Category Archives: thoughts and opinions

Returning to the Well: Three Paths for the Artist’s Spirit

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Photo by Melanie Childress Reuter at great peril to herself!

When our group traveled to Ireland, we visited several sacred wells. These were not simply places to gather water—they were wells of memory and mystery, worn smooth by centuries of seekers leaving tokens, prayers, and wishes. They grew in my imagination as metaphors for the multiple currents that give rise to art.

Our friend Melanie, who knew so much about these holy places, came prepared with small bottles—one for each of us—to collect water from St. Brendan’s well. Her thoughtful, reverent gesture reminded me that the experience of a well is both shared and deeply personal.

At first, I thought there would be only ONE oracle card named The Well. But no matter how much I tried to get around it, I kept hearing three distinct voices beneath that singular image, each one layered deeper than the last.

So The Well became a series of three separate cards: The First Well, The Second Well, and The Third Well. Here’s the short version.

  • The First Well — The Gathering Place (connection and community)

  • The Second Well — The Sacred Source (ritual and renewal)

  • The Third Well — The Hidden Depths (archetypes and unconscious)

Together and separately, these three form a layered invitation to explore how creativity flows: through community, through pilgrimage and blessing, and deep into the hidden currents of collective imagination.

Here are the three separate Enso Oracle Cards: The First Well, The Second Well, and The Third Well. Each carries its own presence and focus, just as each well in Ireland revealed a different kind of truth.

I’m sharing them here with you so you can see how they speak to you in image as well as in words.

Every artists has a need to visit one of these metaphoric wells for different reasons and at different times – this was another lesson I learned in Ireland as part of our group.

The First Well — The Gathering Place

Keywords: Community • Exchange • Support • Shared Wisdom

At the First Well, we meet each other with open vessels. This is the place of friendship, collaboration, and replenishment through shared ideas and presence.

Upright, it calls you to lean into community — to gather, to teach, to listen, and to remember that no artist creates in isolation.

Reversed, it asks: are you withholding your gifts, or resisting the support of others out of pride or fear? The well reminds us that water flows most freely when we pour into one another.

Reflection: Who nourishes me — and how can I offer nourishment in return?

Affirmation: I drink deeply of community and allow myself to be replenished by shared wisdom.

When you draw this card: You may need to seek out or organize a group of like-minded people. Consider joining a class, scheduling a studio visit, or reaching out to a trusted peer. The First Well suggests that connection itself is the medicine you seek.

The Second Well — The Sacred Source

Keywords: Blessing • Inspiration • Pilgrimage • Devotion

The Second Well is not just water, but water made sacred through reverence. It is the place of ritual, of intentional return, of renewal.

Upright, it calls you to mark your practice as sacred, to honor your creative path as pilgrimage, and to receive inspiration as blessing.

Reversed, it warns against neglecting the rituals that nourish you, or treating inspiration as something to be demanded instead of received with humility. This well offers more when approached with respect.

Reflection: What rituals and sacred pauses keep my practice alive?

Affirmation: I honor my path as sacred, and each return to the source blesses me anew.

When you draw this card: You may be called to slow down and honor your process as ritual. Light a candle, dedicate your work with gratitude, or make a small pilgrimage — to a gallery, a sacred site, or even a favorite place in nature. The Second Well reminds you that renewal comes when you approach creativity with reverence.

The Third Well — The Hidden Depths

Keywords: Depth • Archetypes • Dreams • Collective Unconscious

The Third Well lies in shadow, but its depths shimmer with infinite reflection.

Upright, it asks you to journey inward, to engage with dreams, symbols, and archetypes that rise from the Collective Unconscious. Here is mystery, intuition, and primal connection.

Reversed, it cautions against being lost in shadow — drowning in illusion, fear, or over-analysis. Depth is a gift only when balanced with air and light. The Third Well invites courage to see what is hidden and return with wisdom.

Reflection: What symbols and stories are rising from my depths, and how do they shape my path?

Affirmation: I trust the depths of my inner well to reveal truths that connect me to all humanity.

