Remember who you create art for.
Remember why you create it.
Remember your voice.
And then use it for good.
leave the hate for others to wallow in
It's been a tough summer
It rained through most of June.
There has been a multitude of "stuff"
Lots of little stuff
One or two big stuffs
But I know the best way out from under "stuff" is with gratitude
For sunshine ☀️, thank you for finally getting here.
For all the two legged and four legged beings
that care about me.
And of course grateful for Boysenberries
This is so much truer than I ever thought.
Life can change in the blink of an eye.
Or just choosing to change the lens you view the world through.
Today, I’m choosing a farm ripened organic strawberry len
They call it summer love
There had been a lot of growth during this sketchbook. Both in skill set
The black and white was done about a year ago, the watercolor was done last night.
But also growth in intention.
Growth in self control
Growth in forward vision
While there is a slight melancholy about the ending of this sketchbook, there is great positive energy about what comes next.
What does come next?
Walking to work there was a tiny dead baby mouse on the parking lot
The tiny mouse on the hard black top tugged at me and I was compelled to snap a photo. Knowing she would feed some other hungry baby I left the mouse there.
After sketching her, the art looked so bleak and for days it bothered me. So I changed the story and gave her an umbrella of flowers to rest under.
Hopefully I do the same in life.
Give people a place to rest, or a strong shoulder to lean on
We are so busy forgiving everyone for everything.
Are we remembering to forgive ourselves?
Especially for things we didn’t know we didn’t know?
My husband died of a brain tumor 19 years ago. This was one of his favorite sayings.
When I feel as though I’m in a slog-fest with bits, pieces or the entire world I remember this…. and him
Look at the statistics.
I mean really look at the faces behind the statistics.
Children go hungry,
It haunts me
So many moments I swore I’d never forget. When did they slip away?
The smell of a lover’s skin,
The anguish of a first love lost.
The enchantment of watching The Nutcracker Suite live for the first time.
Perhaps not lost, just momentarily misplaced.
Welcome back dear friends