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April 13, 2014 In appreciation, art, creativity, fine art, imagination, inspiration, life and the universe, work and play By Patricia Saxton

Searching for Buffalo

“Searching for Buffalo” / oil on canvas / Patricia Saxton

Several years ago I’d lost my way, so I ran away from one life, back to myself. Ten days turned into three weeks; three weeks turned into six months. It was probably the best gift I’d ever given myself ~ in essence, permission to do what I love; permission to follow my spirit.

It was a time before I became a mother, before I owned a home, before all the responsibility that comes with those kinds of major territories. I had my business, which I packed up (files, computers, printers) and took with me, along with my two cats, a heart that was tangled up in a very wrong place, and a strong desire to feel good, to spread my wings, to reach higher. It was the right time.

After my initial excitement, I will tell you this: panic set in. Friends had helped me drive across the country to the most magical part of the southwest, where I’d rented an incredible home owned by two artists situated on the edge of a national forest, and after I got settled in, and they left, there I was ~ face to face with nothing but myself, my dreams and the sound of coyote calls in the night. I was there to do something I’d often imagined ~ doing what I loved in a beautiful setting, unhampered by schedules, with no distractions, no blockades, no big worries, and with sudden, deep dread, I thought, “What if I fail?” “What if all this creative passion I’ve felt inside is just a cosmic lark? What if I freeze up, if inspiration doesn’t actually flow? What if I’m just kidding myself?” And the answer was, “Well, you’re about to find out.”

So I went to work doing what I set out to do. Following my instincts. Moving as the spirit moved. Every day I hiked, I swam, I painted, wrote and played the piano. I was a river overflowing. I could hardly keep up with all that ran through my veins, onto the canvas, the paper, the keys.

I made friends who introduced me to healing practices beyond measure, other friends who showed me the back roads. I became intimately engaged with the soft, red, craggy earth and rocks that loomed high above and all around. I ran with the open sky, I searched for buffalo, and I discovered a warrior inside.

There has never been any turning back from this experience. Bumps in the road, absolutely. Hard times, sure. All the stuff of life. But I can go back to this place in my mind at will. I can feel the warm rock beneath my back, the big sky above. I can recall the warrior. I can pull up the magic. And most importantly of all, I can know what’s possible if we give it permission.

November 30, 2013 In appreciation, art, fine art, illustration, inspiration, painting, poetry By Patricia Saxton

Day is Done

Dark Sky / © Patricia Saxton

The Day is Done
BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me
That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life’s endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.

November 21, 2013 In appreciation, art, color, craftsmanship, creativity, design, drawing, fine art, illustration, inspiration, painting, skill By Patricia Saxton

Twelve Months of Flowers

If only it were true. Unless you count holly berries, there’s really not much in the way of floral color in northeast winter months.

But “Twelve Months of Flowers” can be had via art prints, from the series published 1n 1730 by renowned British horticulturist and author Robert Furber. Mr. Furber’s name is highly attributed to these exquisite prints, and while I’m grateful that he had the insight, substantial research and knowledge (and, no doubt, the funds) to produce the collection, I’m mostly interested in the artistry.

We had two of these prints hanging in our dining room during my growing-up years – one May, one November, the months of my parent’s birthdays. Admired by all, they adorned a modest space with a rich, subtle elegance, (and now that I think of it, may have had an influence on my own interest in drawing things botanical) ~ but in all those years, while we probably did, I don’t remember talking about the artist. Regardless, for some reason they lodged in my mind’s eye today ~ perhaps an unconscious nod to my parent’s wedding anniversary? ~ so I went looking.

First of all, they are hand-colored engravings, produced by English engraver Henry Fletcher from paintings of Flemish-born artist Pieter Casteels . (They also produced an equally stunning second series, Twelve Months of Fruits.) Each work is a glorious detail of plants in seasonal bloom, with each plant numbered, and, at the time, a list of the corresponding names. More than 400 plant species were featured. This was no small project.

And so a few centuries later, I thank them ~ all three of them: Furber, Fletcher and Casteels ~ for their fine, luscious collaboration of study, talent and skill. They are so beautiful, I might even venture to call them a labor of love. But that’s what art is.

November 4, 2013 In appreciation, art, fine art, life and the universe, painting By Patricia Saxton

Art, Time Travel and Sears Roebuck & Co.

“Legend of Watchung”, mural in Sears Roebuck & Co.

I think I time travelled today. If not that, at the very least I entered an alternate universe for about an hour.

It started innocently enough, on a mission to find vacuum bags. First I stop to pick up some pet supplies, (so far, a thrilling batch of errands, no?), and notice a Sears Outlet store next door so I think to bop in and see if they have said vacuum bags. No, but the regular Sears store across the highway will. I fire up the truck and head over. I’d forgotten there was a Sears in this location, but am glad, so I can wrap up all this domestic excitement sooner than later.

