rainy days and readings ramble + more ad jive

13. December 2011 · 2 comments · Categories: look ma - I'm an artist, nerd alert · Tags: , , , ,

 

It’s a beautiful rainy day here in Southwestern AZ… tons of moisture, a little cold, a lot of release.  I wear sweaters here because it’s a novelty.

My feet are bare and comfortable.  It makes me smile.  A lot.  I can’t remember the last time I wore a pair of shoes…it’s been days.

I still enjoy the rain here.  I wish I could capture the smell and put it in the palms of those who are far away.  For people I love who have never smelled wet mesquite, the pavement, creosote in the rain.  It always remind me of red, wet earth…the times I would be sitting on a mountaintop in Sedona, enjoying the view.  It’s good to be home, back where half of my heart belongs.  Where everything is full of color, not a single trace of grey.  Not the kind that hurts.

As much as I love Montana, it’s too painful for me there.  And too cold.  Cycles move so slow now.  I see that I have changed.

Some ways good, some ways not so good.  But the heart is on the mend.  I spend a lot of time with trees, enjoying the shelter and the shade.

Nature is a gift, our Great Mother.  When everything else is gone, we have her….in her many changing ways.  These cycles bring great comfort on emotional rainy days, in times of recovering from change.  It’s a week until the sun returns from the dark.

This year for Christmas Solstice, I have decided to give my children the Stars.

No matter where we go or how far down, I want them to know that things change, planets shift, sometimes the message is hidden beneath a very thick veil of clouds.  But the stars remain.  Ebbing and flowing, growing and dying, moving along in their shifts.

Last year they got the Mountains.  And one time, the Sky.  My quiet gifts of earth, from one Mother to another, passing them down the line.

That’s how we roll.

So you guys know I read Tarot?

It’s true.  I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you for a very long time.

Rainy days are beautiful for the practice of seeing the truth.  For embracing the realms of emotion in her watery splendor, going full force and letting things go.

(And don’t worry.  I don’t read for people without expressed permission.  It’s an integrity thing.)  I’ve been working with mentors for several months now after a forever-long hungry curiosity (I actually live with one of my mentors right now).  With all the changes this year, with the dawn of 2012, I figured…why not?  So I did.

Turns out cards are remarkably similar to poetry.  In fact, it was following their path that led me home, back to words.

So there’s that.  Reading tarot.  Yet another tool in my little bag of tricks.

Yesterday, I talked about hosting ads here on The Peaceful Peacock and I wanted to make sure you knew about that part of me.  Just in case it doesn’t jive with your beliefs…I respect that kind of thing, no matter what your heartsong sings.  I will also be asking for funding through Kickstarter on a couple of projects, so I thought you should know.

I know I like to know where my money goes.  It’s one of the beauties of online micro economies and buying local, knowing that what you’re buying or investing in is in line with your beliefs.  So yeah, there we are.

If you’re not freaked out and you might think supporting me and my little tribe of two is a good thing, please sign up here for more details next week.  Not to worry, I don’t share or sell your information.  Again, it’s an integrity thing.  The newsletter will have some information about affiliates I’ll be working with to score a little extra cash, advertising info for my site, and more details about establishing a micro economy through The Peaceful Peacock.

Now ya’ll know how far my interests spread.  Imagine how far this could go.

Keep your feathers dry, hold your wings high in your favorite shelter, and let your heart sing its most cherished song.

I do love music, each and every kind.

my own little branding bender and the part where I become a jedi knight

25. July 2011 · 7 comments · Categories: nerd alert, the feathers are flyin'

I love this picture.  I just can’t help it.  To me, it signifies space and freedom.  Open ground and room to fly.  It’s where I return when my world is in motion and change is on the horizon.  Sometimes the desert is the only place I want to be, the only place where everything else is stripped away and vision can take flight.

I don’t know what it is about offering gifts out to the universe, but my 30 Good Days project has certainly set some incredible things in motion.

There has been a lot of time invested into working on what I want to present to the world in this space…3 1/2 years, 500 posts, two kids, and a lot less hair later, I think the direction I’m meant to take has finally surfaced in undeniable light.

And it ain’t sewing.

And that’s ok.

Sewing for a living was a dream born long ago for me, and sadly, it was a ship that already set sail.  When you feel like you’re constantly trying to catch up, trying to work as hard as possible in order to produce results, when the energy just does not come your way despite all your best efforts, it’s time to move on.

I’m so glad I gave it a shot, that I devoted my all into trying to make my sewing dream happen.  But it failed.  And that’s ok.

When you dive into a dream, there are supporting elements that surround your direction.  There are skills that magnetize to the momentum and as it turns out, it is often these supporting skills that put you where you need to be.

