blogging by moonlight

Just when you thought nothing else could go wrong

If you subscribe to my art in abundance newsletter, you probably know about my electronic escapades these last few weeks--i.e., my faithful iBook died without warning and I'm reconstructing EVERYTHING from the ground up (it's a long story involving criminal DHL curriers and Apple dealers with kidney stones). One lovely reader reminded me that we're in Mercury retrograde. If I recounted the whole story to you, you'd think I lived on Mercury.

This entry is just to say I'm getting back on my feet and I hope you're all prospering. (Oh, by the way, the Yorkshire folks are very serious about our house...stay tuned!)

From a reconstructing, writing, and painting nonetheless
Durga.

First things first

Two people are coming from Yorkshire day after tomorrow to see our house with an eye to buying it. Sigh. Tomorrow is cleaning day. A very weird experience, this. If you've ever sold a house, you know what I mean. I never have. But isn't life an adventure?

It's good to be back home. I've been away for a while--spent last week in Zurich, in the whipping snow, in the theater, in lots of department stores and cafés and friends' homes. Lots of fun, but the most creative thing I've done in a week is find ways to move my suitcase without picking it up. My back behaved just long enough for me to make this long-planned journey to see my son in a play, then went out again one second after returning home.

So...first things first? First, breathe deeply, straighten up, relax. Clean the house and welcome the buyers. Then head for the paints. Truly, sometimes the best thing you can do for your creativity is create the conditions to support it.

What will these people see when they look at my house? What will they see when they look in my room, at my corner table piled with painting paraphernalia? Will they see what I see: a beloved refuge that's calling to me as I declutter the living room? Probably not. I know what they'll see: no closets!

Anyway, it's good to be home. Wherever that may be.

Meet my stand-in

My back (a problem at the best of times) went out on me a few days ago and I've spent much of this week horizontal. I thought you might like to see another slice of amazing Corsica, since me lying on my back doesn't have quite the same historical value.

(You may recognize this guy from my Meet the Coach page. I adore him and have started a very small tapestry of his wonderful, artless face.)

Balancing a fragile stamina with a roaring cascade of creative urge has been the story of my life for over a decade. I suppose I should be used to it. And I know I'm not the only one. There was a time, long ago, deep in the throes of fibromyalgia, when, instead of making a To Do list everyday, I would write down the one or two things I actually did do, so that in the evening I had a sense of accomplishment rather than defeat.

There were also times when I tried drawing and weaving while lying on my back. I don't recommend either.

Things are better now, but a bad-back week reminds me too well of how carefully I have to walk my path sometimes. Today's Accomplishment List would not include painting, but it would include posting on my blog. A pat on the back for me!

Out on a limb

Is it a bird or is it a plane...?

I'm remembering how much I've always loved to mix pencil with watercolor. The process of remembering is a sweet one. As I work, I'm thrown back in time to when I did this every day. Now, as I shift my attention from fiber to paper and pigment, old forgotten parts of me are surfacing and it's quite a lot of fun to visit with that me of long ago.

This is the medium mixture I'd decided to work with several days ago, but I had in mind images from meditation. Funny, I don't remember the birds...

Another realtor came to see our house yesterday. She knows two possible buyers. This is also a singular process. Anyone who's sold a house knows how it feels to have people walking through it saying, "Hmmmm..."

A little bird (sort of like one of these) was huddled in shock on our terrace this morning. We left him there to recover himself, then Will went out to see what he could do. As he approached, the bird flew away. Interesting, isn't it, what it takes to shock us into flight? Hmmmm....

This is not a watercolor

I missed my painting date yesterday (yes, it happens to coaches, too), but a wonderful idea came to me instead. I'm going to start painting with a new approach today and I'll post my progress.

Since I had no image to upload in the meantime, I thought I'd give you a peek at the Mediterranean sky. These are the mountains behind our house, opposite the sea. This island really puts on more spectacular shows than I can ever capture with my dinky digital and limited skills.

For those of you who are more interested in Vermont than in my painting, the house saga goes on. Photos from the owners, excitement building. I'll be going to Vermont in late March (without my visa-applicant husband, I'm afraid) to see for myself.

On this end, interested parties are circling. Anybody want to buy a house? (I'm not kidding. Here's the link: Corsica Isula. That's Will's super-site about Corsica. Just scroll down two screenfulls and you'll see our home.)

I'm a hair from finishing the text of my book. Next week I get to learn about designing the pages, turning it into a downloadable pdf, and getting it up on the site so you can actually see it. Yikes!