When you draw this card: You may need to look beneath the surface of your work. Keep a dream journal, explore mythology, or allow symbols and images to emerge without judgment. The Third Well reminds you that the unconscious holds treasures that, once surfaced, will resonate far beyond yourself.

______________________________________________________________

I know that this is a long and rather complex post, but here are three everyday examples that might help explain how each of these metaphoric (and sometimes actual) “wells” serves a different purpose:

The First Well — The Gathering Place

  • An artist is feeling isolated in their studio, unsure if their work has meaning. Drawing this card suggests it’s time to seek connection — perhaps by joining a critique group, organizing a studio visit, or even hosting a casual coffee with creative friends. The First Well reminds them that inspiration often flows more freely in conversation and shared presence than in solitude.

The Second Well — The Sacred Source

  • A painter finds their practice has become mechanical, more about deadlines than devotion. When this card appears, it is an invitation to pause and return to ritual — lighting a candle before working, dedicating the day’s effort with gratitude, or making a small pilgrimage (to a gallery, a natural site, or a remembered place) to refresh their spirit. The Second Well signals that the creative path is sacred, and renewal will come when it’s approached with reverence.

The Third Well — The Hidden Depths

  • A writer is circling the surface of their ideas, producing technically fine work but sensing something deeper is missing. Drawing this card suggests it’s time to descend inward — journaling dreams, meditating, or exploring myth and archetype to uncover the symbols beneath their stories. The Third Well reminds them that art rooted in the unconscious carries a power that resonates universally, even if it feels mysterious at first.

Each well, then, marks a different kind of replenishment:

  • First Well: external support through people.

  • Second Well: spiritual renewal through reverence.

  • Third Well: deep symbolic truth through the unconscious.

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But here’s the best part — you don’t have to draw a card to know when it’s time to visit The Well. A card is a beautiful reminder, and you can always return to these descriptions, but the truth is, we all carry an inner knowing. We recognize when we’re thirsty for community, when we need to pause for renewal, or when it’s time to journey into our own depths. The wells are always there, waiting — and we already know the way to them.

 

 

The Cane: A Companion on the Artist’s Path

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It’s been two weeks since we boarded the train from Westport to Dublin on our way back home from Mulranny. I’m working on a catalog of our work and adventures, and seeing all of the photographs brings back profound lessons that I learned when I was teaching there.

Our group explored not just making vessels in the studio, but also the wild, windswept beauty of the West Coast—the cliffs, sacred wells, narrow paths, stony beaches, and long flights of stone stairs.

One of our group members walked with a cane, and I worried at first that the rough terrain might keep her from fully joining us. But she surprised us all.

Her cane was not a hindrance. It was a companion. She leaned on it when the path was steep, planted it firmly when the wind blew hard, and carried it with quiet dignity (and smiles).

She never let it define her; instead, she used it as a tool that allowed her to go everywhere everyone else went. Her determination and grace became a lesson for us all.

This memory inspired THE CANE Enso Oracle Card, which holds a message not just for travelers in the world, but for travelers in the studio. In our creative practice, the cane becomes a metaphor. Where might I allow myself the gift of support without apology? What “cane” could help me take the next step? Am I resisting help that would make my path easier?

For artists, a “cane” might look like a mentor’s guidance, a trusted book, a workshop that opens new doors, or even a tool in the studio that simplifies what once felt cumbersome. Sometimes it’s as simple as asking for feedback instead of struggling alone, or letting technology carry some of the load so you can stay focused on the art itself.

Too often we equate independence with strength (I know I do), as if needing help somehow diminishes our creative power. But in truth, the supports we lean on—whether people, tools, or practices—are what allow us to keep climbing, to see new horizons, and to carry on when the path grows rocky.

So perhaps the question to bring into the studio today is this: What is my “cane”? What support could I embrace that would allow me to see farther, work longer, and create with greater ease?

Strength isn’t about going it alone. It’s about knowing when to lean, so we can keep walking.

The Cane
Support • Persistence • Courage

The Cane is not a sign of weakness—it is a trusted companion on the path, a staff for the explorer’s hand, a reminder that accepting support allows us to go farther than we could alone. Whether it steadies our steps on stony paths, helps us climb sacred stairs, or simply gives us the confidence to keep moving, it becomes part of the journey rather than a limitation. In art, as in life, the wise traveler knows when to lean on something trusted.

