Art Love

Just a quick post to say I fell in love the other day. With another artist. More precisely, with his work. Yes, he was also charming and handsome, but it was his work that first caught my eye.

It happened at a recent “Mansion in May” event ~ where the rooms of old, immensely grand homes (usually no longer occupied) are dressed to the nines by a select slew of interior designers who are no doubt thrilled to have this kind of opportunity to showcase their work.

Andrew’s artwork was the first thing you saw when entering the lavish entranceway ~ and I have to say that after having visited room after room, eventually winding my way to the outdoor gardens and broad, beautiful views, his work had already stolen the show for me.

andrew.tedesco

andrewtedesco2

I adore how he juxtaposed the old and new in his entranceway ceiling mural. Just brilliant. But he really took my heart away when I saw the monkeys in the study.

With all the fuss going on in so many of the rooms (granted, the designers, understandably, want to show off as much as they can during these rare and well-attended events ~ and what an extravagant, rich setting – a designer’s dream! ~ but more often than not it was way over the top for my taste ~ “less is more” was clearly not the overriding theme), his monkey paintings delightfully brightened the space with the right touch of unexpected whimsy.

And that was when I fell in love. It was all over. Hook, line and sinker.

andrew.tedesco1

andrew.tedesco2

andrew.tedesco3

More of Andrew Tedesco’s outstanding work can be seen at http://www.andrewtedesco.com/ 

For more about the Mansion in May organization, visit http://www.mansioninmay.org

 

0

The Gift of Maya

saxton_liflovestobetaken
I cried today. I’m not a particularly weepy person, but tears came unbidden and I thought, how odd ~ to not just feel sadness but to actually cry at the loss of someone I never knew.

Yes, I admired Maya Angelou ~ very much. Her words rang with truth. Her wisdom rich, humble, freeing. Her voice strong, her heart rugged and full of light. Her journey brave. She inspired countless lives. She was beautiful and completely remarkable. But when did it become so personal for me?

I think it may have been that as the daughter of a poet, and an unsung poet myself, I felt a kind of kinship. A sisterhood of prose. A “she’s one of us” feeling. I remember when I heard her speak in front of all the world, I imagined my mother applauding from heaven to see a modern day poet make such a profound mark in our world. I applauded right along. She did it. Ms. Angelou sang her song out loud and the world listened! I beamed for her ~ and I suppose I also beamed in that moment for poetry.

Famous people live for a time, larger than life it seems; through them we feel things, we learn things, sometimes deeply, sometimes in passing. And then they die, just like the rest of us. Flesh and bones, blood and breath.

But occasionally their presence is eternal. Injecting itself into our lives for untold generations. I imagine Maya Angelou’s spirit falling in that category. She was a gift to us all; her brilliance here to cherish and embrace as long as we so desire.

As much of the world mourns and honors this amazing lady, and as heaven welcomes a new angel, I send out my simple thank you, Maya, for touching my heart.

saxton_maya.quotes2

 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

thrivingiselegant

0

Memorial Day (A Plethora of P’s / #23: Principles)

“Who kept the faith and fought the fight; The glory theirs, the duty ours.”  ~Wallace Bruce

– ♥ –

This one bears repeating….so, as last year, and the year before, we thank you and we honor you ~ all the fallen  ~ for your bravery, your love, your principled, unselfish courage ~ from the wells of our hearts, with a gratitude that knows no bounds.

……………………
Memorial Day
0

Book Cover Candy

I’m reading. Not a surprise, I realize, but isn’t that what holiday weekends were made for? Reading, writing, making some art, getting one’s hands full of garden earth, visits with family or friends. Point is: not working. Connecting with that sometimes elusive concept called relaxation.

So while the sun is trying its best to make a solid show and my daughter has gone off socializing, I’ve got a good book, a cup of tea, a pile of new dirt and plants ready for planting. (And yes, hot fudge on the stove for later.)

