The muddy path dances in color, only for the happy eye.
Conditioned for beauty, it sings in the most rare of tone.
Assuming peace, life peaks.
I sink my feet into its glistening reflection, and laugh.
Fist Full of Dandelions
I stood in the grass, a short four year old, under the vastness of the sky. I was tiny in my physical being, but I felt like I was big enough to expand into the entire universe. I believed I could shoot myself to the stars if I willed it, and I willed it.
I could feel the vibration of my own life and it was thrilling. I felt a rush, and for a moment that thrill flipped to fear and I turned my focus to the ground securely beneath my feet. I picked dandelions and marveled at the milky goo that dripped from their stems. I looked closely at the small hair like brown threads that grew from the middle of the deep yellow petals. I pulled a petal out and examined how it connected to the bud. I notice how they grew in pairs and wondered if they were sisters. They seemed to be clustered -maybe grandparents and cousins. I gathered up all that I could find, collecting a sticky fist full of the entire extended family. I thought they were exceptionally beautiful, especially when they were all together.
Turning back to the sky I could feel my breath, and I focused on it, hearing the inhale and exhale. I could feel the rise and fall of my lungs and I filled them to their peek, and then pushed in just a bit more. My heart began to beat faster and I prepared to fly. I clutched my little flowers and lifted my chin, stretching my neck as far as I could. I closed my eyes and I could feel my body start to soar. My heart pounded and again my thrill snapped to fear. I flung my eyes open and plopped to the ground, convinced I was way too powerful for my little body. I told myself I better just slow down or I was sure to get into some big trouble. I took a long deep breath to calm my heartbeat, pushed myself off the ground and returned to the safety of my home, offering a fist full of yellow flowers to the mother. Informed that they were weeds, I was ordered to cast them away.
**I just realized that I have not posted a story for almost a year. I’m working on a book of short, and I hope, beautiful bits about creativity, imagination, and living a colorful life. It’s a big bit to share and I’m mixed with excitement and reservation. For now, just working to finish it, and we’ll see what the rest brings. I hope you enjoy this ‘bit’.
The Mom Project
For Liam
“Tell me something I don’t know”, I said to my husband of 20 years. He smirked, and said “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I actually like your Mom Bod”. In the moment, I found it kind of sweet. I’m 52, and what used to be a fairly athletic and toned body has given into the expansion of a jelly rolled belly and pasta arms. It’s good to know he still finds me charming, but the reality is that this Mom Bod is a direct result of indulgence in habits that have not served me for a long time. Leaving them behind would change the dynamic of a long standing routine, and I desperately wanted something different.
Our son wants to be a personal trainer. Bodybuilding is one of the few things that really inspires him. I’ve never been a fan of the overly muscular physique, and I don’t understand how bodybuilding could lead to a reliable paycheck. I now have some compassion for how my parents must have felt when I insisted on pursuing a career in the arts. I want him to be happy, and secure, so I’m overtly supportive, and covertly hoping he bends his ambition toward a more lucrative career, like ‘sports medicine’. I also understand that many, if not all, of my fears are based on my own lack of understanding. Regardless, I know that once he learns to respond to his alarm clock, he will succeed at whatever he does.
I leave for a three-week trip to India on October 3rd. It will be an inspiring trip, but not an easy one. I will be packing art supplies and gear for MFFC, and traveling long distances to remote areas. I don’t want to drag my Mom Bod, and the habits that helped create it, along with me. I also have a considerable amount of work to accomplish between now and then, and a clear head and strong resolve will be convenient. I’ve enlisted my 16-year-old personal trainer-to-be, and together we’ve developed “The Mom Project”.
The new blackboard in the kitchen maps out his expectations of me over the next 50 days. I’m doing my muscle-screaming best to oblige. I knew I had some core strength buried beneath that cozy layer of fat, and I believe I’ve found it. It hurts, and tomorrow I think the pain will be ever more present. My backside’s been dating gravity for too long, and my triceps were enjoying their state of non-existence – but no more! We are one week in and I’m feeling…joyous, hopeful, and bit sore. For the remaining 7 weeks Sir Liam will continue to dictate my mornings routine. I exercise. I read. I meditate – briefly. My days will still be filled with work and paint, but my evenings will find more music, more writing, more books, more walks… I’m leaving behind the red wine and the politics. So far, I don’t miss either of them.
