The older I get the more I have to say, and the less I tend to speak. More often, I conjure. I soak in the situation and I digest it. I think plenty and form opinions based on years of living, but usually find myself just taking it in, my verbal switch muted. This is my experience, not easily understood by others perhaps, and why would they care? Why should I care? But I do, I assure you. My heart is full. I feel more than ever. I care more than ever. I just say less, and paint more.

My thoughts these days, and my actions, are not based on an urgency to succeed. They are based on living life with quality and purpose. I am diligent, perhaps selfish, in assuring that for myself, because I want to be. I have little patience for the things that detract from that goal, as any human being should. Suffering abounds in any demographic, socioeconomic, or logistic pocket you happen to be in. So does happiness. So does hope. Sometimes it escapes us, and sometimes it is scarce. Still, we choose it. There are influences everywhere. Some scream louder than others. These days, I listen more than I speak, and I hear more than I say.

My easel lures me every day, and my soul follows. My words seem lost as of late, but it is not for a lack of feeling and contemplation. I long for poetry and beauty, and all things passionate. I see them more easily, and I absorb them more fully. The process of expression seems slower, and the outcome is sometimes just a bit sweeter.

Slower, softer, and sweetness more refined. Perhaps this is 50. Happy birthday to me. Lucky duck.

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4 Responses to Turning 50

Nicely said! You’re not just talented with the brush on the canvas. Happy birthday!!
Cheers!
Monika

Posted by Monika · via thebabblingbrush.com · 96 months ago

Oh yes Kelly, the wisdom you have recognized and embraced in your 50 years has brought you to living Your life with purpose and quality, as cornerstones. Inspite of your own unique “pockets” of challenges and suffering, your spirited self seems to resiliently choose happiness. I think that commiting so much of yourself to higher callings and others, is a gift you have chosen to accept and grow, when so many others fail to even see or feel their presence.

And I agree with Monika; your talents clearly extend beyond the brush and canvas. Happy 50th!

Gary

Posted by Gary · via thebabblingbrush.com · 95 months ago

Oh shucks you guys. Thanks. I’m humbled, and smiling.

Posted by Kelly Sullivan · via thebabblingbrush.com · 95 months ago

Kelly, I miss reading your blog posts, the work-in-progress of your art and life…come back to us soon, we who find such inspiration and delight in the writings that are so wonderfully, so uniquely YOU.

Diane

Posted by Diane Pool · via thebabblingbrush.com · 93 months ago

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I scanned the listings on Craig’s list and found a cottage in the woods, not far from town.

I love my studio. It’s on the third floor of a landmark building constructed in 1839. It has a history only the walls can share. Ghosts roam the hallways, and everyone knows it. All of mine are good. I can feel them whenever I walk into my studio. Warmth and grandeur envelope me when I turn the key. The old tin ceilings and the wide-planked uneven floors squeak with stories, and the atmosphere itself has a quality of richness. I breathe it in every time I step through the door. But… the door is always open. The studio is accessible to the designers and look-y-loo’s that frequent this cooperative antique market. Most of these visits I enjoy and find inspiring in odd ways, and many leads to new collectors.

Occasionally though, I want to work in solitude, or paint from a nude model, or host a fellow painter for the weekend. As much as I love my studio, these events don’t gel with the “open studio” concept of my space.

I dialed the number on the Craig’s list add. “Hi Joe, I’m calling about your cottage in the woods,” I said. “Why do you want it?” he asked. I explained. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be interested in that. The last guy that lived here was kind of quiet and had no friends, and that was pretty much perfect” he said. “I want to find someone who has no friends and won’t create a fuss. “Aren’t you in Lambertville?” I asked. “No, Outside of it,” Joe said. “The only people in Lambertville are Mexican or Italian, and if you aint either of those then you married into your own kind and you ain’t any better than the rest of ‘em!” he said. “OK, so you are looking for a lonely miserable person who is not Mexican, Italian, or gay – with no friends, …correct?” I asked. “Well, yeah.” He said.

“Perhaps you should just live there, Joe? I bet you’re the perfect candidate.” I said. Joe hung up the phone.