It’s a really good book so far ~ Sue Monk Kidd’s The Invention of Wings. Again, this isn’t particularly surprising, but what did strike me was the uninteresting cover. The “ordinary-ness” of it.  It feels very safe, very stock-photography-esque. It’s pleasing enough, but nothing that would have grabbed me had I not already been interested in the author.

suemonkkidd

I’ve talked about this before, but I’ll say it again ~ we do judge books by their covers. It’s our first impression. That first impression may or may not inspire us to read the back matter (what’s it about?). The back matter may or may not spur us on to actually open the book and read the first few lines. At this point, if the first few lines read well, you’re more than halfway there and your cover has done its job. If the first few lines read poorly, the cover may have surpassed its content  (one might give it a few pages, even a chapter to decide~ but at least it got you to look.) Reviews, of course, give books some major traction, but if you’re at all picky about how you spend your time, you’ll probably still go through these steps before plunging in. And it all starts with the cover.

Book covers can be fantastic visual candy. And they actually can make or break a sale. As a graphic designer, and as much as I both write and read, creating covers is a natural extension of what I do, but not one many know about. So I thought I’d share some with you below. So you know.

P.S. The sun, by the way, has lost. The clouds have won, the rains have come. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m reading. :  )

saxtonstudio.bookcovers

0

Making Art & Making Time

A poster I made based on an Andy Warhol quote recently prompted some lively conversation in a Facebook thread.

dontthinkaboutit2

One friend commented that she knew many artists, writers and musicians who seem reticent to follow their artistic passion, for a whole bunch of reasons… and how she’d read something years ago that stayed with her ~ something to the effect that if you don’t let your creativity out it will beat you bloody inside.

I tend to agree. With both Warhol and my friend’s observation.

Actually, make that, I pretty much wholeheartedly agree. It’s something I’ve experienced first hand. Never expected to ~ because art, writing, etc was “just something I did”, I flowed merrily along. I took it for granted. But at a time when I became swallowed up in life’s other demands that didn’t allow room for all that stuff I “just did”, I thought I’d implode.

At first I didn’t realize the source of my misery. I didn’t know how inextricably tied my creativity was to my well-being. I even felt guilty when I sat down at a canvas after many months off ~ there were more responsible things I should, and could, be doing! But my spirit was suffocating; I finally understood what was meant when they say an artist is “driven”, that it’s something they “have to do”. And yet, I wasn’t giving myself permission. That awareness came in the unexpected form of an ex – in a rare, remarkable show of support at the time – who actually put it into words. He happened to stop by during that pivotal moment at the easel and said: “Don’t be stupid. Don’t feel guilty. You’re meant to do this. You have to.” It truly hadn’t dawned on me, in quite that way.

That all said, I’ve been fortunate to be able to incorporate a few forms of my creativity into a living all these years ~ but if it’s not part of your daily experience, I’m a huge advocate of doing what you can when you can! It does you no good, nor anyone else, to let creativity smolder and stew inside you. Ideas and inspirations are there to be used and expressed. So if you’re called to, or just want to – do make more art!

Make time. Find time. Carve it out of stone if you must. Maybe a kick in the rear is called for. According to a (rather wonderful) post by Elizabeth Gilbert, setting a timer for half an hour every day can do wonders for creating discipline. Maybe you set aside a whole day. Evenings. Something that’s “doable”.  Stick to it. 

And one more thing. You have to trust the process.

Maybe you set aside your half hour or half a day and wondrous things flow and you feel great! But, maybe, you stare at a blank page the whole time and feel awful. But guess what? ~ so what! That’s going to happen sometimes, and it’s okay. It really doesn’t mean a thing.

The process you have to trust is that there’s an ebb and flow to creativity just as in all things in nature. We don’t always have control (an understatement, right?!). Best laid plans and all that. The point is to keep going. Exercise the muscle.

You have something to express, and it’ll find its way ~ you just need to give it the time and space to breathe on out, so it doesn’t manifest as tension gone inward. Don’t think ~ “just get it done.” 

0

The Sweetest Word

Mommy. Mummy. Mama. Mutti. However it’s said, it’s one of the loveliest words in the human language.

saxton_mom-heart

Before, of course, it becomes M-oooooom. And yes, in between the sleep deprivation and scream-stifling and hair-graying moments ~ it’s been the sweetest sound I’ve known; a sound full of love and trust. Love and trust that my mother earned before me, and that I hope I’ve earned during my own Mommy years.

Which, come to think of it, are years that really never end, dear children… because whether you know it or not, whether you want us to or not ~ while we won’t continue to make your bed or pack your sandwiches or read you nighttime stories, and (promise) we won’t hassle you about how late you get home when you’re 35 ~ we will worry and praise and feel your hurts and thrill with your joys and wish for your happiness with all our hearts even as you grow old, too; such is a mother’s love.