Comments
11 Responses to The Mom Project
…and here I was looking forward to those evenings of wind and discussion of the days work with you in India! Guess I’m going to have to start ROWING back and forth between my boat and the workshop, not using the outboard, to keep up with you! Yikes! (do I get any leeway for being older???)
…and here I was looking forward to those evenings of wind and discussion of the days work with you in India! Guess I’m going to have to start ROWING back and forth between my boat and the workshop, not using the outboard, to keep up with you! Yikes! (do I get any leeway for being older???)
Write another comment . . .oh, forgive me and the horrible internet connections that defy understanding and patience when things are sent TWICE!!
Aren’t you amazed at your incredible body? I marvel at what miraculous machines we all are and what they are capable of accomplishing with relatively little attention. More attention to it just seems to be a window to more enjoyment of life as you alluded to in your extraordinary essay! Thanks Kelly!
Thanks for the posts and the support Janet, Diane, and Reedo! The human body is amazing. The power of the mind, almost more so. It amazes me how a shift in perception can change so much on the inside, without actually changing anything in our external world, except for what you are bound to produce because your vision is more clear – or more clouded, depending on the direction of the shift. In this case, it feels great to leave some destructive habits in the dust. It’s also fun to see Liam excited about helping me.
Good on ya – The Mom Project sounds awesome! Stick ti it girl. You will be so glad you did!
I not only remember you and your fantastic art but from yoga class as well. I am 63 and into the grandma project! I swear every year I am reminded I have to work harder than before to keep reasonably in shape.
Go for it girl!
I have been wrestling with taking the plein air air workshop or not and wondering why you were calling it the mom project? I realize now that I read your latest blog that the two are separate issues. I was intrigued by your title because I have been stuck inside my own mom project for so many years. Between a teenager daughter that suffers from depression and a mother suffering from dementia and Alzheimer’s! It is an exasperating place at times. Struggling to find my way back to a world with art has helped me keep myself level and ready for what’s next without falling into a state of “emergency”.
Stay strong. Be safe.
Hi Carol Lusser – I remember you too! Thanks for the words of encouragement. My head and my body are feeling great, and I’m thankful that I finally just did it. It’s all better without that think vial of fog.
Just an update on this project – I have been faithful to this “mom project” for almost 8 weeks. I feel great. I’m much stronger than before, clearer in my thinking, far more productive, emotionally steady, sleeping great, and wearing my skinny jeans. It’s been nice. I occasionally miss the 5 o’clock wine, but love my end of day tea, and the way I feel in the morning. I’m excited to work in India feeling at my 52 year old peak – happy to live on a vegetarian diet – sans alcohol – with daily yoga for the remainder of this ‘project’. Thanks for your comments and support – and much love and thanks to my son/trainer/motivator – Liam Sullivan.
Noch nie haben die Photovoltaik-Anlagen und Windparks soviel Strom eingespeist, wie im ersten Halbjahr. Nach Angaben.
Success
Leave a Comment
Remember Your Info
Check this box if you want email updates when people comment on this post
| To help us prevent spam, Please enter the code in the box: |
|
I’m a Pusher
John Adams said, “I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy. My sons ought to study mathematics and philosophy, geography, natural history, naval architecture, navigation, commerce, and agriculture, in order to give their children a right to study painting, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, tapestry, and porcelain”. The “right” to study painting… I believe that the arts are a right. A basic human right, and that they are one of the most powerful tools we possess to influence a population. We are fortunate to have the freedom to pursue this right, and it’s our responsibility to employ it, or we may wind up studying war all over again, so that we can get back to our right to study art. To John Adams this was a calculated progression of steps. He knew that a society who studies more art, will have less need to study war.
I believe that Art is the fourth basic human need, it follows water, food, and shelter. And if our civilization put it in that order, we would all have a better ability to prosper, peacefully.
There is a belief in many parts of the world, including our educational system in the US, that the importance of art is secondary to things like math and science, contrary to the many studies proving that it is the arts that are so very effective at developing the kinds of critical thinking skills that allow us to absorb complicated math or make scientific discoveries.
