True art should say something, should mean something, both to the artist and the patron. Through the chaos and calm of my work, I paint emotion and experiences that deeply resonate with others who speak the language of the soul.

Getting a Handle on Your Soul: Examen Series.

Intention: To cultivate attention and awareness in an age of distraction.

If you're interested in joining this journey, all sessions are below. Go at your own pace, and please take a moment to let Mandy know you're on the path!

Getting started + taking notes
Spiritual listening
Numbing vs attending to feelings
Those things that come back up
Run down or run out of time
Digesting your day
Soul growth is slow growth
Our Examen

Even in journaling, sometimes the blank page can be intimidating. What do we fill it with?
2x2 sketches were my practice for a while—like this “pre-dawn mug” series. Anne Lamott, in Bird by Bird, says she keeps a a “one inch picture frame” to help her think about how to capture just the information that can be held there. This is how she keeps her writing to “short assignments” that are less intimidating and overwhelming as long writings. I guess these 2-inch squares are the art journal version of her “short assignments” concept.

Downtown Tuesday morning. I’m there to slide through the library and see what Octavia Butler is all about, but the book is really a bribe to stop by the studio. Two long months sit between me and the last time I picked up a brush, and I need to step back in the studio to remember where I left off. Just sneak a peek, see what’s next. No need to even wear studio clothes. No pressure or expectations on my inner artist; we must walk softly lest we scare her off. But after a summer away it feels like all momentum is lost, and I unlock the door wondering if I have another painting in me.

You may think I’m being dramatic but I know you know this voice—this familiar voice that says you don’t have what it takes anymore. What is “it” for you? Going back to school? Sending off that poem? Volunteering for that organization? When I walk into the studio that voice hushes: my eyes catch the two finished coastal scapes and they are better than I remember and without thinking I know I need to keep this going. I make notes of how the form works, see specific scenes in my head. I scan the room and spread out half-painted canvases, imagining how I can convert them in this process. Before I realize it, I’m standing in the middle of my studio wondering if I should just go ahead and pick up paint and ruin the clothes I’m wearing. I’m back and I want it, so I promise myself that I will return tomorrow.

And I want to promise you something: If you practice a creative habit long enough, it becomes like riding a bike, like picking up an instrument, like breathing. It becomes a part of who you are. And I promise you that if you repeat the right circumstances and you teach your inner Pavlovian artist to create every time these specific bells ring, that when you walk into that room or pick up that brush or open that journal you will be ready. I promise you that even if it’s been two months or two years, your artist-soul has not forgotten. And your soul will immediately start the conversation, will ask the questions, will know what’s next. I promise you, if you build the room and walk in, the artist that you are—that has always been in you—will show up prepared and ready to paint.

When you begin to see your questions as arrows rather than dead ends, you will always find your way.
(Contemplative journaling tip: Keep note of all your questions; designate a page for them and add as needed. Then watch for answers. They will come.) —artwork via Analogue Issue 3: Soul Food, all about longings, how to handle the deep wants in our soul

When's the last time you took a few minutes to watch the mini-adventures of nature in your front yard? Austin Kleon talks about how revealing it can be to sit in the same place for a week and record what you see, “describing the mundane surroundings” and catching the most interesting thing you see.
A few days ago, I caught the way the early fog descends from treetop to rooftop. Last week it was the way a squirrel just couldn’t quite reach far enough to grab the new bird feeder. A few weeks ago, we watched a wasp drag a spider across the yard for three nights in a row (chilling, honestly). Sometimes it’s the way the golden-hour makes the trunks shine before falling below the horizon, or that storm rolling in from the west. There’s so much life to see, if we only slow down to notice.
(Highly recommend Kleon's 30min talk about the Steal Like an Artist Journal. A quick youtube search will get you there, and inspiring shots of others' journals will be waiting.)

Wishing you grace and peace and a space to breathe this weekend.

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate”—Carl Jung

It's the annoying "here I am again" feeling. The "why do I keep doing this?" questions... Some things will only surface through patience, awareness, and a safe space. This is why I journal. And in fifteen minutes we can move from unconscious to conscious, from confusion to clarity.

When in (self)doubt, fill in the blanks—and repeat as needed:

“A photo is true but a painting is truer.” Maira Kalman —mirror image via Analogue Issue 4

This is my summer studio, right here.

These little blocks of color have kept me creatively engaged for the past six weeks. And I’m happy to say this stay-at-home season has been more productive than I thought: Squeezed in enough studio time to finish a pair of custom paintings, collected and completed Analogue Issue 5, and landed a teaching gig at our regional technical college (!!!). To keep my inner-artist inspired, I’ve spent hours with Lynda Barry (“You have to be willing to spend time making things for no known reason.”), Maira Kalman (“A photo is true, but a painting is truer.”), and Austin Kleon (“Notebooks are a good place to have bad ideas.”). School starts in two days and I can hear the canvases calling my name from across town. Yet this sketching system is gonna last.

Pushing and pulling a new technique. Exploring the “how” before the “what.”

Pushing the bounds of simple this morning. Not so simple.

April 19, 2017