Celebrating mother’s everywhere ~ have a beautiful Mother’s Day!

0

Drunk on Writing

Maybe this explains the obsession. The compulsion. The “have to” about writing.

saxton_drunkonwriting

Some of you know the feeling. Some don’t. And if you don’t already have the affliction, you probably won’t catch it. Like many things, it’s probably inborn, a matter of physics ~ how one’s electrons, protons and neutrons are arranged, pushing and lighting the way towards pen and paper (or keyboard). But wherever it comes from, I think it’s more an innate “must” than an out-and-out escape route from reality (although that can be a nice side effect) ~ after all, by nature, the act of writing is a private affair primarily between yourself, your muses, and usually a good thesaurus.

You can certainly learn to write. You may feel inspired to write. You may have a love of language. You may have things you want to say. Even if not unmistakably inclined, you can become a decent writer.

But if you don’t feel compelled, if you don’t want to write, if it’s a burden or a chore, if you don’t feel like you’re not breathing properly until you write ~ then you probably don’t have writer’s curse, in which a life without writing is an impossibly awful imagining.

As for me, I’ll take another round as long as I can assemble sentences. It’s a good kind of drunk. And I’m sure glad there are others who feel the same way, or what a dry world it would be.

0

Tools and Other Worthy Indulgences

saxton_calligraphypens

Some things are more worthy of indulgence than others. Long, hot baths come to mind. Good books. Time with friends, time alone, laughter, comfortable shoes.

And because I was just speaking of pens (previous post), my mind turns to the tools we use and how much the right ones matter. Even a simple, everyday pen can be a tool of ease or frustration, depending first on how well it’s made, then how well it’s taken care of, and finally, knowing when its time is up.

Not all pens are created equal; nor pencils, nor hammers, nor computers, nor cameras, nor carrot peelers. The list goes on.

Several years back I worked on a mural with a group of other artists. A handful of brushes were available, paints were provided and we’d all been part of the design, so it was just a matter of painting. Fun, right?  Sort of, but not really. Why not?

The thing is, we worked in acrylics, which was, at the time, a medium I was less familiar with than some of the others artists were, and I’d been feeling irritated by the way the paint went on. Then one day, towards the end of the project, someone handed me a different paintbrush. In that moment, within seconds of the first brush stroke, night became day. Winter became spring. Skies turned blue. Birds sang, trees blossomed! I was stunned. The paint suddenly flowed. All that time … struggling, thinking it was me, when really … what a difference a brush can make!

And back to pens for a minute ~ in the early days, when not using my trusty #2 pencils, I’d draw with an old-fashioned calligraphy pen – the kind with metal nibs; the kind that people of centuries-gone-by used for letter writing, under the light of a candle or a kerosene lamp, dipping the pen in and out and in and out and in and out of a bottle of India Ink. Precision was difficult, mistakes and ink blobs were relatively easy to perform, but if you took good care of your tools and practiced your craft, beautiful results could happen. I got pretty good at it.

Then, (thank the Pen Gods), someone invented a pen called a rapidograph. At first I was pessimistic. It wasn’t “the real thing”. But two minutes in, I was hooked. It was real, and wow ~ manna from heaven! ~ it made the whole drawing experience so much better. Changing and cleaning nibs – easier. Mess – hardly. Potential for precision – worlds apart.

Of course there will always be poor imitations, in which case any newness is hardly worth it. Just because it’s “new” doesn’t mean its “good”. Since the dawn of time tools have been made to make life 1.) easier and 2.) more efficient. If those two criteria aren’t met, (in my best New Jersey accent) “fuggedaboudit.”

Holds true of everything. Take ice cream scoopers, which also happen to be a favorite tool of mine. They have to be sturdy, with the scooper-outer part just the right depth, the handle firmly attached and nicely grippable. Definitely not made of cheap plastic stuff. The last thing you want is a sprained wrist when indulging in a much-deserved treat. Ice cream is intended as a happy experience.

I’m sure most of you have a “bad tool” story, and probably know as well as I that when it comes to tools, quality counts. So indulge, I say! – not because they’re a treat, but because the difference can be like night and day. The right tools can replace cursing with whistling. And time spent, that most precious commodity, becomes more productive and pleasant if not downright fun.

