Seeing Things As They Really Are

I had a change of plans today. Originally I intended to go plein air painting but the weather didn’t cooperate, so I stayed home and started a new library painting. I’m painting Molly Pruitt Library, which is located next to Roosevelt High School on the north east side of town. When I first saw the library I wondered what I was going to do with it since there’s no foliage or anything architecturally pleasing about it. Luckily, the day I was there the sky was full of beautiful clouds, so I decided to add more sky than I normally would to the painting. Today I put down the base coat of paint but already I think it looks pretty good.

I’ve got my mind on meditation right now. I leave in two weeks for a 30-Day mediation course. I like to call the type of buddhist meditation I practice ‘Goenka Vipassana’. There are different styles of Vipassana, which focuses on the sensations of the body, but the more I hear and learn about Vipassana the more I think Goenka’s teachings may be slightly different. 

S.N. Goenka’s story is what appealed to me the first time I sat a 10-Day course. He was suffering from migraine headaches and spent years traveling the world looking for a treatment or a cure. After exhausting all leads he went home to Burma and resigned himself to a life of migraines and morphine. A close friend suggested he travel to India and try working with Sayagyi U Ba Khin, a renowned Vipassana teacher. Being Hindu Goenka vehemently rejected to idea but after continued suffering eventually came around.

He doesn’t say how many courses he sat before he found relief but eventually his migraines subsided. His teaching focuses on sankharas, which are ‘mental dispositions’. In the west we say things like, ‘We store trauma in the body’, which is how I, personally, define sankharas. Everything we go through effects us physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, and sometimes difficult things get stuck - in our bones, in our cells, in our guts. We can carry pain for our entire lives.

In the Pali language, Vipassana means ‘seeing things as they really are’. At a Vipassana course we focus our awareness by letting go of thoughts and concentrating on the breath. We generate equanimity and as the two increase, the sankharas ‘arise and pass away’, giving us ‘freedom from the bondage of self’. Goenka says Vipassana means ‘seeing things as they really are’ and that through our practice we gain ‘experiential knowledge of the self’. If you’d asked me at my first 10-Day I would have said that my back was in terrible pain, as were my legs as I sat there hour after hour not moving. But at the same time I understood that I was, in fact, gaining experiential knowledge of myself, or my Self. My body was the harbinger of all my life experiences and sitting a course, or keeping up with daily practice, is like letting go of all the hurts and pains of the past. I like to think of it as doing therapy without talking. There is a great sense of relief after a good ‘sit’.

I sat my first 10-Day in December, 2010. I didn’t make any definitive plans to sit a long course but I did decide to go home and start a daily practice. I knew this was going to be something I did with my life from there on. I remember Goenka saying in one of the recorded teachings to sit a 10-Day once a year. Although I have never heard him say that again, it stood out to me at the first course I went to and that’s what I did. I went back in December 2011, January 2013, ’14, ’15, ’16, ’18, ’19, as well as December 2019, and January 2022.

The requirements for sitting a long course (20 or more days) is: sit 5 10-Day courses, a Satipatthana Sutta course, serve a 10-Day course, and keep a daily practice of two hours a day for at least two years. The daily practice he suggests is an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening. So in 2017 I sat a 20-Day course. In 2018 I sat a 30-Day course, and now, after COVID closed the center for a while, I am sitting my second 30-Day course. Next year I will be eligible to sit a 45-Day course. Although I would like to sit one, I am taking it one step at time. You also need to get an AT, or assistant teacher, to approve your application for long courses, so I will also speak to an AT before I decide.

My first 30-Day course was an amazing experience. I am so grateful I got to do it. I know it’s possible to show up at a course and really struggle, so there are no guarantees it will go smoothly, but I am really looking forward to it and feel at peace when I think about it. Over the years I have seen changes in myself, especially with regards to anxiety. I used to be a very anxious person, and can still get myself worked up about things, but when I do, I sit down to meditate and watch it arise and pass away. I will report back after my course. 

Until then,

Metta (loving kindness)

Quit Taking It So Personal

I’ve had a pretty busy morning. I was trying to juggle working from home and having both a plumber and a City Public Service guy to the house to check on the gas lines. Good news is that everything’s fine and I don’t have any gas leaks. The other good news is that I was able to get everything done that I needed to for work while they were coming in and out. I was listening to Ten Percent Happier before all the commotion but didn’t get to finish. It was an interview of a buddhist teacher, Pascal Auclair. It’s nice to listen to people talk about buddhism right now as I’m going to a 30-Day course in a few weeks. In fact, as I’m writing this a meditation friend of mine contacted me out of the blue to ask if I’m planning on being there. I guess she is close friends with the two assistant teachers and managers for the course. Now I’m really excited to go.

Not only was I able to get some painting in this morning, I finished another library pinging. This was of Collins Garden Library. This marks number six. I focused a little more on getting the lines of the building straight. I still want to get better at painting foliage but perhaps it’s just a matter of ‘practice makes perfect’. I think I get better at it every time I do it. I have 23 more buildings to paint so when I get home from my meditation course I’m going to try and get a little more productive. My pace is not fast enough at this point. 

Last night I watched some of the January 6th Commission Hearing. It is pretty amazing that such egregious things went on after Trump lost the election (and are still going on). It’s so ‘out there’ for everyone to see and yet it’s still controversial. Doesn’t make sense. There are so many people who aren’t going to watch these hearings and instead continue insisting the election was stolen. It’s sad because it does’t look like Trump will go to jail (at least he hasn’t yet) but many of the people he convinced of voter fraud have, and many more are on their way. Trump has manipulated people into believing that he was wronged, and if he was wronged then so were they. He’s preying on their pain and suffering. They’re so angry about injustice but they don’t realize they’re the ones who’ve been betrayed.

That’s a lot of why I don’t get too emotional about politics. I keep up, I have feelings and opinions about it all, but I just can’t care too much. It hurts to do that. Plus, as I’ve said before, I’m no expert. I don’t really know everything there is to know about the issues. I just know what I know, what I think, and what I struggle with. I’m one person. I’m a person who matters, because my vote matters, but at the same time there are folks who have dedicated a lot of time and energy to studying the issues. There’s a lot I don’t know. I try to keep it in perspective.

The title of the podcast was Ways To Get Over Yourself. Get over yourself because your opinions are fleeting. He said they flicker, like a candle flame. Our bodies, our identities, are impermanent. Life is impermanent. I can remember first being told to mind my own business. It wasn’t in middle school by some snarky kid. It was when I was in my late 30’s. A mentor of mine suggested I mind my own business. I was hurt and defensive, but after thinking about it I realized she was right. I was worrying about something that didn’t involve me. ‘Why get upset about things that don’t involve you?’ she asked. I didn’t have a good answer. I was looking for affirmation. I was butting my nose into other people’s business because I thought I was right, and I was using that situation - someone else’s situation - to prove it. I thought that would make me feel better.

I first learned about feminism when I was 14. It was one of my first identities. I loved thinking of myself as a feminist. To me it meant being female, being independent, capable, and knowing my worth is more than society will give me. All these years later I still think of myself as a feminist. But I have learned that many people want women to play subordinate roles to men, to be caretakers, to support the ones they love. I can understand this. I can understand how, for them, that’s important. It’s not how I feel, and I can’t see me changing my mind, but I respect that not everyone is like me. Not everyone sees the world the way I do. There are a lot of personal experiences that have led me to be a feminist, just as there are a lot of personal experiences that have led people to want a supportive wife or mother to be there for them when they need it. Whenever they need it.

It seems risky to be open minded right now. Like I may be perceived as naive and foolish. I know a lot of stuff is happening these days that’s not right. But hasn’t there always been? Who knows if Americans will overturn our current government. I hope not. I’d like to see us start to take some of the intensity out of politics and put it into other things. There has to be more to be passionate about than politics. But at the same time it’s hard not to think that powerful people will do bad things with that power if not checked (and is anyone checking?). I think that’s how our country came to be in the first place. In the 1700’s there were revolutions in Europe and here and democracy was the result. Who knows what the next decade or so will bring. Are we headed into chaos? Will we end up keeping the status quo? Or will we transform into something new, something different? 

Perhaps we need to take ourselves less seriously. Perhaps we need to learn how to communicate using ‘I’ statements. Or perhaps we need to see ourselves and our lives beyond our opinions, beyond our identities. Either way, it seems as if we will contribute to how our world transforms, even if we don’t see ourselves as being significant. If we want cooperation, respect, and acceptance in our society, we can practice these things in our personal lives and let go of the public a little. 

