Blog

Summer's gone! Well, not quite. It's plenty warm here in northern Michigan—finally! I'm grateful for how busy I've been this summer and very pleased to have some time for kayaking, swimming and, yes, painting. It's practically impossible to paint when my studio is full of visitors; however, we entered a quieter season this week, and several still life scenes with flowers came into being.

Blossoms in Blue pictured here is one of the small paintings in a Labor Day weekend special I'm offering as a benefit to one of my favorite local non-profit organizations. The deal is this: On the purchase of any small work (16" x 20" or smaller), you'll receive 10% off the 2013 price and I'll donate 30% of the discounted price to Benzie Home Health Care.* 

Many of the small works are on my website. However, if you come to my Studio/Gallery at 402 Forest Avenue, Frankfort (open 10-4), you'll also have the opportunity to see a wide selection of paintings from earlier periods in my painting career. These inlcude other blooms from the garden, including some tropical varieties. Paintings are timeless—older or more recent— I trust you'll find at least one that will make a great birthday, anniversary, wedding or get-well gift for someone you care about.

Why Benzie Home Health Care? Anyone who's been a caregiver knows how exhausting and stressful it can be to provide for a loved one. Anyone who's without close family or friends knows how scary it can be to be on your own when ill or disabled. Everyone wants to know someone cares. Everyone who needs care deserves to get it. Home health care supports both caregivers and care receivers. I learned this when I was taking care of my 96+ year old mother. And since I don't have kids, I want to make sure there's someone around to take care of me!

I hope you'll take this opportunity to make your purchase of a painting also assist those with home health care needs. Questions? Want to make a purchase online? Send me an email and tell me which painting's won your heart.

*The special applies to both in-person and online sales between Thursday, August 29 and Monday, September 2. 6% MI State Sales Tax will be added to the purchase price. Purchases sent out of state are not taxed, but shipping & handling is extra.

I spent the day recently scouting barns on the Old Mission Peninsula near Traverse City, MI. I found numerous lovelies, including several quilt barns. These barns usually feature a prominent painting of a traditional quilt square pattern mounted on the wall or gable. There are a number of variations on the idea, however, including one barn I discovered near Harrisville, MI. Instead of a quilt square, it's decorated with a large painting of the barn itself, with a cow next to it. I love a visual joke! In my mind's eye I can already see paintings of barns within barns within barns....  As summer yields to autumn and then winter in these northern climes, it's good to have such notions taking root. There's plenty of studio time ahead!

Before I skip too far into the future, however, I'm reminded to stop and appreciate the bounty of the harvest so evident at this time of year. The Old Mission Peninsula, as well as much of northern Michigan, is dotted with the farm stands that so appealed to me when I first visited this area. Not only is the produce local—everywhere you're surrounded by apricot, peach, apple and cherry orchards—all of the commerce is done strictly on the honor system! I suppose farmers wouldn't continue this practice if it didn't produce some profit for them—a reminder that a good product will sell itself in the right marketplace.

I've just shipped off several of my barn paintings to the dk Gallery in Marietta, GA for their "Farm to Table" show celebrating agriculture with art. It's a real treat to show my work in the town where I grew up. In fact, one of my early attempts to make art was for a Cobb County drawing contest. The picture showed a farmer driving his donkey-drawn cart down a road in front of Kennesaw Mountain, presumably bringing his harvest to the market on the Square which was how it was done then, even as late as the early 1960s. The 3 barn paintings I'll exhibit at dk Gallery are a far sight more accomplished. If you're in the Atlanta area, I hope you'll check out the show opening September 6 with a reception from 5-9 p.m. I wish I could be there but I'll be painting one of those barns in northeast Michigan.

When someone close to me was recently diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, the part of me that wasn't obsessed with dire implications inquired about other possibilities. I, too, had once received a diagnosis of cancer and the result was amazing: My life was transformed into one of consciousness and creativity. Cancer opened up a whole new way of being for me. Whereas before I discovered the tumor on the roof of my mouth, I was petrified to speak in public; after its removal, I became fearless and fulfilled a calling that has allowed me to touch the lives of many people, both as a minister and artist. I believe my newly found confidence came directly from having faced into my own mortality and the realization that I am more than my body. I've lived more than 25 remarkable years since the day I received what at first seemed like a death sentence; clearly, for me, there has been life -- abundant life -- after the threat of death.

After moving through the initial shock of my dear friend's diagnosis, I wondered, why not view this cancer in the same light? After all, from my own experience, I know a creative response is possible to everything life dishes out. Of course, the worry-mind often sees things differently -- I've definitely had my moments of deep anticipatory grief. Still, the artist in me is dedicated to creating new realities, not simply accepting what the majority may deem the facts of a situation. So, as I so often do, I picked up a brush and, from a place of unknowing, simply started to paint.

What emerged is this painting I called "PanCreativity." Like much of my growing body of abstraction, I don't pretend to know what it means. One way of describing it might be to say that it is a visual expression of my prayer for a new understanding. Or, an intuitive leaning into emotion and thought, with the pigments at my disposal. The painting is large (48" x 48"), bigger than I am, for sure. And full of color and light and life. Like my loved one. (Who, by the way, is recovering from an extensive Whipple procedure like a rock star, according to the docs.)

Do you have a story of creative life after the threat of death? A painting that resulted from your meeting with mortality? So many of us do, you know. Sharing these experiences helps keep alive the healing that may be close at hand even when a cure seems unlikely. I'd love to hear from you ....