Making masks on a Sunday afternoon.
What could be better? Nothing.

This Sunday, I was happy to do another “Unmask Yourself” workshop. As I told the class, the latin word for mask is persona. And so, you can see that you wear a mask every day, it’s called your personality.

The idea for the class, to unmask yourself, really means to go with your gut. Pick colors, words or phrases, beads, feathers whatever feels right, today. To stretch yourself playfully beyond what you might think is you.

My class dove right in with gusto. They glued layers of papers, words, phrases and pictures layered it all with sparkly glazes, paints, beads and feathers.

I think the pictures speak for themselves. All in all, we had a great time.

('The Red Fairy' Mask)

Masks: Why do I love them?

I love making masks. I’ve made masks out of paper, plaster, felt, clay, copper, brass, aluminum and screening. I’ve made masks of cats, dogs and frogs, wolves and polar bears, birds and bugs. The sun and the moon. A dragon, phoenix, and thunderbird. It doesn’t matter to me what kind of mask I make, it’s always a fascinating process.

Why do I love masks? I’m not sure. All I know is that making a mask is like searching for an answer to a question I don’t even know I have. It’s relaxing. It’s playful and joyful, mysterious and magical. Its peaceful solitude and energizing connection all at the same time.

Maybe I don’t have to know why. I can just love making masks. Period.

Rubber bands & Paper clips:
A message from the Universe.

Walking my dog into the park last week, I looked down and there on the path was a bright shiny, silver paper clip. Not a big deal, right? To me, it was a message.

Oh, I know, it sounds a little crazy, but let me fill in the blanks for you.

About ten years ago, I was taking drawing classes in which I produced stacks of newsprint drawings. The only way to store class assignments was to roll them up and wrap a rubber band around them. I went through a lot of rubber bands. And, worrier that I was, I began to worry about a running out of rubber bands.

I was worrying about this one morning as I was walking my dog in the park. I looked down and there on the path right in front of me was a bright red rubber band. I didn’t think much about it and kept on worrying and walking. There, on the path, was another bright rubber band. I began to wonder but again kept walking. When I saw the third rubber band, I stopped. I bent and picked up the rubber band, then turning; I went back and picked up the other two I’d seen on the path. Then I laughed and gave a nod to the Universe for the lesson learned. Stop worrying about not having enough, what you need will come your way.

I always remembered that day because it was a turning point for me in many ways. I was daring to learn to draw, something I had wanted to do for a very long time. I was a mother of young children, volunteering at their schools, going to my classes in the evenings, doing my homework while they were at school and dog sitting to pay for my classes. I’d always been a worrier, but as I moved through my classes and into my own art, I began to change some of my old patterns.

Now, I make, show and sell my art as well as writing and teaching. If you’ve read any of my recent blogs, you know that this last year has brought many unexpected changes in my life. Endings have come in many forms, deaths and jobs to name a few. I know the economy has brought these changes to many of you as well. It’s been scary. And some of my old thinking patterns have crept back into my life.

A few weeks ago, I was filing papers and needed paperclips. For years, I’ve had hundreds of the little silver clips, so there always seemed to be more than enough. But this day, I couldn’t find any, anywhere. The drawer that was always full of paperclips was empty. Ah, yes. I began to worry about paper clips.

So, the other morning walking my dog into the park, I looked down and there on the path in front of me was a bright, shiny, silver paper clip. I smiled. I nodded and gave thanks to the Universe for the reminder. I will always find what I need, when I need it.

Abundance is right there, on my path, whether it’s rubber bands or paperclips, all I have to do is stop worrying and keep walking.

Making art:
Where does it come from?

Sometimes I don’t have a clue. Strike that…many times I now realize, I don’t have a clue. I pull out the clay or copper or aluminum mesh. I push. I pull. I paint. I write. Then it goes out into the world in some form or another, a gallery show, a commission, or a play. Sometimes it sells and sometimes it might be displayed in my home or stored in a closet.