I turned the key to my third-floor studio and breathed it in. I walked across the squeaky floor to my messy corner of the world. I thought about the artists who occupied this space before me, and I was happy to be among them. I felt a bit sad for Joe’s grumpy heart and happy that mine didn’t fit his bill. A bit more art in Joe’s heart might be the best tenant he could find.

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3 Responses to Cabin in the Woods

This made me laugh… Thanks!

Posted by Dianne · via thebabblingbrush.com · 94 months ago

Thanks Dianne – that’s always a good thing. More soon.

Posted by Kelly Sullivan · via thebabblingbrush.com · 94 months ago

Well, that story took a turn I didn’t expect. I’m always surprised when I encounter bigotry. Clearly the lure of a cabin in the woods isn’t all it is cracked up to be. 🙂

Posted by Dalissa · via thebabblingbrush.com · 87 months ago

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Cows. I used to drive by them every day in Idaho and aside from their poop smeared backsides, I always found them oddly beautiful. Same goes for old buildings on the verge of collapse, not because of their decay but the stories they embody. They all had something to say, and if I stood and listened long enough I could almost hear them.

I’ve always had a lot to say, but as a young girl fascinated by life, I didn’t really feel like anyone was listening. I had to find my audience in unfamiliar places. I was bold, loud, and assertive. I measured my level of satisfaction and happiness on a moment-by-moment basis and I based much of it on my level of success or failure. I believed that I had to make a splash in order to ride the wave. That method served me well enough I guess, but any sense of subtlty escaped me.

Maturity’s been an interesting exercise. I’ve been cultivating a quiet side, and I like it. It doesn’t bode well for lots of blog posts or changing the world, but it’s changing mine. It’s that subtlety I’ve never known; a prolonged sense of contentment and a gratefulness for life as I know it. It takes away some pressure too. If I’m quiet, and no one is watching, I can do what I please. The rent is paid. There is food on the table. I have a beautiful little family, and we have healthcare. Now, I just want to make art. I don’t want to shout about it, I just want to make it, understand it, and grow as a painter. I want to attempt, in a quiet way, to translate some of the silent beauty that I see in this world. Subtly.

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4 Responses to Subtly

Maturity’s been an interesting exercise. I’ve been cultivating a quiet side, and I like it. It doesn’t bode well for lots of blog posts or changing the world, but it’s changing mine.

Posted by online pokies · via web · 105 months ago

Hi Kelly, Your email came at the perfect time for me!! I am just beginning my journey into this world of painting. It makes me feels so present. And each moment is precious. I love your body of work and learning about your Mighty Fingers and Finger Smears. Thank you for adding me to your list.

Posted by Barby D. Cahill · via web · 104 months ago

That is really fascinating, You’re a very professional blogger. I have joined your rss feed and sit up for looking for more of your fantastic post. Additionally, I have shared your site in my social networks!

Posted by Ian · via web · 103 months ago

It is really great that we keep on learning from life – to keep learning from our own experiences and grow both mentally and emotionally from them.

Posted by Jeffery M Morgan · via thebabblingbrush.com · 43 months ago

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I love traveling with a videographer… In Haiti painting Serge at a rooftop atilier.

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I had an interesting chat last night with a woman. I had seen her for the past two days at the hotel and she made an immediate impression. She was hard, and seemed to be far from happy. She kept to herself and smoked a lot.

It was the end of the day. A good day for me. We worked with 15 girls from the Art Creation Foundation For Children. We did our little gig to inspire strength and community through art. They taught us a few lessons, and hopefully we taught them a few. I was sitting under the grass roof searching for an internet connection and scrolling through the pictures from the day. I was feeling very full and happy.

Isabella sat at the next bench speaking French to Christophe, the proprietor. I couldn’t understand a word, but her message was clear. She was frustrated. Not at Christophe, at life.

When Christophe got up he turned to me and said “So I heard you were painting on the beach yesterday, tell me why you are here?” I shared a brief synopsis of Mighty Fingers and he was off. She caught my eye “So you’re into art?” she said in English. “Yes”, I am, I replied. “So then what? You come here and you do your thing, and then what? You leave, and what… what?…what have you done?” she blurted and waived her hand, as her whole body swayed in frustration. “Hmm, she speaks English, and she’s a little scary, and she’s talking to me” I thought. “Well,” I stumbled working to defend and reason at the same time, “I hope the kids we spent the day with had some fun, pinpointed a few areas of inner strength, and realized that there might be more alternatives than they had considered before”. “Phff” she waived at me again and slammed back in her chair.

