The Conversation of the Soul

I’ve been dabbling with art since I can remember.  My parents enrolled me in an art classes starting at least when I was nine or ten, perhaps earlier, but that’s the first art class I remember clearly.  We met at a library and did a lot with crayola markers and pencils.  I remember being hooked when I figured out how to draw the little drips of wax on a burning candle and drawing lots of burning candles after that.

As a teenager I got to start painting with acrylics, which was the medium of choice for my art teacher at the time, and I’m glad it was because I love the versatility of acrylics and the way they can be adapted for so many mixed media and other projects other than painting.


In my late teens, young adult time, I found a bunch of canvases, the good, stretched canvases on a fantastic sale and bought about a half dozen.

They lay untouched for 5 or 6 years, along with all my brushes, paints, palette knives and so forth.

Five or six years!

What stopped me from painting?

The canvasses were expensive, at least, to replace them would be, and I was afraid that I’d paint something that wasn’t “good” and thereby “ruin” them.

Somewhere along the path of learning art, I’d also absorbed value judgments for art.

What a minute, Anna, are you saying there’s no such thing as good and bad art?

Well, sort of.  Art can be misused just like all sorts of other things intended for good can be misused.  I guess what I want to say is there’s no such thing as a good or bad type of art.  Nor is there art intended for a good reason that one could say is “bad.”  (See, my art is all awesome! :-) I declare it so).

Plus, when we use these terms “bad” art and “good” art, we’re usually referring to some level of skill that we perceive as good or bad, or, and most often I think, when we don’t like something, we call it “bad.”

Of course, Picasso was viewed as “bad” by his contemporaries.

See somewhere along the line, we’ve gotten the idea that art is something that can be judged as skilled or un-skilled and therefore “worthy” or “unworthy” as opposed to seeing art for what it truly is…

…the conversation of the soul.

The pictures in this post are some thoughts from my soul.  #1 is the first painting I tried when I finally decided that I either needed to risk “ruining” my canvasses or give away my art supplies.  #2 is the second take on abstract flowers.  #3 we fast forward a couple of years to my response to and desire to have some memorial to a miscarried pregnancy.  And #4 is still sitting on my easel.  I can’t decide whether or not it’s done.

What about you? Where do you express creativity?

Where are you afraid to express your creativity?  What’s your blank canvas that you’re afraid to “ruin”?

If, “art is the conversation of the soul” (quoth ME!), what’s your soul saying?

Want the t-shirt?  Okay, so today’s post inspired a tee shirt.  Available on both men’s and women’s tees, kid’s tees and even onesies!

A Whole New World

This is Ella.  Ella is four days old.  The world is a big and unusual place.

She handles all this new-ness by sleeping a lot. I mean a whole new hugemongous universe? it’d wear you out too.  (Doesn’t Husband look good w/ a baby?  And no, she’s not ours. I’d take her though).

And occasionally, the new world makes you a little grumpy.  Especially when you’re still learning how to poop.  I know, little one, pooping is a strange thing (makes you feel better in the long run, so hang in there!)

Sometimes in a big new world, it’s comforting to suck on one’s mittens (hey, I still do that when I get nervous too!)

Meet Ella’s big brother, Dale.  Dale is 4 and a half.

Such a shame this kid has no personality.

This is Molly, Ella’s self-appointed protector.

She’s keeping an eye on the newest member of her pack (me feeding her had nothing to do with her watching me… nothing at all).

Ella’s awesome parents do not appear in these pictures (well, her mom’s sort of in the first one) for reasons of being very tired. Duh. They like, brought a new human into the world this week.

In the meantime… How I met my Husband Part 2

“So, I just had the most amazing conversation with this guy who reads my blog,” says I, thoughtfully chewing on a sandwich at the Lovebirds Cafe in Pasadena.  I was eating lunch with my friend Joanne on a break from classes at Fuller.

“Really?  What’d you talk about?”

“Theology.”

Pause.

Me.  “We talked for like 2 hours, do you think it means anything?”

Joanne, “Well, it was about theology… I don’t know.  Too soon to tell, let me know if you talk again!”

Munch, munch, munch.

“I haven’t actually seen him online for a couple of days, so who knows…”

Of course the name of the restaurant we managed to go to that day wasn’t helping with the whole, love is in the air thing I had going on in my head (okay, so it wasn’t love yet, but I was at least crushing, k?).

Turns out he had left school to go to a convention (which, was on that Friday and Saturday, I’m not sure why he wasn’t on Wednesday and Thurs either, but who knows).

But then Sunday afternoon, his name popped up in my chat window! He was back, and he wanted to talk!

Me seeing him online had nothing to do with the fact that I had an alarm set to tell me when he came back, and then when it did go off, me sitting there chanting “message me, message me, come on, you know you want to.”  A case for subliminal influencing 2,115 miles away? I guess we’ll never know…

Have you seen part one? Don’t miss it!  Let me not to the marriage of two blogs… How I met my husband Part 1