Watch this oil painting of an old truck selling boiled peanuts at the road side in 2 minutes (time lapse)
Before people became too afraid to be socially near each other, it was common to see independent vendors selling produce from their trucks by the side of the road. Here in the deep South, in Georgia, they’d sell bags of boiled peanuts (or fruit and vegetables). I painted this art for the collection “50 Oil Paintings Inspired by Savannah, Georgia“, and of course I had to make the experience complete by trying boiled peanuts.
I have learned that I do not like boiled peanuts! But, some people do and I’ll just let others have them all. My daughter is allergic to peanuts but can eat other types of nuts so she baked almond butter cookies (the texture and taste are similar to peanut butter cookies and are very good!). Well, today was a nutty day…
Today I had an even worse day of misery due to my swollen and painful/itchy/burning foot that was stung by several angry fire ants when I stepped onto their nest while wearing sandals. It’s agonizing to put pressure on my foot. Last night I woke up every couple of hours or so to ice my foot down, so sleep deprivation as well as malaise made it easier to lay in bed rather than try to function. Since it was awful to hobble around and stand on my foot, I didn’t want to cook anything. Every time I felt hungry, I ate an almond butter cookie.
It was a nutty day. Tropical rains fell for most of the day, so heavily that it felt like I was on a ship. The steady rains muffled all sound and the house was dark. I kept slipping in and out of sleep. I lost track of time and of how many hours I’d had nothing to eat but cookies. I don’t know how many cookies I ended up eating.
Finally I got myself together and managed to cook dinner that I’d promised the family (pasta and meatballs). I’ll heal just fine from these ant stings. My reaction to them is actually fairly typical and the remedies give relief. It just has to run its course. But when this episode is over, I’ll probably remember it whenever I have a nutty cookie.
Well, I said yesterday that I’ll know soon if the ant sting/bite attack was going to be miserable, and it is. My foot is very swollen and I’ve been hobbling along because any weight on it makes it throb with a horrible combination of stinging, itching, and pressure. It’s not too worrisome though- it seems no worse than the last time this happened. It’s definitely not a condition that will put me in a wheelchair, as I’d experienced after my white water rafting accident when I was 15 years old (and recovering from the injury the following year).
Even though I know this is a temporary setback, I tend to be an active person and it’s driving me crazy to be forced off my feet for longer than I’m used to. If I would be willing to sit still, my foot would probably not be as swollen, but I get so restless and it’s hard to just sit here. I still managed to do most of the things I’d planned to do. It sure makes me appreciate that most of the time I’m healthy and mobile, as there was a time when I wasn’t, and there was a possibility that I’d be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life.
I’m very grateful for the times in my life when I’ve seen a glimpse of something horrible and was saved from it. I’m also grateful for the times when the horrible things happened, but I was given the strength to get through it and the peace to heal from it. Sometimes a nuisance crisis like an allergic reaction to insect bites is a stark reminder of how vulnerable we are, and how it’s a miracle when we have a pain free, active, healthy day. It’s a miracle just being alive for one more day. What shall we do with this blessing?
Watch this oil painting about the dark side of the animal kingdom come to life in 2 minutes (time lapse)
I don’t have a painting that shows the brutal pairing in my area of the animal kingdom. While there are gators just a few yards away in the lagoon, along with snakes, it’s not those creatures that go after me. It’s the ANTS! They have swarmed me three times now. Today’s attack was possibly the worst yet, as they stampeded into my sandal before I even felt the first sting.
I’ll soon find out how nasty this is, in about 24 hours. I hope that I won’t be sick and icing a swollen foot for the next day or two like last time. And all I was trying to do is move my tomato plant into a sunnier location, just minding my own business. I’m guessing I stepped on the ant’s home and they weren’t pleased about my foot wrecking their village.
Today was Leaping Lizards day! I was doing some gardening and lizards kept scaring the daylights out of me by popping out of whatever pot I was grabbing. One of them even leapt from where I was reaching to a chair a few feet away, just sailed through the air like an acrobat. I saw four different kinds of lizards in a variety of colors, and all of them were a bit crazy today.
There was also some people craziness. The trespassers I’ve mentioned before came back and this time, in addition to their unleashed dog, fishing-near-the-“no fishing”-sign husband, and her child, our famous texting squatter brought a CAT. Why? Why would someone do this? They stayed for about an hour or so this evening, with the cat just hanging out. When they wanted to leave, the woman put a leash on the cat and tried to get the cat to cooperate, which of course it did not do.
I was busy doing dishes, so I missed this pet show, but my daughter was watching it and laughing. She knows cats, and she thought it was hilarious that this woman expected her cat to agree to being led by a leash. When I took a glance out there the cat stared back at me, looking quite pleased with itself, just lying there all relaxed.