Policing

It’s Monday morning and I’m back to work. I spent some time downtown this weekend doing some sketching and watercolors. I did a study of the Arneson River Theater along with some street scenes. It was hot. I think it hit 106 that day. I was there in the morning but by 2:00 when I got back to my neighborhood the heat was brutal. It’s not fun to walk down a city street in the middle of the day when it’s hitting triple digits. But I still love living here. If you’ve been to central Texas in the summer you know how unbelievably uncomfortable it can be, but for me, it feels like home.

Downtown was pretty busy. Despite the temperatures there were a lot of tourists down there and I found myself doing more people-watching than sketching. I think I will have to get in a routine of going down there to sketch. It was fun. Eventually I’d like to get my easel down there but I’ll have to figure that out later. Even if I drove down there and parked in an overpriced garage I’d still have to carry my easel around. I have looked into getting a smaller easel so I can take it on trails to do landscapes, so maybe this is more incentive to do that. 

I worked on Collins Garden today. I have trouble painting dappled light. I’m sure a less critical person would say it looks fine but when it’s my work I have a hard time being satisfied. I just can’t seem to figure out the right contrast. I either do the shadow too dark or too light. I’ll just have to keep plugging away at it. Any tips would be greatly appreciated. 

I seem to be unintentionally writing a political blog here. I listen to a lot of podcasts while I work and they’re usually political. Today I listened to one I’ve never listened to before called Uncommon Ground. I really like the idea of it, which is to interview people from different sides of the political spectrum. Every Friday I watch the PBS Newshour so I can hear David Brooks and Jonathan Capeheart give a conservative and liberal take, respectively, on the weeks news. I appreciate hearing people share who aren’t trying to defend themselves or create conflict.

On the podcast today was Bill Bratton talking about police reform. He is a more right leaning, former police commissioner who has spent time in different large cities trying to tackle crime and police reformation. He admitted that a lot of police officers and police chiefs see blue and think, there can’t possibly be any wrong-doing. That, I believe is the crux of our problem - not that police officers love law enforcement and support each other, but that people are unable to accept that they too, cause harm. 

The older I get the more I am learning that in order to be a truly cooperative being, to really get along with others and be part of something unified, I have to accept that I cause harm. We usually think that causing harm makes you a bad person. Often I cause harm unintentionally. If I can’t accept that, if I’m unable or unwilling to allow others to point out my bad behavior, I am going to have a hard time getting along with others. I grew up in a household with parents who, in my opinion, were saturated with shame and a sense of inadequacy. So getting angry, being hurt by their words or actions, got you nowhere. There were almost no apologies from them, which left me feeling that people get away with things that are not right. As a young adult I saw myself as a victim, always getting the short end of the stick, always watching others get away with things.

It’s taken me a long time to understand that many people can’t apologize. It’s not just police officers. I’m not that good at apologizing, but I’m getting better. I’m getting better at understanding that when I’m scared I usually become selfish and self-seeking, and that when I’m stuck in that mindset I also start being dishonest. I get defensive. I try to stay mindful of my feelings so I’m not scared and therefore not selfish, self-seeking, and dishonest. But fear happens. It’s inevitable.

I was painting at a high school the other day. One of our libraries is at a local high school and I was a little nervous about being there. I went inside the library and introduced myself to the police officer so he would know what I was up to. As I was standing outside painting, I started wondering what it’s like to be a kid in high school these days with police everywhere. Do kids feel inherently bad because they need to be policed? When I was a kid I never saw a police officer or security guard at school. If we’re over-policed, what are the consequences?

Bill Batton said that when he was police commissioner in New York in the 90’s they reduced crime significantly using tactics that eventually became controversial in communities of color. He admits, all these years later, that those initial aggressive tactics needed to be discontinued once the crime rate dropped because they led to racial profiling and leaving large communities believing they were inherently bad. After listening to the podcast I believe, as the host Van Jones said, policing is a really tough issue. It seems like a balancing act. 

I’ve always been fascinated with social issues, with how to get along and create a peaceful society. I’ve also been fascinated with personal relationships and how to get along better with others. I want to be someone who can get along. Thirty years ago, as a young adult, I wanted things I felt deprived of - love, appreciation, validation, recognition, and respect. But as I’ve gotten older I’ve come to realize that being focused on ‘getting’ doesn’t really get me much. If it’s possible for me to contribute anything to society, I would like to contribute that. Our society seems so hurt, so deprived, and so resentful. We’re all demanding so much from our leaders, from our government, and institutions. What if we stopped demanding? What if we stopped being so focused with ‘getting’? It seems like that alone could reduce the tension levels dramatically.

I'm Not Combat Trained

Last night I watched the January 6th Commission Hearings. It was amazing. I watched congressional leaders acting professional and mature and it was like getting oxygen after being deprived for too long. I understand that many Americans believe that we’re ‘losing our country’. It’s what everyone’s saying - right and left. For me, I want to see professionalism and maturity. That’s what I’m sad about losing. I want to see leaders who can manage their emotions, handle paradox, and juggle the conflicting needs of the people. I’m ok sharing space. Liz Cheney does not stand for the policies that I would like to see enacted, but based on her behavior over the past few years I would actually consider voting for her. She has not been willing to act like a child and right now that’s pretty much all I could ask for in a leader.

I was really struck by both Rep Bennie Thomson and Rep Liz Chaney. Bennie Thomson’s opening remarks were sobering and eloquent. It really didn’t leave much question - Donald Trump put together a coup called a ‘7 Point Plan to reinstate him’. It’s hard to believe as a country there is disagreement about this. We have already lost something here. Donald Trump is a criminal and many people just don’t care. People are asking, how is it that Trump gets away with this? But I think that’s is. People just don’t care. They care about themselves. They feel so deprived, so powerless, that they no longer care about what was established to help us live together peacefully. They want out of the American experiment.

Both the Proud Boys and the Oath Keepers were essentially asked by Trump to start a riot, and they did. After he mentioned them in his debate, and said ‘Stand by and stand down’, Proud Boys membership tripled. There was a documentary filmmaker following the Proud Boys during the months of December and January and he filmed the two leaders together the night of January 5 in a parking garage. During Trump’s speech, both groups (who didn’t wear their signature colors), walked down to the capital. They weren’t interested in the speech. They were there to control congress as they tallied the votes. They had a mission.

I was struck by how angry and hostile the crowd was. Angry and hostile feel like understatements. These were/are people who want war. They are that disgruntled, that bitter. An officer who was at the capital that day explained that she’s trained to detain people but that she’s not ‘combat trained’. She said they were engaged in hand-to-hand combat for hours. She slipped in one of her fellow officers blood. She was tear-gassed. She was pushed so hard that she was knocked unconscious. But she still got up and did her job. For several hours. She said the scene was ‘chaos and carnage’. People were calling for Pence and Nancy Pelosi. To do what? Shake their hands? The crowd was absolutely enraged. I can only imagine what they would have done if they’d found Pence or Pelosi. There was a huge noose outside. It’s hard to imagine these people were just letting off steam or having fun. They looked crazed. 

After it was over I felt sad. I was angry because the riot footage got me defensive, but mostly I was sad. I was sad because for most of my life we have been a country full of people who could argue and debate but then come together in times like this. I know it’s a cliche, but we were united. But that’s not happening now. Many people watched the hearing last night, and I’m sure many more will watch in the weeks to come, but there is so much resistance, so much dismissing and lying. I would like to think that Republicans who left the Republican party over Trump watched last night. I would like to think that if Liz Cheney decides to run for President they would back her. I may even back her. I would like to think that more Americans are thinking about what happened, thinking about how important it is to work things out and cooperate, even with those we disagree with. 

It seems as if for several decades political activists have talked of revolution and resistance. People who are angry want vengeance. They want to overpower their oppressors. I’ve never been a fan of that. I’ve never believed in fighting power with power, mainly because I’m physically small and fighting power with power has never seemed like a winnable solution. Sometimes people are so angry and righteous that they are incapable of working things out, incapable of soothing themselves and using their heads. If we are going to live with each other we need to stop being so hot-headed and instead learn to manage our emotions. As a product of the self-help generation, I know many of us have been doing just that, have been learning to use ‘I’ statements when we argue with a loved one. When are we going to start doing that politically? When are we going to decide that a) there’s so much for us to be grateful for, b) It’s not a sign of weakness to concede, and c) being right is not all it’s cracked up to be.

Following My Bliss

I started a new library painting this morning. I’m working on a painting of Collins Garden Library and so far I think it’s coming along pretty good. I listened to Ten Percent Happier while I worked. It was an interview about pleasure and prioritizing feeling good in all we do. As someone who comes from a long line of mental health issues, deprivation, and unworthiness, I can relate to the work needed to make good choices for ourselves. I, like the woman interviewed, have been on a long journey of learning to care for myself. I know I’m not alone and it feels good that these conversations have been normalized. 