That, for me, is web design.

Who would have thought?

I love it.  I love technology and communication.  I love art and creation.  I love taking complex structures of information, seeking out the patterns and pathways, and returning to the source to share and collaborate with what I’ve found.  Technology is ever-changing, which suits my butterfly style to a tee.  Serving the work of art in my own creative sphere makes my Virgo heart shine.  Brightly.  And earning a sustainable living that gives my children the opportunity to fully grow into themselves is the most important thing in the world to me.

There is much work ahead–there are classes to take about code and structure–because I’m in this for the long haul and it needs to be done right.  My heart’s desire is to create websites specifically tailored to artists, meaning affordable investments, the ability to update and control your site with ease, and a lot of visual impact.  Portfolios.  Astounding web copy.

Genuine, authentic you in your grandest vision.

I’ve spent a hell of a lot of time figuring out how to get there – how to genuinely express who you are in your heart while keeping professional boundaries and bringing in the loot.  My job is to straight up save your precious creative time and put you there from the get-go.  Snap.  Like that.  With loving guidance and reassurance along the way.

My mission is to give you the keys to your kingdom so that you can shift and change and grow into your online presence, as I have done, without shelling out a ton of money to a web firm every time you need to make a change.  Art is ever-changing and while you need the security and ability to know how to handle the technical aspects on your own, it doesn’t mean you have to start from the ground up.  I will be available for technical support, but my intention is to suit you up with your own sweet wings and set you free to fly.

So here we go.  The first step is to re-design my own branding in a way that supports my unfolding path.  After that, I will share my portfolio of sites that are currently in the works.  While I’m a student, I will be offering some smokin’ deals on basic setups, so sign up for my mailing list to stay in the know.

You shouldn’t have to be a super-tech-star to be a successful artist.  You shouldn’t have to bang your head against the wall to communicate who you are.  You shouldn’t have to devote all of your creative time to trying to make things work and being unhappy with the results.

Not while I’m around.

This is what I do.

And happily, it can put food on your table and mine, starting big time and for reals in January 2012.

Stay in tune.

 

::  when I grow up  ::  fever ray  ::

 

good morning!

22. June 2011 · Write a comment · Categories: nerd alert, projects

 

This morning I was greeted by a substantial pile of little fuzzy soaps, waiting to be felted.

A long morning’s work.

 

I’ve got it pretty damn good.

 

.:  fleet foxes  ::  sun it rises  :.

follow up to macro lens filter review, or: I am an idiot

06. June 2011 · Write a comment · Categories: nerd alert, photo mojo

Remember when I was telling you about the awesome wide angle lens adapter that I got for my Nikon D3K?  The one that I like to play with like this:

 

 

I was being all whiny because  thought the macro part of the lens didn’t work, but I totally figured it out yesterday.  I was recently reading about ways to hack your standard lenses into macro lenses, and it dawned on me that I might have been approaching the macro lens totally wrong.

Shocking, but true.

 

 

Turns out all you have to do is hold the lens like an inch away from the subject matter.  This is completely counterintuitive for DSLR users because you just can’t get that close.  I tried a couple of macro lenses at f-11 a couple weeks back, just to see what they do, and they both had a lot more range but they also cost WAY more than fifty bucks.

 

 

I feel really comfortable investing in a big girl macro lens down the road now that I can experiment and learn about what kind of photographs I’ll take with it, learn about the limitations and features, find trouble spots, that kind of thing.

 

 

I’m busting out my camera again.  Can you tell I’m making progress in the studio?  Big cute progress, like this:

 

 

tunes:  the closer you get :: alabama

from the fabric hoarder files: confronting and objectively observing

26. May 2011 · Write a comment · Categories: nerd alert, roadblocks


 

The other day, I started a series about one of my greatest creative blocks:  fabric hoarding.  The stash.  The backstock.  The collection.

It’s hoarding.

No need to make is sound pretty.  I’ve had a lot of this stuff for five years or more and it’s time to look the situation square in the eye for what it is.  Granted, I have had two children within the time span, which most likely has a lot to do with what’s going on.  Keep that in mind when I start throwing heavy duty words around, would you?  We’ll talk about my self-criticism another day.

Let’s get after it.

According to the National Study Group on Chronic Disorganization, there are 5 levels of disorganization/hoarding.  They range in severity, from normal Donna Reed household all the way to the severe case, like those shown on the infamous “Hoarders” on A and E.  With four people and a growing business in an 800-square-foot home, we are easily on our way into Level 2.  It’s a small step into an unhealthy level but enough to employ significant changes in our lifestyle, for sure–we have a bedroom that is unusable and we also use the mud room as a storage space, which blocks a door (which is, ahem, broken).

