As the two-year anniversary of my mother’s death approaches, I’ve felt more and more that I need to say something here:
I’ve hardly written fiction in the last two years.
I’ve always loved art and words. For years, I’d considered myself as much a writer as an artist. I’ve got several completed novels to show for it—all in need of serious editing. I think I just had to get those books out of my system while I struggled with my mother’s illness and other life stresses. I needed to write. I still do, I suppose, but not as a career. It’s a passion and personal—and maybe I’ll write more often if it stays in a journal.
I’ll publish some stories eventually, with covers worthy of them… but for now, they’ll be lovingly placed in the proverbial writer’s trunk. I’m fine with that.
Hopefully, my writer friends will understand. Besides, I’m still—and always will be—a reader! And a writer too, but for myself.
The last two years have changed me for the better. I’ve steered back toward the drive that unites my family, most of whom are artists. In the process of creating fine art, I’ve also rekindled a love for design, which is my actual paid work. I’ve discovered new things to love about the creative process and I wake up every day excited to tackle my to-do list.
My office is now my studio. It’s the best room in the house.
My mother would have been proud. She was an painter and graphic designer herself, before she lost her sight to macular degeneration.
For the first time in many years, I feel absolutely certain about where I’m headed. It’s wonderful.
So, there you go. I don’t post a lot of truly personal stuff online, but my readers here are friends and friends share the big moments and changes in life.
Filed under Art, Blogging, Career, Color, Creativity, Decisions, Family, Fate, Friendship, Graphic Design, Inspiration, Journal, Life, Love, Painting, Writing
Since I’m striving to live by this lately, I wanted to make this quote into an image and share it here. I also want to thank all of you for following my blog and encouraging me. I never would have thought blogging could bring me so many wonderful friends and inspiration. Love to you all!
While the writing world wrestles with NaNoWriMo, I’m going to spend November much like last year: creating twenty different pieces of artwork.
I call it ‘KarPaiTwenMo‘ (Karen Paints Twenty in a Month). Five per week, gallery print size. This year, I’ve got distractions in November that might overwhelm me somewhat while I try to make art, but I’m certain I can do it.
I may not post five times per week. Still, I’ll share the results here as frequently as possible, and will share all twenty in time.
Best of luck to all of you participating in NaNoWriMo―and a successful November to everyone, no matter what your plans and goals are. Have fun and keep the coffee pot brewing!
In one of my old books of poetry, I found some golden autumn leaves pressed carefully into a page. This was the poem on that page. Although the words aren’t quite addressing a little girl, I remember liking the poem when I was a kid. And so, I’m sharing (as formatted in the book):
‘Thinking’ (or) ‘The Man Who Thinks He Can’ by Walter D. Wintle
If you think you are beaten, you are;
If you think you dare not, you don’t.
If you’d like to win, but think you can’t
It’s almost a cinch you won’t.
If you think you’ll lose, you’ve lost,
For out in the world we find
Success being with a fellow’s will;
It’s all in the state of mind.
If you think you’re outclassed, you are:
You’ve got to think high to rise.
You’ve got to be sure of yourself before
You can ever win a prize.
Life’s battles don’t always go
To the stronger or faster man,
But soon or late the man who wins
Is the one who thinks he can.
Fading Borders. Breaking old limits and crafting new passages.
For a larger version and print, please click the image.
What an abyss of uncertainty whenever the mind feels that some part of it has strayed beyond its own borders; when it, the seeker, is at once the dark region through which it must go seeking, where all its equipment will avail it nothing. Seek? More than that: create. It is face to face with something which does not so far exist, to which it alone can give reality and substance, which it alone can bring into the light of day. ― Marcel Proust
Each a Color. For a print and other items, please click the image.
We may all be tiny specks in a vast and wondrous universe, but I believe we’re connected in ways we can’t even begin to imagine. One fantastic symphony where we’re each a note: beautiful music, together.
A large drop of sun lingered on the horizon and then dripped over and was gone, and the sky was brilliant over the spot where it had gone, and a torn cloud, like a bloody rag, hung over the spot of its going. And dusk crept over the sky from the eastern horizon, and darkness crept over the land from the east. ― John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath
If you’re interested: I have a limited time promotion on a 16″ x 20″ stretched canvas print of ‘Macrocosm And Microcosm’ here. Ends Sunday.