a little ivy

I just finished watching the BBC drama/documentary Vincent van Gogh: Painted in Words. It's really very good. Such a sad story and the combination of it and the nostalgia it awoke in me left me in tears. I used to paint and draw. Years and year ago. I had an amazing teacher who inspired and provided freedom and space. When we asked her opinion about a work or what we should do to improve it she always said, "You are the artist, what do you think?" I learned later that such a teacher is a rare and precious gift.

But we moved away and besides leaving this amazing teacher behind my time was also taken with school and work and a long commute to both. And we lived in such a little house that we were all on top of each other and there was no space for creativity. So all my art supplies stayed in boxes. Every once in a while I'd pull out a sketch book and some pencils, when the urge grew too loud to ignore. But after time it became easier and easier to ignore, until it was hardly ever there. And now I go years at a time without even sketching.

It's been nearly 13 years since that move and in all other respects it has been one of the best things that ever happened to me individually and to my family as a whole. But there still is, locked away inside of me, an artist. An artist who longs to feel the swirl of oil paint on my brush and smell linseed oil and follow the curves and lines of my subject and blend just the right shades of colour. An artist's whose eyes still know how to see.

source

The closing shot of the film is of van Gogh's grave in France which is covered in ivy. At my last lesson my art teacher gave me a clipping of ivy. She had a large, lovely plant of it grown from a clipping she had taken from his grave and smuggled through customs in her bra. I don't have much of a green thumb and my little clipping thrived for a while but died about four years ago. But I still have a little sketch I did of it when it was young and green and I will never forget what it represents.

incidently this is my 200th post

So, I just finished packing up for my eventual move to Ireland. I'm heading to Florida to work for six weeks and I plan to move to Ireland at the end of the summer. I wanted to get the packing done before I head south so that I can enjoy the month of August and focus on spending time with people here. (And not go into panic if the last minute preparations take more time than expected, which they always seem to do.) I say the packing is for my eventual move, because I will not be taking all of these boxes when I go initially. Once I'm good and settled I will send for them. (And once I have enough money to pay for an international shipping company!) I labeled each box with a theme which gives the general idea of it's contents. Here's what the packing list looks like:

Hampers #1 and 2 ~ Both holding linens
Red Trunk ~ holding blankets and quilts
Black Trunk ~ childhood memorabilia
Drawing Board
Table Easel ~ holding oil painting supplies (even though it's been about 10 years since I painted.)
Poster Tube ~ holding my map of Europe and a family portrait in color pencil I began years ago and have yet to finish
Boxes #1 and 2 ~ both labeled Kitchen, both also contain a good amount of cookbooks
Box #3 ~ Fabric Crafts (holding, among other things, fabric remnants of dresses my Grandma made us when we were little)
Box #4 ~ Decor
Box #5 ~ Christmas
Box #6 ~ Memorabilia (mostly picture albums)
Boxes #7 and 8 ~ Books
Box #9 ~ Pottery Tools
Box #10 Books
Box #11 ~ Arts and Crafts
Box #12 ~ Books (this box holds only books about Ireland)
Box #13 ~ Books
Box #14 ~ Music (holds both my sheet music and the last few random books and things that didn't fit in any other boxes.)

(As those of you who know me can imagine, the real packing list is extremely detailed listing every item in every box, pretty much.)

So, with 14 boxes, 2 trunks, and 2 hampers, plus one more box of DVDs to be packed at the end of the summer (in consideration of my brother), I have a total of 19 boxes. (Not counting the loose, big art supplies.) My goal was to have no more than 20 boxes! So I still have one emergency box if I find that I have more things than expected at the end of the summer. (Which will most likely happen.) Considering that I started all of this with 11 boxes of books alone I think I did amazingly well! I feel very proud and totally and completely exhausted.

i don't really feel like doing an update

Sorry! I know one is overdue, I just can't be bothered (to use the British phrase). Here are a few somethings I do feel like sharing though:

1} I wore flip flops for the first time this year at Kairos on Monday the 21st of April.

2} Weather here is very unpredictable.

3} I made Rice Krispy Treats yesterday and discovered that marshmallows here come in pink and white and the pink ones are faintly flavoured. (Don't ask me what flavour they are though, I couldn't tell you.)

