art – Kay Foley

Posted on July 28, 2024 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

Eye of the Beholder

Before our basement flooded, I had been working on another Columbia Art League challenge. In fact, the flood gave me a needed break from it. I had been struggling fulfilling the brief for “Lush,” a group exhibit celebrating the richness and vitality of our natural world. This would seem to be a perfect fit for me, but it just wasn’t happening.

After the week of cleaning and doing, I got back to work on painting. I produced many terrible things, several of them on the same hapless wood panel, and others on paper. Rubbish, the British artists I follow would say. A dog’s breakfast. Destined for “the bin” or “the fire.” I grew to hate the substrate itself. I longed for this mythical “fire” of which they speak. What fire? Do they have one going at all times? Perhaps an axe would be satisfying? At the moment it sits with its face to the wall, poor thing. I had even varnished, photographed, and entered it, just to end my misery.

But I found two recent paintings that I love that fit the theme and that I deemed worthy of submitting. So I put a wire on the back of one, popped the other into a frame, and Bob’s your uncle (as the Brits would say)! Ahh. Sigh of relief. But you know, it may be that the piece I hated would have been loved by the juror or a buyer. Such is the eye of the beholder. Had the juror been myopic or unbeknownst to her, missing one lens of her glasses, my Blue Fence II might even have won a prize! One never knows. And in this case, one will never know, because Blue Fence II will never see the light of day.

So now the craziness is over and I am moving on. How could it be so hard for someone who truly does love our natural world to represent it in a meaningful or beautiful way? Well, a) I find the doing of representational art tedious and b) I honestly don’t feel equal to the task of portraying the gorgeousness of nature. I much prefer working from my imagination, and letting surprises happen. I was trying to render heaps of flowers in an exuberant, colorful, abstract sort of way. But no. The magic refused to happen.

The artist herself needs to feel proud of what she shows to the world. It doesn’t matter one whit whether the judge is recovering from cataract surgery. So that’s that. Another submission under the belt. (I’m tempted here to digress on that expression, but I feel that I’ve kept you long enough.)

“To require perfection is to invite paralysis.” ― David Bayles, Art and Fear

“She wasn’t exactly sure what Lord Waverly saw in her work, but that was the beauty of art. Everyone saw something a little different.” ― Laura Rollins, A Pocket of Stars

“To the artist, all problems of art appear uniquely personal. Well, that’s understandable enough, given that not many other activities routinely call one’s basic self-worth into question.” ― David Bayles, Art and Fear

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

Posted on April 21, 2024 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

Totality

Before and after the recent eclipse, everyone was using the phrase ” the totality” to refer, of course, to the sun being completely hidden behind the moon’s shadow. Being a word person, it got me thinking about “the totality” of being human.

Merriam-Webster defines totality as a) an aggregate amount : SUM, WHOLE and b) the quality or state of being total : WHOLENESS, ENTIRETY. Totality of being or existence. Totality of our humanness. Totality of knowledge. Totality of purpose. We don’t often use it to think about ourselves, though.

What does it mean to be totally you or totally human, or more importantly, to embrace the totality of our selves and our humanness? I think of our totality as the sum of all the parts of ourselves, good and bad, even or maybe especially those that we don’t particularly like or would rather hide. Those are myriad and some definitely differ from person to person.

But others? Wrong-headed ideas and attitudes, prejudices, fear of missing out, feeling unloved or lonely, judging others, wondering if and where we fit in, worrying about things that haven’t yet happened, on and on. There are so very many things we all do at one time or another, to greater or lesser degrees, things that are just parts of our humanness, bits and pieces of it that we all possess, try as we might to ignore them. I’m reminded again of Thich Nhat Hanh’s “Hello, old friend,” in response to some of these troublesome things we all think and do.

My “Four Dogs” print, though inspired by Matisse’s cut-outs, expresses the totality of me.

With art, our best pieces will be imbued with the aggregate of who we are, what and who we love, made of colors we love with tools we love to use. So my best work expresses the totality of me. Yet for the last couple of weeks I’ve been trying to create a still life for our next local arts exhibit. I had said I would submit to each of the gallery exhibits this year but I had very little confidence about painting a still life or painting anything at all realistic. So I had resorted to looking at abstract still lifes on Pinterest for ideas. I can tell you that this project had, as a result, been highly unsatisfying. No fun. Poor results. The work did not reflect me. Until today.