So here’s to the value of tools; no matter what you do, wherever you go, may the right tools be yours. : )

scoops_lomo

 

0

A Plethora of P’s / #70: Pen (and Ink)

proactively punctuating life with the plausible, powerful possibilities of positive thought presented through a plethora of “P’s”.

saxton.P_penaandink“The pen is mightier than the sword.”

I’ve always liked this quote. It assumes the great power of words, language and intention, which are just a few of my favorite things, along with pens themselves, of course.

[Side note: I’d always assumed this was a line from Shakespeare. Sounds like it ought to be, right? But I was wrong. This is what learned: This line was quoted in 1839 from a play written by Britain’s Edward Bulwer-Lytton, both an Author and Politician of his day. No one remembers the play (Richelieu: or, the Conspiracy) but we’ve all heard the line. Apparently he’s also famous for the opening “It was a dark and stormy night”. I just love learning new things. 🙂 ]

In any event – back to P for pen. This is actually a guest P, created by a friend of mine and presented as a surprise, which truly delighted me. She’d taken a Zendangle course, and this was something she produced. Isn’t it great?! I adore it.

It’s also great because pens have always been an important positive in my own world. I am, in fact, most comfortable with a pen in hand ~ I just think better with a pen in hand. I’m also able to doodle if things are dull on the other side of the table or the other end of the phone, or in meetings, or just as an unconscious release of nervous energy. They’re great for making lists, and of course, for jotting down flashes of brilliance (that may or may not be brilliant on second look). My thoughts flow most easily when writing. As if the connection between mind and hand takes just enough longer than the one from mind to mouth, allowing for a richer expression, rather than a quick one.

Pens and I go way back. As a child I was always drawing and writing. My mother, a poet, was always writing. My parents had fallen in love through letter-writing. Pens were the natural order of things.

Then as my drawing skills developed, I got more and more courageous and soon stepped out of my comfort zone with pencils (which can be erased) to pen and ink (which cannot be erased). This is when I learned, sometimes the hard way, that mistakes a.) happen and b.) are not always remedied, but c.) can sometimes be made into something better. A life lesson from an unlikely source, but a good one I’ve carried with me.

So I, yes, am grateful for pens. And I do believe they are mighty. <3

Here are a few pen and inks from my archives.

old.treeFB

flowerswatercolor.crop8X8sig_72

saxton_yugoslavia_sm

bass2

 

(see our ongoing Plethora of P’s here)

0

A Moveable Feast (of Eggs, Baskets and Bunnies)

saxton_chick.love.peace.2

 

Way back in the year 325 AD, it was decreed by First Council of Nicaea that Easter would fall on the first Sunday after the first full moon following the March equinox. As a result, there is no fixed date, but rather a “moveable” one for this high Christian holiday.

And I imagine it’s considered a moveable “feast” because the holiday season is actually quite long, when you take into account the observances of the 40 days of Lent, Holy Thursday, Palm Sunday, Good Friday, Easter itself, followed by a fifty-day period of Eastertide, ending with Pentecost Sunday. Interesting.

Also interesting is the fact that Easter and Passover not only coincide, but in many languages the word for Easter and Passover are the same or similar. While the reason for celebration differs, the timing and some of the symbolisms share a curious resemblance.

The plot thickens when one recalls the Pagan holiday of Ostara, held at the spring equinox in celebration of the seasons changing from dark to light, from winter to spring. Ostara, or Eostre, is an Anglo-Saxon goddess representing the dawn, whose role is to watch over the fertility of the earth and the emergence of new life. Today’s word Easter derives from the old English word Eostre.

I find it all kind of fascinating. How religious holidays often overlap, interweave, intersect. Like a great big message from the universe to be good, to appreciate, to love, expressed in different ways within different cultures, but all with powerful interpretations. So that you can’t miss it; you’ve got to take note.

However you see it, however you experience this time of year, its roots are deeply spiritual the world over, and the symbolisms of lamb, chicks, bunnies, and baskets filled with sweets and colorful eggs all represent the promise of rebirth, renewal, liberation, resurrection, festivity.

However you celebrate, it’s a time worthy of honor and respect, reflection and gratitude. So feast well and be joyful. Happy Easter!

nest

0