Upright, The Cane speaks of resilience, resourcefulness, and the grace to accept help without apology.

Reversed, it cautions against mistaking stubborn independence for strength—when we refuse the support we need, we risk exhausting ourselves and cutting short the adventure. The Cane teaches that there is no shame in asking for help, only strength in receiving it. Let it be your symbol of determination, your portable pillar, your license to explore the world at your own pace. Every mark you make—whether with a brush, a pen, or your feet—is richer because you carried on.

Reflection: Where might I allow myself the gift of support without apology? What “cane” could help me take the next step? Am I resisting help that would make my path easier?

Affirmation: I welcome the tools and allies that make my journey possible.

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Reflection for Your Own Practice

Just as my friend in Ireland leaned on her cane to climb cliffs and cross ancient paths, we as artists can lean on our own “canes” in the studio—supports that help us keep moving, see farther, and continue creating without apology. Ask yourself: What is my cane?

Here are some possibilities:

  • A class you’ve hesitated to take because you felt you “should already know”

  • A piece of equipment or tool you’ve postponed buying, even though it would save time or expand your options

  • The act of asking for feedback from a trusted friend, mentor, or fellow artist

  • Giving yourself permission to hire help for tasks that drain your energy (framing, shipping, photography)

  • Allowing technology—software, apps, even AI—to handle the tedious parts so you can focus on creating

  • Joining (or rejoining) a community or critique group for connection and encouragement

  • Setting boundaries around your studio time and asking others to honor them

  • Revisiting a favorite book, workshop, or teacher who once sparked your growth

  • Saying yes to rest and recovery when your body or spirit needs it

Which of these could be your cane right now? And which others could you name for yourself? I know one of mine would be setting boundaries around my studio time – but it’s hard!!

Your “cane” might also be thought of as a staff, walking stick, compass, anchor, lifeline, bridge, or guide—whatever image reminds you that support is not a weakness but a way forward.

True strength in art, as in life, is not measured by how far we can go alone, but by the wisdom of knowing when—and how—to lean so that the journey continues.

Linda, this card is for you!!♥

 

The Pause: Take a moment. Let it be enough

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This is the next in a series of summer posts using the in-progress Enso Circle oracle cards that I’m working on to help myself keep consistently grounded in studio practice and creative community. Thanks for being part of that. Read on.

In the wake of the recent floods here in Texas, we find ourselves reeling not only with grief, but with a sense of helplessness. As artists, our instinct is often to respond: to create, to express, to offer solace through our work. We feel the call to stay on the path, to keep moving forward, to do something with our hands that might help mend the world.

But there are moments when even that noble impulse must yield to something deeper—stillness. Not from a lack of inspiration or purpose, but from a need to let the weight of the world settle gently into our hearts without resistance. To let silence be a kind of medicine.

This is not a surrender. It’s a sacred pause—a conscious act of rest and reflection that allows us to absorb what we need before we continue on with renewed meaning and strength. We do not stop because we are lost—we pause because we are listening.

This another early Enso Oracle card that I created several months ago, but it seems really appropriate right now.

THE PAUSE

The Pause – When Stillness Is the Bravest Choice

Keywords: Stillness · Restoration · Listening · Grace

Interpretation (Upright):
The Pause arrives not as an absence, but as a presence—quiet, whole, and necessary. It invites you to step away from motion, not because you are uninspired, but because your spirit knows when to rest. Like a hush between notes in music, this moment of stillness holds space for something sacred: integration, healing, and gentle awareness. In the midst of life’s turbulence, this card reminds you that you are allowed to stop. To be. To listen. Rest is not retreat—it is preparation. In the pause, your deeper knowing rises. Let it.

Interpretation (Reversed):
When reversed, The Pause may reveal a deep discomfort with stillness—an inner urgency to do something, especially in times of sorrow or upheaval. You may feel desperate to help, to fix, to create meaning out of heartbreak. But this impulse, though noble, can become a way of avoiding your own need to rest and receive. Not every response must be immediate. This card asks you to allow space for presence before action. Choose grace over urgency. Trust that your quiet awareness now will shape deeper, more meaningful offerings later.