Pulling up to a parking space, I’m reminded that I used to come here as a kid. Haven’t set foot in this store for many decades, but in I now go ~ and as I’m directed to the appliance section, an odd déjà vu sensation starts to settle in. I turn a corner. I notice a huge mural on the wall and BAM, I’m sucked in to a vortex of sights, sounds and smells and the giddiness of my little 7-year-old feet exploring plaid flannel shirts and leather chairs and the shoes of friendly staff wearing glasses and I’m no doubt anticipating the promise of hot chocolate when we get home. And the painting. I’m enamored. I keep going back to it. It’s gigantic! It’s got Indians, and a dog and a canoe and a waterfall. It’s very special, and so unexpected, hanging in this store. It’s a piece of history, staring out from an open wall above a double stairwell, right here across from socks and coats and fur-lined hats. It’s a magical place for little me.

I realize I’m smiling. There’s an extra bounce to my step. I share a laugh or two with the salesman who sells me my vacuum bags; there’s a feeling of mutual satisfaction that comes from enjoying something pleasantly unmemorable with a stranger. A moment of connection that carries us more lightly to our next task.

On my way out, I snap a quick picture of the mural to capture this strip of memory lane. I’m not 7 anymore, but it sure was fun going back for a visit.

……………….

I couldn’t find the name of the artist (if and when I do, I will credit), but for the history buffs, this is the “legend” behind the painting (which of course I had to look up when I returned to my 2013 world):

Around 1670, a group of Dutch settlers was traveling from the Amboys up an old Indian trail which is now Somerset Street. They were under the leadership of Captain Michaelson. The Watchung tribe of the Lenni-Lenape Indians was traveling the same trail for their summer trip to the ocean to fish and collect shells for wampum.

During the night the settlers were camped near what is now the center of the Borough. Deer Prong, an advance scout for Chief One Feather’s tribe, was shot when he surprised a sentry. During the skirmish, Captain Michaelson was captured and was to be burned at the stake. Princess Wetumpka, who was traveling with the Dutch, and had some years ago saved the life of Chief One Feather, intervened and saved the life of Captain Michaelson. The Indians befriended the Dutch and allowed them to settle in the valley. The legend ends with the full tribal ceremony marriage of the Princess and Chief.

September 12, 2013 In art, books, children's books, craftsmanship, drawing, fine art, illustration, imagination, life and the universe, work and play By Patricia Saxton

How To Avoid The World’s Troubles and Other Annoying Things

“Gordon” / @Patricia Saxton / Book of Dragons

You could, of course, live under a rock. That sounds uncomfortable though; so, no, that wouldn’t do. But with the world teetering on the brink of lord knows what evil, with clever actors paid to persuade us that we have all manner of ill-health and need to take X drug, with things like the disturbing reality that artist Damien Hirst is a really Big Deal and triple bacon cheeseburgers considered a healthy meal, with baseball heroes letting us down and the Kardashians worthy of conversation, avoidance becomes more and more attractive.

It helps to have a meaty project to get lost in. Say, an illustrated book about dragons : ), or creating the world’s best bread. (I’m reading a book in which the main character is a baker, and it sounds rather yummy, all that dough and kneading and freshly baked bread smell.) You could, of course, read, and then just keep reading ~ since books have a marvelous way of taking you places, away from the here and now. You could take up sky-diving or some other sport where there’s no room for thought beyond your own life flashing before your eyes. You could tend puppies or fill your social calendar with bunco matches (I’ve never played bunco – not sure if this is good or bad to admit). You could build something with your own two hands. You could sail around the world.

If you’re serious about avoiding the world’s troubles and other annoying things, whatever you do, do not turn on the tv. Avoid over-indulgence in social media. Stay away from negative people. Then, focus on the good stuff, no matter how small. Practice gratitude. Be kind. Because life is precious and too short to be fretting over things we can’t control. And just maybe it’ll all go away. Maybe it’s all just a ruse. Maybe whatever happens will simply happen with or without inserting our personal energy. It’s very hard, life. Why make it harder.

It’s not that I don’t care. I do care, maybe too much. It’s not about sticking my head in the sand. Trust me, I get riled. But I’ve realized it’s not my calling to fix the world. A friend, sure. Even a whole bunch of them ~ but the entire world is just too much. If only the world at large would stop all the fussing and fighting. If only.

And so, hours spent creating a dragon that will be part of a book that one day soon may be enjoyed by a fresh-faced, bright-eyed little person – maybe a whole lot of bright-eyed little people – seems a good use of my time. Not only that, you can’t think about annoying things when you’re making art. Works for me.

