OWC #1

In my work I paint energy. The invisible energy that flows around us and through us. While I paint I receive insights from my Spiritual Source, my Inner Wisdom. Here is a short excerpt that accompanied the above painting created in February 2012 .

“We always seek answers. We need to know why things happen, what they mean and how we can fix them. We think those with more schooling know more. They do. Years of study, reading, digesting knowledge gives them an edge. We did not study as they did. We did not devote years of analyzing and solving and rectifying the mind, the one that can’t find happiness. They understand how our psyche works. They used trials and reports and successes. We can’t discuss psychological lingo with them. We lack knowledge. Or do we? Is this the Age of Enlightenment? Can we be moving into a Creative Revolution, where art and color and brushstrokes and layering a painting delves deeper into our own inner wisdom. Does painting really give our True Source a voice and delivers knowledge beyond what we read or study or know? Can creating something out of nothing, splashing colors without judgment freely allowing our inner knowing to guide our stroke and bring us to a level of knowledge that reaches beyond study? Is this truly an age we are stepping into? … This painting is to get you well. Each stroke gives pure comfort.”

Scarred Art Exhibit

Saturday morning, after a walk in the rain, I went to the Brewery Art Walk to meet up with the LA Art and Museum Meetup Group. My first time connecting with this varied crowd of art enthusiasts. One artist’s work stood out by far. Ted Meyer painted on paper with bright colored gauche. Obscure textures were cool enough to browse. Then I read the description of his idea. A chance meeting with a woman in a wheelchair. Her black dress with a low cut back revealed her spinal scar spurred his exploration.

From that meeting, he began his series called “Scarred for Life Art” where he took an impression of a scar, inked it onto paper and added more color to create a beautiful textured pattern of stitched skin. Even more beautiful than his art were the stories he wrote of his models. The breast cancer survivor, liver transplant, amputee, and cutter. Each narrative drew me into their lives, reading of their health issues and seeing their scars pressed in color. This was by far the most memorable exhibit I’ve seen.

After spending time in his studio, I headed back outside needing to grab something to eat. On my way to the outdoor food area, I ran into a woman who was from my group. “I see you broke away from the group, too.” Any group larger than three would be hard to satisfy so walking it alone was our choice. We chatted a bit then she asked what direction was I headed. “I need food,” and she agreed so we walked to the only restaurant inside the Brewery Art Complex. While walking up the steps to Barbara’s eatery, she pointed to the ground asking, “Is that someone’s wallet?” I picked it up and looked inside. Full of money and cards and ID. Someone is bumming right now. I counted $65, gave her half and stuck the other half down my bra. Finders keepers I thought. I could use the $32 to buy my lunch. Just kidding. That’s not really what happened. We had to find the owner.

Jonathan had a work business card, a clinic intern at Yo San University. Camile called the number and the receptionist gave her his cell phone number. Within ten minutes he called her back and located us sitting outside. He thanked us and was so relieved that we returned it, even though he had not yet known it was missing. He works as an acupuncturist in Marina del Rey near my work. He said if we ever need a healing to stop by anytime and he can help us out. Hum? I could use some treatment on my stiff neck muscles from hunching over a keyboard.

Camile and I both felt real good doing this deed. And we had a nice lunch. The chicken salad with celery and walnuts really satisfied my hunger. Afterward we looked at some more art. Then we were on our way to our cars when she asked for my number so we could get together again. Sure thing. I love meeting creative people.

As I walked toward my car, she yelled out, “Grace. I’ve got your keys somehow.” I held up my keys saying, “I have mine.” “I don’t know whose keys these are.” She had hers and another set of keys and did not know how they got inside her bag. First the lost wallet, now the lost keys. She had to find another owner. As I drove away, I wondered how she would manage to return the keys without any identification. I’ll call her soon to see how she did. It ended up being a creative and interesting day. I was glad that I made myself go.

Abstract art touches our Spirit

Guardian Angel

Last Sunday, at my group art show “From Within,” I was touched to have friends and family attend the opening reception. My sister and two nieces came up from Orange County, and other friends from the area stopped by to support me, all of whom I was so humbled to see.

