Chiaroscuro

Wikipedia says:

Chiaroscuro (kiːɑːrˈə.skʊrˈoʊ, –skjʊrˈoʊ, Italian for light-dark) is a term in art for a contrast between light and dark. The term is usually applied to bold contrasts affecting a whole composition, but is also more technically used by artists and art historians for the use of effects representing contrasts of light, not necessarily strong, to achieve a sense of volume in modeling three-dimensional objects such as the human body.


My friend Deb often refers to chiaroscuro in the life sense, the interplay of lightness and dark that makes up our day to day. Like the touch of bitter that makes the sweet taste sweeter, or the long winter that makes the warmth of spring fairly explode in green and gold. We are supposed to have both, life would not be as rich without the contrast...but I forget that sometimes.

Sometimes I just want sweetie, sunny, lollipops and tulips, happy, happy, safe and sound, sex in the afternoon, buttercream on cupcakes and laffs and fun, and pleasant, peaceful times. I forget about that other stuff, that it is coming, always around the corner, always a measure of it to be mixed into your cup (hopefully just a small measure, just a teaspoon or two, if you please?). Or I don't forget, I get askeered...nervously waiting, fretting, worrying, what's coming next??? And I'm not even enjoying the sex and the buttercream, and my dimple-faced kids, because I am too busy anticipating trouble.

What if ((dramatic pause))...what if I could just accept the chiaroscuro of life?

Could I?

Wow. I don't know. I may have just blown my own mind. It is so antipathetic to my own personality. I am a planner and a worrier, not an easygoing bone in my bod. But what if I could just embrace the light and the dark, respecting that life ever has been and always will be balanced on the tensile wire of the two?

I will be sad. I will be frustrated. I will show my impatience. I will try and fail. And that's OK.
Grief will come. Bad luck, bad judgement, hard times, illness and struggle. Angst and boredom. All a part it. And that's OK...really OK, not indicative of a larger failure, a lack of planning, lack of faith, or weakness of character...just part of being human, part of life, as natural as breathing, as inevitable as -40C in a Winnipeg winter.

Because there is the other part too...the light, and I have noooo problem accepting that (funny how that works).


Been playing with some new texture and colours in my art journal. Oranges, purples and reds. I love this page, but can't seem to get a really good pic of it. It is rich, full of light and dark and beautiful all the same.

Giveaway & Advent

Names in a pirate hat:

Drawn by my handsome young assistant, who is home sick from school. Name #1:


Name #2:



Name #3:


Congratulations! I will be in contact to get your mailing info. Thank you so much to everyone who entered!

And in other news, we spent several hours on the weekend working on these. They were truly a family effort, with the DH and I doing the cutting and pasting and the boys helping to design, number etc.






They are gum advent packs. We got the idea from My Little Mochi. So easy and cute, and a great way to countdown until Christmas. Only 44 more sleeps! (...or so I hear)

Deeply Rooted

Today is my dad's 60th birthday. We wanted to do something special for him...something to make him feel celebrated and appreciated. Being a family of modest means, who are scattered across 3 provinces, meant that a lavish party, a vacation in the sun or any of the other big ticket items that we would love to give him are a little beyond us right now, either geographically or financially. He isn't a "things" person at all. It's like pulling teeth just to get him to put a couple of items on a Christmas list for our annual exchange, so just buying him stuff wouldn't feel at all meaningful. What to do? It had to be something unique, something personal, something that fairly oozes care and effort on his behalf, something that we could accomplish together, although we are 100's of kilometres apart, something full of love...

Deeply Rooted

12 cm x 12 cm squares of watercolour paper on a 16" x 40", 2" depth canvas. 8 different contributors, ranging in age from 9 to 50-something-ish. Materials from ink to pastel, watercolour to pencil crayon to stuff found in the backyard...oh, and love. Can you feel it? I swear I can feel it when I look at it, like a palpable warmth mixed right in with the paint and glue. I hope my Dad can feel it too.

1 Year Blogiversary & Giveaway

It's been a whole year! Over a year actually (am not very good at remembering birthdays, anniversaries and such in a timely fashion...just ask my sister...sorry Elizabeth. Happy 28th!), it would have been exactly a year on Oct. 24th.