Today, mostly as a result of writing this letter, I’ve realized that I was looking away from myself rather than into. I asked my son’s opinion on what I was doing, instead of trusting my own–all because I was thinking of my own totality as lacking. I can’t paint anything realistic. Don’t we just do this so often, and to our own detriment? I can’t. I’m not good enough.

As an artist I have been advised to look to my own best work and to what I love for inspiration, rather than looking outside myself. But here I’ve been, all tied up in knots, trying to create work like something I’ve seen, while at the same time thinking about totality. One should have informed the other, but I’ve been at cross purposes. Until today. Shaking my head. Suddenly remembering that my art is mine and therefore needs to express me. It needs to reflect my totality and not someone else’s. How often do we have to learn the same thing?

So as of 5:30 p.m. I’ve had a breakthrough, with TWO pieces that I love. Yippee!! I don’t expect or need to win a prize (though I would like at least one of my pieces to be accepted into the show). I feel the joy one feels from having produced something that is genuine and authentic. Yeah. These little paintings are ME. That feels so good.

In everyday life, as in art, we are our best selves when we embrace our unique totality and accept those of others. I am happiest when I’m being authentic. We all are.

“He who knows others is wise; he who knows himself is enlightened.” ― Lao Tzu

“Explore yourself in silent contemplation. You will find a breathtaking person you were completely unaware about.” ― Hiral Nagda

“The closer you come to knowing that you alone create the world of your experience, the more vital it becomes for you to discover just who is doing the creating.” ― Eric Micha’el Leventhal

Thanks for listening,
Kay

Posted on March 3, 2024 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

Tiny Things

I vowed this year that I would submit something to every exhibition our local arts organization sponsors. I love the director and I appreciate all she has done for me and other artists, young and old, new and seasoned. She is great. And the Art League needs support.

I thought the latest exhibit, Tiny Things, would be easy. I had a million ideas! Assemblage? Book? Tiny abstract? The world was my oyster!

I really wanted to submit this one but the frame is 10″ x 10″, not 8″ x 8″. Poopoo!

Well, the instructions stated plainly that the piece had to be no larger than 8″ x 8″, including frame. Easy. But having made several nice tiny abstracts, I struggled with framing. Struggled and then actually failed. I bought two frames that were both too big, thinking somehow that they were within the limitation. Discovered way late that they were not. Submissions were due the following day. I gave up.

The next day came and I hadn’t quite given up. I went out searching, again, for some way to frame them nicely. Nothing. Gave up all over again. Then I remembered I had an older piece of the right size. I put a wire on it and took it downtown. Done! Challenge met! So I’m happy about that.

Challenges and especially, meeting them, are so good for us. They give us new ways to think about what we normally do and new ways of doing. They help us make new connections in our brains. (That’s what I like to think, anyway.) And they’re good for self-esteem. Yes! I met that challenge! What’s next?

When I turned 60, I set myself the challenge of doing sixty new things during the year. Then there was the Poem a Day for 49 Days challenge that turned into more than a year of daily poems. More recently, I did 100 Days of Meditation. All of these have helped me grow. Now I’ve made this pretty tiny vow for 2024. How could I give up so early in the year?

The next exhibit will really test me. Still Life. Aiyiyi! Still Life? Me?? I honestly cannot imagine that I will do well with that. Better start now. But undoubtedly this, too, will stretch me in good ways. Perhaps Still Life will become my new favorite genre of art. Doubtful. But anything is possible!

“Wisdom starts when you know yourself. You will realise that everything aligns itself perfectly when you live your truth, break limiting habits and challenge yourself daily.” ― Itayi Garande

“Don’t live the same day over and over again and call that a life. Life is about evolving mentally, spiritually, and emotionally.” ― Germany Kent

“Challenge yourself. Try to shed an outgrown identity.” ― Sonia Choquette, The Psychic Pathway

Thanks for listening,
Kay

Posted on August 6, 2023 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

To See Takes Time

One of my big inspirations in New York City was the Georgia O’Keeffe exhibit at MoMA, titled “To See Takes Time.”

O’Keeffe is best known for her gorgeous flower paintings, but the focus of this exhibit was her watercolors and drawings in pencil, charcoal, and pastel. These are mostly works on paper and it was clear from the exhibit notes and quotes that she was having just so much fun with each medium she used. I found the joy she expressed about using all of these different media contagious. I couldn’t wait to start playing around with all of these things that I already had at home but rarely used.