The arts force us to take something that exists only in our imagination, a concept, and idea, and by combining the creativity of the right brain, with the logic of the left brain, it takes us through the steps necessary to bring our concept, our art, to life. This practice, and understanding of how to create, builds these critical thinking skills that are at the basis of a highly functioning brain, the kind that encourages scientific and mathematical genius, as well the kind that designs sky scrapers, or tells great stories, makes movies, or composes music. Art is at the base of any creative, open, and engaged mind.
Not only does it develop creative, open and engaged minds, but it develops a spirit with the same qualities. The combination of a heart and mind that is fostered in creativity, critical thinking, and compassion, creates citizens and communities that operate not from a fear of diversity, but from a genuine appreciation of it. An open creative spirit is curious. It finds alternatives solutions to problems, rather than a steadfast attachment to a tunneled vision. It’s an open mind. It chooses discovery over conquer. It chooses beauty over battle. That is the result of our work, that is why we do what we do, and why we need to keep doing it.
We, as artists, are pushers of the best and the cheapest drugs in the world, and the high we are addicted to is wonder.
(this post is an excerpt from Kelly’s presentation: Water, Food, Shelter…ART)
Comments
3 Responses to I’m a Pusher
Kelly – this is the way that I see things in three short articles:
http://bebirian.faso.com/ArticleDetail/4456
http://bebirian.faso.com/ArticleDetail/4462
http://bebirian.faso.com/ArticleDetail/4472
the only difficulty now is that this has happened to my collection online and I have to figure out a new way of distribution:
right on! i sometimes imagine a world where art is the most important subject to learn in school. not competitive art. wow! wouldn’t that be a different world!
Excellent. Well said! Thank you. I will be sharing your link on my Facebook page
https://www.facebook.com/SharonMatchettartist/
Success
Leave a Comment
Remember Your Info
Check this box if you want email updates when people comment on this post
| To help us prevent spam, Please enter the code in the box: |
|
The Space Between
It’s that space in time where I stop thinking. I’m rich with experience and ripe with opinion, but they all go silent. My wind up slows to a stop, and I inhale, paying attention only to my breath. I hear it, and I let it go. It’s a rare moment. I repeat it, knowing that chaos lives just beyond the exhale. Still, I repeat it again, hoping for a few more seconds of that space between. Only focused intention, and the simultaneous lack of it, can take me there. Yoga makes it easier, but I have not been in months. I tell myself, I’m going back soon.
I know what’s good for me. I know what cultivates peace. I know that sometimes I must wrestle havoc in order to have rest. I’m trained, raised, guided, and still I get lost. I’m given all of the opportunity and still, I trip over the threshold. I compare my life to the shining and the shunted and I wonder why I am afforded the luxury of sadness. Still, I feel it, and some days, there is no quelling it.
So that space it whispers, “Take me. Breathe me in and find me, this place where despair bleeds, and resilience breeds.” I go to this ground of quiet where I reset my soul, and think not of the how or why. I feel the nothingness, and the oneness, and know that from here compassion grows. Yet compassion, without action, leads to apathy. I revere this space between, for the fleeting moment that it is, and the indelible action that it inspires.
Comments
3 Responses to The Space Between
Hi Kelly.
I just wanted to tell you if I have not already. Your writing is almost as beautiful as your paintings.
Thanks Jennifer! I enjoy writing, almost as much as painting. I’m working on something new. Come by the studio and say hello the next time you are in town.
Success
Leave a Comment
Remember Your Info
Check this box if you want email updates when people comment on this post
| To help us prevent spam, Please enter the code in the box: |
|
The Leaf King
A self made crown because I’m the king,
I’ve conquered the beast; you’re under my wing.
Clean air and rivers for all there will be
No more sickness, you will see.
I’ll share my new crown, so you can know too,
How if feels to be king, and the good things we’ll do!
We’ll grow our dreams in this peaceful place
Where we’re not affected by color or race.
The Leaf King I am, so with me please dance.
Let’s breathe every moment, and not miss our chance.
My crown hasn’t rubies, only brightness and wonder,
Brilliant sunshine and stars, we will always be under.
Comments
3 Responses to The Leaf King
Really nice artwork.Art and life are realted to each other.We can express the ability of livehood by art creation.I have the experience with one Art design service, it is very genuine and helpful to designs also provides completely different experience of designing and artwork.