I started this blog as a writing outlet, when I very much wanted to, but couldn't do Nanowrimo last year. This year finds me in a different place. I have the time (being unbusy and all), but realized that I was approaching Nano like a plate of brussel sprouts this time around...sure it would be good for me, but I just don't really wanna right now.

What I really want to do is finish off my Super Nova art journaling course with the ever awesome Julie Prichard, and then mess around in my art journal with all my new skillz. I want to finish my twin nails painting which is still in the works (slow and steady with that one), and start something new, with new colours and texture so deep and rich it makes you want to wrap yourself up in it, like a blankie on a cold day.

I want to make all sorts of Christmassy crafty thingies, and bake Panaforte and Linzer cookies, and do all those little holiday-ish things that will make my boys' hearts glow. I want to talk Kris-muss with the DQ on the phone every night (she starts planning in August!). I want to knock her socks off with the most magical, love-filled, sugar-dusted, pine and cinnamon-smelling holiday of her little life. I want squeals of glee and shining eyes, and kids that feel completely enveloped in familial warmth.

I want to keep blogging here. This blog has become so much more than a mere writing outlet! It is my conduit to the larger world, a place to share, meet friends and to tell the truth of me out loud. I certainly didn't expect all this when I started a year ago. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has taken the time to read or comment, and to those of you who are willing to share yourselves on your own blogs too. Soul food, that's what it is.

So to celebrate this 1 year milestone, I want to do a giveaway...which seems to be the done thing. When I was working on the tree project I did several extras with this in mind (always thinking ahead, am I). Like this one:

12cm x 12cm mixed media on watercolour paper

I would be honoured to send this, and 2 other different Tree art cards out as a thank you for supporting my blog. I wish I had one for each of you! But as it is, I will have to do a draw. Please leave your name and email or blog address in the comments if you would like to take part, and I will do a random draw in one week, on November 10th.


PS I will post about the tree project itself very soon. :)

A Moment of Silence for Owen Meany

When I read a really, really good book I have a hard time beginning a new one. Different than the restless reader's block I experience from time to time, where I just can't seem to settle on a particular book, this is more about digestion of ideas and a reluctant good bye to characters that have newly become a part of my own emotional landscape...so it is with "A Prayer for Owen Meany".

It was on my "to read" list for years, but my friend Mel's love for John Irving finally gave me the impetus to bump it to the top. Well written, definitely. Irving's manipulation of the timeline in this book is masterful. Thought provoking...belief vs. doubt, predestination, the power of religion...I am left with a lot to mentally chaw on. But the genius of the book lays in the character of Owen Meany, the strange little guy, with the permanent scream and the unshakable faith. A character that could have so easily become a caricature or a mere curiosity, becomes a revelation of humanity and spirituality.

Owen Meany went straight to my heart like an arrow. I am pierced with him...wounded, heavy, bleeding thought and feeling.

I need a minute, time to digest, time to mourn, time to recover.

A moment of silence for Owen Meany if you will.

The Unbusy Revolution; On Being Selfish

On Monday the DH and I attended our first Parents of Kids on the Autism Spectrum Support Group meeting. It was interesting, to understate it. The families represented had kids ranging from low functioning, non verbal, to high functioning Aspies like ours, and everything in between. At first we wondered if we could even relate to what was being shared. I mean, we are very lucky, E&L are very "easy" and oh, so smart, but as the meeting went on, we were humbled as the commonalities emerged.

The homework given for the month was to take time everyday to "do something for ourselves". The idea being that caring for special needs kids can be incredibly stressful, and if we as parents don't take care of our own emotional and physical well being how can we take care of our children's? Now you all know that personally I am all over that idea, but as I looked around the room at the beleaguered, skeptical faces of the other parents, I was reminded once again of how automatic it is to default to resistance when it comes to taking time to care for ourselves.

It's so easy to prioritize the really important things that demand our attention...kids, jobs, homes, bills etc., and to persistently ignore our own health and happiness. Because that's not as important, right? Certainly not as important as the needs of others...especially our children's. Sooner or later though, it catches up to all of us...with an increase in impatience ...edgy, snapping, snarling...doing a shitty job at those important things we do for others...organizational skills, energy and enthusiasm out the window...stress, stress, STRESS...health problems...relationships suffering...anxiety...depression, etc, etc.