In other Friday freakishness… oh wait, this happened yesterday, but we can count it for today: I looked out the patio windows because a flurry of bird activity caught my attention. Two cardinals and a hummingbird were racing for the same feeding area at the same time. One of the juvenile cardinals, the really dotty one that looks it has a mohawk haircut, perched on my potting table shelf and suddenly I saw its head pop back. A hummingbird collided with it while blitzing by and buzzed it on the back of its bird head. This was even more hilarious to me than a woman who leashed her cat.
I didn’t catch these things on video today, so you’ll just have imagine the craziness this time. I hope all of you are doing well. Have a marvelous weekend!
You might remember when I painted this one and shared it in early April? At that time I hoped that the world would have sorted a few things out by the end of summer, and obviously that didn’t happen. But through it all, I try to share happy things when I can. Is there such a thing as “Happy Grief”? In my experience, yes, there is.
When we share hardships collectively as humans traveling in the same time line (those of us currently alive on this planet, spanning four or five generations across the globe) we may feel a special connection with humanity that is unique; and known only by people who experience the crisis together. Of course we may need to be “on the same side”, however we may define that to be. Connection is based on kinship, and that doesn’t happen with those who rule in dominion over us, or with those we perceive as in alignment, enforcement, or loyal to the ideology of those we are oppressed by. We do not bond with our abusers, but we develop intimacy with fellow travelers on the same journey. This is part of the “Happy” side of grief. Feeling close to fellow humans makes us happy.
Another aspect of “Happy Grief” is due to the extreme emotions. When our lows are very low, when our spirits try to counter-correct and restore balance, we swing to the other extreme- very high; happiness, joy, elation, bursts of creativity, optimism, and overall confidence that “everything’s gonna be alright”. We may feel surprisingly nostalgic and have vivid flashbacks to times, places, and people from years ago, or even many years ago. We may then take an abrupt turn in mood, as we remember people we’ve lost, and a world that used to be, but is no more.
During these extreme mood swings, we may land somewhere in the middle, but it’s not an ordinary kind of middle. It’s the middle that happens between highs and lows of crisis grief. In this sacred space, we find the greatest treasure in “Happy Grief”. We feel certain of what is most important in life. We know the secret of happiness, and it’s not things or work or relationships that we do not choose. It’s a secret that many elderly people already know: happiness comes from doing what we want to do.
When we see time as precious, vulnerable, and fleeting; when we feel that our future is uncertain and tomorrow isn’t guaranteed; when we can’t trust that the world we know today will still be there tomorrow… we live differently. We live with intention. We choose to spend time with the people we truly love, and have little patience for time wasted on those we do not enjoy being with. We structure our days differently. We are more willing to do productive work like gardening, baking, or making something homemade without thinking we should be doing work that pays an income or we should be doing nothing at all. Why work if there’s no pay check? Because productive work is happy work, and when we do something productive we are often rewarded with adventure, a pleasant outcome, and connection with others. These things make humans happy.
When we live life with intention, instead of scurrying along each day on a schedule to get each thing done, every item checked off a list, prioritizing meeting the expectations of others, putting paid work ahead of anything else- then we start to live on our own terms. We remember who we really are, and we may wonder why we squandered so much of our life trying to please others and doing what was expected instead of what we want to do. We may wish we had “one more day” with someone we lost. We may feel overwhelmed with regret or pangs of longing.
As the grief emotions sweep over us, we can channel these highs and lows into something good that improves our lives forever. Do that thing you’ve always wanted to do. Be that person you’ve always wished you could be. “Live as if there’s no tomorrow. Love as if we’re on borrowed time.” It’s not just a catchy phrase or song lyrics, it’s real. And we know it’s real when we are in a state of “Happy Grief”. That is what I meant by Happy Grief. Because, when we live as if there’s no tomorrow, we finally learn how to be happy. May we take this precious awareness into a post-grief season, and never forget. But, of course, the grief season must end before the healing can begin. I will pray for deliverance, and I will pray for YOU. I do not need to know who you are to do this. Prayer is powerful. I need only to care. God bless you and your families.
I share this one when I’m feeling melancholic, flitting back and forth between faint optimism and bittersweet sentiment, and a gloomy premonition that something bad is about to happen. This sense of doom is partly an empathetic response to the way the wind is shifting on the world stage on a particular day, and partly a personal, individual perspective that is complicated and unique to me (although my own emotions are often astonishingly in sync with other fellow humans, even with people I’ve never met).
Melancholy can be channeled into beautiful things. I tend to be more introspective and lost in my art when I’m feeling a bit blue. Depression or a funk is a different state, and I find no benefit to emotions so low as to be unproductive and damaging to one’s health. So I’m definitely not advocating for sadness that causes a person to have difficulty leading a normal life. What I mean is the kind of sadness that put us in a quiet, restful state that may evolve into empathy; a profound connection to fellow humans and our shared plight. This state of being is a good foundation for creating art.
