Be a Force of Good

I have two very different stories today...
Story number 1: Each of my children have spent time in Uganda. They were unskilled laborers in a remote village, working shoulder to shoulder with locals to construct a school. They had to raise money and use earnings from summer jobs to help pay for building materials plus their own lodging and airfare. They had to face their fears and push their physical limits. They learned about poverty and hope in equal measure. And their own lives were changed as much as the children that would come to the school they built.

Story number 2: One busy day last week, I swung into the drive thru of a local sandwich shop for lunch. The person who took my order was cheerful and polite. He seemed happy as he handed me my perfectly made sandwich and wished me a good day. It wasn't until I got home that I saw the kitty. The person who made that perfect sandwich had written "Kitty!" with an arrow pointing to the whimsical cat face drawn on the sandwich wrapper. I smiled all day--and I don't even like cats.

I have always thought that one person can make a difference. I believe something a little different these days; now I think it is more accurate to say that we all have an impact on the world. Whether we wish it or not, we are all bumping into each other, touching each others' lives--all the time, every day. It isn't a matter of whether or not I will make a difference; it is a matter of what kind of difference I will make. I get to choose, every day, to do things big and small to be a force of good. That's pretty awesome. And there's something else. I believe that good stuff can happen even if no one seems to notice--being a force of good is never wasted. I become more and more the person I want to be; I will be changed by my decisions, my behavior, my intentions. And chances are, in this world we live in, someone else will witness my actions, too. I'd rather they notice me putting something good out into the world.

So, I hope that if you are my server in a restaurant or a teller at my bank, I remember to look you in the eyes and say thanks. If you are my friend, I hope that can feel me trying to really listen to you and care about you. If you take a class from me, I hope you can feel my intention to help you find your own creative spark and tell your own story. I can't control how you will receive me. It's a little like sending a sandwich out into the world--who knows if anyone will even see the kitty. I think sending good out into the world is worth my time--if someone does see it, maybe they will smile all day.

Never Stop Learning: Image Transfer!

Sometimes I take a class because I want to learn a particular technique: How does this work? What can you do with it? Sometimes I take a class because I am interested in the teacher: I enjoy seeing how people convey ideas, demonstrate their skills, or relate to their students. Sometimes I take a class for the pure fun of it. This time I got all three! Woo Hoo! I even took this class without a buddy.

So, image transfer. I've been hearing about it for several years. It's a popular technique with mixed media artists. There are loads of ways to transfer an image. It's cool stuff because you can take an image (original or photocopy) and apply it to all kinds of surfaces--paper, metal, glass, plastic, fabric. You can even manipulate the picture by stretching it or coloring it. For me, it is especially appealing to use with photographs.

Think of the image as two layers: 1) a piece of paper with 2) the ink that makes up a picture. The goal is to pull the ink (or toner) into the transfer medium and remove the paper backing. As usual, there is a learning curve and a little patience is required. In my first attempts, the image was hard to see and easy to tear--rubbing away the paper backing was no piece of cake.

I started with high quality photocopies of old family photos. Here you can see the original in the upper left corner. The others are photocopies. I applied the gooey transfer medium with a paint brush and let it dry thoroughly. Now I am working on removing that pesky paper backing. First soaking it...

...then rubbing away the paper from the back of the image. My uncle's childhood face is starting to emerge. The image is reversed from the original because we are looking at the ink through the back of the photocopy.

Now the rest of the family is coming through. Aren't they beautiful! I LOVE old photos.

Here is a look at the finished product. I hand bound some pretty scrapbook papers and applied the images to some of the pages. Some are on blank pages and some are on patterned pages allowing the transparency of the image to show. It makes a great journal to keep notes on my family history and it was a fun way to learn something new.

I'm sure I'll be using this again. Stay tuned to find out where it shows up in my work. I hope you have been learning something new this week--it's an awesome gift to yourself. Happy Valentine's Day!

Hearts Easily Broken

I was going to talk about my fun with image transfer today, but I feel the need to share something else. Some days life is hard on your heart. A friend and I were dealt a disappointment yesterday. Perhaps she would say it was a crushing blow. I think it's the roller coaster ride that's the problem. A group of us have been thinking about creating something together for nearly two years. It has been a time of excitement, learning and discovery. We have challenged each other to figure out what really drives us, to think about our true passions, and how we want to spend our time. We have wondered about our values and our place in the world. It has also been a time of fears, doubts, disappointments, vulnerability, hurt and confusion. We wondered and worried about spending money, making money, locating studio space, finding "customers", maintaining friendships, staying on track, being true to ourselves, and making time for our families. Big stuff.

I think this is what happens when you dig deep, when you really care about something. Your heart is easily joyful and easily broken. It is hard to know when to soldier on and when to say "enough is enough." It is hard to know how to protect your heart and soul and still invest your passion. It is sometimes hard to know how to love and not lose yourself. I do not presume to have answers to these questions. I do believe we must listen to our gut--to slow down, be quiet and try to hear that small, still and persistent voice. I believe we must be gentle with ourselves and our dreams. And sometimes we must give ourselves permission to change course. I believe that we must care for each other. And remind one another of who we are and how far we've come.