When I was in my early thirties, after studying photography for decades and watching it change from film to digital, I realized I’d always wanted to be a painter. I was standing in a museum in Paris and it just hit me. In that moment I remembered being a little girl and finding a sketch book in my mom’s bedroom at my grandparent’s house. Inside were great sketches, specifically one of a puppy. Being a little girl I was overwhelmed with inspiration to not only draw with accuracy but to draw a puppy. It was a two-for-one moment. I knew I wanted to do that. 

In middle school I had a great relationship with my art teacher who believed I was, at heart, an artist. But over the years I lost touch with my desires, with my happiness. In fact, I stopped believing along the way that my happiness was important. I thought other people’s happiness was important, but it always seemed to allude them and I felt powerless to do anything about it. So by the time I was in high school I had become concerned with what was going on with others to the exclusion of what was going on with myself. I was a full-time caretaker.

But I held on to art. Somehow I managed to stay creative and see creativity as important. I studied photography. I kept a journal so effortlessly that I often felt, like Joni Mitchell and her box of paints, that I lived in a notebook. And eventually I got back into drawing and painting. It’s not always easy to follow your bliss, as they say. Not always easy to make ones own satisfaction top priority. It is something I have to work at consciously. Every day.

People often ask me if I do commissions and it’s hard to say no. I can hear all these incensed voices, Are you crazy? Are you going to teach then? You’ve got to do something to make a living. No. I want to paint. I want to make a living painting. I can’t paint if I’m doing something else. I just can’t. Maybe other people can balance the two but I can’t. I’m on this path because I believe that it’s the right path. I have no idea what next month or next year will bring. I may get to a point where I realize I need to find something else to do for a career. I will face that if it happens. For now though, I’m painting. Every day. To my heart’s desire. 

In order to do that I have to let go of others. I need to let go of those voices in my head. I still hear things from thirty and forty years ago and it’s haunting. Do they ever go away? Those relationships we have with our families of origin are so intense, so complex, and it’s hard to let go. It’s hard to learn detachment. I remember first beginning to understand how to be close to someone without losing myself. I discovered that what I thought was love and connection was actually enmeshment. I started to respond to people instead of react. I discovered that I am, and always will be, an autonomous individual, separate from others. At first that was painful, but after a while it started to feel right. Because it’s true.

I saw a meme the other day that said No one else is supposed to understand your calling, it wasn’t a conference call. I thought that was a great reminder of detachment. I am on my own journey, and sometimes that can feel incredibly lonely, but we all are. So, we are all lonely. We are all on these isolated journeys, together. And the only guide we have is ourselves. We only have our pleasure, our happiness, our hearts, our guts, our inner-knowing, our Higher Power. Right now I am painting. I am a professional, full-time artist. Today. That is the most pleasurable choice I can make at this time.

Asking Big Questions

The Edmund Cody Branch Library was built in 1984 and named after Edmund Cody who served, at one time, as Superintendent for the Northside School District. It’s located near the intersection of Vance Jackson and Huebner Roads. When I got there a little before 11:00 on May 24 the sun was still coming up behind it, causing an almost film noir look to it. I love painting buildings and other objects that are back lit. This is the fifth local library I’ve painted.

There are still times when I stand in front of the easel, my palette full of paint, brush in my hand, and wonder if I’m going to be able to do what I have in mind. It’s insecurity, but sometimes the intensity gets to me. There are often obstacles to achieving a goal in painting, and trying something new can throw me off, but I feel as if I’ve been at it long enough to know that with patience I can either produce what I have in mind or something equally satisfying. 

I have spent a lot of years wanting to do away with my insecurities, thinking they came from a lack of self- esteem. I thought that if I could just raise my self-esteem I would no longer struggle. But after all these years I’ve realized that insecurity is part of living. It’s part of learning something new. It’s part of going through a transition in life, part of getting to a new phase. You can’t stop change, and with change comes questions, doubts, fears, and the unknown. So I still have moments when I stand in front of my easel and wonder if I can do it. Of course I would like to get better. I believe there is so much room to grow. But for my sanity I need to assure myself that I’m enough and that what I’ve done is enough.

I listened to a few podcasts this morning. One was about the religious right, Christian Fundamentalists, and politics. It was interesting to discover that there’s a breakdown in the church with many parishioners wanting the church to support Donald Trump and Q-anon and other parishioners wanting to keep politics out of church. It makes me sad that so many Americans, conservative and liberal, have lost faith in our institutions. We are seeing so much that’s wrong wit our country and missing anything that’s right. It makes me think about the 60’s and the anti-war movement. The fears of Big Brother. Nowadays it’s distrust with law enforcement and the church on the left, and on the right, distrust with environmentalists and immigrants. I don’t get it.

I’m upset about a lot of things - disappointed, discouraged, dismayed. But mainly I just wish people weren’t so angry. I get angry when people are angry, and that makes me angry. I don’t want to feel defensive and scared and aggressive. If I didn’t have a way to let go of it all, to turn it over to a power greater than myself, I don’t know what I’d do. I’m trying to survive our current political climate by finding meaning and purpose. I think what I need is to care about more than politics. I’ve always been interested in politics, in the balance of power and health of society. But I also, I’m not an expert. I’ve never cared enough to get a degree in political science of social studies. It’s an interest, not a passion.

But I also fear that if I take my eye off it and stop being outraged that someone will get away with something I think is atrocious. But is it atrocious? And is being outraged really worth it? Is that the life I want to live? It’s like a never ending cycle I go through. I tune into the news, get upset, then vow to turn it off for good. It’s exhausting. What keeps me coming back is the common belief, among the right and the left, that our country is being ruined. That we are losing something we need to ‘wake up and value before it’s too late’. I just don’t know what to do. 

It’s all part of why I’m painting libraries. I want to express appreciation for something. I want to focus on what’s working, on an institution that, regardless of what happens, will probably stick around. Libraries have been part of the human experience for millennia. People have always asked big questions - why are we here? what’s the meaning of life? what matters?- and as long as people ask questions there will be places people go to ask and answer those questions. If we don’t call them libraries they will be called something else. Historically they were churches, libraries, courthouses. Now it’s the internet. 

I support the asking and answering of big questions. But is that what we’re doing? Are any of us really doing that anymore? It seems like we’re just obsessing with control and power, with ego and unwanted influence.

Who Am I?

I’ve been reading a biography of Andrew Wyeth. I’m sure anyone who knows me is tired of hearing about it but I’m getting a lot of inspiration out of it. His family seems pretty remarkable - his father an intellectual, passionate about high art, his siblings all incredibly intelligent and creative in their own right. His father said about art that it’s a “tangible form of reverence and love for the blessings of existence.” When I read that I had one fo those moments when you know you’ve just stumbled upon something significant, something that touches every cell in your being. 

For a while now I’ve been asking myself, why libraries? It seems so obvious to myself, obvious enough that there’s no need to explain. But I’m learning that for some people there is a need to explain. This quote is my latest explanation. It’s not only an explanation for libraries, but an explanation for creating art. How else can I give back? How else can I say thank you? How else can I say I love you? I need a way to express myself and art is it. I need a way to say things, to express my gratitude and appreciation. I need to offer a tangible form of reverence and love for the blessings of existence.

So painting libraries is my way of saying how much I appreciate them, my way of expressing how valuable I think they are to society. I listened to a podcast today about Mount Vernon and George Washington’s unofficial Presidential Library. First I have to say both people involved in the interview were very knowledgable about history, specifically early American history, so that alone made it a fun interview. The podcast is Ben Franklin’s World and the episode was 33. 

George Washington wanted his presidential papers preserved for the people. Today, congress recognizes that every president's papers belong to the people, but before 1955 there was no precedent for collecting, storing, and making presidential papers available to the public. George Washington was involved in so many aspects of early America and his papers help us understand that. My one regret as I listened was that his wife Martha burned all their letters before she died, so we don’t know about her role in his life. It’s hard not to wonder what they corresponded about and how she contributed to him, to his life, his outlook on things. It would be great to know more about that.

I would imagine an historical figure like George Washington had at least one comparably amazing person in his life, so why wouldn’t it have been his wife? We probably all have at least one person in our lives that’s as smart and insightful as we are. It’s all relative. And, none of us lives in a vacuum. In all the years I’ve spent looking at my character, looking at how I contribute to all the good and bad things that go on in my life, I sometimes wonder where ‘I’ even came from. Is my personality inherent? Am I my birth order? Am I a role that was available in my family, like ‘lost child’ or ‘scapegoat’?

I think about Andrew Wyeth, the youngest of five children, all led by a physically and characteristically large father, intent on leading his flock through their lives. He had them all to himself. He worked from home. It doesn’t sound like many of the kids went to school, so they were essentially under his influence, all the time. How much credit can Andrew Wyeth take for how his life unfolded? I’m in no way trying to discredit him, but he had a lot of influence.

