Thanks, warmth, eggnog bread , love, help by donating, and joy this season.

I have just a quick minute before we hit the road (driving across upstate, we love you Junius Ponds!) to visit my family. Just wanted to send some love in the form of a little pretty painting, enjoy and take good care. I smell more charity, kindness and giving than commercialism this season, but that's just in my little corner of the world, and, well, it's nice.



Merry!


Rachael

Reading

"There is a time in every man's education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better, for worse, as his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to till. The power which resides in him is new in nature, and none but he knows what that is which he can do, nor does he know until he has tried. Not for nothing one face, one character, one fact, makes much impression on him, and another none. This sculpture in the memory is not without preestablished harmony. The eye was placed where one ray should fall, that it might testify of that particular ray. We but half express ourselves, and are ashamed of that divine idea which each of us represents. It may be safely trusted as proportionate and of good issues, so it be faithfully imparted, but God will not have his work made manifest by cowards. A man is relieved and gay when he has put his heart into his work and done his best; but what he has said or done otherwise, shall give him no peace. It is a deliverance which does not deliver. In the attempt his genius deserts him; no muse befriends; no invention, no hope."

and

"Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept the place the divine providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connection of events. Great men have always done so, and confided themselves childlike to the genius of their age, betraying their perception that the absolutely trustworthy was seated at their heart, working through their hands, predominating in all their being. And we are now men, and must accept in the highest mind the same transcendent destiny; and not minors and invalids in a protected corner, not cowards fleeing before a revolution, but guides, redeemers, and benefactors, obeying the Almighty effort, and advancing on Chaos and the Dark." From Ralph Waldo Emerson's 1841 essay on Self-Reliance

helped me out today. I read this, ate a big chunk of cream cheese bread, and holed myself up in my studio room (it's in the house, it's become my studio, it's a huge mess, it has a heater and loads of still unpacked boxes.) I don't know what the hell I am making in there. Monsters or magic? Chi sa?

I do know that if I open the studio doors and close them, set myself as few distractions as I can, engage in the painting as fully as I can, and act upon the paint and react to the process, I am invariably happier with the honest results. Even if they suck. In this way, I am similar to the other artists I know even if we all work in wildly different ways.

I mucked around with the links to the side here.

This is a lovely holiday season for my husband and I, we don't have to fly anywhere. Miss those good friends in Atlanta and the memories of christmas shopping in short sleeves, but this is our home. So good to be here, following our own stars...

" Ne te quæsiveris extra.

Man is his own star; and the soul that can
Render an honest and a perfect man,
Commands all light, all influence, all fate;
Nothing to him falls early or too late.
Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,
Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.

—Epilogue to Beaumont and Fletcher’s Honest Man’s Fortune."

take care,

Rachael

oh and this is a neat artist's opportunity, good luck!

Where have I been?

Exploring space, thinking about the cold, wondering if my brain will freeze, buying stuff for people I love, making things for people I love, working, working, trying to keep warm, wondering if my time will open wide up again and I can think through the kind of thoughtful blog entry I'd like to have thought through.

Oh, and I went to the philharmonic yesterday and glancing to my left I noticed that I wasn't the only one inspired to sketch. Someone else, silently was drawing, too. Here's mine.

take good care and have a happy,

Rachael

I found the archives at work. The museum I work for has been devoted to education for years. Still happens like this sometimes. More and more the kids are asking more and more questions. They still wanna know, though. They still want to see.

And we still run beginning painting classes and some nights there are more easels than people.
When do we reach a point where we won't look wide eyes? Where we won't try painting? Where we are more afraid than excited to try new things?

I don't know either. I just love these old photos. It's a happy coincidience that this town is jam p[acked full of photographers and librarians.
Feels really good to be here.
We feel like we fit.
And if we can survive the holiday craziness with our brains and our hearts and our mittens in tact, we'll be OK.
How about you?

take good care,
Rachael

I'm still grinning from a very inspiring art for trade women's party in lovely Italy Valley, NY. My take was amazing! A glorious ceramic vase, knit hats, fresh pesto, scarves, books, and more plus an opportunity to chat with a collection of creative women working in the pockets of upstate new york. It's a reminder of the resourceful-ness of artists, of the need for community, and of the power of trade.

That a little painting I'd given up on, no longer felt connected to, really didn't want no more could make a stranger happy and willing to part with her handwoven hat is really a kick.

We do, as artists, have to live in the money trade but we do as artists have our own economy, too. Doesn't hurt to be reminded of it, says the girl with the fancy new necklace wearing the mohair kitty cat hat, warm and wooly...

see ya,
Rachael