A SENSE OF DISTANCE

The picture I painted on the left called Spring on the Kenai Peninsula. It sits in front of me in my office to remind me of the grandeur of Alaska. It is also a vision of distance. I love places where you can see a great distance, have no idea of how you are going to get there, but still have a feeling that there is a path for you to take.
This weekend I went to a lovely retreat at Asilomar....15 writers, 15 talented and creative people still traveling to get to their distant goals. I don't think many of us knew why we said yes to the retreat. We didn't know everyone going, we thought we were going to work at this retreat, accomplish the next chapter, the next book, set of illustrations, or the next talk for a conference, but all of us dropped our goals for conversation. What an amazing gift we gave ourselves. Long awaited naps on the beach, conversations by the fireside on how to balance careers with our artistic souls, how to balance family and career, and how to honor that fact that some of us have a new direction we need to take. And, for me, how to honor who you really are when it takes you out of the mainstream.
For many, they said it was the first time they had talked at that level, and I realized I have been fortunate. I have been with a variety of peoples that hold who they really are above what the rest of the world would like for them to be. Some of these people come from Northern Alaskans who have had to step out of their comfort zone to use their gifts and to share them with others. Some are other artists who pursue their arts regardless of income. Some are like my husband, who is one of the best general contractors, but saves time for hunting, gardening meat-making and cooking. These are the people I want to be with...those who have seen something in the distance, a feeling of space, of opening up, and are willing to get off the beaten path to take that trip.
I go back to places of space, like Alaska, or the oceanside retreat at Asilomar, to feel small enough to travel through the open space of ideas with a knowledge that I am headed through a beautiful landscape on my journey.
So what is the next space that I am exploring? I thought it would be outer space, but it is cyberspace, of course. I am behind, if that matters, but have finally found that it is much like living in Alaska. The world is so vast, the communications so great, that it is a bit like my kids described landing is a mosh pit. Something will bouey you along on my journey. I hope there are a lot of strong, open hands out there to bouey me along on mine, especially as I land with all the baggage I carry!

WALKING THROUGH A STORY

I have often wondered why I tell stories. Are they lies like I used to tell to make my real world live up to the standards of the world I thought everyone else had? Growing up in the Catholic church, and being forever guilt ridden, I thought that might be the answer. But, lately, what I think it is, is a chance to expand my very small world into the "what if" world....a world full of possibilities. A chance to leave the competetive (well, now you know something about me) world of publishing where we try to write what will sell, in order to write the stories we are passionate about. We need to do that in order to get them out of our heads to make room for new stories.

The image on the left is called Seal Moon. I have an ivory pendant carved with a Moon's face and framed with silver. The moon and I are good friends, and you will often find me on the porch during the fuller phases of the moon till way too late at night...or not, depending on the month and the season. To me the moon calms things, makes our days slow down to night, and I need that. I miss her when she is gone, just like the seal who fell in love with her and climbed out onto the ice to become a the first man. He found out she left each day, so he lit a seal oil lamp inside of an ice hut so she could find her way back each night. But in my story Moon is curious as well. She wants to know what is under the hole in the ice. No matter how far away she may seem, she still wants to know what is grounded, under the ocean and bound to real life.

When I first drew this picture I didn't think there was a story, then I realized I wanted to take a journey...follow a path through my imagination to a place I love to go but am afraid will get criticized. I did not want anyone to think I took this story from any Alaskan groups I have worked with, but ignoring the influence of hearing Yup'ik stories is like ignoring my love for Rie Munoz's art. It is the place my imagination took flight.

I like creation stories, as you know from THERE WAS AN OLD MAN WHO PAINTED THE SKY, so I decided this would be where the first man came from. I like having the freedom to play with possibilities and my own folklore, and as a writer and artist, I feel fortunate at times to get a glimpse of my own landscape. It goes from my "real" life here to a life full of possibilities and without limitation.

Last night I officially joined The Sebastopol Gallery. a group of 12 Sonoma County fine artists. I am grateful that this is part of my path, as well as book illustration and writing. It gives me a chance to be part of 12 other fine artists who create with many different "ingredients"...fabric, silver, gold, clay. My own art has already gone through a small transformation after being part of 11 other artists. I can't give you any rational reason for joining, just that it was the next step on my own path through my own story, maybe like the Moon wanting to see what was beneath the ice. I can put stories on a wall as well as in a book. I can create my own folklore...or landscapes without trying to fit them into a book package when I need to. I am grateful to the group for voting me in last night. And I am grateful to publishers who still keep me illustrating stories that fit the book package.

Someone quite smart said we only need to see 200 feet ahead of us while we are driving. I know from walking at night at a slower pace that we only need to see about ten feet. So whether walking through a story, or through life, we only need to head the direction we want to go for a short distance and then our headlights will show us where to go next.

SUDOKU: One square at a time.

Every morning I wake up to coffee, the morning paper and the game of Sudoku. I never know how long it will take, and I may have to start over, but I play because it reminds me of life in general, and especially of a life in the arts.

Having a career in the arts is unpredictable at best, and like Sudoku, one move, one idea, one book or image may have you thinking that you have the answer to walking with success through the whole puzzle of life. Most of the time when I put that number into the puzzle, I am amazed that that is ALL I got ....one more number. Then I sit and wait again, esp. on Diabolical rounds, for the next number to surface. So what's the point?

I have learned that the game for me is something of a meditation, a chance to let go of time, to let go of a guaranteed win, and a reminder that sometimes the best thing you can do is put the game down and go do something else. When I come back, the next number is usually right in front of me. At that point, my husband has probably heard me say thank you...just to know I'm not stuck.

I have put Sudoku in my mind as a way to deal with the unknowns as I play my own creativity game. One day I draw birds in birch trees. Later I add a birdhouse. A few days or weeks later, I decide that this is connected to the fun I have of small people, so I put a woman standing in the doorway of the birdhouse. A story has started. I give her a tray or bowl of seed to feed the birds. I start a final picture in a hurry....typical of me. I put on the color, but when I'm done, it is not the right composition, and I have a different feeling towards her than I did when I started working with the image. She is that quiet part of me that likes stories of gathering seeds, feeding birds, and watching them come to eat. I think the woman in my picture needs to live in the house.

So today I'm starting over. I have a clean start, a larger piece of paper, and more space to play with. The picture on this blog is getting redone. And like Sudoku, when you have to erase and start over, you know what doesn't work, and usually the next time the puzzle comes together. So here is to starting over, to knowing that the first squares are filled in with this image, this story, and to not quite knowing how it will end up. And here is to being content and grateful for one square at a time, even if you don't know where it leads.