Category Archives: Encaustic

The Lifeboat: Holding What Matters Most

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As I mentioned in my previous post about Celestial Navigation, I return again and again to the idea of vessels—not just as containers, but as carriers of memory, meaning, and mystery. Recently, I’ve been exploring the specific vessel symbol of the Lifeboat (thanks, Bosha), both as a new Enso Oracle Card (more about that soon) and as the inspiration for a workshop in which we create sculptural boats layered with mulberry paper, wax, and intention.

The Enso Circle Oracle Cards project is still in its “sandbox” stage, but coming up with symbols for the cards helps me with the ups and downs of the artistic life just as the Enso Circle has helped Artists-in-Residence since 2021 when Michelle Belto and I founded it.

The Enso Lifeboat card emerged as a quiet call to consider what we carry with us in times of change. It’s not about emergency escape—it’s about soulful preservation. What are the objects that keep us afloat emotionally? What fragments, what symbols, what small, beloved items would we gather into our own lifeboats if we had to set out across uncertain waters?

Here’s what the Lifeboat card look like in its current form:

And this is what you would read in the guidebook if you were to draw this card:

The Lifeboat

Keywords: preservation, essence, protection, emotional memory, inner refuge

When the Lifeboat card appears, it asks: What do you carry when all else must be left behind? This vessel holds not the things of utility, but of meaning—symbols, fragments, and reminders of what anchors you to self, spirit, and memory. In the upright position, it represents the quiet courage to choose what matters most and to cradle it with reverence. You are called to preserve your essence—not in grand gestures, but in the small, soul-bound keepsakes of your journey. The Lifeboat is sanctuary and simplicity. It’s a gentle reassurance that even in tides of uncertainty, you have the means to carry what’s essential.

In the reversed position, this card may signal overwhelm or disconnection—perhaps you’re holding too tightly to the wrong things, or drifting without recognizing what truly sustains you. It invites you to reexamine your cargo. Are you carrying weight that no longer serves? Can you release the nonessential to make space for the sacred?

Reflection Questions:

  • What emotional “items” do I instinctively protect?
  • What anchors me in moments of change?
  • Am I honoring what is truly meaningful, or clinging to what is familiar?

Affirmation:
I honor what matters most and carry it with care. In simplicity, I find sanctuary.

______________

Going Forward and Connecting

In the Spirit Vessels and Memory Boats workshop that I’m filming now in my little studio, we bring this metaphor into our hands. We begin by building the structure of the boat—humble materials like reed, cardboard, twine, and paper come together to form a frame. It’s not unlike the invisible scaffolding of our inner resilience.

As we wrap and shape and fuse layers of mulberry paper and encaustic wax, the vessel begins to take on a skin—fragile in appearance, but surprisingly strong, like the human heart.

At this stage, the question becomes more personal: What will you place inside? These boats are not meant to carry passengers or provisions in the literal sense, but fragments of memory, tokens of identity, and quiet reminders of what keeps us afloat. Some artists tuck in words on torn paper, a small stone, a scrap of fabric, a whisper of something lost or longed for.

Each lifeboat becomes a kind of reliquary—part sculpture, part story, entirely sacred. No two are alike. And none need explain themselves. Their power comes from the act of choosing, of honoring, of making space for what matters.

This is where I am right now – choosing what to include. The inside is lined with a special calligraphy paper and the edges are adorned and wired with special rocks and rusty rings and clay symbols. Do I want to include things that will stay permanently or keep them interchangeable? What anchors me in moments of change? These questions are as much a part of the process as the application of walnut ink and wax.

This workshop is still in development, but even now as I build prototypes and test materials, I can feel the quiet potency of the process. Just like the oracle card, the vessel invites reflection: What are you saving? And why?

More soon, as the vessel takes shape.

Safe voyages! Tend to your lifeboats!