Reflection Questions:

  • When was the last time you truly allowed yourself to be still?
  • What emotions or insights have you been too busy to feel?
  • What would it mean to pause—not out of weakness, but out of wisdom?

Affirmation:
I honor the stillness between moments. In rest, I restore my light.

What happens after the Pause?

You don’t simply go back to work. You go forward—with a steadier heart, clearer eyes, and a deeper sense of intention. The stillness doesn’t erase grief or uncertainty, but it softens the way you carry them. You may begin again slowly. Gently. You may write one word, make one mark, sweep your studio floor, or sit beside your worktable and simply breathe. That is enough.

The Pause is not a break from your path—it is a sacred moment within it.

Things to think about when you need to pause:

  • I don’t need to solve everything right now
  • This moment is enough—I am safe to just be.
  • Stillness is not emptiness—it is where I gather strength.

Previous Enso Circle oracle card posts:

THE CRACKED CUP

THE SHINY OBJECT

THE HUMP

THE WANDERER

The Cracked Cup: Holding Loss with Reverence

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This week, as floods have devastated parts of Texas, I have felt a deep ache settle in my chest. So many lives lost—families shattered, futures rewritten in a single rising tide. There is no mending of such losses, only the sacred act of holding space for them.

It was with this sorrow that I turned to The Cracked Cup, one of the first cards I created  in the Enso Oracle deck. The cup, once whole, now bears a fracture that cannot be hidden. Yet it still holds meaning, still carries essence. A cracked vessel is a reminder that something precious was once contained, and though altered, its story is not erased.

Loss connects us. Not because we can understand it fully—but because we recognize its shape. We have all carried our own cracked cups, fragile with memory and longing. And when we witness loss in others—especially such heartbreaking, public loss—we may feel helpless. But if we acknowledge it, if we name it, if we allow it to soften us rather than harden us, then something sacred can begin to form.

Grief shared is grief witnessed. In honoring the cracks, we honor the love that came before them.

The Cracked Cup

Keywords: Imperfection, Vulnerability, Beauty in the Broken, Holding What You Can

Guidebook Entry:
The Cracked Cup appears when life has etched its story into your form. In the upright position, it honors the quiet resilience of holding, even with a fracture. You are still a vessel, capable of offering and receiving, though shaped now by experience. The crack is not your failure—it is your history, your refinement. Like kintsugi, where gold fills the fault line, your beauty is revealed in the break. This card invites you to celebrate what remains and flows, rather than what was lost.

Reversed Meaning:
Reversed, the Cracked Cup may signal that you’re trying to pour from what no longer holds. You might be ignoring signs of depletion, overextending despite inner fractures. There may be grief you’ve hidden in plain sight, or a perfectionism that keeps you from offering anything at all. This card urges rest, repair, and self-compassion. It’s okay to set yourself down for a while.

Reflection Questions:

  • What am I still trying to hold that might be leaking away?
  • Where can I find grace in my imperfections?
  • Am I trying to serve others without tending to my own mending?

Affirmation:
Even with a crack, I remain a vessel. I hold beauty, truth, and healing within my imperfect form.

_____________________

In the wake of deep loss, there are no easy words. The grief sits heavy, as it should.

And yet, as artists, we often turn to our work to hold what cannot be spoken. We make marks, tear paper, mend fragments—because our hands need to do something with the sorrow.

Artists can bring gold to the broken.

The old practice in Japan called Kintsugi, where broken pottery is repaired with gold, doesn’t hide the cracks, but honors them. It does not undo the break. Like The Cracked Cup, it simply says: this mattered, this was loved, this was lost—and it still holds beauty.

When our artwork feels broken, we can follow this same impulse—to mend with grace, to let the light in through the cracks.

Here are five little ways artists can add a touch of gold to their broken places – almost as a metaphor.