Here’s what she wrote (in a letter, I believe) about that particular time in her artist’s journey: “I decided to start anew–to strip away what I had been taught, to accept as true my own thinking. This was one of the best times of my life. There was no one around to look at what I was doing, no one interested, no one to say anything about it one way or another. I was alone and singularly free . . . no one to satisfy but myself. I began with charcoal and paper and decided not to use any color until it was impossible to do what I wanted to do in black and white. I believe it was June before I needed blue.”

My biggest inspirations in art seem to come from artists whose work expresses joy in some way. Joy in the doing, as she expressed, joy in the beauty of the work, joy in the colors and shapes. This work of hers and what she wrote about it touched my spirit in all of these ways.

I have come home and played with charcoal, crayons, and pastels more than I had done for a long time. I’ve played around in my sketchbooks, which I often neglect. I’ve had fun and discovered a few things, but I’m itching to do more. I want to carry her spirit of joyful experimentation into all of what I do.

And isn’t that just life? There’s always something new to learn and someone new to take inspiration from, even if that person is teaching you to “accept as true” your own ideas about your art, your own way of thinking, your own creativity.

So this is my imperative. Play, create, follow my own threads, find my joy (not unlike the name and focus of the Louise Fletcher course that got me painting in the first place) and accept as true my own ideas for my own art.

“I long ago came to the conclusion that even if I could put down accurately the thing I saw and enjoyed, it would not give the observer the kind of feeling it gave me. I had to create an equivalent for what I felt about what I was looking at–not copy it.” – Georgia O’Keeffe

“Interest is the most important thing in life; happiness is temporary, but interest is continuous. – Georgia O’Keeffe

“Imagination makes you see all sorts of things.” – Georgia O’Keeffe

Thanks for listening,
Kay

Posted on August 6, 2023 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

The City So Nice They Named It Twice

New York New York, what a wonderful town! I am just back from storied NYC, where I soaked up time with my sons along with museum after museum, and loads of inspiration for painting.

The bridges! The skyline! The murals! The parks! The hubbub! The art. The inimitable spirit of New York City never fails to give me a boost. We went to The Met, aka The Embarrassment of Riches, the first night and again on that last, extra day given to me by the rain and Southwest Airlines. Thank you, thank you, thank you. We went to MoMA, the Brooklyn Museum, Dia (in Beacon NY), Christie’s Auction House, the Morgan Library and the Natural History Museum (full of nature’s art).

I’ve come home feeling almost too full. Van Gogh’s Cypresses at the Met, Georgia O’Keeffe’s watercolors and drawings at MoMA, the AI art of Rafik Anadol at MoMA, the huge iron pieces of Richard Serra at Dia, the musical instruments so artfully displayed at The Met (everything so beautifully displayed at The Met!), all the art everywhere. So many many things to take in and embrace. I was inspired by colors and shapes and yet I feel almost too full, not sure where to go with all of it.

I had thought I’d come home and paint a series of pieces in indigo blue and orange, having been captivated by the African fabrics against an orange wall. But what about the black and white pieces that I loved? And the sumptuous play of colors in that mind-blowing AI installation? What of O’Keeffe’s adventures with watercolor, charcoal, and pastels, one medium after another?

The beautiful Chrysler Building at dusk, across the East River

I loved ALL of it. I want to DO all of it. Yet time rushes by. Like the East River, it just keeps moving. And apparently, one needs to assimilate back into regular life. One must manage meds for the elderly dogs, schedule piano lessons for the school year, buy groceries, do laundry, somehow figure out what to do for one’s tiny business, tackle the weeds in the yard, imagine how a new floor might be put in the kitchen . . . All the things. So many things. All the things of regular life that one joyfully puts aside while off exploring.

This is how we do when we go away and come back home. And it means that we’re lucky to have the going away as well as the home to return to.

Yet the indigo blue and orange seduce me. The black and white. Glorious gobs of color, too. The urge to explore with all the media. I don’t want to lose that energy. It feels fragile, tenuous. I don’t want it to slip and fall beneath all the things.

