Last month as I reached for my glasses that had, of course, been placed who knows where, I found myself becoming agitated that I needed glasses. Yes, the time has arrived that I need glasses for close up, not just far away. Sure I could solve this perceived issue with progressive lenses, but instead I chose to battle and be grumpy until I “saw” a lesson. The lesson. . .well, let’s just say that for artists, perspective is everything. From the tiniest of details to the largest of imaginations, how I see the canvas, my paint palette, and my subject blend together to create the final piece. I was so busy fussing about looking for the right pair of glasses to see the details, I was missing the larger picture. . .but perhaps even more troubling is that I was pushing my imagination and creativity to the side. I was relying on exact details of my reference and suggesting my imagination take a backseat. In my daily living, I strive to release myself from expectations. So I’m letting go of the expectation that my art piece is going to be a replication of the reference; for that type of creation there is a copy machine or laser printer. Rather, my art piece will reflect the experience, the joy, and the whimsy of the reference and me! So yes, I no longer need to panic if I am not wearing the “right” pair of glasses for the task before me. . .my perspective is perfect. —Nicki
As I was putting the final brushstrokes on the little hedgehog heads peeking out of the bicycle basket, I briefly felt a smidge of disappointment. Really? How could anyone be disappointed when looking at a purple bicycle. . .much less one that has a wicker basket filled with freshly cut lavender and cute little hedgehogs? But I did! The vision I had when I initially began this painting was so perfect, so technically correct that my college art teachers would have been proud. Yet, here I was standing before these silly little guys going for a ride doubting, questioning, and wondering if I should keep or scrap this piece. Ahhh, this “Joy Ride” looked so fun as I stepped away from my technical perspective and began thinking of the places I could ride and the smiles that would come. And then, I realized that the painting process is indeed much like the ride. . .it is a journey, a joy ride. I want to learn to let go of the final result. I want to become peaceful with the idea that painting is a journey and rarely, if ever, does that perfect image imagined at first stroke end up on the final canvas. I am recognizing that after the idea is conceived and the paints begin to blend and move, the painting comes to life. . .it is indeed part of the journey, and the joy is in that journey. I am releasing the expectation of technical perfection and embracing the love of the art, the elements of paint and color, and most of all the joy that this blend brings to me and to others. And even though we are taught not to have favorite “children,” certain pieces do have a special place in my heart. They have become mile markers on my journey as an artist and a person. For this journey, I am grateful. . .yes, “Joy Ride” stays. . .but wait until I tell you about galloping away with “Gemini” next week. . .
I hope that the answer is “yes.”
As I was working on my latest interpretations of Frida Kahlo, I finally admitted to myself that none of my “Fridas” really look like her. I hope to capture some sass in her expressions, but as far as total likeness? Not so much. And I realized that I’m okay with that because I believe there’s a little Frida in all of us.