And the irony is that the people who need to take the time to attend to their own spirits the most, are the people least likely to do it. Like the mom raising 3 young sons on the autistic spectrum, whose husband travels all the time, and won't get on board with helping with the kids in the way that they and she needs when he is home. I could see her turn a paler shade of grey at the burden of having to try to take that time for herself this month. But who could be more needed as a healthy, functioning, positive individual? And who has less time and space to make it happen? And who has less inclination? I could see her passion about making a better life for her children, stimulating, teaching and building the confidence of her children. She desperately wants them to be healthy and happy. I could hear the devotion and concern in her every word...I could recognize that ardent, anxious focus, because I feel it too. I want it too, more than anything. I obsess over it. It keeps me up at night. What wouldn't I give to help my precious boys in any way? It's not only the logistics of making the time for ourselves that is so difficult, but the feelings surrounding it. It feels selfish. It feels counter productive to that overwhelming passion to give our children the best possible childhoods, even though logically we know it isn't. We know our kids need us to be strong and whole and happy as much as they need anything else we can give them (more?), but in the moment it is very, very, very hard to shut the door on a weeping child to take a few minutes for yourself, no matter how much you may need it.

And I have been using the example of moms and their need to care of their kids, but you don't have to be a mom to feel selfish about taking time for yourself, or to have a hard time erecting boundaries around your own unbusy time. We all let things get in the way of taking care of ourselves. We all have those nagging guilty, "I'm being selfish" feelings.

So I think I am going to do pretty well on this month's homework. ;) Right now, right here doing this...this thing that we do together. The blogging, the sharing, the solidarity, the inspiration...this feels pretty good to me.

(and I am only feeling slightly guilty about the pile of unwashed laundry, the kitchen floor smeared with pumpkin from last night's carving and the school meeting that I have coming up in exactly 19 minutes that I could be spending this time getting better prepared for...)

'Tis now the very witching time of night...

Awesome pumpkins courtesy of Zombie Pumpkins.com , and 3 hours of hard labour on my and the dudes part. It's almost HalloweeeEEEeeen peoples!

The Truth About My Dad

My parents got married when I was 5. I thought my new dad was wonderful. I was so proud of the fact that he adopted me. He chose me. He wanted me to be his daughter, and I wanted him to be my dad. This was way more special than when daughters were just born to fathers! This was finding and choosing and deciding that we would be a family.

I adored him. What he said was law. When he was happy, so was I. When I disappointed him, I just wanted to die.

So of course, there had to be the inevitable fall. Even in a family that wasn't in the stranglehold of the million rules and rituals that made up the twisted religion to which we adhered mind and body with every waking breath, there was often a fall...a teenage rebellion, a sundering of opinion or affection. It's really pretty normal. But in our family, bound up so tightly, watched so closely, the fall was explosive. My teenage years were a war zone, and the deep well of admiration that I had for my father turned to poisonous rage and a disillusionment so complete I could taste it, acrid on my tongue.

Frankly, I don't think he liked me much in those years either.

It took a long time, and a lot of work to be able to remember the attachment that I had for my new dad. Our relationship is still very much a work in progress, but I am happy to be able to love him again...and with a much better kind of affection. This time it is founded on an understanding of the fallibility and frailty of us both. It's founded on truth.

And the truth is that there is a lot to admire in my father.
I admire that:

He's the kind of guy who will drive 5 hours, fix your deck, help wash dishes, chauffeur your mom around for shopping and drive 5 hours home again on his only days off that month.

He's the kind of guy who will take on a brand new, completely different career at the age of 54, after an adulthood of ministerial work just isn't making ends meet.

He's the kind of guy who rarely, if ever, complains.

He's the kind of guy who can change.

He's the kind of guy who takes his grandsons fishing...and swimming and skating and bowling, and teaches them archery and tells them stories, and who doesn't give up, even when it seems impossible to connect with two small boys who find connection difficult at times.

He's the kind of guy who can be oh, so tender and gentle with his youngest, special needs daughter.

He's the kind of guy that gets up at 3 in the morning to go to the hospital and minister to a family of people he has never met, who have lost a child at birth and have asked for someone to come and comfort them.

He's the kind of guy who is not afraid of faith,

not afraid to say he's sorry,

not afraid of hard work,

and not afraid to say "I love you".

And I love him too.