“Did you ever have something to say and feel as if the whole side of the wall wouldn’t be big enough to say it on, and then sit down on the floor and try to get it onto a sheet of charcoal paper?” – Georgia O’Keefe

“As for New York City, it is a place apart. There is not its match in any other country in the world.” ― Pearl S. Buck

“To see takes time.” – Georgia O’Keeffe

Thanks for listening,
Kay

Posted on March 3, 2023 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

. . . and I Am Brave

I am home from all my travels, home from California, home from Taiwan. I could tell and tell about it but in some ways, I haven’t the words.

I wrote before I left about my fears around this trip. I had many. I was afraid the long flight would be awful and that I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I wasn’t. I was afraid I wasn’t in shape enough for the bike trip. I was! I was afraid something dreadful would happen, in a country where I had zero ability to speak or read the language. It didn’t.

So when we came upon this sculpture, with this title, during our first amazing day of the bike journey, I was enchanted. “I am brave.” I hadn’t been feeling brave. I had balked at riding city bikes in the busy streets of Taipei and Taichung, with throngs of scooters, cars, trucks, and people. I did not feel brave, but I did it. I had moments of “I can’t do it” when we picked up our rental bikes and I found my “extra small” e-bike too big to get comfortably on and off of. I was afraid of falling in traffic or anywhere, and breaking a hip, like an old lady. And then I panicked when I read a couple of comments online about how scary the coastal route–our route–could be.

But I knew I could trust my son. He had made all the plans. He is a skilled traveler and cyclist. He was my guide. We set off, in this gorgeous land where all those drivers of scooters, cars and trucks really do watch out for cyclists, where there are miles and miles of beautiful dedicated bikeways, where bike lanes accompany practically every street and highway, where the many bicycle routes for traversing Taiwan are well-marked, where cyclists are warmly welcomed nearly everywhere. Bicycling is the national pastime in Taiwan and that is very apparent.

I would like to write more about the country and the trip in my next letter. It has been so much for me to absorb. I’ll let this one express my gratitude that my son made this happen for me and gave me the chance to be brave. This was much more than travel for me. It was transformative. I’ve learned that I can be fearful of a thing–anxious, worried, even envisioning terrible things–and yet still go ahead and do it, ultimately finding it utterly exhilarating. I once was better friends with that concept than I have been of late. It has been wonderful for me to revisit it.

Thank you, Cole.

“Courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” – Nelson Mandela

“Courage conquers all things: it even gives strength to the body.” – Ovid

“In all realms of life it takes courage to stretch your limits, express your power, and fulfill your potential.” – Suze Orman

Thanks for listening,
Kay

Posted on November 10, 2022 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

Eyes Mind Heart

We hear all the time about the mind/body connection. What about the New York eye/brain/heart connection?

I recently returned from another fabulous trip to see my sons who live in New York. The City is jam-packed with everything. Everything. Okay, there are no mountains, so everything but mountains. Whenever I go, I’m met with a muchness that invigorates first my eyes, then my brain, and then my heart. Looking at something like that amazing Barbara Kruger installation (above), I feel my eyes widen and my brain open right up. And after that, my heart. Love. There is so very much to love.

Honestly, you don’t need to step into a museum to get the eye/brain/heart love. It’s in the street art, the hilarious or heartbreaking signs and graffiti, the juxtaposition of trees with skyscrapers, the many beautiful parks, the skyline at night, old and new buildings standing right next to each other, the beautiful bridges, loads of short-legged dogs, wild Halloween decorations on the beautiful brownstones, the surprise of sculpture in subway stations, even the digital (no longer neon) craziness of Times Square, and of course the fashions! All of it, so inspiring! So energizing! Nourishment for the eye. Eye to brain to heart.

I never fail to come home full of possibility and light, eyes stuffed with color and wonder, a serotonin-filled brain imagining all kinds of projects and pursuits, a heart full of love for my own sons and, too, for all of those enterprising, creative individuals who make New York the remarkable place it is.

Begging the question: What will I do with all of this energy coursing through my creative brain, more than a week later? We shall see.

Sure, the City would feel quite different were my sons not there with me, and I’m sure NYC has its share of lonely people, not to mention desperate and homeless. But for me, lucky as I am and for a week or so, it is a fat purse that never empties.

“I look out the window and I see the lights and the skyline and the people on the street rushing around looking for action, love, and the world’s greatest chocolate chip cookie, and my heart does a little dance.” – Nora Ephron

“New York is not a city. It’s a world.” – Iman

“When it’s 100 degrees in New York, it’s 72 in Los Angeles. When it’s 30 degrees in New York, in Los Angeles it’s still 72. However, there are 6 million interesting people in New York, and only 72 in Los Angeles.” – Neil Simon

Thanks for listening,
Kay

Posted on November 10, 2022 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

Meeting Your Heroes

I met one of my longtime art and book heroes last week at my favorite book store in the world.