She went on to explain her life for the past four years. She had been working in the tent cities in Port Au Prince with the Canadian Red Cross. She recounted an immense amount of details about where, when, with whom…the outside and inside politics involved in Haiti, the US, France, Canada, and how we all had raped the country of its independence, how we had set up systems that left Haiti dependent on our continued support based on profits, instead of returning them to a system of self reliance. After four years in the slums of Port Au Prince, she felt that the aid we brought was more damaging than beneficial.

The day before an email notification had come in from the UN advising all travelers and personnel to avoid the Port Au Prince area that day due to Independence Day demonstrations that were working to oust the current president. They accused him of pocketing aid dollars instead of getting them to the people and not holding scheduled elections. We were directed to avoid Port Au Price. She was likely directed to get out of it. And here she landed, to consider the last four years of her life, and the sweat and tears that she had put into them. All of it, about to end because funding had been cut off. Her duty was to return to PAP and tell the 14 out of 45 Haitian employees that were left, that their jobs were about to end, along with hers.

In a flash, I got it. She spent the last four years of her life living in a hell that most of us could never imagine, and she was about to get sent home. In many ways it would be a good thing for her, and she knew it, but she struggled intensely with what would happen to all of these people that she had worked so hard to help survive. She was directed to walk away. So many people were being directed to walk away, and the thought of it had her questioning every effort she had made… “and then what, you leave, and what… what?…what have you done?”

My place here is simple, and as she pointed out – temporary. While her stay was longer – still, it was temporary. We are all temporary. If I can spread some kindness and creativity while I exist, than I am happy. I cannot do it all, but I can do something. I think that if everyone who can do something does something, then all of our ‘somethings’ add up. I think that if the leaders we elect work for their people rather than their benefactors we will all be better off. So simple in theory, so complicated in execution.

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1 Response to Angry in Haiti

Imagine a parent saying to an art teacher, So then what? You come here and you do your thing, and then what? I’ve spent the last 10 years raising these kids and you come along and glue construction paper to bark? I know you’d be overjoyed that someone was sharing their time and presence joyfully with your beloved. You did say she was worn out so maybe she has an excuse. But she probably picks on people as a personality trait she can’t help regardless of circumstances. I would guess that 9999 out of 10000 would never come up with what that woman did in response to your project.

Posted by Reed · via web · 101 months ago

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Chutzpa – my dictionary defines it as “shameless audacity” but I have a slightly different view. When I was young, someone told me I had a lot of it and I thought that was a good thing. In a world too often governed by greed and generally dominated by men – a bit of shameless audacity can be useful. Chutzpa has two requirements – you have to believe that you’re worth it, and you have to be willing to work hard enough to get whatever you are audacious enough to think you deserve.

For forty-plus years, my road to success has not followed a conservative route, and there were many that thought my path would lead to a life of poverty and dependence. Fortunately, it didn’t. In the early years, I ate a lot of $2 burritos and grilled cheese, but my life was rich, inspired, and rarely stifled by reasons not to try. I went for it. I’ve been going for it for almost 50 years now. I don’t always get it, but I dream so big that getting halfway there really isn’t that bad, as long as I put my focus on how far I did get, rather than how short I fell.

I finger paint for a living. I found my niche forming community through art almost 20 years ago. Producing a hands-on arts festival that involved 15 diverse artists lead me to develop this collaborative way of painting I call “FingerSmears”. Over the years I’ve had over 80,000 people stick their fingers in the paint at my request to add to the larger picture, literally and figuratively. People like Bruce Springsteen, The Rolling Stones, Harrison Ford, and Willem Defoe have all added to my FingerSmear canvases. These were pretty cool moments, but they didn’t skyrocket my career. They were fleeting encounters that I can point to. The defining moments that really transformed me were more subtle. I can’t remember the exact instant that I realized the potential client on the phone was equally flawed, and that the occasional human faux pas was a normal course of business. I can’t remember the moment when I realized that it was Ok to ask for help, or that not everyone who makes promises delivers, or when I understood that the small steady steps are the ones that got me up the hill.

