The "Way" It Began, Part II

When you have banished the negative voice whispering all the reasons you can't become an artist (or a teacher, or a lawyer, or a travel writer), you begin the process of finding a direction in which to go. In a big connected world like this one has become, where choices get expanded every day through Internet travel, we can see that the possibilities are probably limitless.


Another early aspect of Julia's program (if this makes no sense, please see my previous blog entry) lies in the concept of being open to accepting the possible. The idea that when you ask, there will be an answer and when you seek, you will find. The term she uses, synchronicity, was first conceived by the psychologist, Carl Jung in the 1920's. Whether or not you believe in a higher power, or the answered prayers of organized religion, the concept is intriguing, and, for myself, has had a great amount of confirmation in reality over the years.


There were two synchronous events that happened for me at this juncture. At the very moment of making the decision to follow The Artist's Way, two casual friends from my quilt guild decided to form a small private club that would be dedicated to exploring textile surface design and embellishment techniques. Additionally, withing months of the group's formation, a new magazine, Belle Armoire, dedicated to the same topic, would premiere and serve as a kind of textbook for us.


A meeting was scheduled for that December (as I was beginning my morning pages process) and in January, 2001, Designing Women, met for the first time, and became my creative support system. 

I came to consider them my "sacred circle". This is the artist's close community whose job it is to behave as the spiritual support of her path and work, who will consider "any gathering of artists be in the spirit of a sacred trust." (AW, pg. 205)

I became the group scribe and detailed our meetings and projects for "posterity"
Our first project: Collaged Fabric

Early surface techniques: Foiling
The photo shows several pillows with foiled leaf motifs inspired by the print of the chair

Into the third year: Needle and Wet Felting Hats 

For ten years now we have taught each other and learned and experimented together, laughed and shared our highs and lows both artistic and personal. We have held and nourished the creative force in each of us to the degree we are able, and that each has sought, and I probably wouldn't have gotten to telling this story without them. Thank you, girlfriends, artists in spirit.

Just this summer: Revisiting Rust and Tea Dyeing

We meet at the December holidays for lunch and exchange of handmade gifts each year.
Mine to the others that year were polymer clay letter openers in hippo bags.

The "Way" It Began, Part I

It was ten years ago, early December 2000, that I was feeling dissatisfaction with the stultifying boundaries of my life, and itching for change that would take me somewhere larger and fuller. What or how this transformation would be, I had no clue, but  I did know it had something to do with my wasted creative potential. As often seems to be the way in my life, when I have really needed something, it has found me as  much as I have found it. This is how, while perusing the shelves at Barnes and Noble, a book of massive import to my life practically fell into my hands. The title was The Artist's Way:  A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity, by Julia Cameron. What it appeared to be was an accessible twelve week course I could take at home to jump start the journey to "creative recovery". 


I took it seriously, as if I were in a weekly class with Julia, and she did not let me down. The first and most important exercise was to write, to keep a journal called "The Morning Pages": three handwritten pages (for me, single spaced college ruled paper) stream of consciousness ramblings every day before doing anything else. I allowed myself one cup of tea, and in my quiet kitchen I wrote.


Of course it wasn't easy to begin. My first page starts with a whine from deep within the years of stored negativity, self doubt, and fear:  "I don't really feel like writing yet. I've got a headache and now my morning routine is broken." Then the flood began. I continued to write those pages every day for at least six months, and then sporadically throughout the next several years. 
Their purpose was not to start something new, but to release the negativity and the pain about creative failure from my head and onto the page, so that I could move on to other exercises intended to foster positive action. This writing was not for the eyes of others, and I rarely ever reread what I'd written. It was meant to be a purge. Although, upon revisiting some of those pages ten years on, it is very revealing just how much that purge has taken, how much I've changed since then.


So why publish a journal (in the form of a blog) now? Obviously what I intend to share here will be a different sort of record of self-expression. I feel I have long since come out of the darkness and I'm ready for sharing and feedback of a more supportive and practical nature. Those among you on a similar journey will understand. Hopefully you will follow, comment, and supply links of interest. I'm looking for some of you to become part of my new support team, or what Julia calls "The Sacred Circle".  More on that next time.

The girl on the left always dreamed of becoming an artist

Art vs Arts and Crafts

Somehow we all intrinsically know that there is a difference between "art" and "craft",  yet the real question is how and when and to whom does it matter? Sometimes I care a lot, and sometimes not at all.

During the last few weeks of drawing from life, I have begun to glean the difference for myself: art has something to do with finding the voice within, to make an original impression or expression. 

And yet for most of my life I have been what may be called an "artisan"--someone who crafts fine things by hand. Hey, isn't "artisanal" the word of the day for good foods? Well, I've always had an artisanal home and life. Whether my clothing, my food, my decor, or the gifts I gave--they came from my heart and my hand. So I have to believe it's only a small leap step to expressing my heart and my intellect in a form that may be called "art".

While I work on getting to that place, I often get my fill of great art by visiting the wealth of it that resides in Chicagoland.  I am fortunate to be a member of the Art Institute of Chicago and one of its affiliate associate clubs. Last month we took a trip to see the collections of an obscenely wealthy family (think major corporate CEO) on the North Shore who happen to own a mind bending stash of artifacts from the Arts and Crafts period of home decor and art, primarily but not exclusively, Gustave Stickley. Their property, Crab Tree Farm, is a restored, working farm in Lake Bluff, Illinois, and only gives docent led tours to non profit groups like the AIC. You will never get closer to a museum quality collection (literally walk around rooms filled with stuff, just don't touch) than a personal tour such as this. I was both joyous and queasy to be there, thinking about weighing my good fortune with the morality of how any one family gets to have so much power as to own and control a piece of history like that. But I can't deny I was thankful for the opportunity.

Back home in my garden, inspecting the recent maintenance on my gazebo, I reflected on my own good fortune to live in a "hand built" home of my husband's and my making. The gazebo we built together is a sanctuary of sorts graced with my stained glass skylight. Because you only see the glass when standing close, I often forget how special and beautiful it is.

Six hand built panels, all the same design, but uniquely sized
to fit the spaces of a hand built roof

Everywhere inside my home are pieces of unique craft: stained glass windows and lamps, hand dyed sheets, hand built staircase with unique wrought iron balusters, tiled walls and posts and mantle, and quilts, quilts, quilts everywhere.

What to do with all the leftover dye at the end of a dye session:
Voila! "autumn splendor"

When you have an ugly pole, cover it with tile.
These homeowners are not afraid of color!

Custom made wrought iron furniture by two Michigan  artisans. Nothing is too special for a beloved cat to sit on.

Yes, and although I didn't realize until now, I live in a home inspired by the philosophy of the Arts and Crafts movement: that people need to surround their daily lives with handmade beauty. 


I live in handcrafted love.