1. Gold Leaf or Metallic Wax on Cracks or Seams
Highlight repaired tears, joins, or fractures with gold leaf or metallic wax. Instead of concealing damage, this elevates it—visibly celebrating the healing process and transformation. Even in collages or fiber works, adding a subtle gilded line over a seam can evoke this reverent beauty. Book Foil makes wonderful lines over a wax surface – I use this often.

2. Thread or Wire Mending
Use gold or brass wire or gold embroidery thread to literally bind pieces together. Whether it’s torn paper, fabric, or broken sculptural elements, the physical act of mending with golden thread becomes a ritual of restoration and reverence. My friend Flo Bartell just emailed me this morning about using a gold wire for knitting, to communicate a delicate permanence. Perhaps we are all needing a bit of gold as shining metaphor.

3. Symbolic Gold Marks
Paint or draw golden lines, halos, or marks over areas that feel unresolved or damaged. These can represent scars or epiphanies—places where the work “broke open” and something new emerged. Think of them as visual blessings for the broken spaces. Use a gold Sharpie or paint pen for some asemic writing on unresolved work.

4. Incorporating Found Golden Objects
Embed small gold-tone found objects—buttons, charms, keys, or jewelry fragments—into your artwork where pieces feel lost or incomplete. These additions can be talismans of memory, resilience, and beauty born from imperfection.

5. Transforming Damage into Focal Points
If part of a piece is damaged, emphasize that area with a glowing, gold-infused feature—like a golden portal, sunburst, or frame. This approach not only restores but transforms what was broken into the heart of the piece’s meaning.

In the quiet aftermath of loss, The Cracked Cup reminds us that even when something breaks, it still has purpose—maybe even more than before. Like the golden seams in a kintsugi vessel, the work we do to mend our hearts can become part of the beauty we share.
If you are an artist, know this: your creative practice is a balm, a beacon. Keep making. Keep tending to your art as an offering—not just for yourself, but for the community that surrounds you.
And please, take care of yourself and those you love. Be gentle with your days. Hold your own cracked cup with tenderness, and let your light shine through the places that have been broken open.
♥Lyn
Previous Oracle Cards:

THE SHINY OBJECT

THE HUMP

THE WANDERER

What does your vessel hold?

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Jennifer Dixon, Vessel Workshop

I spent this past weekend in the Art Studio at UTSA/Southwest teaching a workshop called The Ephemeral Vessel: Exploring Plaster, Fiber, and Paper. As usual, I learned as much as a taught.

We began the first day by discussing the vessel as a concept. A vessel holds deep symbolic and spiritual significance, representing both containment and potential. The outside of a vessel symbolizes the physical form, protection, and boundaries, encapsulating the external aspects of life and the tangible world. It is the visible, crafted exterior that interacts with the environment, often reflecting cultural artistry and craftsmanship.

Jalen uses a soldering iron to pierce the “skin” of his vessel in progress

The inside of a vessel, however, carries profound spiritual connotations. It
represents the inner self, the soul, and the essence of being. This inner space holds potential and mystery, symbolizing the capacity to contain and nurture life, emotions, and spiritual energy. It is a metaphor for the unseen depths within every individual, the potential for growth, transformation, and the holding of sacred or significant contents.

The inside of Janis’s vessel shows little scraps and shards of memories of the process

Together, the inside and outside of a vessel illustrate the dual nature of existence: the balance between the external, material world and the internal, spiritual realm. This duality underscores the importance of harmony between our outer actions and inner values, encouraging a holistic approach to understanding life and spirituality.

And when we weren’t pondering the existentialist nature of the forms we were creating, we were also have fun! There was a moment of silence in the studio when each person got ready to pop their plaster-covered balloon. There were many oohs and ahhs when an unexpected material turned into magic on the surface of a bowl.

Almost dry enough to pop!

Taking simple materials and transforming them into meaningful creative statements has always been kind of a miraculous process. Every one of the vessels created in this workshop held a narrative. I am in awe of the vessel-makers and their stories.

Click here to see a catalog that I put together of some of the amazing work that was done this weekend.