One piece I created about 9 years ago features a copper mask/face on the front layered with oil paint mounted in a black wooden box. The box opens to reveal a copper repoussé of a woman in a cloak, her arms raised with a sun on her right and a moon on her left, waves indicating water are below her and the tree of life forms a border around her. On the left side of the box is a copper piece inscribed with the words, “From fire to water to life.”

I was compelled to create this piece, but always had a deep discomfort with it. The mask/face on the front scared me, but I loved the goddess repoussé on the inside. The kite shaped black wooden box, made by my husband, was beautiful. But after I showed it, I was happy to put it in the closet. There it stayed for many years.

Last year, as I was setting up for Portland Open Studios, my husband pulled it out of the closet. I didn’t really want to put it out but he insisted. So I reluctantly hung it up on a wall for display intending to take it down when the tour was over. But something funny happened along the way, I realized what this piece was all about and made my peace with it.

This piece is about my Dad.

My Dad had glaucoma and was forced to retire, when the large automobile corporation discovered his disability. His anger and grief led him in a downward health spiral. After he died, I created this piece. The ‘kite’ shape is actually a coffin, it even opens up like a coffin with hinges on the side and inside, the poem I wrote and the repoussé are all about freeing him from his pain and letting go.

Seems obvious, doesn’t it? But I didn’t get it. And if my husband hadn’t insisted that I take it out of the closet and hang it up where I had to look at it for two weeks, I’d never have figured it out. As artists, writers, musicians or anyone who creates, the why is always a big question. Sometimes, we know. Sometimes, we don’t.

For the past year, I’ve been doing interviews and podcasts with artists and writers. What I’ve learned is that the drive to create is fueled in many different ways and that some artists do know where that fuel comes from, and some don’t. But sometimes, if we’re lucky, like I was, you get to figure it out. Patrick carves wooden sculptures based on his desire for stillness. Kelly paints her memories of landscapes. Nicky sculpts and welds her way back from cancer to health.

You can hear these podcasts at www.voicesoflivingcreatively.com or read the articles on my other blog at http://voicesoflivingcreatively.blogspot.com

These podcasts will give you the opportunity to hear these artists personally explain their work. Their stories are unique and inspiring and these interviews give you chance to understand where their art comes from.

Heaven on a hot day:
Homemade Blueberry Cobbler

I love blueberry season. Not just because blueberries are luscious, of course, but because I love to bake. Yes, it's my little secret. Not very feminist of me, I know, but domestic as it is, baking is one of my joys in life. Perhaps, it's time to come out of the closet, so to speak.

Ever since my Grandmother Gallacher taught me to make her scones, I've been hooked on baking. I became the family cookie maker and when my children were little, I developed dozens of muffin recipes for their snacks. True to my creative side, I'm always coming up with new recipes or modifying old ones, and although I do have a library of cookbooks, I rarely follow these recipes. I use them as concepts or guidelines or a jumping off point to something I'd like to bake. Although, I love my Grandmother's traditional scone recipe, I've made my own creations based on it such as Poppyseed Lemon Scones, Chocolate Raspberry and Maple Oatmeal to name a few. I'm not sure she'd be happy with me about that, but oh well.

Today's piece of heaven is a blueberry cobbler that I baked using a filling of fresh, local blueberries, sugar, tapioca and lemon juice topped with a variation of my Grandmother's scone recipe. Serve it warm or on a day like today, cold with a generous dollop of yogurt. Yum!


It's a little slice of heaven on a day when it's already 99 degrees outside and it's only 1pm. This is not my kind of summer day, which is why I live in Portland, Oregon, to be able to have moderate summer weather with highs in the mid 80's to low 90's. But, Mother Nature has her own ideas.

So I'm glad that the other day, I had the idea to bake this cobbler and today I get to enjoy it! It's delicious coolness of such a hot day.

Art & Labor & The Labor of Art Show:
How what we do, influences our art.