There’s no difference between that and making art. Hi! You’re an artist!. The only difference between artists and -non-artists” is that artists give themselves …
Innocence Lost
BRUISED AND QUIET, THE CHILD GOES INSIDE,
HUMMING THE REALITY THAT HER INNOCENCE HAS DIED.
SHE KNOWS SHE’S STRONG, AND SHE’LL WORK OUT A PLAN.
SHE’LL MOVE THROUGH THIS DECEPTION, SHE HOPES THAT SHE CAN.
SHE STUDIES HER BOOKS AND TENDS TO HER CHORES.
HER LAUGHTER IS CRIPPLED. IT’S NO LONGER YOURS.
BEWARE HER SILENCE, AND THINK NOT ABOUT ITS HOLD.
TIME WILL TAKE IT, AND HER STORY BE TOLD.
Comments
Bu Ming Bi
Bu Ming Bi: It basically means “It’s not clear” and it was the phrase I repeated most during my stay in China. I went there without much notice, and I’ve never studied Mandarin. I’m pretty good at charades, and I’m no stranger to strange places, so I wing it with confidence.
There is a general belief that if you want to create change and opportunity, and you can’t start from the top, you go to the bottom. If you can’t get your current leaders to reconsider routines, you must open the minds of the young. I understand that, and I agree with it, but I really don’t like it.
I wrestle with this logic because I want to believe that the people at the top actually do care. I want to believe that people do the best they can based on their education and experience, but the truth of it is that many don’t even brush the surface of ‘best they can’ because it interferes with a self-serving agenda. I’m not suggesting that this is a problem specific to China. It’s a human affliction. Our U.S. political system, and the influence of corporate greed on that system, keeps many of our leaders from doing the ‘best they can’.
Challenging the status quo is uncomfortable and inconvenient. To say that you don’t agree, or that the current situation is unacceptable can be scary. For some, it’s dangerous. As humans it’s our right, and our responsibility, to practice this protest. A willingness to educate and act is our only hope. It takes varying degrees of courage, or exasperation, to do this. If we continually exercise the courage to speak out about the small injustices, we may spare ourselves the exasperation of the larger ones that inevitably develop when we sit quietly by.
I’m no warrior, but I work hard to hold a steady ground. I’m generally unwilling to be bullied, or play the victim, but this act of living can be exhausting, and I’ve hung my head in despair over atrocities, and at times, meaningless trifles. Staying strong doesn’t always come easily, and for some, a quiet resistance is the most they can muster.
Why the world doesn’t operate with more compassion and justice, and why we should have to use our energies to battle inequality and corruption rather then make love, or art…I don’t know. Bu ming bi. Bu ming bi.
Comments
1 Response to Bu Ming Bi
Cherish it ”¦ .. The way its painted and naturality of the works of art”¦ .I like the sensible of the artworks”¦ Keep it up craftsmen !!!!
Success
Leave a Comment
Remember Your Info
Check this box if you want email updates when people comment on this post
| To help us prevent spam, Please enter the code in the box: |
|
Warm Artists, Cold Streets
I was afraid to inconvenience anyone, because five days of entertaining a guest who you were not expecting, is way too long. Apparently a subject line that reads, “friend of Kevin Macpherson” in a village of artists, in China, is pretty powerful. We’ve rallied up a week-long paint out in a town with many Chinese tourists. I’ve been photographed ALOOOOTTTT in the past four days. I think my face must be all over the Chinese version of Facebook, and I fear that last nights karaoke performance may wind up in the wrong hands as well. I have not seen another American since I’ve been here, with the exception of Alan Flesher, and ex-pat from Bucks County, PA who used to be an antique dealer at The Peoples Store; the same building where my studio currently is in Lambertville, NJ. Bizarre and odd how this life moves along.
Xin Chang is a 1,500 year old village. It’s a wonderful place to paint. The sites, sounds and smells are authentic, and most of them inviting. I still cringe when I hear the phlegm balls coming up, as spitting them in the street is a rather customary ritual, like breathing.
Xin Chang has many small alleys with merchants making fried tofu and dumplings. You can find everything you need, from hardware, to cloths, to food. You really don’t need to leave the village or own a car. That may change. Disney Land is about to open in China, and it’s less than 9 Kilometers from here. Most welcome the progress. I hope that it will help preserve the ancient beauty of this old town. It’s still affordable, and there is space to be had, but likely not for long. I’ll come back when the weather is warmer, and I can speak a little Chinese.