Somewhere along the line, the urgency of it all fell away. The pleasure of the process
took the driver’s seat, and the ride became my focus, the destination…a bonus.

I am working on one big dream though. It’s been lingering for a long time and I think it will make the world a better place so ‘I’m going for it”. It’s a global FingerSmear project. I call it Mighty Fingers Facing Change. One canvas traveling around the world, co-created by a global community of girls, embellished by abstract self-portraits and writings from this next generation of change-makers. Working to create a piece of art that celebrates, empowers, and connects girls around the globe, and helps them connect to their own personal power through art – I can’t imagine a better fantasy, so I’m working to make it my reality.

Much of the groundwork is done. The pieces are in place. The funding is not.

With minimal resources we made our way to Guatemala to work with a group of girls brought together by The Child and Youth Parliament of Guatemala. Off we went, myself, a filmmaker from San Francisco, and my daughter –the three amigos. My experience there taught me that it was not all about saving the world; it was as much about saving myself. I’m sure I walked away with as much as they did. I was empowered. I was inspired. Thanks to Toni’s videos, you will see that they were too. I would find a way to keep it going.

Several clients offered support through new commissions and I funneled my fees into stops #2, #3, and #4. Grants from sponsoring orgs like The Soroptimists of Edmonton, GAP! and pARTners helped back up my efforts, as did paint supplied by Jack Richeson & Co.
I’m not sure how I will continue to get Mighty Fingers to all of the girl groups around the world that have welcomed us. Time and money will tell.

In my mind exposure to, and cultivation of, the arts are a basic necessity that closely follows our need for clean water, food, and shelter. Self-expression, verbal and non-verbal, is a basic human need. A community rich in artistic expression will experience less conflict than one that is not because they understand how to communicate on a deeper level. They see from a broadened perspective and develop a greater sense of compassion for the world around them. They are rich and inspired, regardless of their economic status.

This world needs more girls (and boys) empowered, educated, and influenced – by art. It needs more Chutzpa.

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Today I was thinking about whittling it up, as opposed to whittling it down, which of course is not possible. Once you’ve whittled it down, there’s no whittling it up– in the case of wood or stone anyway, but life is more forgiving.

I have 100 years’ worth of learning that I want to pack into tomorrow. Impossible I know, so I absorb what I can, but it never seems to be enough.

After four locations, Mighty Fingers Facing Change rests, because I need to recharge and find another way to fund it. It deserves to carry on, and it will. I will figure it out, but not today. Not tomorrow, and likely, not the day after. The disappointment aches sometimes. I cover it with color and it goes away. I pour myself out onto my palette and lose myself in the possibility of something beautiful happening. I stay unattached to the outcome and indulge in the task of painting.

Some are watching my “mighty fingers.” I hope they can appreciate this process and my need to get lost in it. I’ll come out on the other side –a calmer, wiser, and happier human. Not to say that I am sad or anxious. I’m far from it. I’m just being selfish. If I never had to worry about feeding myself and I was unaffected by the suffering in this world, I could live in this untroubled vacuum forever. For now, that is where I am. Buried, and pleasantly asphyxiated. No hurry to surface. I am so very present, in the present.

Yesterday was my birthday. I am 49 years old. I did something different. Instead of studying all of the pictures in my art books, I decided to read one. I picked up Sherrie McGraw’s book “The Language of Drawing.” I READ it. The gist of her message is to observe and choose what is important and beautiful, and translate that. Let the ugliness and vulgarity in life fall away and show only what is beautiful. In art, we can make that ultimate choice to omit what is ugly, and emphasize what is poetic. Perhaps if we create enough of it, life will follow art. Life will whittle it up, so we don’t have to whittle it down.

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May a lift be easy to find,
When you’re falling a little behind.

May the friends that make you smile,
Come visit for a while.

Holiday HAPPINESS I wish for YOU,
And a year filled with LOVE & LAUGHTER too.

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I thought I would be so full of words and moments of clarity, pearls of literary ease and brilliance – but I found myself oddly silent. Working to produce Mighty Fingers Facing Change, up until the time I boarded the plane demanded posts, calls, tweets, pitches, proposals… efforts to build and fund this project were so consuming, and often disappointing, that when a quiet moment presented itself, doubt and insecurity crept in, “Am I crazy? Is this worth the effort? Does it matter to anyone else?”