It's times like these that painting (or any creative work) can be either a stress-maker or a refuge---it's my choice, really. I think I'll choose refuge. Ahhhhhhhh.

Do not adjust your set...

Lots of watery scales going on at my house, as you can see.

I've discovered a system that works well for me. I'm using a 300g watercolor block in a big square format. I tape the four outer edges with drafting tape (pressed first against my clothes to remove any extra stickiness), then I run three more strips in both directions, so I end up with 16 small squares. I can practice my scales to my heart's content all day long---a square here, a square there, depending on how much time I have. If I start out with a half-hour after breakfast, I'm hooked for the rest of the day.

I remember a documentary my art criticism professor had made and showed in class one day. It was about an artist who painted tartan patterns on big paper. She said she just had the urge one day to paint these gigantic tartans, so she started in. She'd been doing it for months and months, one tartan after the next. The filmmaker asked her if she was getting tired of them.

"A little," she said, "but I know that when it's time to stop, it will change by itself to something else." And sure enough, by the end of the documentary, the tartans had morphed into something else.

I sort of feel like that. In times past, I've always tried to force the form to come, thinking that scales weren't good enough. But this time I'm content to wait and see what evolves. And practice the letting go of "otherness," to see what takes its place.

Practicing my scales

I'm painting every day, just tootling away at my scales, like a silent flutist. The time will come to tackle more, once I'm fully into the paint again.

It's weird and wonderful to be holding a brush after so long of an absence. Right now, I'm not caring as much about what I'm painting as just watching what comes out. I'm relearning how to achieve richness and depth, how to keep the water from blotching the pigment, how to find my colors again, and how to lose myself in the act of painting.

I found a lovely quote in a book I'm reading called Messages from Amma, a collection of teachings from the Indian holy woman known as the Hugging Saint:

"A beautiful song arises only
when the singer forgets herself and the audience.
A deeply moving painting emerges only
when the artist forgets himself and everything else in the world.
For your talents to be expressed in their fullness and beauty,
the sense of otherness must disappear entirely---
or it will block the flow of your heart."

Clearly I've a way to go, but what a wonderful goal to aspire for!

My new site is up!! Visit Sunburst Creativity!

I've been working like crazy this week to get my new site up, and it's finally there!

Sunburst Creativity is now my main website, offering links to this blog and to my coaching site, art in abundance. It's brand new and still a little empty, but I plan to fill it with all the things art in abundance couldn't hold.

Please visit at Sunburst Creativity and have a look. Suggestions and comments much appreciated!

And if you're keeping track, my definitive e-mail address is now durga@sunburst.ws.

From rainy (but productive) Corsica, see you soon!

A couple of links

My friends Peter, Sam, and Blue have all stopped by to make comments here and I thought you'd like to see what they're all up to.

Peter's a wonderful photographer with a lovely blog of daily photographs. He's a dear person besides, and his descriptions make the whole thing a sheer delight. Please visit him at Picture of the Day.

Sam and Michael have a lively and engaging website about creativity at PigPog. Tips, links, and just FUN stuff---they've really created a very special site.

Blue is a painter who lives in Cornwall and paints by the sea. Visit blue sky studio and feast your eyes...

How to get to the paint

Those of us who have creative work we love, as I love my writing and coaching, have to be careful not to let them turn into day jobs.

I've been so enthralled with my book (which is ALMOST done) and my new (also almost-done) umbrella website (sunburst.ws) that I've been letting myself get sucked into working on them 20 hours a day.

Wake up, Durga, and read your own book!

I've been talking to people for a long time about morning rituals and keeping the creative thread going every day, no matter what other demands there are on our time. When I was weaving, I could just pop out to the shed and throw a few shots, and pretty soon I'd be designing the next project. Since I've "paused" weaving for a bit, I've been hitting the computer early and staying there. Being creative, but still...

I get up between 5 and 5:30, shower, meditate, make tea, and write until breakfast at 8. Starting today, I'm reinventing my morning ritual, bringing back something I used to do all the time when I was painting but didn't need to do when I was weaving. Right after breakfast, BEFORE hitting the old computer, I'm going to spend a half-hour with my paint. Just to plant that beautiful colorful seed for the rest of my day. Because it's like potato chips, isn't it? Once you start, how can you stop?

Hey! Our VT dream house has come into our lives and we're bursting with excitement! Can't say too much yet, but send up a prayer for us, that this promising gift can work out for all concerned. I'll let you know!

In the meantime, how's your own daily ritual? Want to share it with us...?

Have a blessed day, everyone!