As I walked around the room talking to the visitors, one friend rushed up to me and said, “Grace, see that painting of yours over there? Well, before I was close enough to see the title, the words ‘Guardian Angel’ came to mind.” She told me that at a distance, when she saw the shapes and colors in the art, and before she was close enough to see the title, she intuitively sensed angels. We were both amazed that she knew the title and she asked me to further explain this art. So I told her while painting it, I thought of how we always have guardian angels by our side, whether in the physical realm or in the Spiritual realm.

Garden of His Truth

Later on in the afternoon, my youngest niece asked me to walk around the room with her and explain why I painted each piece. When we stopped at this painting, titled “Garden of His Truth,” I said that my inspiration was an old black and white photo of my father, older sister (her mother) and me, stooping down by his garden holding his homegrown lettuce. I explained to her that in this painting, I saw my father’s truth as separate from mine, and that even though our truth was different and came from our own points of view, that was okay. Painting this piece helped me see the Spiritual side of our relationship where I can acknowledge my feelings, release them, and then allow peace to fill this space.

This is the power of abstract art. It reaches an unconscious place in our soul that mere words can not always reach. There is something so vast and powerful in a visual expression that has no recognizable objects. Feelings, concepts, and thoughts are intuitively understood especially when those feelings are difficult to put into words. Somehow our mind, emotions, and Spirit understands so much more through brush strokes and colors than mere words can express. And that is why it is so refreshing to use abstract, non-representational images in art. Our mind can grasp the meaning beyond our conscious thoughts and these visuals, often misunderstood by the masses, reaches our unconscious, where all underlying feelings exist. This abstract expressionist art quickly touches the energy in our Spirit and connects us to a Source of all things good. And this type of art is something all of us can do.

Silent Ether

Silent Ether

The ether is an invisible medium for light waves and other forms of radiant energy. It is the invisible spirit, the cosmic vastness of the unseen. In this painting, I saw my art as healing in the ether, beyond this world’s mechanisms, beyond what I can understand and beyond what I can describe. Healing through art is gentle—the process is soft and silent, yet the movement is loud.

Color in Fashion

Color in Fashion

While watching Carrie prance around in brown chiffon Prada
I drew a picture of fashion I hoped to be proud of.

Red slacks, floral blouse, green hat, my oh my
Anthropologie catalog tells me to give color a try.

“Al oo eta” bouncing color dancers from the latest Target ad
Spin color through our typical, comfortable garbs of drab.

“Wear color” they say, it seems to be such fun and delight
Though color in my wardrobe has barely seemed right.

I stick to the neutrals, white, beige, brown and black
Bright colors are not something I often put on my back.

What color do you have on? I’m wondering, so I’ll ask
Do you find wearing color a near impossible task?

Elizabeth’s Story

This art was painted by Elizabeth, a woman in my past workshop, and it was from the first exercise where we became freed up to paint. She discovered more than expected through the process and uncovered a part of her that needed to speak. She shares her story here to help encourage others to move past their excuses and to paint for self-expression. Here is what she had to say about her experience.

How do you view your ability to paint?
I didn’t know what I was doing. While painting, I was very self-conscious because I wasn’t free yet to paint. Everything I did felt wrong. One side didn’t match the other, it wasn’t symmetrical. You said, ‘let’s keep working on the same painting.’ It was foreign to me to work on the same painting and add layers. So it was all new and it was uncomfortable; I didn’t feel like I accomplished anything other than just put color down. But then this point came out, and it was the most amazing thing because of what we had done and it really just blew my mind. The whole thing just blew my mind.

Did any colors or shapes mean anything to you? Did the actual image have meaning?
The only other thing that made sense while I was painting was the red. Red kept coming up. It was either passion or rage or blood or being broken. Then these dots made no sense; they became like still photographs of planets, planets in their particular cycle. Then the whole middle part became many things. It became the Milky Way and it became a vagina and became a super highway. Through the words I wrote the painting began to make sense. The painting made no sense before I began to write, then the painting made sense. Whatever I had done, without knowing it, was what some part of me wanted to do.