When my son, Peter, was maybe ten years old, a good friend of mine gave him the book, Hey Willy, See the Pyramids by Maira Kalman. We all loved the zany little book with her crazy illustrations. My favorite part of the book goes like this:

“What is nothing?” I ask.

“Nothing is when you are given a very small portion of ice cream by an adult, and you look at the plate and at the adult and you ask for more and the adult says you have a huge portion and you say ‘That’s it? That’s nothing.’

“And that is nothing,” says Lulu.

That book was the beginning of a long love affair with all things Maira Kalman. I bought her children’s books for my sons. I bought her adult books–often a mix of humor, beauty, and sadness–for myself. My son, Cole, has gifted me with several of her books, some signed, as well as a Kate Spade purse decorated with Maira’s drawing. Most recently, he orchestrated a gift from my three boys of her “cosiette,” a hand embroidered piece of linen from her drawings, set into a tray. I have seen her exhibits at the Jewish Museum in San Francisco, the Jewish Museum in New York City, and galleries in NYC.

But I had managed to miss her appearances in NYC, including, on one visit, a talk at the NY Public Library just one hour after my plane left for home. I once emailed her, to see if she’d be speaking anywhere and she very kindly replied no, not this time.

The Strand book store, in New York City’s East Village, boasts 18 miles of books on its many shelves. Included in the 18 miles is the rare book room on the third floor, where author talks are held. Maira was scheduled to speak about her newest book, Women Holding Things, as well as showing the paintings from it at a gallery in Chelsea, all during my visit! Oh joy! Peter got tickets to the talk, including a copy of the book, and we heard her speak from front row center seats.

They say you should never meet your heroes. But I was not disappointed. We hold the same views on many things. She “falls in love with 50 things” every day. She loves walking. Values her time alone. Loves cake. She does not read the news (I do read a little)–only the obits. But she knows what goes on in the world and she takes an active role in doing good, selling limited edition booklets for $100 apiece to raise money for causes that I, too, hold dear.

As she signed my copy of her book, I yammered on, telling her all the things, about Hey Willy and all the books, about my boys, the Kate Spade purse, the cosiette, her kind email, all in a big rush, knowing there were others waiting and I was lucky, so lucky to be there with my sons, both of them snapping photos. She was great and lovely and very kind.

The next day we went to see the gallery show of “Women Holding Things.” Another lovely piece of the Maira Kalman adventure. That trip filled me up in so many ways. This was one of them. Finally I’d met one of my heroes.

“My dream is to walk around the world. A smallish backpack, all essentials neatly in place. A camera. A notebook. A traveling paint set. A hat. Good shoes. A nice pleated (green?) skirt for the occasional seaside hotel afternoon dance.”― Maira Kalman, The Principles of Uncertainty

“Everyone I know is looking for solace, hope and a tasty snack.”― Maira Kalman

“On the wall was a dress that I embroidered. It said “Ich Habe Genug.” Which is a Bach Cantata. Which I once thought meant “I’ve had it, I can’t take anymore, give me a break.” But I was wrong. It means “I have enough.” And that is utterly true. I happen to be alive. End of discussion. But I will go out and buy a hat.” ― Maira Kalman, The Principles of Uncertainty

Thanks for listening,
Kay

Posted on September 25, 2022 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

Process Painting

I just tried something I’d never heard of before. It’s called Process Painting, and it’s a combo of meditation and painting. I watched a brief demo by Patty Ripley in my online art group and I couldn’t wait to try it. It’s a process whereby you meditate and then paint, letting whatever comes up within you lead you. The aim is not to make a painting–but spiritual, personal growth. Well, this hits my two biggest things of late. As we all know, carpentry is not one of those. No, dummy! Meditation and painting!

Patty states: “I devote to the healing power of art. It isn’t about making the final product yet more about the process. It’s about connecting with the spirit within and channeling that. It’s about allowing the narrative to be fueled by emotion, sensation and landscape. All is welcome here.” It might sound woo-woo and it is. Right up my alley!

