Northern Michigan October 2009

Grand Traverse Bay

Jacques Torres, Traverse City

Tangled Roots, Upper Peninsula near Tahquamenon Falls

Tahquamenon Falls

Tahquamenon Falls, second in power to Niagara

I’m trying not to be unhappy about summer being over. I’m not succeeding. With my resources feeling full and empty at the same time, I keep making art. It’s all I know how to do to fight the blues. My current best art fun is on polyvore.com and also on watercolor paper. I’m flinging color and pattern everywhere. Then I cut out portions that suit me as stand-alone pieces, or at the very least, for use as note cards…
Not that I ever write on actual-physical-touch-and-hold-note-cards much anymore.
I’m coming around to accepting the harsh reality of seasonal change. I suspect it’s more about existential angst than fall. The seasons of the year are a metaphor for my personal seasons. Or maybe it’s about technology supplanting touch-and-hold art products.
I don’t like it. Not one bit.
So I do not go softly. No. I go grumblingly, making sure everyone around me knows my feelings about it. Complaining about the weather is a time-honored tradition in Michigan. If not for complaining, well, what else can we do? I know, I know, I know. We can move. I’ve heard that before. I’ve DONE that before. I lived away from Michigan more than 36 years. Most of that time was in New Mexico. I will say this for Albuquerque – the weather is not so bad.
When I lived in Albuquerque, I went to New Moon drumming circles every month – for something like three years – at the studio of my friend and colleague Judith Roderick. She was a batik artist making silk scarves. She’d throw salt on the wet dye. I discovered I can do that with watercolor on paper, too. It adds layers of interest as the color pulls and pools on contact with the salt. Ahhh, chemistry. But I digress.
The New Moon in October this year is on the 18th. What’s special about this? I am offering a workshop at Crazy Wisdom Bookstore here in Ann Arbor on that day about the Mandala. We’re going to make art as a group. The only thing better than making art is making art in the company of others. It enriches the experience. Brings energy. Ideas. Comfort. Strength. Mystery. Support. Courage. It’s a wonderful thing.

I hope you will join us. 1-3 PM at Crazy Wisdom, 114 S. Main Street in Ann Arbor.
You can learn more about the workshop here: October Workshop

View 'Art Heals' on Polyvore

Glorious Summer

It’s been a really long time since I wrote here. It’s a glorious summer in Ann Arbor – in every possible way. So that’s my best excuse. I’m having so much fun engaged in the summer world I have been away from the keyboard. Here are 9 reasons I love it here:
Number one – the students are gone. The streets are quieter. There are fewer dangerously inattentive texting pedestrians stepping off the curb in front of me as I drive through town en route to work. Less evidence of last night’s beer pong on the front porches. But I digress.
Number two – the weather is clear and bright and not too hot. It rains only at night, just like in Camelot.
Number three – the farmer’s market brings seasonal local produce that stuns the eyes, entertains the nose, treats the taste buds, and warms the heart and soul.
Number four – most of my private clients have moved away or are otherwise on hiatus and I have time for the hammock, a book, and the garden.
Number five – the kazoo band is tuning up in the lavender patch. The bees are so busy the bush itself is a-hummin.
Number six – our son from Hawaii is planning his visit to the mainland in a few weeks and just maybe we can get the other kids to coordinate a strategic assault on the ‘rents all at once. I would love to have the whole crew here even if it’s only for a few days.
Number seven - the butterfly bush has, um, butterflies in it.
Number eight – every possible heirloom tomato on the planet is producing pretty and unusual fruit in the garden plot shared between our neighbor, Anne, and ourselves.
Number nine – the bird feeder has so much activity it looks like a full-length Disney cartoon movie. One of the old ones, like Snow White or Cinderella. The birds are all decked out in bright colors, the cheeky chipmunks and bold squirrels and skittish rabbits scamper about, offset by the occasional skulking cat or lucky dog.

So there you have it. Life is a treat right now in high summer in Ann Arbor. I wouldn’t change a thing.

new website look

Just a quick note to encourage you to visit my website. I worked with IT genius (and husband extraordinaire) Matt Cantillon today to change the look and feel of my website. Please go give it a visit. If you click here and get the old site, hit the "refresh" or "reload" at the top of your browser. http://www.centerforcreativegrowth.com

Patterns

I see patterns everywhere I look. It’s a metaphor, I’m sure, for the aging process. As I understand the aging brain, “wisdom” is really the improved function of pattern recognition. We seem wiser because we see patterns so quickly. We recognize patterns so quickly because we have seen them many times before. It comes from having been around the block, you might say, neurologically. Yes, the novelty has worn off, and wow, I got that fast, didn’t I?

I went to New York last weekend. I don’t know why it takes me a whole year to get there for a weekend, but it sometimes does. In any case, I also have a new camera. Nice conjunction of events. Trip to New York AND a new camera to take along with me. I saw a lot of people while I was there, my son and his wife, whom I adore and can’t ever get enough of. And our niece and our nephew and their respective families and friends of our son, and neighbors, people on the subway and on the street. The characters are many and a delight for the eye. But all my camera (and I) could see were patterns. Patterns in the brickwork, in the manhole covers, on fences, the backs of chairs, tree trunks, flowers, the limbs of trees or people. Carved in stone, cast in bronze, the angles of people standing on line at the shake shack, a stack of moving dollies, the arches over windows, a line of water towers in Brooklyn, the shadows of a staircase, an ornate ceiling. Here are a few.

How We Decide

I just finished yet another incredible neuroscience book, this one is How We Decide by Jonah Lehrer. It’s easily readable and I highly recommend it.
In case you think you make all your decisions logically and rationally, I’ve got news for you. Without input from your emotional circuitry you’d never make a single one. It turns out there’s a real need for the emotional parts of our mind to contribute valuable information when we have decisions to make, both big and small.
If you’ve ever wondered why you get confused when there is too much information (think new car purchase) this book will help you understand.
Let’s face it, there are some things you don’t have to think about. You have practiced certain activities a long time. If you’re a musician, airline pilot, or an athlete, certain decisions are made seamlessly and seemingly without any thought at all. In fact, when you start to think, really think about the performance of your specialty, it can go completely into the weeds.
Trust me, there are also times it is imperative that you apply rational thought to your choice-making. You need to know which occasions call for a cool rational response and when to blend your logic with information from your non-verbal mind. This book takes time to explain which decisions call for which type of input. And why they are both of critical importance.
I’m taking it a step further. As an art therapist, I think making art (as a non-verbal method of problem-solving) and reviewing it with a knowledgeable professional (adding words to help clarify your imagery) can help you make important decisions. What a supportive way to work through complex issues.