On the flip side, my parents played a lot of tennis when I was young and pushed me a lot to play too. I can’t stand tennis and have only picked up a racket once in 30 years. So just because Andrew Wyeth’s dad was an artist didn’t mean that he was automatically going to be one too. His older brother Nathaniel Wyeth was not artistically inclined and became an engineer. But who we are, who we become and how we become it, is something to ponder. I think the people in our lives play larger roles than we give credit. For better or worse. We are a village, a community, a family, a unit.

Pre-Jack-Welch Business

Yesterday I listened to Fresh Air as I painted. They interviewed the author of a new book about Jack Welch who was the CEO of GE for many years. I can’t say I had any interest in Jack Welch, or even knew who he was, but the title of the book, The Man Who Broke Capitalism, piqued my interest. I’ve always had a frustration with people who romanticize capitalism. Growing up in the 80’s, during the Reagan years, there was this almost magical quality applied to capitalism that raised a red flag for me. Even though I was too young to really understand what capitalism was, I still felt that peoples’ enthusiasm for it didn’t seem right.

When the author was asked about Jack Welch and what he was like as a child the author, without hesitation, said he was very restless and irritable. Well, that also piqued my interest. In the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous they describe the signs of addiction, in this case alcoholism, as being ‘restless, irritable, and discontent’. Addiction is the way people overcompensate for these core emotions that seem to drive their lives. It made me wonder if Jack Welch, who turned a benevolent employer - proud of how much it paid employees and proud of how much it gave back in the form of taxes- into a cutthroat, cold, power-driven corporate giant, was an addict. Was he driven by, as they say in recovery circles, ‘self-will run riot’?

It also got me thinking about the people I’ve known over the years who love capitalism, who defend it with everything they’ve got, who apply magical qualities to it, and whether or not they see it as a way to channel their addictive nature. Could the fascination and admiration for people like Jack Welch feed an unexamined desire to be an addict without obstacles? Obstacles like having to care about others? Obstacles like needing to get along, share, and compromise?

The author explained the influence that Jack Welch has had on business and society, how leaders have turned to stats to make decisions about who stays and who goes (everyone producing/performing in the bottom 10% are automatically fired), and how the attitudes of employees and workers have changed (people are anxious and insecure about their jobs). I don’t think you need data to know that customer service is dead and it seems as if most people relate to their jobs as just a way to pay rent. 

With all the anger and hostility in society today it’s hard not to wonder where we went wrong. When did things change and can we fix what’s broken? Pre-Jack-Welch capitalism sounds quite nice. You got a job at a company and the company was like a family. You worked there your entire working life and retired with benefits, enjoying stable and comfortable golden years. Now it’s all about profit. It’s about impressing the Market. People don’t matter anymore. The employees are just there to serve the corporation and serve corporate growth. We all know we don’t matter. You don’t have to work in corporate America to know you don’t matter. If you ask me, our battle for political significance is proof that we feel inadequate and insecure. We are fighting each other for a sense of personal value. 

I have spent my entire adult life intimidated by business and economics. As an artist I have felt that business was something to avoid, something that would take away from my creativity - my joy. I saw people driven to make lots of money as shallow, competitive, and self-seeking. But luckily I found my way, and through great mentorship and camaraderie, am learning to participate in the business of art in a way that I can feel proud of. I want a pre-Jack-Welch business. I want to see myself and my product as part of an eco-system, part of something bigger than myself. A lot of people are beginning to address our country’s pain, to not only address  policies that could help us feel and live safer lives, but address the anguish that has people do horrendous things. Perhaps we could start with what it requires for us to meet our basic needs and how that has changed over the past forty years.

The 'We' I'm Looking For

I started painting Cody library this morning. Like all my larger paintings of the libraries this is 18x24, oil on canvas. I’m using the same palette for all them: titanium white, cadmium yellow light, yellow ochre, cadmium red light, chromium oxide green, and cobalt blue hue. While I was working I listened to a podcast. I searched yesterday for podcasts about libraries and found there are quite a few. This morning I listened to two episodes of Leading From The Library. One episode was about leadership the other was about censorship. 

I’m a strong believer in balance. If I’ve gained anything from my time here on Earth it’s that there’s no one answer for anything. Sometimes we need restrictions, sometimes we need room - to move, to breath, to grow, to make mistakes. I really appreciated the interview about censorship: Fight for the books, fight for the freedom to read, for the kids to read. But in the end, don’t forget, they’re just books. This librarian was fighting so that her kids, her high schoolers who were readers and who gravitated to the library in their free time, could have the books that mattered to them. But, she added, if the books got banned there were others just like them flying under the radar. There were other books she could order and recommend to those kids who wanted them.

I can’t imagine what librarians go through, especially school librarians, when they’re on the ground, day after day, interacting with kids, learning about their tastes, their needs, their search for meaning, and the board comes in and bans books. They’re not banning the books that kids aren’t interested in. They’re banning the books that kids are devouring and finding inspiration from. That must be a frustrating part of the job. 

I realized today that I don’t know much about being a librarian. I know a lot about being a library patron, but not much about being a librarian. I am on a new quest to find out. I’m excited to learn that there are a lot of librarians out there talking about the joys and struggles of their job. What I love about libraries is that they are social spaces. They’re spaces people go to for help, for entertainment, for resources, for learning, for connection, but unlike other social spaces like bars, restaurants, and event spaces, they’re quiet. Libraries aren’t places we go to converse or hear music, they’re spaces we go to to be with people, but to also be by ourselves. To go inward.

It kind of reminds me of meditation courses. In a few weeks I’ll be heading off to a 30-day meditation course. When I tell people, almost the first thing they ask is, ‘aren’t you lonely there?’ At this point I don’t really have a reaction to that question because I know the person asking has (most likely) never spent much time by themselves. Or, spent time in peaceful reflection or contemplation. When I go to a meditation course I’m usually there with about 100 people. We don’t talk. At all. The first night we start ‘noble silence’ where we agree to cease speaking, making hand gestures, or making eye contact. I’ve never experienced loneliness at a meditation course.

My first course was in December 2010. At that course I was shocked that all those people were there and we weren’t speaking to each other. I’d never done anything like that and I thought it was a trip. It fell outside my idea of normal. But I had faith in meditation and therefore kept to the agreement. What I discovered after the course had ended was that I had a really powerful experience. I would call it intimate - close, personal, meaningful - but it was with an inner world I’d never been encouraged to connect with. I think I grew up in a world where solitude was seen as strange and suspicious, but what I found at meditation courses is that solitude is a very rich experience.

I’ve gone back every year. I started a daily practice of two hours a day - an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening. Each year I get more comfortable sitting. In 2017 I went to a 20-day and in 2018 I sat a 30-day. There’s about 100 people there, give or take, and you’re moving through the halls together, looking for your shoes in the shoe room together, walking down the path to the dinging hall together, moving through the food line together, hearing them brushing their teeth, and shower. When I’m surrounded by all that I don’t feel lonely. I feel connected. When the course ends and we can talk it always amazes me the bonds that from, that have already formed. 

I think of libraries as having that kind of mystique, that kind of appeal. They’re not quite as quiet as a meditation retreat, but they are social places where socializing isn’t the purpose. But being together is. There’s a special kind of ‘we’ in a library, or a meditation hall. It’s a ‘we’ that goes beyond conversation. A connection that’s on a different level than verbal. I think that’s the ‘we’ I prefer, the ‘we' that really makes me feel connected and enriched. 

Guns Need To Go

I went to get the oil changed in my car and I stopped at the bank. Even though I try to stick to a 9 to 5 work week I had errands that I couldn’t put off anymore. Luckily it put me in a part of town I don’t always spend time in and was able to go to the Molly Pruitt Library afterwards. I couldn’t find it at first but eventually discovered it’s part of Roosevelt High School. It’s not the most architecturally pleasing building but it’s still and important part of the series. 

Since it was on a school campus I was nervous. I didn’t want anyone to think I looked suspicious. Before I could go inside to tell the librarian who I was and what I was up to a campus police officer came up to me with a quizzical look on his face. I explained to him I’m a painter and painting all the libraries. He was pretty cool about it but wanted me to tell the officer inside. 

I was a little taken aback by the fact that just inside the door to the library isn’t a librarian but a cop. In my entire K-12 years I never saw a police officer on school campus. Not once. I can’t help wondering if kids today grow up thinking that they’re bad because they’re policed all day at school. Again, I just wish we could pass some gun laws and get them out of people’s hands. 

Since Uvalde there have been 20 mass shootings. I think today there were more. I have hit the part where you get numb and move on. Where you hear about more shootings but you can’t really process it. I saw an armed guard at the grocery store the other day and wondered if my grocery store is safe. When I got home today after driving around town, going to an oil change place, a bank, a high school, a library, and a covid testing place, I wondered how I got home unscathed. 

