Thanksgiving in May

My left foot, showing stress fractures in the second and third metatarsals.
Within a couple of months, my right foot broke, too. Ugh.

Did you know that we are exactly six months from Thanksgiving? It may seem like an odd time to think ahead to that occasion, but holding onto gratitude is more important to me now than ever before and I'm using this day to declare Thanksgiving in May. Allow me to explain...

As I wrapped up my outdoor art show season last fall, my feet hurt. Setting up and tearing down for outdoor art shows is hard work, so bothersome feet aren't unusual. But this time it was worse than usual. Being the (slightly) middle-aged artist that I am, I figured that I just needed an orthotic or better shoes. Then I could keep on selling my paintings at outdoor events, like I have for nearly two decades.

I was really shocked when my doctor told me that I had non-traumatic stress fractures in my left foot. To make matters worse, subsequent lab work revealed that I have crummy bone quality courtesy of a hereditary condition. My foot was merely the leading indicator of significant problems. I was sent home with a walking boot to use for several months while my foot healed.

But it didn't heal.

In January, my other foot broke after months of bearing the additional, compensatory load while I wore the boot. Talk about an epic bummer!

As someone who's generally enjoyed good health up until this point in my life, I was at a low point emotionally. The constant pain and future uncertainty have been a big paradigm shift for me. My paternal grandmother used to tell me, "Health is wealth" and it's a message that I internalized from a young age, perhaps no more so than in these recent months.

My feet still are not fully healed and it's still painful. But I'm slowly improving, courtesy of some amazing individuals who have helped me through this difficult time. I want to acknowledge each of them here: 

First, my husband, Tim, who has been a bedrock of encouragement and support. I half-jokingly refer to him as my "Underpaid Artist's Assistant," but I've always appreciated that he is worth solid gold. This has remained true in recent months. He's been so kind and unwavering in his support while I regain function. He genuinely loves what I do as an artist and he's helped me see how I can move forward. 

Next, my fitness team. I enjoy lifting weights and being active. Now, my quality of life pretty much depends on it. And sometimes life gives you exactly what you need. I became good friends with a collector who's a personal trainer. Since February, Robert has generously donated his time to work with me twice a week in his gym and help me remain active despite my broken feet. I really can't thank him enough for stepping into my life and up to a big task.

I'm also working with a wonderful physical therapist who has been incredibly creative in adapting therapies to my needs. Y'all, my condition was so bad that my previous physical therapist who helped me rehab from hip surgery a couple of years ago would not even work with me due to the perceived liability risk! I found a better individual to help me. Ryan has given me a sense of empowerment that has also sustained me emotionally.

Finally, my medical team. I'm fortunate to work with smart people (Rocio, Hannah, Kostas, Paige, and Kelly) who helped me modify my diet and wrestle our stubborn insurance company to the mat to provide medication that I need.  

Thanks to these exceptionally kind and dedicated people, I'm looking forward to continuing my active career painting and exhibiting my artwork. I take one day at a time, literally one step at a time, and I'm cautiously optimistic. There may be setbacks, but rest assured that I'll continue to explore and find ways to share with you my vision of this imperfect yet beautiful world in which we live.

Happy Thanksgiving (in May)!

Plein Air Painting as Therapy

The start of a new landscape on my field easel in the Great Smoky Mountains.
Over this past year, retreating into nature has helped me deal with
world events and life changes.

Yesterday, I talked on the phone to a fellow artist and dear friend of mine. Because we live in different parts of the country, we don't connect all that often. But it's the kind of friendship that's easy to rekindle. We just "get" each other, and despite long intervals between our conversations, we can reconnect easily and it's always fun to catch up on what we're doing with our painting. 

As our nation and the world recently marked the one-year anniversaries of the declaration of a pandemic and the subsequent lockdowns, I've been reflecting a lot on how much my art business and my painting have changed over this past year. Last year, all of my outdoor art shows were canceled and I pivoted entirely to online selling through my portfolio site. Thankfully, my clients have been very supportive and with new Internet technologies, it's easier than ever before to sell original artwork while "socially distanced." 

Still, it's been a challenging time. I miss the personal connection of meeting patrons at art shows. On a lighter note, I do hereby pledge to never again whine about rain during an outdoor art show (at this point, I'd be very happy to just exhibit at one). But on a more serious note, as we mark this one-year anniversary, my head is awash in different thoughts. I've been deeply saddened by the profound suffering and loss of this past year. For example, my friend told me yesterday that her father-in-law passed away from Covid-19 just last month, highlighting again how all of the grim statistics are not just numbers, they are beloved people in our lives. 

At the same time, I am deeply grateful for my ability to work as an artist. Throughout this last year, I explored the beauty of the everyday in my immediate surroundings of Knoxville, the Great Smoky Mountains, and Tennessee state parks. Sharing these places in my artwork is my way of trying to contribute something positive during difficult times. Even in the darkest of times, there's beauty out there for us. 

With the rollout of vaccines, I'm cautiously optimistic that I can take these new works on the road later this year and begin to reconnect with interested patrons at art shows and exhibitions. Until then, I'll keep chugging along in my studio and in my "outdoor office" of plein air painting whenever I need a little therapy to deal with all that's happening. I look forward to seeing you in-person at an event (hopefully!) later this year.

What Are You Working On?

Join me on Facebook Live on Thursday, August 6 at 1pm EST for a live studio event with the Rehoboth Art League 2020 Virtual Fine Art Show when I'll share with you what I'm working on now and answer your questions about my artwork.