Frida Kahlo, a Mexican painter who lived from 1907-1954, is one of the most creative and self-aware artists I know. Having had polio as a young girl and a bus accident several years later, Frida lived most of her life in physical pain. I have asked myself if I would have been brave enough to creatively express my pain through painting while in a full body cast using a special easel my parents provided. Would I have avoided succumbing to the chronic physical pain, and instead captured the pain on canvas? As I matured, would I have been brave enough to express pride in my indigenous home during a time of racial and gender oppression? Would I be willing to paint my reality of pain as subject rather than fantasy or landscapes? Critics have noted that out of her 143 paintings, 55 are self-portraits that do just that–they tell the truth. Frida, no doubt, followed Shakespeare’s advice “to thy ownself be true.” Whether it was political or religious bias, Frida was the brave woman that I am becoming. In times like these COVID 19 days, when others are frantically buying items for comfort, I want to be able to be brave and say, “pain is a part of life, but not the end of life.” I want to provide creative love to others, support their ambitions, help assuage their fears, and most of all–through it all–be true to myself. So while my whimsical style of painting does not include self portraits, my art does include horses, hedgehogs, chickens, and Frida. This beautiful gathering of acrylic, watercolor, and colored pencils are expressions of love and bravery from my studio to your home. So, yes, I do hope that a little Frida resides in each of us–regardless of the color of our skin, the age of our wrinkles, or the style of our dress–we will endeavor to be true to ourselves, be creative, but most of all, be love. Nicki
Looking outside of the studio window, I see sunshine, new green leaves on the oaks, and butterflies dancing among the milkweed. Looking inside my studio, I see original paintings drying on the easel, prints all packaged and ready to share, pillows all fluffed to add to my art show tent, all tucked within the atmosphere of anticipation, creativity, and love. But the universe has other plans. . .the Leesburg Art Show is officially postponed until October 24 and 25 due to the virus. City officials of Leesburg in coordination with the Director of the Leesburg Center of the Arts decided to postpone the event in an abundance of caution. Upon the surface, it is quite easy to read this “caution” as fear. However, upon a closer look, this same caution can be viewed as love. Love? Yes, love: love for our community. Perhaps we have forgotten to shop local or learn to know our neighbors or local farmers. Time is always in short supply, it seems, and we may find it easier to one-stop shop at big box stores where the crowds and deals seem huge. So perhaps this virus gives us the chance to return to the community, to local. . .and ultimately to ourselves. Love for self: sure, why not. . .have we forgotten how much fun it can be to reconnect at home either with family, friends, animals, or garden? I am choosing to spend the gift of time in the studio painting and creating…remembering that love is indeed the heart of everything. So even during a time of, or perhaps especially at a time of, great fear that itself seems to be the pandemic, we need to change our perspective to love. Love our local medical personnel, respect the resources our cities and local governments provide for us, but most of all love ourselves enough to reconnect to self–loving the time that we can unplug from the chaotic cyber world and reconnect locally with our family, friends, and neighbors. Off to paint. . .I’ll share more next week, and until then, since we won’t be able to meet at the Leesburg Art Festival this weekend or the WomanMade Art Exhibit Opening at Mount Dora Center for the Arts tonight, please find and enjoy peace and love at my ETSY shop where I have recently posted much of the art that we could have smiled over, giggled about, and loved on this weekend. Nicki
I’m so excited! My dear friend Melanie is joining the blog as a guest speaker. That’s her, discovering a new way to play in the dirt. If there’s anyone out there that draws on her heart for inspiration and love, it’s Melanie. Melanie reminds us that creativity expresses itself in so many ways – it’s not just a luxury for those who call themselves artists. It’s every human being’s natural state. To me, Melanie creates space. Her home’s interior is soothing and beautiful. Her garden is lush with edibles and contained by well-thought-out raised beds, paths and sitting areas. She also has a magical way about her – an ability to create space that feels safe to be in when you’re in her presence. People, animals and gardens thrive when she holds space for them. I think she’s one of the most creative people I know, and I’m lucky to have her as a friend, and as a guest blogger! Enjoy!
Drawing on my Heart is the perfect name for this site. . .I have known Nicki for years and have enjoyed her talents through her sketches, paintings, graphic designs, and cottage garden. It goes without saying that she is “always drawing.” Watercolors, color pencils, or garden spade in hand…Nicki is bringing forth life through her creativity. It occurs to me that the act of “bringing forth” or “drawing” is a wonderful way to create. I was always too quick to say that I was not creative because I could not “draw.” However, as I sat before a slab of clay last week I did just that: I drew–I drew from my heart. The feelings of love and gratitude I hold for the earth in general and my garden specifically came forth as I pounded, tweaked, scored, and pinched that slab of clay into a beautiful vessel that will one day hold cut flowers from my garden. I realized that I could create; I am an artist. Isn’t that the way? We get our mind set on a specific meaning or idea and hold so fast to that belief that we in effect put blinders on, roll the shade down over our creative eye. Our hearts are like a deep well, and my goal is to make sure that the contents of my well remain pure, positive, and loving–the perfect source to draw from regardless of the day. . .creativity flows as the life giving energy of the universe. Drawing on My Heart. . .you betcha!