Kinda scary how that sort of thing sneaks up you, eh?

Since moving isn’t an option right at this second, I took a great leap of faith and got me a studio outside of the house.  It took a few tries (3) but I’ve finally landed in a space that is my own private space, large enough to meet my needs with room to grow, and flexible and professional enough to work as a consulting office as well.

Just, you know, don’t be showing any big wig potential clients these posts, of course.  We wouldn’t want them to see anything as embarrassing and unromantic as confronting personal demons and doing what it takes to push yourself to the next level, right?

I must be feeling a little defensive.

So.  My assignment was to take the tiny ant’s view and the bird’s eye view, expressing both in photographs in order to objectively check things out.  I totally did a couple of things wrong:  I only took about 50 photos (because it started to make my stomach turn–I felt overwhelmed and embarrassed, I couldn’t believe I was documenting all of this in a visible and semi-permanent way) and I totally started digging into things to organize.

Not a big deal.  I totally knew I wouldn’t be able to resist organizing things.  I’m a Virgo, for goodness sake.

 

 

The point of taking pictures is to stand back and objectively look for patterns and similarities.

This is how our brains work, folks.  The mind constantly scans for information to sort, placing bits and pieces into systems that can be translated into patterns.  When you feel overwhelmed, tell your brain to start looking for patterns.

I wasn’t sorting by color or flowers and plaids, I was sorting by texture and yardage.  The right feel and enough yardage for bloomers?  Right here.  A good fit for a camisole?  That goes there.  Linen and wovens?  Right over there.  The place looks like a hurricane hit.

 

 

It also looks like progress.  Potential.  Letting go.  Seizing opportunity.

Paying the rent.

Accountability.

Embracing the new.

This process isn’t easy. It makes me really hard to be around because I feel cranky and uncomfortable.  My mind is overwhelmed and that spills into the home front, particularly when things I’m accustomed to seeing (like a closet full of gear) are no longer there.

You have to remember to be gentle, to allow the process to shift and flow.  If it gets done too quickly, there isn’t time for change to take hold.  Rather than cleaning up a space in the house immediately, I let it sit for a day or two or put something temporary there in order to keep from hitting up a yard sale for random furniture.

Allow space, both mental and physical, in order to assimilate change.  Allow your mind to scan for patterns.



Really simple things will pop up, like:  “Huh.  I could really use some shelves.”

But not yet.  That makes it too easy to put all the old away, to look at the problem as it presents itself again and say, “Well, this is happening again.  I must need more shelves.”

See the pattern?

There it is.

You just caught the tiger by the tail.

tunes:  old and in the way :: old and in the way

 

 

 

 

 

 

a return to horses

26. April 2011 · 3 comments · Categories: nerd alert, sketch mode

I don’t know if it’s still the case with pre-adolescent girls these days, but when I was ten, horses were a pretty big deal.  I read about them, dreamed about them, played with small renditions of them, and drew them on just about everything I owned.  This picture, though rusty, is a pretty accurate rendition of my small hand’s mastery of the equine:

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about these old renditions of horse.

About fear.  And choices.  Opportunities lost, wisdom gained.

Way back in the 80s, when I was in elementary school, we had this thing called “Art Class”.  Twice a week, a lovely lady would arrive with boxes of paints and strange looking shapes, she would propose ridiculous and wonderful activities, push our little mental boxes around, and let us get messy.  Like another phenomenon of the past, “P.E.”, everyone had to participate.  It was part of the deal.

I really excelled in the world of Elementary School Art Class.  I got it.  It was easy.  And it was fun.

In junior high, Art became an elective.  A choice.  You chose to take art or you didn’t.  For some, this was a big relief:  no more mess!  no more forced creativity!  For me, it was the fork in the road that shaped the rest of my life.

I also loved Music.

And so I had to choose.

Don’t get me wrong:  I’m not opening a can of Underfunded School Budgets, the words that I write are about process.  Life.  Art.

When it came time to fill out the blanks in the spot called Elective, I consulted with my parents, just like any kid would do.  I knew my interests were everywhere and that this was kind of a big deal, choosing, and I wanted to make the right choice.  Here’s the thing:  my parents were cool.  They gave good advice.  They said things like:

“It’s your choice, honey.”

“Whatever you want to do.”

And that was it.  I’m sure we weighed out pros and cons, talked about it more, but this is what I remember…that the choice was mine.  And supported.

I assume I chose music because it was more social, the breeding ground for butterflies with a backbone of discipline.  I stuck with it throughout elementary school, junior high, and high school.  I tried it in college and it came to an end.  My endeavors with music taught me about community, infrastructure, respecting authority and the contributions of others, questioning authority and the contributions of others, leadership, humility, pride, dedication, and excellence.