Years ago, I traveled to visit a fellow artist and dear friend in Maryland. She's a friend with whom I have a strong connection. We can go for months without talking to each other, but as soon as we reconnect, it's like there's been no gap in our relationship and we can pick up with the same ease and joy as before.

When I arrived at her home, we immediately climbed the two flights of steps up to her top-floor studio and then spent the first couple of hours of our time together discussing her paintings, both completed and in process, plus recent art industry magazines as well as new favorite books. We've known each other for over 15 years, and it was early in our friendship when she told me how much she enjoys hanging out with other artists and diving into the question, "What are you working on?"

Her comment really stuck with me. Unlike many other professions, artists are sometimes perceived as not having a "real job" or a "real schedule." So the simple acknowledgment of, "What are you working on?" offers not only a bridge of interest, but an implicit nod to the very real work that goes into doing what we do.

This summer has been unlike any other that I've experienced in my time as a professional artist. As someone who usually travels up and down the East Coast to outdoor art shows, I've suddenly found myself in a whole different work routine because of the pandemic. The good news is that I finally have the time to dive into painting ideas that I've held onto for years but to which I could never give adequate time to explore in the midst of my art show schedule. I also have plenty of time to garden without having to rely upon our neighbors' children to keep things watered, a reliance that has sometimes produced uneven results.

In a couple of days, I'll give a live studio tour on Facebook Live with the Rehoboth Art League during their virtual 2020 Fine Art Show. I'll share what I'm working now on as well as answer any questions that you have about my artwork. The live video will be on Thursday, August 6 at 1pm EST and you can join me via my Facebook page or through the Rehoboth Art League Facebook page. See you then!

Making Sense

My field easel in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park while I work on my continuing series of plein air paintings from the park. Shown below is the finished piece, Great Smoky Mountains No 7 - Emerald.

As bad news pours into our lives during this challenging era for our nation, I'm using my "safer at home" time to to revisit why I paint. I'm not going to wax philosophical, but I want to say that especially now, I want to share with you the beauty of what surrounds us. As an artist, this is how I can contribute something positive to our world, and there's definitely an urgency to remember that there are still good things around us, even in these difficult times.

Great Smoky Mountains No. 7 - Emerald, 8 x 16 inch oil plein air oil on panel.

To cope with everything that's been happening, I've been visiting state parks in eastern Tennessee as well as the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Shown above is a new addition to my ongoing series of plein air works from the park, "Emerald." Being outside in natural beauty restores my balance, and who couldn't use a little more equilibrium nowadays? 

While my art show van sits idle in our driveway (eye roll), I've been catching up on some reading this summer.

In addition, I've certainly had more time to read since I'm not traveling to my usual schedule of outdoor art shows. I recently picked up John Barry's The Great Influenza, originally published in 2005, and now back on the best-seller list. Hmm, I wonder why? What I'm learning is that we are repeating our own pandemic history, but not the good parts, unfortunately.

Finally, I turn to a poem that I've often leaned on during bad times. When I was a young child my Dad shared The Desiderata with me, a poem that he said shaped his view of the world. According to the venerable Wikipedia, it was first penned in 1920 by Max Ehrmann, just a couple of years after the 1918 flu pandemic. To me, it's more relevant now than ever before in my life:

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Home Studio Tour

This Friday, June 5 at noon EST I'll give a tour of my home art studio in Knoxville, Tennessee for the Rittenhouse Square Fine Art Virtual Show. With the pandemic and the civil unrest confronting our nation, the show has gone on, just online this year and I'm excited to share what I've been working on during recent months.

Shown here is a time lapse video of a landscape painting in progress from eastern Tennessee. One positive thing about staying closer to home this summer is that - after two years in Tennessee - my husband and I are finally getting a chance to venture out and explore the beautiful surrounding state parks.

During the home studio tour, I'll explain more about my process and share some of my latest paintings. I'll share a behind-the-scenes look at my painting process, from start to finish, and answer your questions. Sign up for free on the Rittenhouse Square Fine Art Virtual Show web site.

Braving the Elements

After a busy summer and fall art show season, the closing months of this year mean that it's time for me to turn my focus to preparing for 2018. An important element of my preparation for the year ahead is to gather source material and inspiration during these quieter months when I'm not in the midst of a packed show schedule.

I just returned from a brief trip to Chicago, where I delivered a large cityscape painting to a collector, visited family, and then slipped into downtown for a day to browse the Art Institute of Chicago and snap some reference photos. These opportunities to prowl the city and look at beautiful artwork while also gathering ideas are absolutely essential to sustaining my creative energy during my busy exhibition season.

With apologies for my reflection in the photo, this is
Futago Islands, Matsushima by Kawase Hasui, 1933

The Art Institute had a fantastic exhibition of Japanese prints on display. It was right up my alley: "City and Country: Prints from Early 20th Century Japan." Thanks to my past visits to the Freer Museum of Art in Washington, DC, where they specialize in Asian artwork, I've gained a great admiration for Japanese woodblock prints.

A rain-soaked view below the elevated train
platform in downtown Chicago

After spending some time at the museum, I ventured out into the downtown area of Chicago. A cold rain descended not too long after I stepped outside. While it made things challenging (digital cameras are not built for wind-driven rainfall), I was able to find several interesting subjects that will become the basis for upcoming cityscape paintings in the coming months.

This change of scene from nearby East Coast cities, such as Philadelphia and New York, is so vital for me. I love the different energy and subjects in new venues, so it makes braving the elements worthwhile. Besides, Chicagoans are so polite that they won't even step in front of me when I line up to take a photo. Not only is the city full of interesting architecture and cool vistas, the people are nice, too! Stay tuned in the coming months for the fruits of this labor.