Comments
2 Responses to Warm Artists, Cold Streets
Kellie , safe travels back home . I am sure once you make the connections with real people on your travels as you have you will be drawn back to China. I am happy you met so many of my friends all along the way. I hope we can return together for new adventures and maybe some finger smearing in various provinces . All my best Kevin Artambassador.org
Yes, it would be fun to be there with you Kevin. Gugian is going to translate my Mighty Fingers proposal into Chinese and work to get it sponsored in Shanghai, so I hope to be returning next year. It would be great to coordinate it around one of your trips. You could teach me how to drink bai jui at lunch, and still paint in the afternoon!
Success
Leave a Comment
Remember Your Info
Check this box if you want email updates when people comment on this post
| To help us prevent spam, Please enter the code in the box: |
|
ZDTZ, ZDTZ, ZDTZ.
The car arrived at 4 am and I was ready. The mural was done, the hopscotch painted, the art room set up, and the music room was at least out of boxes. I was spent, my clothes were dirty, and I was tired of peeing in a hole. I had grown accustomed to warm beer, instant coffee, my plywood bed, and the unending rubbish. By the end of the project, I was dropping my chicken and fish bones on the floor just like everyone else. I even thought about spitting on the playground, but I didn’t. I would miss the morning “halloo’s” from funny kids, and the incredibly good, spicy food cooked by warm hearts, but I was growing uneasy with my bitten tongue and I was ready to go. We stuffed our luggage into the trunk and I took the back seat, squeezing myself between the door and a box stuffed with Chinese medicine and rice wine that Mr. Zhang was asked to bring back to Shanghai to bury in a hole for a few years. I leaned into my jacket and closed my eyes for the 2+ hour drive. It was quiet and peaceful, and the Long Lin air drifted past the bag of bananas on top of the rice wine box as if to send a sweet spell along for the ride, “that was hard, and I’m happy I did it” I thought to myself. ZDTZ, ZDTZ, ZDTZ. ZDTZ, ZDTZ, ZDTZ. ZDTZ, ZDTZ, ZDTZ. Ah Yai-a-yai-a-yia, Yai-a-yai-a-yia … ZDTZ, ZDTZ, ZDTZ. ZDTZ, ZDTZ, ZDTZ. The speaker in the back of my head began busting out Chinese disco. ZDTZ, ZDTZ, ZDTZ. Holy shit! Really?! ZDTZ, ZDTZ, ZDTZ. Really?! At 4 am? ZDTZ, ZDTZ, ZDTZ. Oh my God make it stop, please make it stop! It was foggy and the road was slow. Maybe the driver needed to stay awake? I bit my tongue. About an hour into the ride my colleague said something in Mandarin and it went silent. It was the last peaceful moment in our 15-hour journey back to Shanghai.
Taxi, plane, layover, plane, taxi, train, taxi…hotel. Sweet Jesus, a down comforter, a toilet seat with a flush button, a kicking wall heater, and Internet. ZDTZ, ZDTZ, ZDTZ. I did a little dance around the room 
and went to bed.
We’ve spent two days sharing stories from each village and the hardships and sweet spots are very similar. Their work is important, and it means so very much to the kids it serves. I’m looking forward to seeing how the exhibition about the project develops in April, and I hope this collaboration between ArtAmbassador.org and Jiugian.org helps them achieve their goals.
My responsibilities here are finished, and it’s time to play… well… paint. Tomorrow I’m headed to an ancient city outside of Shanghai called Xin Cheng. Kevin connected me with a couple of other artists there so I can focus on painting for the rest of my stay. In a crazy small world way, one of them is from my hometown of Lambertville, NJ. He’s one of the only guy in the village that speaks English, and he’ll help me along. Hoping to post new work and fun short stories for the rest of my stay. ZDTZ, ZDTZ, ZDTZ.
Comments
2 Responses to ZDTZ, ZDTZ, ZDTZ.
Success
Leave a Comment
Remember Your Info
Check this box if you want email updates when people comment on this post
| To help us prevent spam, Please enter the code in the box: |
|
Comments
Leave a Comment
Remember Your Info
Check this box if you want email updates when people comment on this post