Sometimes at night I hear the sounds of gunshots. A neighbor on social media says she thinks they come from someone near her, that they walk outside at night and fire into the air. Several months ago I was lying on the couch reading a book about 9:00 at night. I heard gun shots and it seemed as if the were coming from a car that was moving down the street. Moving in the direction of my house! I instinctively rolled off the couch onto the floor waiting for the sounds of shattering glass. Luckily the shots stopped before the car got to my house and I never heard glass breaking. After a while I went outside and saw I neighbor down the street on the phone. My next door neighbor was in his yard looking around. I called 911 and reported it as did several others. The cops eventually showed up and according to a neighbor said they thought it was ‘kids shooting into the air as they drove around’. It just reminded me of what bullshit our society has become with regards to guns.

I’m not really concerned anymore with what people think about my opinion. I’m not sensitive about conflict on this issue. I don’t care if you have feral hogs on your property and think an assault rifle is your only hope. I don’t care if you’re a gun collector or if you like to go shooting. And I don’t care if you feel that you need to protect yourself. Guns are not that important. They’re just not. I’m tired of the arguments. We have catered to machismo and arrogance, to uber masculinity and alpha dominance for far too long. It’s time to cater to something else. It’s time to cater to nurturing and caring, to empathy and sensitivity. It’s time to cater to creativity, to contemplation, to peace, serenity and stillness. I have a tendency to be accommodating and easy to get along with. I’m an easy person to talk to about sensitive issues, even politics. I like to listen. I don’t always need to be right. But I don’t care anymore. Guns need to go. 

Getting There

I'm at Collins Garden Library. I decided to stay after I painted and write inside the library. This place has a great vibe. Lots of computers and places to sit and work or read. I had more people stop and ask what I was doing today than I have before. Feels good.

This morning, when I first woke up, I started thinking about creativity, about being inspired to create and being inspired by other people’s creativity. It’s quite a rush. I spent so many years waking up with fear and worry on my mind. So many years fretting and feeling angry. I was always defensive, always feeling insecure and inadequate. It was a weary life. A weary way to live.

I’ve always been an artist, always seen myself as creative, but for many years making art was difficult. I didn’t mind writing, but drawing and painting were things I felt I needed to do, things that I wanted to do but didn’t have the motivation to do. I wanted to be a painter, but I didn’t want to do what’s needed to get there. In college I changed my major to Communications because I thought it would be easier. I was a photographer and at the time it didn’t seem to matter if I major in Art or Communications, so I picked Communications. The other day someone pointed out that I’m a ‘self-taught’ painter. I don’t think they meant it to be hurtful, but it pushed a button.

It felt like they were saying I’m not real or valid. I don’t have credentials. I don’t. It’s just a fact. But I have spent many years studying drawing and painting, many years taking classes, learning from other artists. But it’s hard to shake the years of low energy, the years where I was unmotivated and passionless. I was focused on other things, working on other interests. But even those interests were things I did to be a better artist. Things I did to learn to express myself freely and without fear. It’s hard to share yourself, to share so personally and so deeply when you’re battling inside with shame.

So when I’m out in the community and people approach me and ask what I’m up to it’s nice. It’s nice to have someone walk over with their kid and tell me they like art too. I think about those kids a lot and wonder if they’ll end up being artists. What is the secret to success? Is it talent? Education? Grit? Determination? I don’t have the answer. But what is it that has a person pursue a dream or desire rather than just get by? I was doing both for so long, believing that my dream couldn’t sustain me. After all, who am I do dream? Who am I to have an easy life when so many people are struggling? I wanted to struggle too. If you’d ask me then I would have denied it, but the truth is, I couldn’t bring myself to succeed when so many other people are in pain. Life is scary. Survival is stressful. I didn’t want to make it look easy. I didn’t want the label of ‘privileged’. It sounds so invalidating. I wanted a way to say, “Look, I’m in pain too. I’m working too!”

I grew up learning that a real job is hard. A real job is one where you’re growing, learning the hard knocks of life. A job where your boss is on your back hounding you, threatening you with a bad review. That’s what I saw my dad doing. He was in pain. He was suffering. I spent years suffering too in order to be a ‘good’ girl, a dutiful, respectful child. I was afraid that if I enjoyed my life, if I generated an income doing something exciting and fun that I would be kicking dirt in his face, I’d be disrespecting him and his suffering. 

Today I woke up, packed up my easel and drove down to Collins Garden Library to paint. Now I’m sitting inside the library writing. I’ll go home and get lunch. Later I’ll go pick up my paintings from the SAC library where I’ve had an exhibit up. I love my life. I love what I do. I love being able to plan my days. It feels as if my entire life is my creation, not just my artwork. I’m creating it every day. I regret the years I couldn’t allow myself the life I wanted, but I’m learning to forgive myself. I’m learning to forgive myself and accept that life isn’t about getting there. I’ve never gotten there. I’ve been getting there the whole time and that’s a mindset I needed to learn.

Wyeth

Got some Mazy Star playing as I sit inside on this hot, partly sunny day. I spent the morning working on an urban landscape. I am fascinated by the double decker freeway where I-10 crosses Cincinnati. I ride my bike there when I go to the San Pedro Library and I’ve always loved the sound of traffic and the way the light hits all the concrete. I’ve got a few good photos of the intersection that I’m going to paint so this is the first in a new series. I did’t get to my next library painting today but focused on this one instead. Tomorrow I’ll go plein air paint another library, maybe Collins Garden.

I’m reading a biography of Andrew Wyeth. Although I live in Texas and have been here almost 30 years, I grew up in Wilmington, Delaware, 15 minutes from where Andrew Wyeth lived in Chads Ford, Pennsylvania. We would drive by Keurner’s farm all the time growing up. We had a coffee table book of Wyeth and I recognized the house. It mesmerized me every time I saw it, reminding me of the paintings I’d seen at home. 

I never knew Andrew Wyeth was a famous painter when I was young. I just thought he was our local painter that everyone loved. When I found out he did “Christina’s World” in Main, and that he lived there part of the year, I was incensed. “No. He lived here!” I would argue. “He also lived in Main.” People would say, rolling their eyes. It took several times of being told for me to accept it. I wanted him to be all ours. I wanted him to be our painter, not anyone else’s.

He would have been around the same age as my grandparents, born in 1917. Reading about his life in Chads Ford has made me nostalgic and a little homesick. Except, I want home the way home was forty years ago. I want to go back in time, to the Gilded Age even, to when Andrew Wyeth was growing up among the rolling hills and flora and fauna of Chads Ford and Wilmington. I want to go back to when there were less people and more miles of farmland. 

I also find myself wishing I’d grown up in a big family led by a successful artist/father like NC Wyeth. Reading the book obviously shows that the family was full of disfunction, but it’s still fun to dream: of growing up in a home with lots of siblings, all whip smart and busy creating. Quotes of NC Wyeth’s letters describe the children all sitting in the living room on winter evenings drawing. It sounds idyllic.

I’m heading out in a bit to meet the last visitors to my exhibit at San Antonio College. I’ve had an exhibit up in the library there for two months. Today it’s time to take everything down which is bitter sweet. It’s nice to get all my paintings down and back home but also sad that they won’t be on display anymore. Another drawback is having 16 paintings to find space for… I sometimes think about dropping a bunch of paintings off at a thrift store just to get them out of my way. It is one of the things about being a painter that’s hard. My walls are full of artwork. Please take some.

Debates

It’s the day after Memorial Day and back to being hot as blue blazes. I think later in the week it’s supposed to get into triple digits again. The one thing I’ve been getting used to living in Texas is keeping the house dark in the summer. Growing up on the East Coast winter was dark and and gloomy but during the summer I wanted it bright inside. It’s too hot here to do that, so I’ve got insulating curtains up and it’s cool and dark. Not night-time dark, just dim. It adds a nice mood.

I finished my painting of the Dr. Eugene Clark Library today. It’s always nice to finish and sign a painting. It was a detailed building to paint but it didn’t take as long as I thought it would. The color palette I used was: titanium white, cadmium yellow light, yellow ochre, burnt sienna, cadmium red light, chromium oxide green, sap green, courbet green and cobalt blue hue. I’m still trying to mix a neutral tint for sidewalks and concrete. I was happy with how close burnt sienna matched the color of the brick building. It made painting it a lot easier. I would still like to learn more about color mixing but I guess that’s a matter of practice. I know painters who regularly create color charts and I think I will start doing that soon. I’m pretty good at practicing drawing, but not color mixing. There’s always something to learn, some new direction to grow in.

