Reflections On A Sad Anniversary, and Inspiration

Jean Tucker, circa 1947

age 23

Today is the eighth anniversary of my mother's death.  I miss my mother every single day, but I don't feel sad today.  Instead, I feel grateful that she is no longer suffering from the rare neurological disease that robbed her of movement and independence.  It was no way to live.  Through the years, I find that acknowledging these anniversaries in some way is helpful to me.

When I opened Robert Genn's newsletter today it seemed perfect.  One of the biggest struggles after the loss of my mother, which came just under 2 years after the death of my sister, was the ability to get into the studio and make art.

Jean and Rex Tucker, 1945

ages 21 and 25

Please take a moment and read his article.  It may resonate with you, too.

Rediscovering your inner artist
Yesterday, Darryl Daniels of Montgomery, AL wrote, "I lost my 'inner artist' over a period of years when I was taking care of my grandparents, trying to run a business and dealing with the challenges of marriage, etc. I stopped thinking about art and was knocked off course. While I now have art magazines, books and other forms of stimulation, I can't begin again and I have persistent feelings of failure. When I think about what I have not done, the work ahead seems like an overwhelming mountain. How does one recover from this condition?"

Thanks, Darryl. I'm willing to bet that every artist in the history of art has suffered from your condition. Some suffer for months or years, others weekly, others several times a day. I'm suffering from it right this minute, but there's a good chance I'll be back to work as soon as I get this letter written.

Generally speaking, books, magazines and other stimuli don't work. You have to steel yourself up and get yourself busy. It's the work itself that rocks the mountain. If there ever was such a thing as an "inner artist," it's something like a pile of loose bricks that you have to form into a small monument every day. This is the simple difference between dreamers and doers. I call it the "worker's edge."

A goodly part of the worker's edge is the knowledge and understanding that your personal creative processes are their own reward. Painting, for example, can be a parade of minor defeats and failures, but nevertheless the personal and individual working process is more positive than negative. Up here in Canada we call it "beavering away." Beavering can start at any time, even with old beavers. Our national animal serves us well. Beavers pay little attention to the overweening mountain. Simple accumulation changes the course of rivers.

What happened to your inner artist? Your inner artist has just been temporarily out of action. Your basic human instinct to invent, create and build is still just below the surface. To flourish, you need to exercise. Ready or not, you need to start. The philosopher Lao-Tzu (604 BC--531 BC) said it some time ago: "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

Best regards,

Robert

PS: "Just keep going--no feeling is final." (Rainer Maria Rilke)

Esoterica: Failure is a basic ingredient of success. Simply accept the notion that failures are the stepping stones to your greater self-realization. Looking at art magazines will only show you how imaginative others are, and how well some of them are doing. The time to look at magazines is after a busy day in your workplace. You need to know your inner artist will come to life only when you start. Now is as good a time as any. "Boldness has genius, power and magic. Engage, and the mind grows heated. Begin, and the work will be completed." (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe) 

I miss you all.  Every day.

Tulum, Mexico

I am in Tulum, Mexico, for a few days.  My husband's e-team is having an off-site strategic planning session.  We have been in this area before.  It is a welcome change from "winter" in San Antonio.  I think I can hear many of you groaning from this vantage point!  Sorry...
One of my goals during the time I am here is to do some sketching and watercolors.  Just quick little pieces to sort of flex my art muscle.  I need to do more plein air drawing/painting.  I used to do it fairly often and I miss it.
My little clear zipper bag included a small travel-size set of watercolor pan paints, a 5x7 moleskin journal (why didn't I put some absorbent ground or gesso on some of the pages?), a pigma pen, graphite pencil, some Sakura gel pens, and a couple of slightly better watercolor brushes than what is in the tiny little case.

I'll spend more time on making some drawings tomorrow.  I did manage to do one quick little drawing (which isn't great, but it was fun, and I'm not after great here!).  I spent a lot of time listening to the crazy grackles talking and flitting about, the surf, the wind through the palms, and the light chatter of people nearby.  I read most of a good book (ah) and generally had a lovely time, all next to Tim, which made it even better.
Here are a few little shots of the day/evening:

venturing out onto the beach shortly after arrival yesterday

This guy seems to be saying, "Hey you!  You are in my chair!"

towel-as-elephant posing on our bed

my little sketch/watercolor from this afternoon on the beach

(taken in bad incandescent lighting...sorry)

Beautiful words in difficult times

Elizabeth A posted this excerpt on Melanie Testa's blog this morning.  It seems to me that the word illness could be substituted with many others and remain relevant.  I thought the words were so perfect that I am sharing it again here:

When the reverberations of shock subside in you,
May grace come to restore you to balance.
May it shape a new space in your heart
To embrace this illness as a teacher
Who has come to open your life to new worlds.

Inspiration: negative space

Crepe Myrtles (pruned back for winter)

Island Inspiration

I drove to Port Aransas on South Padre Island last Saturday to spend the night with two friends.  I hadn't been to the coast in years.  I don't know why:  we live within 3 hours of the ocean and it is an easy, fun drive down there.  We walked the beach, played with their two dogs, and sat on the balcony and watched boats and porpoise playing in the water.
While drinking coffee on Sunday morning I saw a porpoise breach at least 8 times in a row! I was thrilled, as I have never seen that in the wild (only at Sea World).  I guess the porpoise (what is the plural?) were feeling frisky.
Here are some images for visual inspiration:

this is the gps in my mini-Cooper driving across the causeway.

No land in sight!

Weather as inspiration

I took these photos right after I returned from Cleveland and keep forgetting to post them.  I love how freaky this storm looks:  half the horizon dark and ominous and the other half looks pretty tame.  These were taken while in the car with a friend (I was in the passenger seat snapping away).