Deep in the Forest

The tree collaboration project is almost finished! It has been really exciting to see the contributions from my partners. Here are some of my favourites:

by my sister Victoria

by my sister Elizabeth

by the DH

by my son Liam

by my son Elliot

and by my sister, the one and only DQ (Dancing Queen!)

Yes, this is a family collaboration. I am proud to say that I have a family just bursting with creativity! This is the first time that we've all gotten together to work on one project, and it is turning out fabulous. I can't stop looking at it! I find myself wandering into the room where it is, just to stare at it and gloat several times a day.

Some more trees from me:

The big reveal is coming soon!

My Unbusy Manifesto

I have been pondering this unbusy thing this week, and I appreciate those of you letting me know that you have too. :) This does seem to be a problem for so many of us, we have busy coming out of our ears! We are either missing out on what we really want to be spending our time doing, or are sneaking it in guiltily and feeling like we should really be _____ (insert any number of productive, industrious activities here).

My first instinct in starting this blog post was to come on here and apologize for the many days since my last post, I've just been so b___... uh, wait, nope. Insidious. Then I really thought about it, and wait a minute...
I wasn't too busy to work on my art collaboration project.
I wasn't too busy to bake banana bread with Liam.
I wasn't too busy to finish my last book ("Lost at School" by Ross Greene -highly recommend for anyone with kids who struggle at school), and begin my new one ("A Prayer for Owen Meany" by John Irving).
I wasn't too busy to visit an awesome art supply store that I've been wanting to go to for ages, and wander through the aisles like a kid in a candy shop.
I wasn't too busy to talk on the phone to my sister Elizabeth, approximately 1 zillion times (of course, I do tidy my house while I do this, yay multi tasking!).

So I wasn't that busy. I was making choices with my time.

Then I thought how awesome would it be to build a bit of a community feeling around this unbusy idea? I could ask anyone who wants to to blog or tweet about what they are making time for, how they are getting unbusy, maybe like once a week. Wouldn't that be cool? But wait a minute, wouldn't adding "I must blog for Unbusy Friday" or some such onto people's to do lists, be defeating the purpose of getting rid of the extraneous? D'oh.

Still I like the idea of sharing, and sharing here online with the wonderful art/blogging/nerdfighting community that I've found is one of the things that makes me happy. I want to make time for it. So if sharing your unbusy-ing process is one of the things that would bring you a little gladness, I invite you to join in too. No specific day, no expectation of what you have to do, you can blog, comment or tweet (with hash tag #unbusy so we can find each other)...but only if you want to!

This week I am thinking about what unbusy will mean to me, thus my Unbusy manifesto:

I will make conscious choices about how to spend time based on my own priorities, not out of a sense of obligation or because of other people's expectations.

I will no longer use being busy as an excuse or an explanation, but speak up and own my choices about how I spend my time.

I will work hard, multi task like crazy and be as efficient as possible when it is worktime, so that I can put work aside with a clear conscience when it is playtime.

I will clarify what needs to be done and what doesn't, and let go of time wasted on the uninspiring and unnecessary.

I will choose for playtime the things that feed my soul, and do them without guilt or hesitation.

I will treat playtime like it is important!

I will start living a life full of the things and people I love right now!

What will your Unbusy Manifesto be?

The Unbusy Revolution

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."

(Macbeth, Act 5: Sc. 5)

I am getting really sick of the word "busy". Too busy for this, too busy for that, sure am busy...out of my own mouth and everyone I know.

We are all so busy, aren't we?

Kids, work, housework, shopping, paperwork, appointments, errands, activities, social engagements etc. etc. etc. Especially us women, we are really busy. Hardly time to think straight. Not enough hours in the day. Certainly no time for ourselves. Always on the go. Gotta go. Running late. See you later. Busy, busy. Good bye.

I see this busy-ness becoming an excuse, an avoidance...a disease.

We hold it up like a badge of honour. I am busy, therefore I am. I am important, productive and ambitious. See how much I have to do? See how very vital I am? Being very busy is associated with a person having purpose and value, and good habits -like a strong work ethic. We feel compelled to keep busy, because what is the flip side? Lazy, purposeless...selfish?

I sometimes find myself using busy as a passive aggressive, all purpose ass-covering...or find it being used on me. I am so sorry, I am/was/will be way too busy for that. When what was really meant was "I forgot", or "I don't want to", or "I just don't care enough about that particular thing to prioritize it right now". "Busy" can be a too convenient, get out of jail free card, exempting us from telling our truth.

