growing

Today, I drew. Haven't done that since grade school. But I joined an online basic art class to improve my artsitic vision, and they encouraged us to try out some of the techniques demonstrated. So why not? Charcoal most appealed to me, especially when water was added, so that's what I did. For inspiration I used a photo I'd made earlier.

I'm not ready to quit my day job. I'm clear I have a LOT to learn. But I'm loving the journey.

Water

I've been fortunate to spend two of the last four weekends on a beach in Sonora, Mexico. It's a beach that's a five hour drive from Phoenix, and I spent a lot of time there during my years in Arizona.

Even as a little desert dweller, I always appreciated the light patterns made by sunlight and water. I'd spend hours by the swimming pool, watching the light ribbons undulate in the water, and on the patio wall.

Returning to this beach with my artist's eye, I saw it newly. Early morning walks at low tide showed a side of this sea I didn't connect to in the past.

Water is deeply transformative. It can be devastating as a tsunami, or gentle as a soft rain that brings a fresh sparkle. Spiritually, the symbolism of water is profound. My own rebirth as an artist was reflected in leaving the desert and moving near the sea. I'm so grateful I got to bring this journey full circle.

Submitting

Submitting. Submission. Not a very empowered word. Yet it's the word artists use when referring to offering our works to be included in exhibits. I submit my art to your judgement.

It is the artist's version of cold calling. Of shaking hands with people at the Chamber of Commerce mixer. Most of us hate, or at least, resist it. Yet it's usually the first step to getting our work shown.

This week I've pushed through my own resistance and have submitted six original pieces for a garden- themed show. I've had two more accepted for a gallery involved in the June Art Walk in Pioneer Square. And I'm working on submissions for a facility in Snohomish, WA; pieces that will likely end up being printed and colored on five foot square canvases. So the outcome is fun, even if the process is not.

I submit to the process. Resistance is futile. Perhaps I will even come to enjoy it. Perhaps.