As a final note, Everyday Sacred by Sue Bender is another one of those books that I can return too whenever I need centering. The begging bowl in this book is such a powerful image. The begging Zen monk receives the food people can spare in his bowl with gratitude. It’s an ongoing practice to accept what happens in life – and my bowl is so full of gratitude for this workshop experience!

Clay Soup and Alan Watts

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Riddle: You have 60 small clay faces drying in the sun, almost ready to be fired. What do they turn into after an expected thunderstorm?

Answer: Clay Soup!

If only I had loaded the kiln before we left for the afternoon! But noooooo – the sky was clear, so who would have thought that a gully-washer was coming?

Seeing all of those dissolved clay faces when I got home made me feel sad, but also a bit philosophical. After all, they were still clay. Only their shapes had changed. They were returned back to their primordial soup!

This experience got me thinking about Alan Watts, whose writings have been a huge influence and comfort to me all of my adult life.

Alan Watts often spoke about the nature of life and death in terms that demystify and de-dramatize the transition. The concept that when you die, you go back to being what you were before you were born, is a profound reflection on the nature of existence. From clay to clay? From soup to soup?

He encourages us to view life as a temporary journey through a realm of awareness, much like a bird’s fleeting passage through a lighted house. By understanding and accepting the cyclical nature of life and death, we can alleviate the fear of death and appreciate the transient beauty of our existence. (Alan Watts Organization)​.

If you haven’t read Alan Watts before, I encourage you to start with THE BOOK
On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are. If you’re interested in The Book, there’s a PDF version available here.

This is all kind kind of a heavy-duty metaphor about something simple as melted clay, right? But there are lessons in everything. Living an artful life means looking at things through a different lens.

And the other HUGE bonus from this experience was the rain! Because I live in South Texas, I will willingly trade a couple of hours work for some welcome rain! I can make more clay faces but I sure can’t make it rain!

Thanks for reading – back to the clay studio 🙂

Lyn

 

 

 

 

Shards and Stories – Lessons from Greece (continued)

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Taken at the National Archaeological Museum in Athens

Examining shards of pottery in Greece, especially in historical museums, is a fascinating and often deeply meaningful experience. These fragments, bearing partial symbols and images, are remnants of ancient lives and cultures, offering glimpses into the past. Each shard is a piece of a larger narrative, a fragment of a story that once was whole.

Taken at the National Archaeological Museum in Athens

The symbols and images on these shards might depict scenes from daily life, mythological tales, or intricate patterns that were significant to the culture that produced them. Even in their broken state, these fragments can tell us a great deal about the artistic styles, technological advancements, and social practices of ancient Greece.

One of the most compelling aspects of these shards is their ability to be reassembled with other pieces, even those from different pots. This process is akin to piecing together a complex jigsaw puzzle where the final image represents a broader cultural or historical narrative. When these shards are put together, they often reveal a more comprehensive picture, connecting disparate elements to form a richer, more detailed story.

Humans have always told stories with symbols and pictures and objects.Even a small scrap of of pottery gives a rich clue that inspires us to infer more of the story.

My personal artwork has  been strongly influenced by the idea of “shards” as a metaphor for human communication across time. A shard can be a found fragment of clay, a rusty nail, a scrap of handwriting – any little clue that becomes a “secret handshake” between the maker and the discoverer.

Lyn Belisle, Encanto Assemblage, 2011

Have you ever wondered whether fragments of the artwork that you create today might one day be discovered and displayed in a museum, offering clues to the creative expressions of the 21st century? Imagine a future archeologist unearthing remnants of our contemporary art, much like how we now marvel at the fragments of ancient Greek artifacts. Each piece, though incomplete, tells a story of its time, revealing insights into the culture, technology, and aesthetics that defined an era.

In ancient Greece, even the smallest fragment of a vase, statue, or fresco can speak volumes. These pieces provide invaluable glimpses into the past, allowing us to reconstruct the visual and cultural landscape of a civilization long gone. The intricate designs on a pottery shard or the delicate chiseling on a broken statue reflect the artistic prowess and thematic concerns of their creators.