I entered one of my sculptural boxes, “Zara, a woman from Niger” in a local show called, ‘Art & Labor and The Labor of Art’. This piece, one of a series of three, started with the face of a Nigerian woman. As I worked on her face in clay, I started wonder: what is her life like? What does she do to sustain herself and her family? How does she dress? Who shares her life?
This piece became a series of three, depicting the faces, textiles, landscapes and lives of women from Niger, India and Japan. I researched their countries, lifestyles, work and history. I read books about their countries, searched National Geographic articles and found travel books for photos of the country’s landscapes.

With this information, their stories emerged.

‘Zara, a woman from Niger’ begins her day by the fire warming herself in the cold desert morning. Her husband is away on a caravan in search of salt, a prized commodity in this desert country. ‘Sartha, a woman from India’ wakes at dawn to go out into the crocus fields to carefully pick the stamens which become the highly prized spice, saffron. ‘Meiko, a woman from Japan’ farms her small plot on the island of Hokkaido. She is an Annui, the indigenous people of Japan once exiled on the island by the Japanese government.

On the outside of each box is a copper repousse’ illustrating some aspect of their daily life. Inside the door is a short written piece about their daily life. Mounted inside the box, the clay faces are adorned with ethnic jewelry, textiles and tattoos. The background behind the faces depicts their native landscapes.

I’m thrilled that all three ‘Ethnic Portrait’ series boxes were accepted into the show. Art & Labor, the Labor of Art exhibit focuses on the issues of labor, making ends meet and the effects of economy on family and society. As well as the relationship between the arts and labor movements and the reality that human toil is the foundation of creativity.

I’m honored to be one of many wonderful national, regional and local artists in this show curated by Lora R. Fisher, such as Gwenn Seemel, Mitch Baird, Christopher B. Mooney, Celeste Bergin, Allen Schmertzler, Patricia Gifford, Susan B. Schenk, Anthony Lazorko, Jr. and Sarah Hauser. If you’re in Portland, Oregon, you can see the show at the Olympic Mills Gallery, 107 S.E. Washington Street, through August 30, 2009.

To see all three ‘Ethnic Portrait’ sculptural boxes, visit my website, Susan Gallacher-Turner Sculpture

A visit with author, Janet Riehl

Sightlines: A Family Love Story in Poetry & Music


Janet and I met over the internet while doing a blogtour for author, Eric Maisel. I visited her blog. She visited mine. And a blog friendship was born. We’ve supported each other often, commenting on new events in our lives both good and bad. Today, I’m so happy to have her visit my blog as part of her own blogtour for her new audio book, ‘Sightlines: A Family Love Story in Poetry & Music’.

Janet’s coming to Art & Words from Janet Muirhead Hill’s blog. You can see the complete calendar for Janet’s blogtour

The audio book, ‘Sightlines, A Poet’s Diary’ is a weaving together of the lives of six generations featuring Janet and her father reading poems, telling stories, singing and playing music that brings us all back to the true meaning of family.

Welcome, Janet. I’m so glad you’re here to visit, so let’s chat.

Susan: When you began commuting from California to your family’s home in the Midwest after your sister’s tragic death, what was your creative life like in Lake County in Northern California?
Janet: I’d moved up to Lake County in 1998 to continue my life as a working artist by living less expensively after living in the Bay Area for about a dozen years. By the time I moved back to the Midwest, I’d spent around 22 years in California. That wasn’t part of my life plan, it just worked out that way.
In the Bay Area, in 1990, the art came in for me. I painted large scale banners on cloth and had my first solo show 9 months later. I belonged to a story telling troupe led by Luisah Teish—Storyteller, Yoruba Priestess, Writer, Director, Teacher and Performer. I wrote my own stories, preformed them, and used the banners I’d painted as the backdrops and props. I began a stream of creative writing in addition to the stories I performed.
When I moved up North to Lake County—a sparsely populated, breathtakingly beautiful, poor, rural locale—I made my mission to promote arts and culture within the county. I did that in every media possible: writing, visual art, and performance.
As a writer I sponsored poetry readings and a monthly writing circle. I was twice nominated Poet Laureate of Lake County…a surprisingly hotly contested position.
As a visual artist I mounted outdoor celebrations-performances-installations in both state parks in the county. I was given a grant from UC/Davis to be bio-regional artist in residence the year of my “Water Ceremonies” work. I showed throughout California and engaged in mail art internationally.
As a performer I appeared twice in The Vagina Monologues and several local theater productions. For three years running my sweetheart and I produced a comedy variety review show called “Comedy on Tilt.”
Plus, I supported much of this community arts work through substitute teaching all around the lake, running a family literacy program, and teaching art class for children.
In other words, in many ways, my life was not unlike the lives of most practicing artists: I did what I could, when I could, as well as I could.

