A Coloring Book of Northern Spain

You may have noticed that I haven't posted recently. It is mostly because I am spending an inordinate amount of time making art. I suppose this is good, because what I mostly blog about is my creative life. On the other hand, I am finding that "making art" can become addictive to the point of not knowing why you are drawing/painting/sewing and risks becoming an itch you must scratch each day, maybe a little devoid of meaning or seriousness of intent. It's kind of like shopping when you already have a closet full of clothes. Do you really need one more of these? Will one more "creative" activity really fulfill me or be, in effect, creative in a way that helps me grow my vision or expand my talent? So I decided I should take a day off, think of something else, and continue my tour of Spain for you.

Over at Jude Hill's place, Spirit Cloth, we students are just getting settled in for her current extended session of new ways to look at creativity, design, and life, called the "What If? Diaries." We are starting our thought process with the concept of designing with all white, and the suggestion was to convert some favorite photographic images to shades of white to ponder how they may influence our first design. Part of the exercise is to consider not just the "What if I do this?" but also "What will happen if I don't do this?" As Jude's bons mots will often do, this got me thinking. What if I don't just talk about the Spain trip like a tourist, but make something of my favorite images from this segment of the journey? Will you miss the touristy photos? Will you wish I had talked about my actual itinerary. Will you be lost or stop reading. I doubt it would matter. Actually I don't really know who "you" are or what you think of my writing. Do "you" read my every episode? Wait patiently for the follow ups? Since few people ever really comment, the guiding hand here is usually what I think a person might want to know about this stuff if we were acquainted. But even more primary: what do I feel like saying about it. What do I want to share? In reality, I'm doing this for me. It's sort of my own diary, for purposes of organizing and saving the journey. I guess it's mine to decide.

Maybe if I try to please less, I will think more creatively. Trying to move away from a lifetime of crafty to something more inspired by life. I decided that an alternate means of sharing the emotions of these images would be to manipulate them just a little, to add some color or take some away. Add some light or focus on part of the image. Distort the obvious in it. I didn't do anything severe or tricky, no special filters, no layers removed or added. Simply move the sliders of the basic adjustments away from making the image as the eye had seen them to how the heart did.

So this is segment four of my trip to Spain and Portugal, from Bilbao to Fuente De, two days of drama with art and animals, along the North coast, and into the Picos de Europa.

Arachnophobes need not draw near. One only notices the bridge as a sort of spider in this cropped image. Momma, towering over baby, towering over the people below. 

Heart stopping beautiful. I almost didn't need to go inside: The Guggenheim.

Titanium, a great clean palette to paint on.

I had wanted to see this for years. How did I ever get here?

I don't usually do pretty, but...

Poetry in motion, literally.

Inside, it's like a spacecraft waiting to lift off.

Richard Serra, "The Matter of Time", an exquisite journey though walls of metal into emotion. An experience that cried out to be captured.

I did my best.

Narrow openings...

...endless paths.

Think about standing inside. How would you feel?

The entire museum, a sculpture.

And then, outside again, decompressing under the puppy's gaze.

Thinking: I'm in Spain, but what does that mean? It's a beautiful, modern country, so different than I realized. We Americans can be so out of touch.

In the medieval town of Santillana del Mar, lunch at Parador Gil Bas. Making warm memories. 

Coloring book scenes of farm country on the edge of town.

Otherworldly and yet right there.

A special treat, the town of Riano in the rain, oozing history, emoting feelings of timeless connections. A sunny day would have erased all this.

A hot, dry summer diminished the river, but added to the charm of watching a  painter working magic along the river walk.

Two more artists in the gazebo, capturing the muted colors of town in glorious rainbows.

I have lost my fear of showing myself, my emotion. I like to make self-portraits these days.

Fuente De, a place, literally, at the end of the road. The view from the room: horses, mist, a path up the mountain.

The brave among us found joy in watching the cable car's approach, knowing we were going for more than a ride up the mountain.

Dizzying heights, the hotel just a speck below.

You have to be brave; you have to experience this joy.

Absolute surprise! A view and a herd of goats and a hand washing!

They completed the view.

It was their place.

I got to rejoice for a little while in the beauty of the mountains...

in being with beautiful creatures...

...and sharing it all with the one person who really understands how much this all means to me.

Just Shoot Me!

(LMAO Disclaimer: I wrote the blog post title this morning before finding out that today's photo class assignment is a self portrait. I swear I didn't know! )

It's funny how the drama of sunrise is so etherial. Five minutes and gone. A reminder to do something wonderful today.