When you’re feeling a bit blue, embrace those emotions by channeling them into a project you can escape into, as if alone at sea on a peaceful cloudy day, in which you can just see the comforting glow from a lighthouse. You won’t lose your way home. Stay in the cold murky waters for a while. Take in the beauty of the moment; as our joy is defined by our sadness. When we don’t know sadness, we may struggle to fully appreciate joy.
When we are weary, the lighthouse will lead us back to the shore. We can rest, and let our breath flow out, relaxed, letting go of all of our concerns. As we lay our heads on our pillows that night, we sleep deeply; our fears lose their grip, our sadness lifts, and when we waken in the morning our energy is restored.
Watch this oil painting of the day (July 23, 2020) that the Statue of Liberty in New York City looked to have been struck by a lightning bolt, go from blank canvas to finished art in about 2 minutes (time lapse).
It’s easy to feel as if this amazing and powerful weather event is something more, something metaphorical, symbolic- a portent perhaps. If you’ve been following me for a while, you know me as mainly a nature and faith painter, not a historical or political one. But sometimes I am deeply moved by something that happens and I put it to canvas.
In this way, I feel that I contribute to a time capsule of sorts, and one day my work might be included when people of the future study this period in history. I believe that I represent a perspective that is marginalized, while the overwhelmingly recorded view is falsely promoted as “marginalized” work that needs more attention. No, untrue. There is an agenda that is recruited, and there is certainly no shortage of opportunities for those artists who fall in line. What we are missing is something real, beyond the propaganda and the ideology of those who control art and free speech.
I paint what I feel, period. I do not answer to anyone. I do not bend. If it means that I will be forever an entrepreneur doing solo shows, that’s fine by me, because I love having creative freedom. I believe strongly that we need artists who create an authentic witness of history to add to the time capsule of collective works that will one day be discovered by others. We need more sides to a story, more perspectives, more shades, more authenticity, more truth, and more empathy for how it feels to be a human being living in this age. I am blessed to use my talents for this purpose, and I hope that many more will be inspired to join me in adding genuine personal perspectives so that the future isn’t written by those who wish to control us, but is recorded by those who want to set us free.
You might remember when I first shared this painting when I finished it in April? Here we are, five months later, and I’m guessing you are feeling a lot of the same emotions that I am. When spring came upon us, I felt hopeful that the change of seasons would bring positive developments along with the blooming trees and sunny skies. Then we slipped into summer, and my optimism waned. Now we are entering autumn. With fall leaves changing, soon we’ll be hibernating again in a deadened world of shorter days, longer darkness, bare trees, and the emotions that come with the reflections and reminiscing that ring in the holiday season.
I don’t have extended family who visits, nor do I visit anyone, but I enjoy the time I spend with my own little family (my husband and kids). I’ve shopped early this year and their presents are already stashed away, long before Christmas. I want to make sure that we can celebrate so brightly that our happiness and gratefulness outshines anything dark that may be upon us in December. I’m also investing in new baking projects and food ideas, party plans (even though it’s just us, we are a party!), and of course the big holiday show that I’ll be sharing with all of you. I want to encourage you to think ahead about how you want to spend your holiday season and prepare for it in a way that is bigger and brighter than you’ve ever done before, even if it’s just you alone.
I will be here with you, same as always. I am committed to blogging every day. So even if it seems that “no one” is around, someone always is. Stay strong, stay positive, and plan for happiness.
Did you have a restful Sunday? I hope that today you took time to reflect on the week ahead, and you’ve made productive, creative, and hopeful plans. Even if your plan is something simple, like spending 15 minutes outside each day, may you do what your heart tells you to do. God bless you and your family.
You might remember when I shared this one in April? I painted this using ordinary oil paint on a black matte canvas. These are not special neon paints, even though they seem to glow. They are not paints of vibrant hues, they only appear that way because of how the wet blue and white oils look on the black matte. As we know that jellyfish have bioluminescence, and appear as if they are doing an electric light show, our brains are more susceptible to the illusion that these paints are glowing.
But these are the same kind of low budget paints I always use, on a cheap budget pack of black canvases. Illusions are very effective. Sometimes the world’s global powers pull off convincing illusions in the form of psychological warfare against the human race for their own gain, agenda, and ideology. When we can see beyond the illusion, we can make good decisions for ourselves and our families.
Who cares about our health and safety? What does history of deception, patterns of past behavior, conflicts of interest, alliances, ideological or cult views, propaganda, profit motive, and other observable factors tell us? When we see that the canvas isn’t glowing, but is just a flat matte with ordinary paint on it, we no longer see what the artist expects us to see. Maybe then we see what’s real.