Susan: How did you keep it going during these years between 2004 when your sister died, through your mother’s death in 2006, to the time you moved back in 2007?
Janet: I had to scale back. I’d be in Illinois for six weeks and then back in Lake County for three weeks. This schedule lasted for years. What I loved about writing “Sightlines: A Poet’s Diary” was that it was portable. I could write while caring for my mother and supporting my father. All the information I needed I carried on my thumb drive. The book was something I could shape and control and own—at a time when the wheelbarrow of my life had completely tipped over.

Susan: Did you do more visual art before your sister’s death in 2004?
Janet: For 17 years I kept my visual art practice going: 1) from 1990 when the art came in… 2) through 1996 when I graduated with high distinction from the California College of Arts and Crafts in Oakland as a clay sculptor… 3) and on up to the time of my definitive move to the Midwest in 2007.
My studio, Rocking Triangle Studio, was active in producing work and projects in many media. I continued to contribute to the visual art world of Lake County after Julia’s death in 2004. I joined the board of EcoArts of Lake County during that time.
My method was to rotate between writing, visual art, and performance, in terms of where my energy was focused during any given period.
As I prepared for my move in 2007, trying to figure out what to pack, I decided that I would close my studio. I gave away much of the art I’d created and my art materials. I took some materials to my father’s house just to play with myself and with my great-nieces.

Susan: Writing is now your main art form?
Janet: I decided that I needed to make my life simpler by focusing on one discipline. I decided that would be writing.

Susan: Do you see the story poem becoming an ongoing form for you?
Janet: My main form of writing is memoir. The first book came out as the story poems. The memoir I’m currently writing “Finding My African Heart: A Village of Stories” is solely in prose.

Susan: In your new audio book, Sightlines: A Family Love Story in Poetry and Music [hotlink to CD Baby], you combined your love of words with music. How did that come about?
Janet: When we were kids we always sang in the car. The great love of my father’s life is the music of his boyhood and young manhood. He’s an excellent musician, performer, and composer. But, for him, it’s all about the music.
I’d used music in my talks as I traveled sharing “Sightlines: A Poet’s Diary.” In Illinois, my father performed with me several times during these talks. I’m a musician myself.
Shaping the audio book into interweavings of poems, songs, family stories, and the banter of our recording session in Pop’s parlor naturally provided a fuller context.

Susan: You’ve talked about quilting as an important part of your family history, how have you carried on the tradition of quilting?
Janet: I’ll never be a quilter as my great aunties were or as my mother was. I’m not adept at fine stitches, for instance. My sister and I embroidered on a flower quilt in the car on our family vacations. My stitches, as a 6-year younger sister, were always so sprawling compared to hers.

In Ghana I pieced a quilt top from the hand-woven strip cloth made in the North. When I came back to the States in the late 1970s, Mother worked with me to complete this to bed-size, pad it, line it, and tuft it as we did her comforters.

I’d collected marvelous Maridadi silk screen prints from Kenya. (Maridadi is Swahili for anything beautiful, tasteful, or pleasing to the eye.) Mother worked with me in the same way to make a doublebed quilt top and take it all the way to a full-fledged comforter.

