A Long Time Coming

The focal point of this assemblage, the collage, has been in the process of being "done" for well over 6 months now. I reworked it several times before feeling somewhat satisfied, but even in this state felt it wasn't quite done and it languished on the work table (among a few dozen other collage works in similar states of undoneness).

I really don't remember why I entered the studio yesterday or how I came to be sawing these pieces of wood. It was one of those "Aha!" moments as I stood in front of my display of finished pieces, some already framed with reclaimed wood. My eyes fell on this collage and suddenly I could see it in my mind and there was this force that could not be contained. I worked in a frenzied adrenaline state until it was finished. All thought of my "to do" list out the window.

It was finished in less then an hour. But it had been a long time coming.

In the satisfaction of seeing it completed, I reflected on the many stages I've seen it in. Honestly, at one point I threw it into my redo pile to scrape clean at a later date. It didn't seem possible to salvage and better to accept that I needed to let it go.

Many times it takes coming to this point of surrender, letting go of control, to see something you've worked for and wanted for so long come together. Change can't be forced. Sometimes the harder you try to "make" something happen the more elusive or impossible it becomes. To admit that you are powerless over another person, a relationship, even your own character flaws can seem like giving up, but it gives change the freedom to do what it needs to do, unhindered by our finite vision and limited views.

A seed languishes under the soil. It seems dead. There is no outward sign of the change that is taking place. And suddenly a flower bursts forth, overnight. But it has been a long time coming.


There have been times that I thought I couldn't last for long
but now I think I'm able to carry on
It's been a long time coming, but I know a change is gonna come. ~ Sam Cooke

Voices of the Sky

"Our sky is never the same – from day to day or even hour to hour. It holds the brightest and darkest things we will ever see, and in addition is capable of displaying every imaginable color and mood."~ Samuel Hazo

What if I....

There is so much inspiration online it is amazing that I get anything else done at times, other then look and drool. One blog I like to visit on a regular basis is Mary Buek's. Each post begins with the question "What if I". Recently she posted one title "What if I...Had No Time"

Time has been short for me recently, as explained in my previous post. This week finds me in the midst of (should be) studying for mid-terms. On top of which I've been exploring a new (to me) technique and my head is exploding with ideas. Tough to concentrate on studying when I keep walking past my work table and stopping to fuss and play with these new materials.
In the next week I'll try to post a few pictures of my recent collage work whether I have time to write or not. There are times, I've come to believe, the quieter the artist is the stronger the work speaks.

Blame It On Art

I've been away from the blog for some time, but not away from Art. I've started back to school again this semester but this time I've decided on a goal. I finally know what I want to be when I grow up and am taking my first academic steps toward that goal. I say my first academic steps because it isn't just about training for a career. Its more like acknowledging who I already am.

Art Therapist. Using art as a tool to aid in healing is something I've been doing since I was a little girl. The times I felt I was most comfortable being me was when I was creating. Art gave me a voice. A way to express myself. A way to release whatever energy I was storing inside.



I left it for a while, dabbling in crafts and being creative was always somewhere in my life, but the dream of being an artist had nearly been forgotten. But Art would not let me forget it forever. Because Art wasn't just a dream of the fairy tale kind. Art was my insides pressing and spilling out onto a canvas and speaking words I didn't have any other language to speak. And it was about learning to listen and to trust those words. And it was about healing.


It is exciting to hear myself say it. Art Therapist. I know that I have a long way to go before it is really a title I can use. Starting with just a handful of college credits and working toward a Masters in my mid-40s requires some juggling. Ratio of time on work versus proportion of creative needs being met, balanced with school and homework and then factor in the e-mails, posts, and social networking. It is a little overwhelming as I get the hang of it.

I might drop the ball a time or two while I learn my way around. So if you notice that my posts are a little more sporadic and you don't see me update my status as frequently as I used to or I'm slow responding to your kind comments. Please don't blame it on me. Blame it on Art.