists of posts and happening upon these words.
Still so relevant and at the front of my mind all the time, a blog post about Sara Teasdale, listening to your wisdom, and how to continue moving when you just don't feel like it!
June 21from the Summer Blog Challenge -- Most recent words of wisdom you heard that stuck with you.
Have you ever had one of those books recommended to you that you resisted reading?
I have authors like that: people say “Have you read thus and so?” and I say “No…..” and over and over again “Thus and So” shows up in your consciousness.
This is what happened to me with Terry Tempest Williams. The other night her book When Women Were Birds insisted I buy it. I gave in. I took the insistent book off the shelf and bought it. I started reading and was hooked. It was like a reunion with one of my oldest and dearest friends!
In fact, there is wisdom on nearly every page!
I have gleaned a couple quotes here. No, the only “aloud hearing” of this wisdom was me reading the words aloud to me and myself alone, but nonetheless, these are the most recent words of wisdom, especially sticky, that I have come across:
“Beware of the charismatic wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“I take a breath and sidestep my fear and begin speaking from the place where beauty and bravery meet – within the chambers of a quivering heart.”
“It is not the lips of a prince that will save us, it is our own lips, speaking.”
Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS & this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she finds the passion & the interest.
Did you enjoyed this essay? Receive emails directly to your inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the Daily Passion Activator. One inspirational essay and poem (almost) every week day. Subscribe here now -
I laugh when I think about the birth of writing camp.
I started hosting camps when I looked at my long term goal of creating an Artist Colony/Writers Retreat/Camp sort of place for all generations. I had been looking at writers residencies and found nothing where I could have a residency AND have my children with me.
I am just not up to leaving my children for four weeks at a time.
I thought, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if there was a place where people could elect the option of bringing family with them on their artistic rest times, where the children are cared for and also doing creative activities simultaneously and learning the joy of silence, quiet and the creative process.” I also thought a certain Mother (of mine!) would benefit from the same thing!
Grandparents, Children, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Moms and Dads, all enjoying a sacred and protected time of creating together separately.
This was my dream AND it didn’t show any signs of manifesting right on my horizon so the creative me said, “How can I bring this sort of experience into fruition before I have an actual property?”
This is how Writing Camp was born.
Since then there have been many (I have lost count!) virtual writing camps. There have been Writing Camps in high school classrooms, in City Parks, in National Parks, in Hospitals, in College classrooms. People have attended camp from all over the world.
My next logical step is to take Writing Camp on the Road: in other words, bring Writing Camp with me when I travel and/or intentionally taking Camp to certain places. A natural combination to me is taking Camp to writerly AND natural places.
Since I love visiting writers’ homes and benefit from the creative vibe within places, this seems like not only a logical next step, but a “filled with passion” next step.
This Summer, I will be in these cities and locations:
Flagstaff, Four Corners, Canyon de Chelly, Albuquerque, Santa Fe, Colorado Springs, Denver, St. George, Bryce and Zion National Parks, Las Vegas and also since I am so close to Los Angeles, would love to do some Camps there: preferably at Art Museums and places like the variety filled Griffith Park.
In the Fall, I am thinking Portland for a weekend trip and South Dakota or Kansas or both for another weekend trip.
Where would you love to see Writing Camp appear? Perhaps you’ve been wanting to manifest an intentional writing community – here is your chance, delivered to a neighborhood, a museum, a home near you.
All you need to do is speak it to me here, email me at juliejordanscott at gmail dot come or call or text me at 661.444.2735 and we’ll begin the delightful task of putting it into motion.
Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS & this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she finds the passion & the interest.
Did you enjoyed this essay? Receive emails directly to your inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the Daily Passion Activator. One inspirational essay and poem (almost) every week day. Subscribe here now -
I love prompts that ask us to look right in the near past rather than from a long, long time ago. I enjoy walks down my memory, but oftentimes I don’t give myself credit for the right now… so with that…join me and consider what three things YOU are proud about from the past few days?
Three things I am proud of from the last few days:
I ran two successful Writing Camps at Bakersfield College’s Delano Campus. The students wrote haiku, freewrote, learned about Rainer Rilke, Alice Walker, Laura Esquivel. We practiced writing in Objective and Meaningful language. There was a lot of interaction and fun was had by (almost!) everyone. Yes, guy in the second row, I saw you dozing off. I forgive you! I have to admit, sleeping students DO make me kick my game up a notch. I am proud I did.
I attended (and enjoyed!) a SoulCollage workshop. I had been resisting for months because I had tried the process on my own. I didn’t get what all the fuss was about. Naturally I loved it. I created a whole bunch of cards and plan to go for Open Studio to make more. I got over my resistance and created some great art. Yay!
I didn’t lose my temper once, even when there were a couple ripe situations for me to do so. This is definitely something to be proud about, especially when a tired Samuel did typical tired Samuel behaviors. :~)
So – Beloveds! Tell me three things you are proud of from the last few days.
Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS & this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she finds the passion & the interest.
Did you enjoy this essay? Receive emails directly to your inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the Daily Passion Activator. One inspirational essay and poem (almost) every week day. Subscribe here now -
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