August 4, 2013 In art, creativity, design, fine art, imagination, inspiration, painting, philosophy By Patricia Saxton

Things to Believe In

Life is a bumpy road. That’s a given. Sometimes the bumps are molehills, sometimes mountains. But I’ve found that there are certain things that help carry me through, that go a long way in smoothing out the rough parts ~ things worth believing in.

I believe in magic. I believe in love. I believe that good trumps evil, that light is more powerful than darkness, that laughter is healing and a kind word can change the course of an entire life.

I believe in hope. I believe in possibility, and creativity, and the strength of gratitude and the power of thought and that imagination is boundless.

I believe that true friendship runs deep, and if you can count your most trusted friends on the fingers of one hand, you are rich.

I believe there are angels who watch over us and angels who walk among us.

And I believe that the potential for what may seem miraculous breathes in every corner, bold and patient and forgiving, waiting as a flower does for the right mix of sun and rain to blossom with new life, and I believe that each one of us has the ability to ignite that magic spark. – Patricia Saxton

July 1, 2013 In art, creativity, drawing, fine art, illustration, painting, philosophy By Patricia Saxton

Breakthroughs

They happen when we’re looking the other way. They happen when we’re at the end of our proverbial rope. They happen when we’re sleeping. They happen when we’re on a roll. They happen when we’re at the gym or out to dinner or listening to conversation or reading a book or contemplating a blade of grass. There’s no single formula for achieving a breakthrough – whether it’s personal or professional, they almost seem to have a mind of their own. It’s as though everything in your energy field lines up and you’re open and – “wham!” – you’ve made a leap.

The one key requirement is that we have to participate in our own process.

I made such a leap many years ago ~ not the only one, but a memorable one. At the time, in my early twenties, I’d been drawing for, well, pretty much forever. For a while I drew anything that caught my eye ~ faces, hands, gardens, animals, old mills, tools, you name it ~ honing my skills, mastering my craft. Practice was my classroom, and it paid off. But I didn’t feel very “creative”.

Then one day I thought I’d do a self-portrait. All artists have one, right? So I got my art stuff ready, figuring I’d probably do a realistic pencil rendering, like I did with other portraits. But something entirely different came out.

I remember a sense of being in another zone ~ I’d suddenly switched tracks, landed in a different groove ~ and I went with it. And I loved what happened. It wasn’t another well-executed drawing, it was a true expression! I had no trouble understanding what it was about, and it gave me a real high ~ experiencing that leap and knowing I’d unlocked a door that for some reason I’d previously thought inaccessible. This was huge, and what had been “trapped”, all that color and passion, was oozing out, freed from its imagined confines.

As an aside, I also remember that my family never liked this piece. They see their daughter or little sister looking “odd” with paint dripping all over her face, instead of the sweet chocolate-loving swim-team captain they knew who drew pretty pictures of roses and barns. I can understand that too. But for me, it was an intensely marvelous breakthrough that really opened up my creative faucets and if I’d had any doubt about my path, it was diminished right then and there by a few marker lines and watercolor streams. My muses had decided it was time.

Like I said, this wasn’t the only breakthrough moment, but it makes my point well. We all have breakthroughs, in different forms and guises, and I hope when they happen for you, that you participate, listen and let them flow.

May 18, 2013 In art, books, children's books, creativity, drawing, fine art, illustration, imagination By Patricia Saxton

Dragon Lair

“I would not want to live in a world without dragons, as I would not want to live in a world without magic, for that is a world without mystery, and that is a world without faith.”
― R.A. Salvatore, Streams of Silver

Aging Dragon / @Patricia Saxton, Book of Dragons

April 26, 2013 In architecture, art, craftsmanship, fine art, history, imagination, photography, travel By Patricia Saxton

Some Doors I Have Known

There’s something about doors that makes me want to walk right on in, see what’s behind them, uncover a mystery, discover a history, a magical passageway, a hidden treasure. And the lavish architecture of Venice just intensifies that intrigue!

Of course, the truth is that sometimes (most of the time) I just have to use my imagination ~ but that’s not too hard with doors like these. ♥ Ah, what stories they could tell…

January 30, 2013 In appreciation, art, black and white, craftsmanship, design, fine art, illustration, inspiration, photography, presentation, skill By Patricia Saxton

In Praise of Black and White: Part IV

It’s a black and white world tonight ~ snow is falling against the dark night sky, which seems to take an edge off the bitter of winter’s cold ~ and I’m reminded how every year at this same time I feel this same compulsion to post some great black & white pieces. (It’s starting to feel a little spooky, how this happens, on cue, every January.) Whatever the reason for the timing, I adore black and white; always have. From my life-long love affair with the #2 pencil, to the magnificent drama of a fine black & white photograph, I’ve been captivated by the beauty and emotional breadth that can be so singularly captured without a spot of color. There’s character and grace and strength and guts and mood that seeps into your skin. I’ve written at length about these moods in the past, so will spare you the repetition and get on with the show!