♥Lyn

The Gift of Celestial Navigation

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In my last post, I talked about a new sculptural form I’m working on to take to Ireland for our Vessels workshop there this summer. I called it the Five Knot Vessel and it’s part of a larger idea encompassing Spirit Vessels/Sacred Ships. I’ve been filming a new workshop about that for the last couple of weeks.

Lots of other artists have helped show me the way, but  I’ve still been sort of inventing it as I go along. Strangely, I  haven’t really felt lost lost, and it occurred to me that I should thank my father for this. Here’s why –

During World War II, my father was a navigator, flying out of Horham Airbase in England,  charting courses through the night skies using instruments like the sextant and the ever-reliable chronometer. With only the stars and a drift meter, he found his way for his pilot and the crew through uncertainty by using celestial navigation.

His maps and almanacs were filled with numbers and angles, but to me, they always felt like something more—a kind of sacred geometry, a quiet trust in star patterns.

He pointed out to my brothers and me the constellations in the dark sky (I can still find Orion) and showed us how to find the North Star no matter where we were (the two outermost stars in the bowl of the Big Dipper point to it). Even though we moved around so much as children in a military family, he didn’t want us to ever feel lost.

I realize now that my own artistic journey draws deeply from that same navigational spirit. In my vessels and assemblages, I piece together fragments—shards, relics, whispered clues—to find direction, to create meaning. Like him, I chart a course, even when the path ahead isn’t visible.

My compass may be intuitive rather than mechanical, but the need to find my way, no matter where I am, echoes through every layer I build.

Each vessel I create feels like a map in three dimensions, a kind of spiritual charting made visible through form and texture. The assemblages are constellations of memory and mystery—bits of paper, found objects, old photos, words half-remembered or imagined—all pointing toward something just beyond the known.

This is important: I don’t always understand what I’m building at first, but as the pieces come together, a path emerges. It’s a quiet navigation, a way of honoring the instinct to move forward with purpose, guided by trust in the process. Just as my father trusted the stars, I trust the fragments, the gestures, the invisible pull that tells me, “you’re on course.”

My art is my “sky”—it holds the coordinates of where I’ve been and points to where I might go next.

In remembering my father’s tools of navigation, I’ve come to recognize my own, even though I’m not even halfway through this experimental vessel workshop journey. Where he had precise instruments and star charts, I have intuition, layers, and luminous surfaces that speak in symbols.

But the impulse is the same: to locate oneself in the vastness, to chart meaning from mystery. Each piece of art I make is a kind of message to the universe, a quiet assertion that I am here, I am looking, I am finding my way.

You, too, have your own navigational tools—anchored in a childhood memory, a beloved mentor’s words, or a moment that gave you courage and direction. Whatever they are, trust them. They are your inner compass, guiding you across the uncharted waters of your own creative life.

Perhaps that’s the greatest legacy of all—not the destination, but the courage to navigate by what light we have, and to keep creating our path, one small guiding star at a time. Thanks, Dad.

And thanks for reading!

 

Influencers

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We often hear the word influencer tossed around in today’s social media-driven world—usually referring to someone who promotes products, trends, or lifestyles to a broad audience.

Social media influencers thrive on visibility and quick engagement, building their followings through brand deals, viral trends, and aspirational lifestyles. Their goal is often transactional—to monetize their reach through partnerships and sponsorships. Living on platforms like Instagram and TikTok, they shape pop culture and consumer habits by promoting what’s popular, hoping followers will imitate their tastes. Their influence is driven by relatability and attention metrics—likes, followers, and views—rather than lasting artistic depth.

In contrast, an artist who influences others does so not through trends, but through the power of their vision, authenticity, and mastery. Their goal isn’t to build an audience for visibility, but to explore and express something true—and in doing so, they spark insight and courage in fellow artists. Rather than shaping consumer tastes, they shape creative thought. Their legacy is built on originality, integrity, and emotional resonance. And while they may never “go viral”, their work becomes a lasting part of the artistic dialogue—an invitation for others to reach further and create more honestly.