It also gives us an easy exemption from living our truth. There are many times when I distract myself with "busy". Usually because if I stop for too long, I'll have to think, and I'm not sure I'll be able to bear the conclusions I may come to, or bear feeling my feelings in an authentic moment...if I stop to think...and breathe. But how long can a person go on like that? Introspection and creativity become the casualties. Illness and stress the side effects.

I think a lot of people hide behind busy. Most people I know do, to one degree or another. I am not saying that they don't genuinely have a lot on their plates, they do. And they sure get a lot accomplished, but at what eventual price?

************************

Pssst. I have a secret. Lean in...closer, closer...and I'll whisper it in your ear.

I am not that busy.

Shhhhhhh! O my goodness, don't tell anyone! They will publicly flog me, throw me in jail...or at the very least strip me of my membership in the Modern Motherhood Club.

Way back when I was just a kid in high school, I thought I was busy. I know, funny eh? But c'mon I had alotta stuff to do! That black lipstick wasn't just going to apply itself! When the DH and I were just the two of us, just a couple of DINKS, with cats and dogs and a rented acreage, then I thought we were really busy. Wow, no time for anything anymore, this adulthood gig really takes a lot out of you, and yes, please pass me another pint! Then we had kids. Infant twins with health problems, and a husband who was away more than half the time travelling for business. OK that was busy. (And if you are in that demographic, I am not really talking to you, you poor thing. Stop reading this. Go lie down, if you can.) But since then life has slowly, incrementally gotten more and more manageable, and now I know that I am not that busy.

Not too busy for reading. Not too busy for art. Not too busy for playtime. Not too busy for lazy, pajama days. Not too busy for sex. Not too busy for baking cookies. Not too busy for video games. Not too busy for hot baths...for prayer...for meditation...for a phone call to my sister...for a weekend away... for writing a story...for throwing a birthday party... There is a tonne of stuff that I am not too busy for...if I choose not to be...

The DH and I have been quietly staging our own unbusy revolution ever since those crazy years when the boys were really little. We do less. Less of the unimportant things (like housework, shopping and fulfilling social obligations), and more of the soul sustaining things that make us, us...individually and as a family. We guard our downtime and our creative time ferociously, they are priorities! We certainly aren't one of the most industrious families I know, nor the most organized...nor even the most kempt (my family room carpet, my poor family room carpet!), but we are one of the happiest.

Still lately, the balance has been creeping back towards too busy, and too much feeling worried about the things that don't get done, hence this whole blog post, hence me being sick of even the sound of the word.

"Full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing..." Signifying nothing.

The more I run around like a chicken with my head cut off, the guiltier I feel and the less I actually seem to get done in any meaningful, productive way. I rebel against the idea of a life busy with nothing! I want a rich, balanced life, full to bursting with the things that are dear to me and mine, with time spent wisely and consciously or even squandered with abandoned joy as I find that balance between the two...but not time slipping away unheeded as I busy, busy, busy myself to death.

So the Unbusy Revolution begins again today.




What is vital to me? What is extraneous? What will make me healthier, happier, stronger, and more me? And what can I let go in order to find the time for it? I am ready to be both more efficient and more at rest, and to make choices with my time that I am proud to claim, and that's what unbusy is going to be all about.

The Snow Buddy

He looks a little sad, no?

Pondering the impermanence of life, perhaps.
It's not an easy life to be made of snow...I imagine. ;)

First Snow

Srsly. It is snowing outside right now. It just started. Big feathery flakes. The first snow of the year.



Two weeks ago we had the air conditioning on, the vestiges of summer lingering well into September, which rarely happens around here. But last night the temperature dipped, and the poor trees, who haven't even had time to turn colour yet, suddenly dropped their leaves.



Except for a few hardy souls who are holding on for now, like Little Spindly here, the lone, beloved tree on our property (although we are practically lousy with shrubberies).




Even on this busy day, we could, of course, find time to go out and catch a few snowflakes on our tongues...because that's how we roll.

Promise

I am

rusty screws found in the gutter

(by two sons filling their bike tires with air)

and plaster on canvas,

just begging for collage and paint and ink and crayon

What will I become?