I was reading in Library: An Unquiet History that when the printing press was invented there were different opinions about its impact on society. Some people felt that the availability of knowledge was a benefit to all, that it decentralized knowledge, empowering communities far and wide. Others felt that it created chaos, confusing people with all the diversity of knowledge available. Sounds like a lot of arguments we have today. Modernity can leave people feeling repulsed and disgusted, terrified and ashamed. At the same time it can leave people feeling liberated and excited, inspired and full of life. I honestly found it interesting to find that, in the beginning, there was a debate about the merits of something that most people today recognize as essential to progress. I wonder what the general consensus will be about transgender issues in the future or if it will be so normal we wouldn’t even consider debating it (or, will it fade out as a an interest?).

Over the weekend I spent time with a lot of people and the subject of the Uvalde shooting came up quite a bit. Just about everyone I spoke to was touched by it, some still shaken, but I couldn’t help wondering how many of them will still vote Republican without even thinking about it. It’s hard for me to grasp. I was ready for gun reform after Newtown, as I’m sure were a lot of Americans. Not only has nothing changed but in Texas it just keeps getting easier to get deadly weapons. I understand that mental health is a part of mass murders, but so are guns. In fact, I don’t know of a lot of mass murders that don’t involve guns. I know banning assault rifles will not stop murders, or even mass murders, but it could decrease the number of mass shootings by a large percentage, 75% (National Review: Mass Murder Without Guns), which seems like a large enough percentage to do it. 

The subject of disagreement and debate has been on my mind a lot. I find in my personal life I’m always wondering what’s appropriate when I’m angry or frustrated with someone else. Am I being a doormat? Am I unwilling to see someone els’s point of view? What’s the appropriate response? It doesn’t always seem like it’s enough to be clear about my feelings and my needs. What if I don’t have all the necessary information? What if I’m jumping the gun? What if I’m being vague? It doesn’t seem like there’s ever a right answer. 

I would like to live in a society that’s cohesive and compromising. I would like to see well-kept roads and bridges. I’d like to know that kids in school are well-read and developing the skills to reason things out. I’d like to live in a society where people are able to work 40 hours, even without much education, and support their loved ones. I’d like to live in a society where contributing to the overall well-being of our communities and the people in them was seen as a good thing. 

Something that I’ve learned that’s benefited my life greatly is how to let go of the environment. The environment we grow up in shapes our self-concept and our belief system but a lot of us don’t realize that the environment we grew up in was stressful and that our character developed out of that stress. I never stopped to see that the world is not the same as my intimate environment and that I don’t need to bring my old patterns and beliefs everywhere I go. In fact, a lot of the character traits I developed as a child were based on being a dependent child, not a grown adult. So even if we grow up in a peaceful environment we still don’t need to look at the world the way we did as children.

Sometimes when I look at the world out there and listen to the arguments and the debates I feel like we’d all be better off getting therapy than investing in politics. What if we all let go of the environment and sought help for ourselves? What if we stopped getting heated over what’s happening in the world and instead focused on our personal needs? I try so hard to do that. I try to remember that my reaction to ‘out there’ has more to do with what’s going on ‘in here’. But it’s hard. It’s hard to pay attention and not react. It’s hard not to care. Perhaps what it would look like to care for the world is for me to care that my needs are met and my feelings validated and managed. Maybe that’s the best I could do for the complicated and complex world we live in.

Keep It Simple

I worked on Dr. Eugene Clark Library today. The building has a lot of detail so I think I’ll be working on it for a while. At least two more days if not more. I woke up this morning to cloudy skies and as the morning wore on I realized the sun wasn’t going to come out before I left. So I decided to stay home instead of plein air painting another library. I’ve got Eugene Clark and now Cody Library to focus on so that should keep me busy for a while.

I listened to an episode of The Mental Illness Happy Hour while I worked. They talked about ‘emotional regulation disorder’, which used to be called ‘personality disorder’. The guy being interviewed (Jeese Finkelstein) kept saying people express themselves in ‘ineffective’ ways, which will be my takeaway from the interview. It’s nicer to look back at myself, or to look at others, as being ‘ineffective' rather than manipulative or cruel. It’s more compassionate. Always looking for better tools for life and relationships.

I think I am feeling better after the shooting. It’s still on my mind, and I know that there are a lot of people who will not get to feel better for a long time, but after a while I feel powerless and it doesn’t help to keep checking for more news. I’m sure there will be a lot of new information coming from Uvalde in the coming weeks. It’s like the fog of war has to lift or something.

This weekend is Memorial Day Weekend and I have a memorial to go to Sunday. Fitting. My grandmother died in January and because if COVID we are just now getting around to the memorial. What a crazy time. We’ve all been saying that for two years and it doesn’t seem like it’s going change any time soon. It’s like we’ve entered a perpetual ‘crazy time’. Or maybe it’s been crazy for so long and now we can’t ignore it.

I went to the grocery store today and saw a security guard outside as I was walking in. It boggles my mind that we live in a society where we need security guards while we shop for food. Why are we living like this? Who’s effing idea was it? Once inside though I have to admit I didn’t think about anything but what I was looking for. Maybe that’s good. I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s good to feel good with everything that’s going on. Is it good to forget about tragedies? Is forgetting how the gun issue continues? We stop thinking about it all the time, get complacent until the next shooting, then we all scream and yell for a few days insisting on change? Is that how it works?

I’m confused. But I do understand one thing: living in a constant state of distress is painful. That’s what happens when you have PTSD. And don’t we talk about how destructive PTSD is all the time? None of this makes sense. I’m beginning to think no source of information about the world outside my home is helpful. Even my neighborhood group is full of fear: Photos of suspicious people. Posts about break-ins and shots fired. Everything’s a warning. It stresses me out. I almost feel ashamed to post about positive things, as if I’m not contributing anything positive. Is that irony or just absurdity?

So, I’m just an autonomous woman who spends her days painting libraries, reading about library history, visiting libraries, reading books, and writing. Occasionally she makes videos of her painting and posts them on YouTube for people to meditate to. Maybe I should narrow my life down to those simple things. Keep it simple. Think I’ll give that a try for a while.

You Are Not Alone

I woke up this morning and it was 59 degrees. If you live in central Texas you know that 59 degrees at the end of May is a rare treat. It had me in a good mood. After meditation and breakfast I made my way over to Cody Library. Since it was such a beautiful morning i decided I would drive all the way up Vance Jackson and take my time. On the way I heard You Are Not Alone by Michael Jackson and all I could think about was Uvalde. Grief. It is insidious and painful. You wake up, and for a moment you don’t remember, then the truth hits and it feels like a punch in the chest.

Another day has gone

I'm still all alone

How could this be?

You're not here with me

You never said goodbye

Someone tell me why

Did you have to go?

And leave my world so cold

It’s interesting how people grieve. Some turn everything off and get quiet while others search frantically for connection and answers. Some do both. I’ve spent time reading other’s thoughts, writing, contemplating, walking, praying. I’m feeling so grateful that it was a beautiful morning. I got to the library and it was still closed. I found a good spot and set up my easel. Not long after folks started showing up. It’s a busy place. It makes me happy to see patrons lined up outside, waiting to return books or use the computer. Someone pulled up on their bike and locked it to the bike rack by the flag pole, which was at half mast. 

It didn’t take me long to paint. I did a simple study of the building and had good lines to work with. The building was back lit which added some drama. A few people came up to see what I was up to. People are always kind, always supportive. It helps. Even the simplest encouragement, ‘Looks good so far,’ makes my morning. I’m not sure if I would approach a painter. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone in a library parking lot with an easel. Maybe downtown where the tourists are but not at Vance Jackson and Heubner. 

Everyday I sit and ask myself

How did love slip away?

Something whispers in my ear and says

I’ve been thinking a lot about pain and suffering, about life ripping the rug out from under you. It gets in your cells, in your flesh, then you’re always wondering, is it going to happen again? Can I be prepared next time? Can I keep it from happening again? Is this it, again? I never lost a child or a loved one, but I have a B.C./A.D. life. I had a life before trauma and I’ve had a life since. The person I lost was myself and in almost thirty years I’ve never seen her again. We never said goodbye.

Somehow I kept going. I’m not sure how. I guess my Higher Power did for me what I couldn’t do for myself. But I managed to keep living, to get up and look for something to hang on to. Eventually I found hope. I found a reason to live again. So many of my 49 years have been spent in survival mode and learning to surrender has been one of the greatest gifts I’ve received. Hope and optimism were like food for an emaciated soul.

You are not alone

I am here with you

Though you're far away

I am here to stay

You are not alone

I am here with you

Though we're far apart

You're always in my heart

You are not alone

I came to realize that it doesn’t matter the source of love, just that it’s love. What I needed to heal was to know that I’m not alone, that I’m loved, that my existence matters. Other humans couldn’t do that for me. I found so many supportive people over the years - friends, therapists, sponsors - but I had to find my worth on my own. I had to find love on my own. I had to look inward to find what I needed and when I did it was the beginning of yet another beginning. Not as dramatic as my A.D. beginning, but I found a new reason to keep going.