This idea of meaningful artistic influence has been deeply personal for me lately, especially through my recent exploration of vessels—both as tangible art objects and as metaphors for containment, offering, and transformation.

That exploration was sparked in no small part by the work of my friend and fellow artist, Shannon Weber. Her raw, intuitive fiber vessels—organic, mysterious, deeply rooted in place—stopped me in my tracks the first time I saw them.

Shannon never sets out to “teach” with her work, but her authenticity and fearless craftsmanship opened something in me. Her pieces whispered permission: You can build from instinct. You can honor materials. You can make containers for spirit, not just function.

That influence didn’t make me want to copy her—it made me want to listen more closely to my own hands, my own materials. It shaped how I approach my own vessels, especially in workshops.

When I teach, I’m not just showing students how to construct a form—I’m inviting them to fill it with meaning. The energy flows forward. I see students begin to trust their own stories and discover that their vessels hold more than objects—they hold essence. And then, they influence others in turn, through their courage and creativity.

Want to see what can be accomplished? Here is a link to a catalog of work from students in the recent Ephemeral Vessels workshop at UTSA/SW. We started the journey together, but they began to follow their own path as we worked together over the two days.

And of course, I carry the strong influence of other artists in this ongoing exploration – Joanna Powell Colbert, whose earth-grounded, sea-and-seasons centered spirituality helps me define my purpose in creating these forms. The insights I gain from her work flow into the vessels I create, filling them with meaning and intention.

And my dear friend Michelle Belto introduced me to the transformative qualities of wax years ago. It now adds a protective layer to my vessels while enhancing their surface with depth and luminous beauty. There are so many metaphors of influence in that process that dovetail into my work.

Here is a new form I’m working with to take to Ireland for our Vessels workshop there this summer. I call it the Five Knot Vessel. It’s small and simple, easy to pack and carry home, but has lots of possibilities. In spirit, it carries the presence of those who’ve guided me—Shannon, Joanna, Michelle, and so many others whose influence travels with me like quiet companions, woven into each layer and knot.

This is the living, breathing cycle of artistic influence: one artist lights a path, another follows and forges their own, and the light spreads. Not through algorithms or brand partnerships, but through the shared language of making. It’s quiet, powerful, and lasting.

Lyn, grateful for every creative influencer in my life ♥

Decoration vs. Design

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Professor Elizabeth Ridenhower in 1970: She Who Knows All

When I was an ungrad art major at Trinity University back in the (yikes!) 60’s, my elegant professor, Elizabeth Ridenhower, told us something that has stayed with me for decades. I think we were looking at an collage I was trying to complete. She said, “You need to know, dear, that there is a difference between decoration and design.”

Oh yeah?? But I finally internalized what she meant  – in short, design works at multiple levels—functional, emotional, and aesthetic—whereas decoration is more about surface appeal alone. A decorative collage might use colorful magazine cutouts, sequins, and fabric swatches scattered across the canvas without much thought to their relationship. The sequins might be glued on in random places to make the piece sparkle, but they don’t contribute to a cohesive message. The elements don’t interact in a way that enhances a narrative or evokes a specific feeling beyond surface-level observation.

I reminded myself of this while I was trying to figure out how to resolve a mixed-media encaustic piece that came together by accident. This photograph of a white clay vessel was on the work table with an earthenware face and a piece of rusty steel sitting on top of it, just because that’s where it landed while I was working.

The bowl really is printed on a piece of paper even though it looks three-dimensional. I challenged myself to make a collage/assemblage with these two things to see if it could work.

I bonded the photograph to a 10×10″ birch cradleboard panel, and then attached the head and the rusty wing to the top of the board before I put wax on the surface. I added a chopstick to the bottom to balance the heavy top shape and to act a s a visual “shelf” for the photo of the bowl. So far, so good.

After I added two coats of encaustic medium, I started adorning the collage with little scraps of paper that had mysterious words typed on them. The idea was that the words were coming out of the bowl.

But when I put wax over the scraps, it was a mess – the paper looked like decorations, not good design, plus the edges were sticking up, and so I scraped the whole thing off. It may look OK in the photo, below, but those words just didn’t do anything but sit on the surface as a distraction.

So I had to solve the problem of how to use the idea of the words,  make them fit in to a cohesive, conceptual design — and then how to make the whole piece come together as an integrated work, and not just a few random elements stuck on a board.

Here is what happened:

I printed the words out in a straight column on rice paper and waxed them into the surface in two columns. The wax paper disappeared into the background. The words were now subtle and mysterious and looked as if they belonged in the piece. They were IN the surface and not ON the surface.

Much as I loved the rust, I veiled the wing shape with a pale chalk medium compound to integrate it into the object-as-icon. I did the same with the earthenware face and the sticks at the bottom. At this point, it became something believable and all-of-a-piece – something found – something mysterious.

 

You can look at the details and see how everything seems to come from the same unknown place:

The previous version might have been “prettier” with its torn paper decorations – but I am infinitely more pleased with the more complex design of the finished piece.

It’s always helpful to me to think of Design vs. Decoration – decoration has its place. for sure, and I can have fun decorating things.

But the well-designed artwork engages the viewer by creating layers of interaction between the objects and ideas. It offers a sense of purpose and invites reflection. The decorative piece, while visually pleasant, might lack that deeper connection and resonance. In art, the most powerful works are often those where the design allows the viewer to discover new meanings and emotions each time they look.

I hope Elizabeth Ridenhower is proud of me!

PS – if you have the patience to read a bit more, here is the narrative that resonates behind this piece, written by a pretty clever app — interesting!

In ancient times, a celestial being descended from the heavens, their face a symbol of wisdom and eternal vision. They came not as a ruler, but as a guide, offering a pathway between realms. As they moved through the void, wings of light unfolded from their presence, hovering above the world. Beneath this ethereal figure lay an ancient vessel, a bowl that had endured the trials of time. Its weathered surface, marked by the soft yellows and grays of the earth, was a container for lost stories, for forgotten truths.

The face and bowl, connected by their placement, symbolized the link between the divine and the mortal. The bowl, a sacred keeper of wisdom, held the weight of history and whispered its mysteries to those who sought deeper knowledge. Behind these figures, a series of words softly emerged in the background, their meanings vague yet powerful, offering clues to the seekers of ancient truths.

The piece, in its ethereal quality, became a portal—inviting viewers to contemplate the delicate balance between spirit and substance, thought and emotion, and the eternal flow of wisdom from ancient worlds to the present day. It was a story of connection, of the ever-present link between what is seen and what lies beyond.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ephemera/Ephemeral

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I am thrilled to have had three works accepted for this exhibition — Ephemeral/Ephemera: A special exhibition of small encaustic and cold wax works on paper at Mulranny Arts in Mulranny, Ireland. October 10- November 15, 2023

Mulranny is where I taught this summer and it is such a special place. This is how the Call for Entries described the theme:

Ephemerality is a state that is deeply integral to the human experience. Moments, objects, and beings; all exist for a brief time and then disappear or transition to another state. We consider that which is ephemeral to be particularly fleeting, and a poignancy resides there. Closely related, ephemera are the bits and pieces of our lives (typically paper items) that were not intended to be preserved yet become the memorabilia that we keep to memorialize those meaningful but passing moments.

This is my first piece (above) and its description:

“This small work comes from a lifelong ephemeral dream of seeing my mother walking ahead of me in the fog when we lived in London when I was a child trying to catch up with her. I’m not sure where this dream came from because my mother was kind and caring and would never have walked away from me, but the dream persists.”

More about the Ephemeral Exhibition: Ephemeral/Ephemera will showcase works on paper that illuminate the concept of the ephemeral from an artist’s perspective, using wax as a primary medium. We invite national and international artists to consider how we experience ephemerality. Dreams, memories, chance encounters, nature, time, seasons, and even the nature of wax and paper itself are potential areas of exploration. What do we wish to hold on to, and what do we wish to let go of?

Here is my second piece, called “Wednesday’s Child” which is based on the photographs that Lewis Hine took of child labors in the US in the 1920’s. His photos ultimately changed the laws about allowing young children to work in fields and factories. I have been fascinated with these images for over a decade and return to them again and again.

More about Ephemeral Art: It is a transient form of artistic expression that exists briefly, often changing or disappearing over time. It encompasses various mediums, including street art, sand sculptures, and performance art. Ephemeral artists embrace impermanence, challenging traditional notions of art’s durability, and provoking viewers to appreciate the beauty and significance of the fleeting moment.

This third piece is called “Caged Memories,” and it expresses how difficult it is to hold onto the ephemeral beauty of lost moments, even if we try to bind them to our hearts.

All of this has me thinking about the whole idea of ephemeral impermanence and its influence on me and so many other artists. It is a first cousin to the idea of Wabi Sabi, which as you know is the Japanese aesthetic emphasizing beauty in imperfection, transience, and simplicity, finding elegance in natural flaws and the passage of time.

I suspect as we get older we both identify with and grapple with the idea of impermanence. Seeing the beauty in it is one way to come to terms and be a peace with it, to “find elegance in the passage of time.”

Here’s a good quote related to the complex idea of ephemerality and impermanence:

“If we don’t insist on defining impermanence as unsatisfactory, then it’s natural to celebrate. Just a moment’s pause to consider the passing of the seasons is enough to convince anyone that not only is impermanence the source of all possible joy in this life but it’s the movement of life itself.” ― Lin Jensen, Bad Dog!: A Memoir of Love, Beauty, and Redemption in Dark Places

It’s is a good topic for this Monday – a day of loss and memories. And this week will be gone before we know it! Quick, make some ephemeral art – it won’t last forever but it will shine in its moment!

Thanks, as always, for reading SHARDS.

Broken Shards repaired — and Ireland Paper

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For longer than I care to remember, SHARDS has been down for a technical glitch that I could not, for the life of me, figure out. But I finally dug out some rusty old tech-brain solutions and found the broken setting. Whew! Like Kintsugi (金継ぎ, “golden joinery”), the cracks are finally stuck back together . . . after several frustrating months.

So many cool things happened during SHARDS’ down time – major things, like Shannon Weber‘s workshop, the Wax & Wildflowers Exhibit with the IEA here in San Antonio, and the amazing experience of teaching in Ireland with Michelle Belto. I will eventually work backwards to talk about all this good stuff, starting with Ireland. Today I’m giving you a link to a video showing a technique that I taught in Mulranny – read on.

The amazing Lora Murphy of Painting with Fire had invited us to teach at an Art Retreat at the Essence of Mulranny., on the wild West Coast of Ireland during the last week in July. The place is indescribably beautiful – sky, sea, cliffs, sheep – Celtic fairy tale stuff.

My part of the workshop involved creating a figurative representation of the Irish Goddess Aine. We collected objects and made collage paper as part of the preparation.

I called this collage paper “Ireland Paper” because it reflected the beautiful colors of the Irish countryside which you can see, below, out the studio window..

Lots of people have asked about how we created this effect, so I made a video for you yesterday on how we did this Ireland Paper. And this will be a reminder for those of you who went along with us to Ireland. The technique does involve hot wax, so if you haven’t worked with encaustic before, do your homework on encaustic safety if you decide to try it.

How to make Ireland Paper

But wait – there’s more! Below is a link to a video showing more of the creative things we did in the workshop to construct our figurative sculptures – wish you could have been there!:

VIDEO: Offerings to Aine: a Workshop in Mulranny, Ireland (Lyn Belisle)

It’s nice to be back – thanks for reading SHARDS!!

 

Join Michelle Belto and me in Ireland next July

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It sounds rather unbelievable, even to us, but Michelle Belto and I are teaching a Celtic-inspired workshop on the West Coast of Ireland from July 22 – 29, 2023 at the beautiful Essence of Muranny Art School and hope you can join us!

We’ll be offering a new, collaborative encaustic and mixed-media workshop called Offerings to Aine (pronouced ‘aw-ne’). Aine is the Irish Fairy Queen and a legendary inspiration for artists and poets.

Each of us will be lead teacher on two of the four days of the workshop.

For my two teaching days, we will learn various creative fusions with wax, paper, fiber, and clay, constructing an enigmatic goddess figure that is inspired by Aine and wrapped with handcrafted grace and spirit. Using the Legend of Aine as a guide, our figures will be infused with Celtic myth and lore. During the two days of construction and experimentation with wax and mixed-media, participants will find inspiration that will enhance their own studio practice and mixed-media horizons. And the goddess figure of Aine will be your traveling companion on your journey home!

For Michelle’s two days, participants will be guided in a partial plein air approach to the landscape of the area on a cradled panel during the first day. This “sense of place” will honor the elements of Aine’s land and become the basis for a small altar to celebrate her magic. The process will continue as participants create a shrine-like opening in the panel. Found objects from the surrounding land can be attached as honored “relics” representing the places she protected.

As you can tell by the timeline, we will have extra days to explore the countryside with our host, Lora Murphy, award-winning encaustic painter and owner of the school.

Our time in Mulranny will be spent with 4 days in the classroom setting, plus additional time sightseeing with a well informed tour guide, evening entertainment with talented musicians, storytellers or surprise events. Beautiful coastal walks or Great Western Greenway bicycle rides are there for free time excursions. Accommodation is provided in rental cottages and houses nearby the school. Meals are enjoyed in local restaurants, guest houses and private accommodations.

YOU CAN LEARN MORE ABOUT THIS MAGICAL ART RETREAT HERE.

It may sound like an impossible dream at this point, but put it on your calendar. If you are worried about the cost, we have you covered – here is an Irish spell that will help you find money for those travel funds:

A charm to always have money

Take the feather of a black rooster, go to the crossing points of three fairy-paths, and while holding the feather and a gold colored coin, call the name of the Goddess Áine three times, to bring you everlasting prosperity.

And feel free to email me privately if you have specific questions – I really hope that you can come!

The Goats of Mulranny

 

 

We interrupt the blog post we were working on for this message . . .

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I just got an email from Lora Murphy, the genius behind Painting with Fire. She’s going to be featuring one of my workshops this Wednesday, which is a couple of months before it was scheduled.

Here’s the info:

This mini-workshop combines Spirit figure construction with encaustic surface design and a bunch of other fun stuff. Remember the toilet paper rolls that I’ve been saving? Here’s how to use them! Gauze, Paper, Plaster, + Wax is a 45-minute treasury of techniques and inspiration (if I do say so myself.)

It’s kind of a prelude to my other workshop, which comes up in 2023 on Painting with Fire, called The Shaman Spirit in Paper and Wax.

If you have been thinking of joining Painting with Fire, do it now and you can see the Gauze, Plaster, Paper + Wax workshop day after tomorrow. Plus, you’ll get the Shaman workshop and about a zillion other workshops by a zillion other fantastic teachers in encaustic and mixed media.(A zillion = 26)

Some of the other teachers are Roxanne Evans Stout, Crystal Marie Neubauer, and my Enso Circle partner, Michelle Belto. Subjects include things like eco-printing and large-scale pouring and found object inclusions and — well, it’s a very cool program. And you don’t need a ton of new material and equipment to participate. Heck, in my class this Wednesday you just need some wax and a toilet paper roll – and a few other things. Actually, here’s the short materials list.

I know I’ve talked about Painting with Fire before, but the email from Lora remind me to remind YOU that you can register any time. Class started April 27th but since these are prerecorded videos, you get instant access to the already released classes when you sign up. Classes are delivered each Wednesday approximately 12 noon EST as prerecorded video and once they are available you can watch whenever you wish. You get lifetime access to all classes.

Here’s that signup link!

OK, now back to my other blog post in progress – it’s about provenance and the soul of objects. I’m enjoying writing about that and will post it soon.

 

More about Painting with Fire (by request)

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Thanks for the great response to the Painting with Fire announcement, and thanks for all your questions. It occurred to me that I have been teaching this program for a year, and so was just assuming that everyone knew how it worked.  Not true – yikes. So here is some more info, by request –

This is a year log program with 52+ workshops of which mine, The Shaman Spirit in Paper and Wax, is just one little part of many really amazing classes. At the end of this post, I’ll show you who all the other teachers are and you can see the names of the classes that they are teaching. And all of these are included in the $249 Early Bird price.

pro

A lot of the questions I got about this year-long program were about experience level and also how to access the classes. So I went to Lora Murphy, the genius artist behind PWF, and got a few of her answers for you:

All the lessons are independent projects from start to finish and it is up to you which order to take them in or how many lessons to complete. You can work at your own pace it is up to you.

All the courses on Painting with Fire have a lifetime access and all classes will stay on the course page.

All our courses are for individuals of all skill levels, including beginners. Don’t be intimidated by comparing your work to other students who have more experience in art. We are all in different phases of our creative journey and we all once were beginners. The best thing – is to compare your own work from before to what you do now, and how it changes and improves as you practice. I would recommend to post your work so you can get feedback from the teachers and support from fellow students. Be kind to yourself and others!

As Lora alludes to, we have a great Painting with Fire Facebook group that’s active and helpful – I’m on there all the time getting ideas and giving advice.

So here’s the best part – look at this list (below) of the 26 teachers and the topics of their classes – you really do get all of this for one price for the whole year! You can watch them as they come out every week, and you can save them for when you have time – you can even pick and choose from the classes that have been released.

And if you have more questions – send them along – as you can tell, I am such a fan of Painting with Fire and feel so privileged to teach with all of these great instructors. Here’s the info/registration link.

 

It’s the little things . . .

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This wasn’t the post I intended to write this week. Instead, it’s just a short “thank-you” note – to myself!!

Take a look at this photo. It won’t mean much to anybody but me.

This is the work table in my small studio area off the kitchen. Yesterday evening it looked like this . . . . . .

It had been a loooo-oong day. I finished filming two hours of workshop videos for Painting With Fire, editing and uploading them. I also did some assemblage work in the middle of this mess that was left over from Art Stroll projects.

I wanted to go to bed!! But the Good Angel in my tired old brain said, “clean it up – you won’t be sorry.”  Sigh.

It took about ten sleepy minutes to put stuff away – not a great job, but enough to make me smile when I walked in this morning, coffee in hand, ready to work on a big clay commission. I could actually see the surface of the table!

If there is any message to this, it’s be kind to yourself! Even if you are feeling tired and grumpy, straighten up your mess just as if you were working in somebody else’s studio so you can be ready for the morning.  Put things back where you will find them the next time you look for them. You will thank yourself later.

Oh, and speaking of Painting with Fire, next Wednesday my lesson called Myth and Mist airs. If you are a member of PWF, look for it. I talk about telling stories that are veiled in beeswax and other media using this layered collage encaustic painting as one of the examples. It recounts a myth about crows and dragonflies:

And if you’re not aware of Painting With Fire, it’s never to late to join this amazing year-long encaustic extravaganza! You will even learn how to master encaustic without messing up your studio.

Well. . . . .maybe not that last part . . .