Reconstructed Lion, National Archaeological Museum

Similarly, future generations might uncover fragments of our current artworks—perhaps a piece of a digital print, a shard of a ceramic sculpture, or a remnant of a mixed-media installation. These fragments would serve as tangible connections to our present, helping future historians and art enthusiasts understand the themes, materials, and techniques that shape our creative output.

Lyn Belisle, Shard Components

As artists, the possibility that our work could one day be part of an archeological discovery adds a layer of legacy to our practice. It encourages us to think about the durability and impact of our creations. What messages are we embedding in our work? How do our materials and methods reflect the values and technologies of our time? In contemplating these questions, we become part of a continuum, linking our contemporary expressions to the vast tapestry of human artistic endeavor.

Lyn Belisle, Icon, 2020

So, next time you create, consider the enduring journey your art might undertake. Perhaps, centuries from now, a fragment of your work will be unearthed, sparking curiosity and admiration in a future museum, much like the ancient Greek artifacts do for us today. Through these fragments, our stories will continue to be told, and our creative legacy will persist, connecting us to future generations in a timeless dialogue.

Birds on columns, Heraklion Archaeological Museum

Learning from the past enriches our understanding and inspires us to create meaningful, lasting art for future generations to cherish. Or maybe just to wonder about . . . .

End of lesson from Greece !!

Lyn

 

 

 

So many thanks!

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I am so grateful to you for re-subscribing to SHARDS. You are the reason I teach workshops, share ideas, and learn so much about our arts community. Thank you for being a part of my creative life! I look forward to staying in touch, thanks to you.

As promised, I did a random number pick of those kind people who subscribed yesterday to win a free workshop, and the winner is number 217, who happens to be my friend, Joanna Powell Colbert! Joanna is primarily responsible for my journey into Spirit Dolls and the Tarot. I hope you have a chance to look at her work.

Joanna, when you read this, send me a quick email and pick out a gifted workshop on my Teachable Studio space!

Don’t forget, there are also free workshop for everyone on that site.

In the meantime, thanks again, and please stay tuned for some SHARDS posts in the near future! If you have questions or suggestions, please feel free to send those along!

♥Lyn

 

 

 

Artists or Artmakers?

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Question – “What do you do?”

“Well, I’m an artist.”

Next question – “Oh, cool – what do you paint?”

Why does that “artist” description automatically conjure up someone who paints paintings? If you look up images for the term “artist” on Google, that’s what you’ll see, rows of people at easels painting paintings. (Hi, Bob Ross ♥)

If this sounds familiar to you, it’s no wonder we have a problem calling ourselves “Artists.” That term doesn’t describe what we do because it has so many associations and preconceptions.

But what if I answered, instead, “Well, I”m an Artmaker.” The next question would be, “What kind of art do you MAKE?”

This difference is HUGE!

Now I can answer, “Hmm –  that’s tricky, but basically I work with my hands in my studio on all kinds of artwork that connects us.” Then I can click a few photos on my phone that I have ready to go. And hopefully, a conversation starts. Maybe like this —

“I make sometimes paintings, but they are not traditional paintings . . .still, people seem to like them.” (click)

“I do assemblage work” (click)

I work in beeswax wax and paint for all kinds of different projects and objects: (click)

“Sometimes work with photographs and fiber” – (click)

And so on – not too many photos (if you get that far) – just four or five.

Or if you (like I) use MOO business cards that let you have as many as 50 different images, you can show several of those, and hopefully, your inquirer will take a card, any card. Ask, “What’s your favorite?”

The point is, we are ARTMAKERS. From the introduction to Melanie Falick’s wonderful book, Making a Life, “We make art to connect with others. To express ideas and emotions, feel competent, create something tangible and long-lasting. And to feed the soul.”

What do YOU do?? If you find yourself mumbling that you are “an, er, artist” (and thinking “am I a real artist, or what — why do I call my self that, what does it mean anyway, urg, it sounds so pretentious, I don’t even have a true studio,etc. etc., rethink that.

Tell them with a happy smile that you are an Artmaker. It’s more than semantics. It’s how and why you work to make beautiful things. Feel the truth of that through your heart and soul right down to your toes. Then get ready for an interesting conversation!

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 . . .