After 911, I made a Peace Quilt out of paper towels which carried the words to my poem “What I Want to Say about War” against a back drop of black trash bags…embellished by other media.

The quilting instinct is the desire to bring together fragments into one object of beauty and meaning. I do that through collaging in a variety of media. “Sightlines: A Family Love Story in Poetry and Music” is, essentially, collaged from pieces of sound that tell stories in words or music.

Susan: How has sharing your feelings, music, and poetry helped you through this tragedy and brought you closer to your community?
Janet: In some ways, this has happened by bringing the community closer to me. I was able to create a far-flung community of people who don’t know each other and have never met who have found the two projects in The Sightlines Collection—book and audio book—helpful to them. This gave our experience a sense of meaning and purpose.
There are even some readers who go back to read “Sightlines: A Poet’s Diary” once a year since it’s come out. That’s an astonishing outreach for an individually produced project.

Thank you for stopping by on your busy blogtour, today. The next stop on Janet’s tour is with another Janet. You can hear her on Janet Elaine-Smith’s internet radio show, “Marketing for Fun and Profit on PIVR(Passionate Internet Voices Radio)
To win a free audio book view and comment on the featured video of the week on the top post at www.riehlife.com. Janet will use a random numbers generator to choose a winning comment.

Telling Tales:
Art & Story time for the kid in all of us.

Tearing out pictures. Making up words. Putting them together to create a story. Then telling the tale to others. Giving people a chance to work with words and pictures in a fun, easy, free-form way was the idea behind the workshop, ‘Telling Tales’.

This storytelling, mixed media workshop, brought people together to work on both a group story, and their own individual story. This mini-workshop was given in conjunction with the Subject/Object show at The Kingstad Gallery. In the short time span, I didn’t expect anyone to have a finished product, but a jump start their creative juices and inspire them to create in a new way using words, pictures, paint and glue.

Here’s what one artist, Carolyn Rondthaler, started in the workshop and finished in her studio. This is a mixed media accordion book, using magazine images, words, paint, glue, glazes and more. I love the natural flow of images and words that Carolyn uses to tell her tale.

To see the complete book, you can view the slide show at http://picasaweb.google.com/carolynrondthaler/StoryBook?feat=email#slideshow/5350302171945798482

Sculpting a living in spite of fear.
A podcast interview with sculptor, Patrick Gracewood.

(Garden sculpture by Patrick Gracewood)

Last week, I wrote about fear and creating. I asked you to share your stories about how you deal with fear. I’m going to collect the comments and stories in another blog, so keep those comments coming. I know I learn so much by talking with other creative people out there.

This week, I’d like to share what I learned talking with Portland, Oregon sculptor, Patrick Gracewood for a podcast on Voices of Living Creatively. One thing I learned is that fear goes with the territory in a creative life and it doesn’t mean you stop or give up. “Art has saved my life many times; I give my life to art,” says Patrick. “It takes a big commitment.”

This dedication comes from a simple philosophy: if it’s sculpture, he’ll do it.

Patrick is living a creative life and making a living combining his own studio work with commercial sculpture work. His studio work ranges from large concrete garden sculptures to small, hand-carved wooden figures. The commercial sculpture work has included working for such diverse businesses as a mannequin company, a wax works, landscape and architectural design firms, and film companies such as CBS and Universal. He’s worked on the films “Legend” and “Legal Eagles”, fountains, facades and column capitals for casinos, a portrait of guitarist, Jimmy Hendrix for a Seattle high school and an enormous dragon for Wynn Casino in China.

As with all kinds of freelance work, the jobs come and go. Patrick agrees that’s scary but he’s found a way to deal with the fear and keep creating. You can hear more by listening to the podcast at http://www.voicesoflivingcreatively.com/

Listen and let us all know how your art saves your life in spite of your fears. If you or anyone you know is living a creative life, let your voice be heard. Set up an interview and podcast for your website or blog by contacting me at http://www.voicesoflivingcreatively.com/

Fear and Art: How to be fearful and creative.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes, fear swoops into my mind, my studio, my life and knocks me off my feet. I don’t like it. Not one bit.

What do I do? I get out my boxing gloves and try to beat it into submission. The only problem with that is, I wind up beating myself up and I’m tired of the bruises. Or I run, as fast as I can, trying to get away. I get busy, busy, busy with email, chores around the house, running errands. The problem with that is, the fear follows me anyway.

What I’ve come to find out is that fear and creativity seem to go hand in hand. I’m not the only one who feels the terror of the creative life and what’s even weirder is that it doesn’t seem to matter if you’ve just had a success or a failure with your art. The fear is there anyway. Add this ridiculous economic roller coaster ride we’ve all been on lately and no wonder many of us feel the need to put our heads between our knees.

Ok, so what can I do about it? I know I don’t want to feel this way anymore…maybe I can’t eliminate fear entirely, but surely, there’s a better way. So I went in search of answers although there are many out there, I wanted to ask the people in the trenches, artists and writers how they deal with the fear. This is what I found out.

My friend, Patrick, says when the terror gets him, he goes out into his garden and sits for a while. When his heart rate slows down, he goes back into the studio and works. My writer friend, Susan, uses acceptance to pull her through the fear and back onto the page. Laurel takes a walk in the park. Janice goes out and works in her garden. Michael feels the fear and moves on.

I moved on, too. This week, when my life felt like a ride on Space Mountain, I went into the studio anyway. I got out the clay and pushed it around for awhile. Then I cut out a piece of screening and pushed it around, too. I layered yellow, ochre, white and black on my owl and lion masks. Today, I cut and rolled aluminum into lilies and leaves. Even though there was music playing, it was quiet and peaceful. The 'fear' roller coaster ride stopped. Finally.

I didn’t have to fight or flee. I just had to show up, get out my clay, metal and paint. How simple is that? The way out of my fear is to create.

How do you deal with your fear? Leave a comment, so we can all help each other.

I saw this on youtube. Author, Elizabeth Gilbert, talks about anxiety and “A different way to think about creative genius.” It helped me. Give it a listen and let me know if it helps you.

http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html

How do you live a creative life and make a living?


For years, I’ve been lucky to have been supported by my husband’s income and free to explore my art, show my work, teach classes and write. The economy has changed that for us.

I’ve made some money over the years. But now, my creative life needs to make a living. How do I do that?

The answer: a new website and a new series of interviews with people who live creative lives around their passions and make a living. The website is http://voicesoflivingcreatively.web.officelive.com/


The first interview features, The Weitzers, a couple from Portland, Oregon, who make a living through their passions for a healthy life. They run a variety of home-based businesses but each one started out as a personal passion. They’re an inspiration.

I know I need to hear these stories. I don’t want fear to derail me from my passions, that’s why I decided to seek out others who have been living a creative life and making a living from it. I wanted to pass that inspiration and information onto you, too.

We all need to know that it is possible to live a creative life, a life doing what you love and paying your bills. Check it out. Let me know what you think. And if you or someone you know is making a living from their creative passions, and would like to be interviewed, let me know.

Listen to the interview on iTunes at http://ax.itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/browserRedirect?url=itms%253A%252F%252Fax.itunes.apple.com%252FWebObjects%252FMZStore.woa%252Fwa%252FviewPodcast%253Fid%253D319569665
Or read the first interview in the ‘Living a Creative Life’ at http://voicesoflivingcreatively.web.officelive.com/

A wonderful class:
Creating Muse Wands.


Creating is a magical process. It’s even more magical when I get to share the process. Last Saturday, on a sunny afternoon, I taught a class through Portland Community College called, ‘Muse Wands’.

After introductions all around, I set out the supplies and did a short demonstration of how to do copper repoussé. Then the students dove into designing and creating their own personal ‘Muse Wands’.

These remarkable women created unique pieces: a copper angel with healing stones, a sun/moon face with blue, green and white beads, a butterfly covered in leaves and a homage to earth, water, air and fire. I’m so glad that one of the students sent me these pictures of her finished ‘Muse Wand’.