I bought some kids’ paints and poster board, taped two pieces together to make a nice big surface on my wall, and began. First, I listened to her meditation and then I let loose. I should say that my painting is normally fairly free to start with. But here, there is absolutely no imperative to show what you make or to make a pleasing painting or to follow any rules at all. The idea here, though, is to let anything at all come up from within you. Emotions, thoughts, reactions to the meditation, reactions to the colors and the paints, responses to whatever you’ve just put down. And then just follow.

I started with brushes, even skinny ones, which I normally avoid because of my shaky hands. But the paint was a lot like finger paint, so I started using my fingers. Much more fun and freeing.

And then I shut out the little voice that says one should not make the same mark again and again in a single painting, so I just went all out with circles. Circles circles circles! I love circles and I put them into my paintings all the time.

Why? Hmm. I had to think about this. Circles are unending, symbols of life and infinity. They seem to float, like bubbles, which are perfect and ephemeral (thank you, Lynn) and therefore precious; a treat; a gift. They are happy, simple shapes. They represent love (xo). They are happiness.

And there was more that I won’t go into because it was really just for me. Just as when you try it, it will be just for you. I will do it again. It was a beautiful, opening experience for me.

“Devoting to your energetic being will help you reconnect with the pure essence that you are.” – Patty Ripley

“This true essence is beyond the ego. It is fearless; it is free; it is immune to criticism; it does not fear any challenge. It is beneath no one, superior to no one, and full of magic, mystery, and enchantment.” – Deepak Chopra

“Magic happens here.” – Patty Ripley

Thanks for listening,
Kay

Posted on July 3, 2022August 19, 2022 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

Painting for Happiness

I feel like I have only peripherally written in these letters about painting, even though it is my newest and strongest love. It has kept me from planting even one thing in my flower bed, now overrun with onions, dandelions and who knows what else? I say who knows because I haven’t taken five minutes to really look. Painting could possibly be blamed for my now sketchy exercise routine, the state of my house and yard, recent late bill payments, failure to get my van ready to sell, and even the sorry state of my studio.

Painting, looking at others’ paintings, listening to podcasts about painting, thinking about painting, taking free online painting workshops, and watching videos about painting have increasingly taken over my life. And it makes me happy!

I’m not sure, though, why I’ve been hesitant to talk much or write about it. Well, there are those judgements we all make against ourselves, especially with creative endeavors. I’m only learning. I’m not that good. I’m not there yet. But why would I have to be great at it to tell that this is my newest passion? I feel an awkwardness when people ask, “What have you been up to lately?” My honest answer would be “painting,” but I often feel shy about saying so. I think maybe it seems a bit self-important or arrogant to tell it. But why? When I started playing pickleball, I’d tell anyone who would listen how much I loved it. But somehow to say that I’m painting feels awkward, feels like people wouldn’t understand, feels like I’m saying I’m Picasso.

Couldn’t I allow myself the grace to tell about something I’m doing that I love? It would seem so. If one paints, couldn’t one be called a painter, whether or not one is accomplished at it?

Here I am at the end of last summer’s course, among all the work I did.

I don’t believe I’m alone in feeling shy or insecure about painting, though. In the Find Your Joy online painting course I took in the summer of 2021 and in the online artists’ community I belong to, fear is a big topic. Not so much fear of telling but of failing, looking ridiculous, fear of never creating something beautiful or meaningful. Art somehow brings up a whole set of insecurities in humans. Many of us create because we want to be seen or heard (loved). For all of us, what we create is a part of us. To put your creation out into the world is scary. What if no one loves it (me)? Yikes!

But art should be freeing! It should make your spirit soar. And in the past few weeks, I have found that with painting. Not only do I love it while I’m doing it, but I’m loving what comes of it and I’m feeling more and more eager to show and to tell. So here you are. I’m telling. And if you happened to come to my house, I’d pull you into my studio to show. This is my newest, biggest thing. Painting is a joyful pursuit. I love painting. I am a painter. That last is pretty scary to say but I figure I’ll just keep saying it. I am a painter. I am a painter. You could be a painter.

“Creativity takes courage. ” ― Henri Matisse

“To be creative means to be in love with life. You can be creative only if you love life enough that you want to enhance its beauty, you want to bring a little more music to it, a little more poetry to it, a little more dance to it.” ― Osho

“If you hear a voice within you say you cannot paint, then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced.” ― Vincent Willem van Gogh

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay