Art As An Anchor

That’s how I feel with my phone. My photo stream is clogged with snippets of sky, corners of buildings, flashes of reflected sun.

MOST OF THESE END UP IN THE TRASH FOLDER, BUT IT DOESN’T STOP ME FROM ZOOMING IN AND SNAPPING AWAY.

When I walk down the street, I wish I could nudge my fellow pedestrians and point to whatever it is I’m seeing. My husband gets fed up with this constant pointing and secretly (although not anymore now, right?) calls me Pointer. But that’s okay because I enjoy sharing life’s beautiful details, and I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.

WHAT MOTIVATES ME TO CONTINUE CREATING?

It’s the art, the idea, the beauty, and the fun of feeling my body move around a canvas. It’s a mental and physical exercise to see if I can translate an image in my head to the surface in real life.

In the constant day-to-day routine of baby things—feeding, changing, playing, teaching, repeating (side note: do you ever notice yourself saying things two times to a baby?)—I often think, “Okay, that’s it. I’m going to take a break from painting, I don’t have the energy.”

BUT SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDST OF BUSY HANDS WASHING DISHES OR WASHING BABY, A COLOR OR IMAGE POPS UP, AND IT WILL NOT LEAVE ME ALONE.

Often what I see in my mind are the abstracted forms of what I’ve witnessed outside. Mountains, flowers, sunshine—they simply become colors and shapes and feelings. Then the motivation to paint again floods back, has to get out.

When I paint, I think about what draws me in when I look at a photograph or painting or memento. What resonates is a jogged feeling or memory, a rooting to a prior time or place or emotion.

IN THIS WAY, ART SERVES AS A GROUNDING FOR MY PEACE AND HARMONY—AN ANCHOR.

Art reminds me that I have the ability to come back to my truest self whenever I want to access her. Art is a form of self-care, in that I put things on my wall, on my nightstand, on my screensaver that remind me to be grateful, to take a deep breath, to stay aware of my ever-supportive family and my roots. So in one painting or photograph, I can be filled with happiness.

I PAINT FOR MYSELF. BECAUSE THE INSPIRATION NEEDS TO GET OUT SO THAT MY MIND DOESN’T INCESSANTLY SPIN IT AROUND AND AROUND.

But I also paint for others. Because I know how anchored to my inner self I feel when I look at that painting of the rolling hills of my childhood done by a local artist. Because I remember the fun day in Virginia with my aunt and uncle picking out a big, red, abstract painting as a college graduation present. Because I feel happy and proud to have a painting by a high school friend in my foyer. Maybe I can provide a tranquil, grounded feeling to someone who has my art on her wall. Maybe I can make her feel joyful, innocent, and connected to her deep-down self.

I’m motivated to point to the beauty, to turn out my inside thoughts, to create tangible anchors to memories and emotions.

What Is Mindfulness Painting?

When I say painting is a mindfulness practice, I’m then often asked, “What is Mindfulness Painting?” For me, Mindfulness Painting describes the process of creating.

 There is a rhythm to my work and to my body as I work. I get lost in the painting, such that I’m only aware of the creation at hand. Time runs out and something jolts me back to reality, but while I’m painting, I’m in the flow. I’ve dipped into the greater universal consciousness. I’m unaware of to-do list thoughts, concerns or worry. Painting is a meditation, a continual practice of becoming present. Here’s a look at what that process is for me:

 An idea comes to me. Usually as I wake up or as I’m falling asleep. Sometimes when I’m meditating or breastfeeding or out in nature. Usually a quality of light, color or composition enters my consciousness.

 As I see the vision of what I want to paint, I imagine myself painting it. I imagine my arm, wrist and hand flitting back and forth. Sweeping side to side. I embody the feeling I experience as I get into a painting rhythm.

 And I sit down to paint. I become focused on the task in front of me: turning my visions into reality. I drop into the rhythm, the flow, the movement of my body. If I find my mind wandering, I think “I’m doing this now.” I get in touch with what I’m physically working on in this moment.

Sometimes I sketch out what I want to paint in pencil, particularly if it’s a figure or still life or something that requires measurements and proportions.

 But often with abstracts, I think about color and composition first. I lay down the main colors where I want them and move quickly across the canvas with my extra large brush or palette knife to sweep them into place and blend them into each other. I add more white along the way or even water to extend and loosen the paint and bleed or lighten the color intensity.

 If I’m adding a focal point of some sort - a block of juxtaposing color for instance - I may lay that out in advance or lay it in after my base colors are down.

 I typically paint around and around the canvas, layering colors and textures, rather than shoring up a particular section to completion and moving on from there. I’ve learned that if I get too attached to any one section, I’ll end up having to redo it for whatever reason - it’s not to scale, the color is slightly off, self-sabotage, etc. - so I keep moving until it all starts to gel.

 Even though I’ve started with a specific inspiration in my mind, oftentimes what is produced comes organically out of this mindfulness painting physical dance.

Then I step away. Hang it up on the wall. Live with it. Until I see what needs to be done: a pop of color added, a section lightened up with white, extra metallics. I reflect: “critique and tweak.”

 Sometimes I love it and feel complete quickly. Sometimes there are weeks of tweaks. Sometimes I put it away for years. Sometimes it gets completely repainted.

I find that my painting practice - this act of creating with my hands and body - is another mindfulness practice for me. Like my yoga practice, like my meditation practice, it is the third leg of that mindfulness stool on which I try to balance. 

The art that results, and the feelings triggered by viewing it, is a product of this mind-body approach: serene, anchored in a memory or mood, tranquil, aware of the present.

Clients have shared with me that my paintings make them feel peaceful. One said that she “love[s] seeing the texture and feeling the positive energy I know you poured into it.”

 It’s really cool to see that the mindfulness practice I undertake in painting creates art that resonates with joyful, high-vibrating people, who then share that wonderful feedback with me, which in turn lifts my spirits too. I feel so happy that a process that is rewarding to me, gives so much to others.

The Life of a Commissioned Painting

I'm thrilled to work one-on-one with friends and family and clients to paint something in my style that is uniquely for them. I'm always nervous in sending the final photos, hoping and praying that they will love it as much as I do. (Because when you work on something so much, you have to love it in the end...or else you would keep painting, as you'll see below.) But what happens if they don't love it? And how does this whole commission business work anyway?

The process is fairly simple and straightforward: you email me saying you'd like to commission a painting. We'll talk about your budget, your space, the size of the wall, what colors you have in your mind, etc.

I'll send you a contract with all of the agreed upon details and logistics like delivery date, downpayment and shipping. Even among friends, a contract formalizes everything so there's no confusion or hurt feelings.

It works best if you already like my work and my style because if I try to recreate someone else's style that you love, it probably won't turn out how either of us wants. So there's a bit of trust that I'm going to run with what we've discussed, and you won't see it until the end.

Below is a commission I did recently; flip through the pictures to see how I changed and re-changed a particular section (upper-middle-right) that I wasn't happy with: it went from too dark, to too blue, to starting over with white, to WAY too green, to the final peachy version in the end.

When I'm completely satisfied with the final product, I'll send you some photos and we'll set up a time to chat on the phone; but what if you don't like what I've painted?

Well if it's a matter of a particular area or tiny part of the work, no problem, tell me what's bothering you, and I'll tweak it. If it's that you hate the whole thing altogether, you are under no obligation to buy it, but unfortunately I won't be able to refund your deposit, since work has been done, materials purchased, etc. I will always try to work with you as much as possible to turn the painting into something you love.

I truly love collaborating on commissions and painting with someone in mind and working to make them happy. Obviously I love painting in general, but it's extra special and purposeful knowing that a home is already being made for the piece.

What to collaborate? Use the contact sheet to email me about commissioning a painting! I have 4 commission spots left for 2016 and look forward to working with you!