Summer has turned my brain to mush. I want to be free of my obligations (as much as I love them all) and just work in the (literally) blooming garden. "But wait," you say, "it's just now Spring!" Well tell that to this crazy record breaking climate. The birds are going totally nuts around here vying for territory and mates and building nests like their eggs are ready to drop at any second. The poor kitty who lives here has had several breakdowns over the commotion. The first day the wild noise began outside he ran about from window to door, howling all day.  I was ready to call the vet for a tranquilizer (for one or both of us). By day three, he'd setting to just excited watchfulness, and my nerves could settle too. But this last Saturday, when the whole world exploded into summer weather, the "air traffic" was out of control with dive bombing cardinals at the front door and my poor baby moaning and backing up the stairs like it was a Hitchcock movie and he was the blond heroine under attack.

A woodpile, underexposed, speaks of decay
 and the lost promise of time wasted.

Just one week ago, there was just barely a hint of spring in this overexposed shot of my back yard. Today the green is bursting out.

Because I was already enrolled in or completing projects for at least four online activities, plus a wagon load of things to prep for for my quilt guild show in two weeks, I decided it was necessary to enroll in yet another class. Photography is becoming an essential tool in my art arsenal of mediums, and for both practical and pleasurable purposes I am determined to learn some skills with my camera. I am again taking a two week intensive session with Steve Sonheim, Photo Silly Advanced. We are at the halfway point, and I can say I am once again making discoveries of what can be done that I would never have thought to try without a good "silly" lesson.

A naturally backlit still life in the sewing room.

Late afternoon sun and a kitty chasing shadows and reflections.

Husband on a mission and captured in the light of sunset.

One thing I learned last week is that a husband who works an 80 hour week must be caught on "film" to prove he really exists. But like Peter Pan, he was more elusive than his shadow. Our only date of the week was a quick trip to Home Depot for wooden dowels, and plywood for an upcoming drawing class (more about that another day, except meanwhile you may want to check out Carla Sonheim's new class offering in April.) The best discovery was how much I like black and white photography, and that, yes, a digital camera can be set to shoot in b&w rather than removing the color in editing. Who knew? Steve's assignments usually include doing something scary, like photographing strangers. I got to do a portrait series with a workout friend I barely knew previously, and found the experience to be tough, but exhilarating and liberating for both of us.

A portrait is a moment captured that reminds you who you were just then.

Hippos gather for "Bedtime Stories."

Charm and imagination lost in the color and light.

The scene of the crime showing alternate light sources I tried: holiday lights, candles, cell phone and the small flashlight in the middle that was used.

I've been doing quite a bit of stitching lately, some creative, some routine, but all quite satisfying. No matter what, needle and thread will always be my natural choice of writing medium. Probably because it has been with me since childhood, and has become so natural a part of my everyday life. Drawing will take a lot more time, but my ease with it grows every week. The shrine book from Arlee Barr's class is in its final stages of construction (mostly waiting for the Man to cut the dowels). The TAST challenge continues weekly with worldwide inspiration and friendship from fellow stitchers. And that quilt show. It's a rather big affair for a small local guild, and I find it's the perfect way to force myself to complete whatever is on the back burner from the previous couple (or more) years.

Horizontal sashing complete, vertical choices await cutting.

My biggest challenge has been turning a mixed media piece (my first ever) from a class last year into something more polished and connected to my recent artistic mission. I have begun to let my creativity flow in all directions as it will, and be more accepting of what emerges. Having spent quite a bit of time writing this blog the last year and a half, that direction is starting to be more verbal. The theme of the unfinished quilt, "The Time Machine," was based only on the visual impression of the paths and pendulum-like arm that appeared in my freely drawn quilting design. For over a year  I have stared at it and tried to find a way to complete the thought. One night last week as I was waiting for sleep, a small simple poem came to me and I knew it was the answer:

If you will only listen carefully

the universe will show you the way...

Follow the Time Machine

back down the path to lost hopes and dreams.

Rediscover Yourself.

Adding the embroidered borders.

It is the truth of my life and it summed up my recent artistic journey as a time travel to reclaim something I left behind. Additionally, with the usual synchronicity of such moments, a perfect piece of fabric had been plucked that week from the stash of a dear friend who purchased it with good intention, but died last year without giving it purpose. Her contribution now rings the quilt with a freely lettered and stitched piece of the poem. If you will only listen carefully...