My years of creating collaborative art had convinced me that this project was worth the effort. The decay of my joyful spirit screeched loudly that it was not.

Standing at gate E10 in the Newark airport all of that pressure and noise washed away. The anxiety over NOT raising enough money, NOT finding a sponsor, NOT having ALL of the pieces in place, NOT being able to afford help – all of the NOT’s disappeared and all I could see were my own Mighty Fingers – Facing Change. I liked it – a lot. Recent FingerSmear commissions and painting sales padded my humble bank account and I took a deep breath and boarded the plane. The smile on my face and a sense of calm settled in.

We were gathered from Guatamala City airport with a warm welcome from our hosting organization, The Association IDEI, and The Child and Youth Parliament of Guatemala. They began their work over 19 years ago in response to the AIDS epidemic and its proclivity to destroy indigenous populations less receptive to western methods of prevention and treatment. Since their inception, they have evolved into a widespread association that covers 18 of the 22 departments in Guatemala and focuses on four pillars: leadership, self-education, interdependence, and sustainability. Their development and support of a youth parliament has given these girls a voice, and they have plenty to say.

Over the course of the week, we worked with groups of girls from various indigenous groups. The IDEI selected participants from around the country and brought them in for this day of empowerment. Through art, they came together, voicing similar concerns for their communities and sharing ideas for sustainable solutions. They stressed the need for easier access to education and healthcare. They spoke often of the prevalence of child labor, early marriage, sexual violence, and alcoholism in their culture – balanced by a deep sense of pride in their indigenous heritage. They see education, speaking out, and action at a governmental level as the solution. All of these girls also expressed their concerns for the natural beauty of Guatemala, and the need to implement policies that will keep their water clean and their landscape free from the pollution of modern convenience.

I was fully alive in that room, listening through our enthusiastic interpreter and expressing myself through charades and my minimal grasp of Spanish. I watched girls from around the country come together to be heard, to listen, to laugh – and to do it all through the communicative power of art.

Toni Tru caught much of it on video and is editing as I write. We are excited to connect these change-makers with the next group of girls in Jackson WY, Edmonton Canada, Austin TX, San Francisco CA, China, Indonesia, Bhutan, The Philippines, Uganda, Nigeria, Italy, Portugal, Australia, Afghanistan… and you.

For those of you that have supported this dream of mine, thank you. It feels good to live it. Together we are inspiring the dreams of daughters around the world. I am truly humbled to be a part of it.

My Godfather gave me a great piece of advice upon my return. He asked, “how was it”? Still unable to express the rollercoaster ride of developing Mighty Fingers, combined with this quiet sense of accomplishment –he offered an expression that I had never heard before, but it made me smile and I think I’ll carry it forever. “You can’t push a wet noodle,” he said. So along I shall go, pulling my little piece of pasta through the world, focused not on what is stuck in front of me, but rather on the trail it leaves behind me – smiling over the few it may feed along the way.

Pictures from the project are on our Facebook page. Video coming soon!

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2 Responses to You Can’t Push a Wet Noodle

Kelly, you’ve proven the truth of “Sometimes the only mode of transportation is a leap of faith.” You, your leaping faith and your project are wonderful…we are eager for you here, in our little corner of the Philippines.

Posted by Diane Pool · via kellysullivanfineart.com · 112 months ago

I wonder how many of these girls have every been asked how they see their world verses being told how the world sees them. The opportunity to imagine is a powerful thing indeed and the world could use more of it. Thank you Kelly for putting the first foot forward.

Posted by Tom Sullivan · via kellysullivanfineart.com · 112 months ago

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Constant forward motion requires a lot of fuel. I’m lowering my anchor for a day or two. I need to just float and absorb the stillness. Then, I’ll pull it up again and hold my chest and chin to the wind with a verve only balance can inspire.

*… a small gift for a friend that invited me to ‘drop anchor’ and paint for a few weeks in one of the prettiest places on earth, The Bitter End Yacht Club in Virgin Gorda.

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2 Responses to Drop Anchor

Great piece, makes me want to go there.

Posted by Tom Sullivan · via kellysullivanfineart.com · 114 months ago

Love these words and the painting.

Posted by Patricia Berger · via kellysullivanfineart.com · 114 months ago

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