Later came the choice of pursuing a Scholastic Diploma rather than art, taking four years of Spanish, extra doses of Science and Writing and History and Math.  Good looking scores, applications primed and ready.  Ready for what, I’m not sure, though I think it’s becoming clearer now.

Though I loved my music, I have always known in my heart that choosing art would have created a different me.

I often wonder who she would be, this artist, who still quietly lives in there somewhere.

Would she have excelled and shined in college, the Life Without Restraint, or would she have fallen on her ass and flunked out (twice) like me?  Would she have struggled with body image and personal power too?

Would she have needed so much therapy?  Would she have been arrested four times?

Probably.

After all, she’s still me.  I suspect she is the feisty part.

The part that shaved her head, dismissing waist-length locks of red because she wanted to learn how to be feminine without hair.  Twice.  The part that painted her entire room turquoise, including the closet doors and the ceiling, because she wanted to live in water.  Her parents drew the line at the ceiling fan, which she covered with glow in the dark stars in a spiral instead.

She was the one who drew horses.

So that is where I will begin.

 

 

 

 

do the work: gathering the cosmic dust

21. April 2011 · Write a comment · Categories: meditations, nerd alert

Sometimes when I don’t post here  for a while, I get scared to come back.  Like I’m supposed to unleash something amazing, words that ring unequivocally through the halls.

Which is dumb.

I get stuck in this world of Creator, a swirl of sparkle flash and sailing stars…but I am also flesh and bone.  I make mistakes (lots) and I do it wrong (often).

We stretch.  We resist.  We work ourselves into corners and we climb back out again.  This is our nature, we complex creatures of Creation.  What I aim to do here is communicate that process with an honest eye, offer tools, comfort, reflection.  Inspire.  Educate.  Support.  But I have to go to those places that are dark and unexplored on my own too.  Just like you.  Without true and honest experience, I have nothing to offer.

A few months ago, I began a project of exploration.  Things have been quiet here since its conception and I think I’m ready to bring it out.  I feel the need to organize it, to wrap it with a bow, to hand it to you with a little badge so that you too can proclaim, “I BELIEVE THIS TOO”.

But I’m just not quite sure what it is yet.  I think it has something to do with unschooling.  Unschooling me, not the kids.  But I’m not sure.  I want to watch what it does.  I want to live in harmony with the idea.  You know?  I don’t want to stick my flag in it and own it.  Yet.  Maybe I will.  I’m not quite sure.

I feel its importance, I know it has weight, and of course since it’s from me, you know whatever it is has its own set of rules.  Right now it’s a chimera, a glimmer, a flash of light in the comfortable shadows of earth.  I’ve seen these things before, sometimes ideas, sometimes for real out in nature, and I know the only way to catch them is to just show up.  Be patient.  Do the work.  Be open.  Explore.  And catching them never means what you think it means.

Give.  Receive.  Interpret.  Grow.  Release.  Die.  Start again.  Arrive.

The work right now is Observation.  Communication.  Trust.  The challenge is to do it with my Whole Heart.

I’m noticing a rhythm, that these meditations and mediations change frequently, and I’m given the signs to move on to new words and different perspectives.  Some come from course work (like the ones I’m involved in with on the sidebar there) and I will share my experience with their influence.  Some come from everyday signs.  I don’t know if you all will want to join in on what I’m seeing or if you even care to observe.  If so, come along, if not, move on.  There will be a balance of what is offered here in this space.  Sometimes I teach, sometimes I show how I learn.  That way I’m never an expert. I’m allowed to fail.

I want to write more–about how the process is about communicating the elements together as one whole unit, about how the artistic process becomes a part of who you are and that it moves you.  Not like a piece of music moves you, where you are temporarily adjusted in space, but like, it literally moves who you are.  Picks you up from one place and puts you in another.

The thing is, you can’t go back to where you were, even if you pick up the boxes and put them back in the old place again.  They don’t fit.  Everything grows somehow from here to there.  I know this because I just moved my studio and the new one, which is the same size as the old one, is too small suddenly and I have to move again.  Weird.

But my new studio, Studio version 2.0, is huge.

I should edit this.  I know I should.  But I’m not going to because this is the work.  This is the observation of my whole heart.  This is me putting the pieces together.  What I’m hoping for, what I’m aiming towards, is to bring this process together with photos and illustrations someday.  I’ll put it out there and it will come.  It will be messy and dirty at first, it won’t be my best, but it will be my process in its entirety and that is what counts.  This is a blog about process, after all.

But first:  I must show up.  Be open.  Accept what comes.  Ingest, translate, release.  That’s the flow.  Let’s see what happens.

tunes:  Dead Can Dance :: Toward the Within

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