Can you talk about what you discovered about yourself while doing the painting?
This being the first painting, I wasn’t there yet. I still felt these undercurrents, these parts of me and this feeling that there was something inside. I have done a lot of work on myself. It’s not as though I’m unconsciously walking through the world and yet there’s a part of me that wants to speak. I’m in touch with a lot of different parts of me but some were just coming up that seemed unsatisfied with any other medium. Although when the point came out, the poem had so much in it to tell me. It was clear that I had tapped into something, that I had tapped into some part of me that had never had expression before. It had never had a venue, an avenue of expression. And somehow just putting the paint on the paper, not knowing what I was doing, released this part of me that had so much to say.

Pushing Paint Reduces Stress

Pushing Paint

Watch the video here.

Just the act of pushing around some paint, merging colors and spreading them out on a piece of paper is quite relaxing. Sounds easy, doesn’t it? Don’t let the excuses stop you, though. Painting is a great stress reliever and is truly beneficial in more ways than we know. It only takes five to ten minutes out of your busy day to play with paint. This quick exercise will get you started. All you need is a small pad of paper, two tubes of your favorite colors (thinned out with a bit of water), a palette, and one brush, then you are ready to go. Have fun following along with the video and watch your stress melt away.

Questions Answered

A couple I know was in a severe car accident eight weeks ago. The man suffered broken ribs and a badly bruised shoulder. The woman was rushed to the USC Trauma Center where the surgeon added pins and two rods to her spine. She is still recuperating  with physical therapy, she wears a body brace when she is up and about, and walks slowly with the help of a cane. Yesterday, I picked her up from her hair salon and took her to Home Goods to pick up a few items she needed. It was difficult for her to get around yet she maintained a positive outlook. She was grateful that she improved every day and getting back into her routine helped her appreciate life.

In this painting, I offered this couple more healing energy similar to praying, finding places inside of each of them to soothe their physical and emotional injuries caused by this unfortunate event. Blue and purple came to mind as the colors to use. Iridescent pearl mixed in with these colors made them lighter and I also added gold metallic to blend with the opaque purple and blue.

The physical injuries are being nursed back to health with therapy. Questions unanswered afflict them. My brush strokes are slow, soft, and small, carefully placed yet intuitively led. Finishing touches in gold foil and paint pens close out this session sending healing answers to this couple through our Spirit and Creator.

Blue Green Vibrations

Blue green blurbs and swirls of positive vibrations cover the first layer of my painting while I repeat a mantra to infuse uplifting energy into my work. This painting started with faltering feelings of drowning in self-doubt, questioning my words. I am supposed to be positive to attract what I desire but the boxing match between my 300 lb. bodybuilder negative thoughts and my light as air positive ones continue. The positive stands up, ready to make a move, and bam, a punch knocks the air out of me. How can I continue? How can I do this alone?

We are never alone. The collective wisdom speaks: “… Rest in us, we are always with you. Be together with us… We want to lift you up and we will when the time is right. Keep on painting…. Inhale all that you are experiencing now. You strive and strain to be on top when you need to be inside. We want you to take your time, be inside, be content with your art…”

The negative cried out again, “This is crap and it’s not good enough…” But slowly that part of me fell down, down, down a swirling tunnel as she kept voicing her complaints and bashing my art. She fell further and further away until I could not hear her anymore. She was gone, swallowed up by the hole of the Spirit. Then the little girl, who was battered, bloody, and eye sockets bled, stepped forward. I could barely look at her but she was a part of me. She was the one who left. A warm, wet wash cloth appeared in my adult hand as I softly wiped her face, scared but confident as I cleaned out the eye sockets. I replaced them and continued to clean her. Soon enough, she walked out of the deathly skin and began to shine. She was cleaned, smiling, bright and happy. New clothes, pretty hair, brand new shoes, she was whole again. All blessed and loved by me. She is with me now. She is with me always. She is my wisdom and she holds the deep well that will be filled with love, the true, sanctified, solid, unyielding love… My wisdom will carry this unfettered, unwavering love. She carries it for me wherever we go.

I bring good vibrations into my soul and psyche.