I spent a lot of time searching yesterday. I was looking for connection and answers. I wanted to grieve with others as much as I could. I’m glad I did. I’m glad I found others who were feeling as frustrated and anguished as I was. I am thinking a lot about our neighbors down the road, knowing the path of grief, knowing it’s not insurmountable. And although I can send donations, stuffed animals, food, prayers, I know that what they need isn’t something I can provide. Perhaps I can demonstrate it. Perhaps I can be a model of knowing, hold a knowing that may be alluding them right now: You are not alone.

Not Another Shooting

I find that when I listen to music or podcasts while I paint I will faintly recall what I heard when I look at that painting later. It has been like this for the 16 years that I’ve been painting. That’s why I begin my blog talking about what I listened to while I worked. This morning I listened to a Ten Percent Happier interview of a therapist who focuses on trauma. Dr. Jacob Ham talked about his patients and how he tries to be empathetic as they recount their healing journeys. I felt it was appropriate to listen to this podcast seeing as 80 miles from where I live an 18 year old young man went into an elementary school and shot 21 people yesterday. Most of the victims were fourth graders. I have a nephew who’s in the fourth grade and can’t imagine what that community is going through right now. I just can’t even fathom.

As I sat down to write today I wondered, should I write about painting, about libraries? My usual topics. I want to, and maybe I will, but first I need to talk about what happened. I would like to thank Steve Kerr for expressing my sentiments last night before the Warriors played the Mavericks. I wish more people were willing to do what he did - raising his voice in outrage and hurt, calling out Senators for not passing more gun safety measures, accusing them of choosing their personal power over the care and safety of children, insisting that we cannot become numb to this. The gun lobby has a lot of power. 

There are memes going around FB about how men can walk into an elementary school with an AR-15 without being noticed but a woman can’t pull into a Planned Parenthood without a crowd of people yelling and screaming at her, calling her a murderer. What if she’s just going there for a pap smear? Just so sad to realize what our priorities are. It doesn’t seem like any pro-lifers care about these 10-year-old babies being mowed down by an unstable teen. And please don’t talk about how it’s not the guns it’s the instability of people that’s the problem. It’s both, and ask anyone who’s struggled with mental illness or known someone who’s suffered with mental illness: gun control is a lot easier to regulate than mental health. That kid could have yelled and screamed at his grandmother (instead of shooting her), drove his car into a ditch, and gotten into a fistfight or walked around waving a knife. None of those things would have ended with 21 people shot beyond recognition.

In my life I want so much to focus on what’s working. In fact, focusing on solutions rather than problems has been what’s helped me deal with my own depression and anxiety, but sometimes you need to vent. Sometimes you need to call out the problem, name it and declare that you’re tired of it. In the interview I listened to, Dan Harris asked his guest, a) Can people survive horrific trauma, and b) What’s the point of suffering? The answer to question one is, yes. People can overcome trauma. They can find ways to move through it and carve out a life that’s fulfilling and healing. The answer to question two is not so clear. I guess it’s the question for the ages: Why are we here, what’s the purpose of life, why do bad things happen? At the risk of acting like a sage I would say that bad things happen because we need them for guidance. If life is a journey then pain is telling us we don’t like the path we’ve gone down and we should find a different one. But I know that when I’m in pain and bad things are happening I want to dramatize it and act as if I’m the first person in the history of humanity to go through it. 

I guess you could say that we’re lucky we’re going through a civil war as ‘civil’ as this. We could be experiencing what Ukrainians are experiencing: homes destroyed, hospitals and schools bombed, loved ones killed, running for our lives. No one is getting to stay calm and safe in their homes over there.  War and violence have been part of the human experience as long as we’ve been here. In our country there seems to be a small percentage of people with enough power that they can force the rest of us to participate in their power grabs and passive aggression, not so different than Russians and Ukrainians. Toned down a little, but not so different.

What’s appropriate? What’s honest, fair, constructive? Do we talk endlessly about all the effed up shit happening in the world? How long do we vent? When does venting turn into more suffering? I want to think positively about the future. I want to feel optimistic. I want to believe that no matter the circumstances I can feel positive, hopeful, compassionate, caring, and empathetic. I have a goal here, an artistic goal, and it’s important to me because it’s how I express love for life, for not only all the effed up shit going on in the world, but for all the beautiful shit too. When Tops Grocery Store closed in Buffalo last week (after the horrific, racist shooting there) people in the community came out with food. Neighbors (albeit distant neighbors) came out of their homes to offer provisions to those who lost their grocery store. People are beautiful. They are. We are complicated and good and effed up. We are alive and tired. We are fighting and surrendering. 

Yesterday, while reading Library: An Unquiet History I learned that when Rome fell, when Europe entered the dark ages, teachers and people with knowledge fled to Persia. They lived with Muslims who learned how to make paper from the Chinese. Because of this, books became an art form and much of the knowledge the West had generated was saved and put into book form. Before the fall of Rome, knowledge was recorded on clay tablets and papyrus scrolls. In Persia, books became leather bound and and stable. Not all was lost. 

Not all was lost. 

Yes, lives have been lost. Precious lives. Lives of innocent people loved and depended on for love in return. But, not all is lost. It’s hard to turn around from trauma, but it happens. Today I spent time working on a painting of the Dr. Eugene Clark Library. I put on a podcast and I fell into a quiet, peaceful, creative zone, and it was exactly what I needed. I’m so sad. I’m sad for Uvalde, for a community ripped apart by violence. I’m sad for Buffalo, for the Taiwanese churchgoers in Orange County, for Ukraine, for everyone who has suffered at the hand of human cruelty. I’m sad for my own country, for the ‘civil’ civil war we’re living through right now. But life continues and eventually we will realize that not all is lost.

My hope is that we realize guns are easier to regulate than mental health. I hope we realize that addiction is a mental health issue and that it produces mental health issues in others. I hope that we can treat each other with more compassion and understanding. I hope that we can stop romanticizing assault weapons, stop seeking sexual rage as a substitute for personal power, as a substitute for joy. We are a hurting country, a hurting people. But recovery awaits. Healing is possible and it awaits us.

Deprivation Mentality

I got up earlier today than usual and even though I started painting at the same time I do every day, I was much more productive. I am assuming there is a correlation. It’s hard to feel rushed and productive at the same time. Is that deprivation mentality?

I started another library painting and two urban landscapes today. The library painting is of Dr. Eugene Clark Library in Lockhart. Although I’m painting San Antonio Public Libraries I thought I could make and exception for the ‘oldest continuously operating library in the state of Texas’. The Clark Library was built in 1898 and is a pretty incredible looking building. It’s tiny but has a lot of character. It’s not hard to picture yourself living in Lockhart at the turn of the last century and going to this library.

Lockhart is a little over an hour from San Antonio and I drove there a few weeks ago to do a plein air painting of it and to take photos. I didn’t know what I was looking for so when I drove up the block I was really excited. It’s a dark brick building with a dome on the top and several stained glass windows. Lockhart is an adorable town. I went on a Tuesday and the historic downtown was bustling. I was breathtaken by the sight of the Courthouse as I turned down Market Street. I definitely need to make another trip there so I can paint it.

Do you ever get discombobulated when your plans get changed by outside influences? I was planning on going to a library and an historic church this week to plein air paint - For those of you who don’t know, plein air painting is painting outside. Some painters use it as a study, others spend longer outside and finish before the sun moves too far - I have done both but lately I’ve been using the plein air paintings as studies. I have already painted four local libraries and the Lockhart library. This week I was going to visit St. Marks Church downtown and Cody Library Branch but got sidetracked by weather.

Monday I woke up to dark clouds but it never rained. We were supposed to get thunderstorms all week but so far it’s been dry. Monday evening I watched a band of thunderstorms on the doppler for hours. They were heading straight for San Antonio but moving at a snails pace. I was nervous because a few years ago we got hit with a thunderstorm and it took down a tree limb in my back yard that landed on my car. Ever since then I’ve had some weather PTSD. Anyways, Monday it looked like we were going to get slaughtered but as this band approached San Antonio the red and yellow cells just…separated. It was crazy. The thunderstorm split in half and went around the city. It looked like 1604 on the north and south sides of the city got drenched and we got nothing here in central SA.

Needless to say I have been a little disorganized all week. I just feel like there’s something I’m supposed to be doing but I’m forgetting. Maybe that’s part of deprivation mentality. I wish I didn’t feel so much pressure to get things done and be productive. I like being active but I don’t like feeling like there’s some looming deadline that I’m not prepared for. My plan is to exhibit my library paintings next April, which would give me plenty of time to paint them (29), but tell that to my inner critic.