I won't speak for anyone else, but for me it is all worthwhile. I don't want to wake up one day and wonder where my life went. I want to savor it. I want to notice the passage of time. I want to fill my life with the big stuff, even though that means hurts and disappointments. Years ago, when I was a therapist, I struggled with my job. It was hard to stop thinking about clients when they left my office. (Maybe you have heard me mention this or have seen me in action--I come from a long line of first class worriers.) I was told by others that I needed to develop the ability to detach, to find ways to leave work at work. While I agree with this in theory and I know plenty of excellent therapist who have this mastered, I'm not sure it fits me very well. I always felt that in changing that, I would also lose something. I value the way I make connections with others, the way I feel my life. So, in the end, I decided to take a different path. There's more to that story, but it's for another day.

Today, I am grateful--grateful for feeling my life, even the pain. Sometimes, I need an obstacle or roadblock to help me define myself better, to focus my dreams. In the aftermath of the disappointment, my small, still voice confirms I am on the right track. I am doing the things I was meant to do--following my passions, using my skills. It also confirms that I have chosen amazing, whole-hearted friends to walk the path with me. Sounds pretty good to me.

Never Stop Learning: Encaustics!

Since I had to put so much mental energy into the last post, I decided a little respite was in order. So, let's talk about playing!! I love, love, love to take classes. Play with new materials, see how another teacher works, meet new people. The only downside is that I always want to rush out a buy as many new supplies as my arms can carry. Perhaps you can relate!?

I recently took a class with a friend and it was a blast. There was a lot of giggling and exclaiming and a fair amount of "aaahhh-ing." It was a little like recess for grown-ups. In other words, it was awesome. Somehow the smell even took me back to childhood--think melted crayons. Encaustics is an old art form (Greeks and Egyptians old). It is about applying melted wax (with and without pigment) in layers. Papers and other ephemera can be encapsulated in the wax. Tools can scrape or melt the wax. Colors can be applied with pastels. Different kinds of image transfers can be used. So many possibilities.

 

Here is our palette--yummy colors! The tins contain melted beeswax, resin, and pigment. You can brush the wax on your piece or put wax directly on the palette and use a stamp or paper to soak it up. In the upper left corner, you can see the medium (beeswax and resin without pigment) melting.

My friend is using a pastel to add color.

There are several layers here, including tissue paper that was set in a puddle of melted wax on the palette. I adore the huge number 2.

My two finished pieces. 

So, I took the afternoon off. Spent time with one of my favorite people. Had so much fun. Learned something new. Met some interesting folks. My bucket is full. 

A few words of wisdom? If you are a little uncomfortable about taking a class, ask a friend along. And choose your friend wisely. Pick someone who can embrace the messy, unknown aspect of creativity. Pick someone who will get your humor, cheer you on, and love you even when you feel like you made the ugliest project in the room. And don't forget to do the same for her (or him). Don't have a friend like that? Start watching for one. Start being one. You just might find one another in a class. 

Next time: See what happened in my image transfers class.

I Do One Thing at a Time (Or Unpacking, Part 1)

I walk with a good friend every Monday. It's always a chance to brainstorm, dream, agonize, or question. This week I was talking--or was I complaining??--about how my brain works. It's a bit like Major Winchester from M*A*S*H who said something like, "I do one thing. I do it very well. And then I move on." I have finally, finally got my Facebook page up and tidied up my blog. And now I am in the muck of my website. In Rhonda-land, that means I have added nothing new to FB and haven't posted to my blog (and I won't tell you what my house looks like). I do one thing. I analyze it to death. And then I move on. So, my wise friend says, why aren't you writing about that on your blog. Grrrr. She is right, of course, so I have halted construction of my website to put this out there.

I don't remember a time when my brain worked differently. Maybe I have always done this "one thing at a time" bit. Although I have excelled in some situations that demanded multitasking, it's not my natural tendency--in fact, I really dislike it. I want to focus on one thing for big chunks of time until I have completed it as well as I possibly can. I'm that person who reads an entire book in a day or stays up until 3 am to finish painting a room or feels that it will be hard to get real work done when there is a 1:00 appointment breaking up the day. Sometimes the object of my attention was years in the making and my ability to focus was helpful--getting a Ph.D., for example.

The companion piece to this, the more dangerous part? I can be very future-oriented--I yearn for the project to be finished so I can do the next project, as in "I'll be so happy when I'm done with my website, then I will have time to work on my family photographs." I have often worked diligently and at length without feeling the joy of discovery and accomplishment in the moment--only feeling excitement when I am finished. Unfortunately, my happiness is frequently short-lived, because I am already thinking about some new project waiting in the wings. I have moved through my life concentrating on one thing after another and waiting to be fully happy "until." I can tell you my husband is generally not crazy about this behavior (rightfully so!), and it has frequently left me feeling depleted. Although I feel the promises for future happiness in a new project, I have difficulty working up the energy; it feels daunting and overwhelming because I know how much I will be putting into it. So, even the happiness that fills that little space between projects can be tainted by the exhaustion of the last thing and dread of the next. Although it seems so obvious now, it has taken me a painfully long time to figure out this pattern. I don't know the best way to cope with it yet. I think it is about understanding it first. And learning to embrace my whole self, flaws and all.

There is so much more to this part of me. I feel that I am unpacking it, unraveling the layers. I've actually written this blog three times since Monday, exploring different aspects of this issue. I think this particular version is at the heart of what is happening to me right now. So, this one will stick. Another day I will unpack more. It is a little unsettling to share this with you, but I am committed to talking about my real life experiences here. I am pleased that I was able to step away from my project at hand to write this blog post, fully enjoy teaching my classes this week, exercise, and take some time with my hubby. Choosing happiness and living more in the moment are works-in-progress for me. I know that understanding myself better and choosing my path with intention will be worth the effort.

Unpacking is a good thing...