4} I love the Tate Modern. I spent a whole day there two Fridays ago now (I think) and had a lovely time. Looking forward to an exhibit by Cy Twombly in the summer. I had never heard of him before, but greatly enjoyed his pieces. He is both a painter and and sculptor. I was also inspired to write a children's story with watercolor illustrations after watching a short film there about ants carrying pieces of confetti after Carnivale.

5} I'm mostly listening to A Fine Frenzy these days. I especially love this lyric: "Like an apple on a tree, hiding out behind the leaves, I was difficult to reach, but you picked me. Like a shell upon the beach, just another pretty piece, I was difficult to see, but you picked me." And she has a beautiful voice. I'm also loving The Weepies.

6} I don't know what I'm doing when Transit ends in July, but am strangely at peace about that.

7} Got sunburned last Saturday walking along the river for several hours with Kirstin.

8} The Holy Spirit is breaking out in my church in Charlotte... It's strange watching videos about it online and wondering what's really happening.

9} I'm aching for more... More of Jesus, more life, more courage, more creativity... A fuller life.

10} Here are a few things I've loved this week from Ephesians:

"God can do anything you know - far more than you could ever imagine or guess or
request in your wildest dreams!"

"Thanksgiving is our dialect."

"Drink the Spirit of God, huge draughts of him. Sing hymns instead of
drinking songs! Sing songs from your heart to Christ. Sing praises over
everything, any excuse for a song to God the Father in the name of our Master,
Jesus Christ."

creative project

I heard He’s up there in that room
I’m afraid—I don’t know what to do
If He only knew what I’ve done He might never even look at me
I have to climb those stairs
I have to find His voice
As I make my way through the crowds nobody sees me, nobody notices me
I walk up those stairs and through the window I hear Him talking—telling parables
I can hear Him telling parables, I can understand what He’s saying
I should have changed my clothes
I’ve had this dress on for almost two weeks now and it’s stained in my sin
My sin—it’s like stains all over this garment but I have to climb those stairs
The room is crowded and I can’t see Him
He’s kneeled down and He’s talking in parables again
I just make my way over to the right and I lean against the wall
There’s an opening between the phrases
And I make my way, I make my break and I run and throw myself at His feet—and I weep
I have this perfume
I know it’s a gift from my lovers—it’s the only thing I have
So I break the neck of the bottle and start to pour my life
My mother forgot my name
My father disappeared when I was just a girl
I was used by everyone, abused by everyone and I was angry
So I ran and hid in the darkness—can you smell my darkness Lord?
Can you smell my sin, it’s being poured on you
And I worship you here at your feet
I hear them talking about me but I keep pouring
This is my one chance, this is my one hope, I have nothing left,
I’m gonna give you everything
Because I heard you heal the sick
I heard you give sight to the blind
I heard you would father the orphan
I heard you would be a husband to the widow
I heard you would forgive my sin
Demons will flee when the fragrance is lifted
Restoration comes when the fragrance is lifted
I’ve never known anyone in my life to look at me the way He is right now
He rebuked them in my presence and took my face in His hands
He looked in through my skin and said
“The fragrance is lifted. I can smell your worship daughter. You are free”
So I dance in a circle and I laugh out loud for the first time in my life
Cause the fragrance has been lifted—the fragrance was lifted
And I have the smell of His feet in my hair
Where He walked I can tell
Because the fragrance is lifted
-Rita Springer

life of an artist

I went to see one of my favorite artists tonight; Amy Correia. She was great, the other performers not so much, we left early. But it furthered thoughts that were sparked over the weekend when I bought Bruce Springsteen's Live in Dublin CD.
I find people who live by their art fascinating, especially musicians. They seem to be consumed by it. Where for me, art, literature, and music are parts of my life, even big parts, for them it is their life. You can hear it in their voices, see it on their fingers, hear it in their words. It is actually who they are.
So my thought is, who am I? What is it that defines me? I write, I throw pots, I used to paint and want to again. I would call myself a musician, but it's been a long time since I have really played a piano or a violin. These are things I love, they are parts of me. But they are not my life, they are not who I am.
Why? Is it because I haven't cared enough about one thing to give up all the others to pursue it? Am I destined to be a Jack of all trades but always yearning to master one? I don't know. Maybe I just need to keep living. Maybe the thing that defines who I am is something less tangible than a guitar strapped to my shoulders or a canvas on my wall.
Something to think about.

A misleading man