One of the things I love about being a self-employed, full-time artist is being able to set my own schedule. I can drive to Lockhart on a Tuesday and I can drive downtown on a Monday. What I’m learning about being a full-time artist is that there’s a lot of things I need to mentally let go of. Money for instance - comes when it comes and doesn’t when it doesn’t. I’ve had a regular income for the past 20 years so it’s been hard to adjust to the ‘feast or famine’ income. I am practicing trust and faith that I will be ok, that the Universe has my back, and that there’s enough to go around. I am highly aware of deprivation and the deprivation mentality. Today I have enough and that’s all I’m going to worry about today.

Work In Progress

I finished my painting of Tobin Branch Library today. It seems like it could go on and on forever, but I think that’s just me understanding that I am not as good as I will get. Perhaps my next painting will be far better than this one, or perhaps just a tiny bit better. Either way, I am a work in progress. I know it’s a cliche, but if life is a journey there is no ending. There is no completion or graduation. When I’m ‘finishing’ a painting I’m aware on a deeper level that it could be better. I don’t see that as failure, as not working hard enough or smart enough. I just see it as my deeper self knowing that this journey continues. I started painting 16 years ago and I will hopefully keep painting another 16, 20, 30 years. Maybe longer. Who knows where I’ll be in the future, but I imagine I will still be feeling as if my ‘finished’ painting could be better.

I would love to continue that as a discussion if anyone is interested. It comes from a spiritual belief/teaching that we never get it done, that we are always evolving beings. I remember my first new car. It was a 2001 VW Jetta. It was silver with black leather interior. Manual transmission. It was awesome. I had just finished my degree and I felt on top pf the world. But pretty soon the high wore off. I continued to love that car, but it became a tool to get from A to B and it was a responsibility that needed constant maintenance and upkeep, like all cars do if you want them to last. Even joy wears off.

It’s taken me a long time to accept that. As a young adult I wanted to find that plateau. I was convinced that I was working hard to get to a place where I could rest and spend the rest of my life just enjoying the ‘fruits of my labor’. I think I was highly misguided. I had misinterpreted what I’d been told. Now when I feel the need for finality or completion I remind myself that it’s not supposed to ever get done. We are supposed to feel satisfied and then move on to the next goal, dream, or desire.

I try to spend time drawing each day. I’ve always known that this was an important tool for painters but it wasn’t until recently that I actually started to take it seriously. I try not to get bogged down in whether it’s a ‘good’ drawing or not. I try to just practice hand-eye-coordination and then let it go. Before, I felt self conscious about my sketch books. What if people look at them (in the future when I’m dead and famous;)) and they think my sketches are terrible and so I must have been a subpar artist? It’s amazing the things I will avoid doing in life because of the stories I make up about what others will think or say. I will add that in the past I would never have admitted to these stories. How embarrassing that I would be so insecure and codependent.

So, today I have crossed off another step in my goal of painting local libraries. It feels like a satisfying albeit small accomplishment (there are 30 branches), but in keeping with what just flowed out of me in this blog I am one step closer to where I want to get, and that feels good. I am currently reading Library: An Unquiet History by Matthew Battles. I am learning more about the history of libraries and will share more as I get further into the book. I can see why our founding fathers were impressed with ancient Greece. Libraries, and those responsible for their care, have passed on so much knowledge through the millennia, despite the fires, floods, and pillaging. I hope that the passing on of knowledge will continue for another millennia.

Positive Podcasts

Lately I’ve been listening to podcasts while I paint. Today I listened to Ten Percent Happier in which a woman talked about her research on hope. Not surprisingly it was a very positive interview which raised my spirits. I would like to be a more positive person, someone who looks to the future with hope and optimism. It seems a lot less stressful than always being concerned or doubtful, which are just ways I cover up feeling afraid and unworthy. I think I’ll check out this woman’s book [The Science of Hope by Jaqueline Mattis].

I was working again on my painting of Tobin Branch Library at Oakwell. It’s coming along nicely and may be finished after another day or so. Last week when I was researching libraries it got me thinking about the longevity of libraries. I know in ancient times libraries were where people went for information, but with the internet will libraries become obsolete? A quick Google search (lol) revealed that libraries are more popular than ever. Apparently the internet doesn’t know everything. [Britannica]

That puts me at ease. I’m not the only one who loves to peruse the stacks looking for one book hoping to find more, even better books. I still love the feel of a book, the smell of the paper, the weight of it on my lap. It’s easy to tell where my bookmark is, how far I’ve come and how far I have to go. I know you can also get digital books at libraries, libraries aren’t synonymous with outdated and old-school, but I just love books. I enjoy the occasional audio book, but there’s nothing like something I can sit down with and not have a light flashing in my face or a player I need to rewind or search for a lost place on.

My plan is to go plein air painting Monday but the weather’s not looking too hot. I don’t mind overcast but I’m not so hardcore that I’ll paint in the rain (yet). I’m sure I’ll get there eventually but with my library series I assumed I would paint these buildings when the sun’s out. I guess I could reconsider this. Not every painting has to be perfect looking. A lot of the library branches near me are under construction, which I’m guessing is a good thing. It sounds like the city is making improvements. I will maybe check out Cody library or Forest Hills. We’ll see. 

I also want to get started on my other series of historic churches. There’s a really pretty one downtown called St. Marks. That might be my next outing. I haven’t said much about this series yet, but although I’m not religious, I’m fascinated with old churches and their steeples and stained glass. I’m curious why churches chose these design elements and why things changed. New churches look like malls or stadiums rather than spaces that were artfully designed and crafted. I guess that’s true about a lot of modern buildings. 

I found a book on the history of libraries and put it on hold. I’m going to do some more research and report back. Stay tuned.

Tobin at Oakwell

I worked on a painting of Tobin Branch Library today. It’s a brick building. If you’re a 2-D artist you know what it’s like to paint a brick building. Do I add the detail? Allude to it? Leave it out all together? I decided to add the detail. So far I’m happy with it. It’s time consuming but satisfying. 

I listened to a podcast while I was working called Homies of Lit. Two guys talking about literature. It was an old interview of Sandra Cisneros where they discussed channeling rage into art. I love hearing positive messages and these guys are positive. I think it is a struggle to figure out how to deal with all the negative emotions we experience - frustration, disappointment, rejection, abandonment, and trauma - without needlessly adding to our pain. I too would like to be a productive artist, not just productive as in making a large body of work, but productive as in using my emotional life in a positive way. That’s why I’m painting libraries and writing this blog. I want to celebrate something that has helped me deal with life’s trials and tribulations in a constructive way. 

I moved to San Antonio in 1998. I went to the Fiesta Arts Fair at the Southwest School of Art and Craft (now Southwest School of Art (soon to be part of UTSA)) and I walked over to the recently built Central Library. It’s a pretty incredible building. I plan on painting it and will tell you all about it when I do so, but for now I want to share how my personal story with the library started. 

I spent a lot of time in the library in school when I was growing up, and I enjoyed reading, but as a young adult out of school I was buying books from Borders and they were beginning to pile up. I’d always thought that having a big home-library was romantic and a sign of status and I wanted one, but when I had my first apartment I soon realized that they take up a lot space and collect a lot of dust. So, impressed by our beautiful library I decided to get a library card.

I lived a fifteen minute drive from the Central Library, so every three weeks I would drive my 1973 BMW 2002 down Broadway Street, cruise into the parking garage and peruse the library for a few hours. I would look up books and authors I was interested in, write down the call numbers and go search the stacks. This would take most of the day, which suited me just fine. Sometimes I found books better than the ones I had set out in search of. 

This was when I started to devour books. At the time I was interested in self-help - Judith Orloff, Marianne Williamson, John Bradshaw, Harriette Lerner. I would also grab non-fiction books about spirituality and personal growth, biographies. I wouldn’t always finish every book, sometimes I just flipped through and grabbed nuggets of interest, but the library was full of books of interest and relevance and that was exciting. Plus, no pile-up of books all over my apartment. Eventually I got tired of the romance of collecting books. I knew on some level I was doing it to impress others, thinking they would come over and see my huge book shelf and think highly of me. Being able to go to the library and check out a book, even if I wasn’t sure I really wanted it, felt like freedom and permission, two things I really longed for.

I believe that because of these books, because of the freedom to devour them guilt free, I was able to learn a lot about myself, about how to manage my emotions, how to mature. At the time I identified as an artist and wanted to be successful, and I knew that artistic expression was a form of channeling, of expressing myself, and what better way to do that than to know who this person is that’s being expressed? Books have helped me learn to deal with life’s trials and tribulations and be a productive artist, and for that I am grateful - to writers and to libraries for providing me with what those writers put out there.