What a magical, creative afternoon!

Puppy Love

A soft, fluffy, furry, warm nosed puppy snuffling up to your neck is one of my ideas of heaven on earth. There’s just nothing like the sweet smell of puppy breath and little wet kisses to make you feel loved. I guess they don’t call it puppy love for nothing.

I’ve helped with my friends with several litters of puppies over the years, but this time, I just get to be a puppy love visitor. Whether I get to pat, cuddle or just admire their cute little faces, it’s warm and wonderful and refreshing, just to be around these cute bundles of romping energy.

These five adorable puppies are in the loving hands of two dedicated foster care volunteers for the Oregon Humane Society. The Mommy was taken from a farm near Burns, Oregon along with over 120 other dogs. When she came to their home, she was matted, underweight and pregnant. But her eyes were soft, sweet and hopeful.

Soon, she gave birth to five healthy puppies obviously from several different fathers. There are two black and white and a tan that look like mom, one lab-like black one and one black, white and tan pup that looks like Burmese mountain dog. Whatever their parentage, they are healthy bundles of energy.

Next week, they get spayed and neutered and then, they’ll be ready for adoption. At eight weeks, they’re the perfect age to add to your family. Take a look at these pictures and see if there’s a place in your heart and home for a little puppy love.

Mom will be looking for a new home, too. But she needs a little puppy recovery time, gaining some weight and getting spayed before she’s ready for a new home. I have to say, she’s come a long way from a shy, worried girl to warm, curious and sweet dog. I know she’ll be a wonderful friend and companion, too.

If you’re interested in one of these cute pups or lovely mama dog, you can check out the Oregon Humane Society website at http://www.oregonhumane.org/

Life & The Art of Collaboration.

If you’d asked me last week if I did much collaborating, I’d say no. As a studio artist, I work alone in my studio and I wouldn’t call the clay, metal or paint collaborators. As a writer, I write alone on my laptop and even though I do interviews and articles, I would say it was more like collecting information than collaborating. As a teacher, although I’m working with students, I wouldn’t have called it collaborating. But I’d be wrong.

This week, I went to the Oregon Arts Summit, a gathering of businesses, artists, educators and arts organizations. The theme of the meeting was, ‘The Art of Collaboration’.

After the summit, I realize I collaborate all the time. I just didn’t know it. I can see that I had a very narrow view of collaborating. In my view, collaborating would involve two or more people sitting down and working on a single project.

According to jazz saxophone player and speaker, Mike Phillips, “Collaboration begins with a relationship between you and your gift.”

Although my studio work looks like a solitary activity, I realize now, that isn’t true. When I sit outside, watch the birds fly, see faces in the leaves on the trees and use the spirit of nature in my copper repousse’, clay or metal mesh, I’ve collaborated from within myself and with my environment.

Of course, teaching a group of students is, indeed, an act of collaboration. I may come in with a basic idea for the class, but the way the class flows and grows is all about getting over fear, learning to trust and working toward an art piece together.


My writing is, also, a collaboration. In an interview situation, especially, the person and I have to trust each other enough to share information. I may be asking the questions, but the depth of the answers depend on the person’s willingness to open up about their life, work and process.

According to writer, Barry Lopez, “We gave up community in order to get the individual. We need to rediscover what it means to be community oriented.”

For many years, I longed to belong to a community of artists. Joining Portland Open Studios has given me that opportunity. But collaborating can be tricky. A few weeks ago, another artist asked me to collaborate with her and although I could see the benefit for both of us, I was concerned. I worried that she just wanted to find out my process, so she could use it to her advantage. So I tiptoed around it and she stopped asking. I can see, now, I was wrong.

Because life is all about collaborating, from the air we breathe, food we eat, work we do and, yes, the art we make. Of course, there’s fear. Especially right now, with the state of the economy but maybe that focus needs to change.

Lopez says, “It’s not about the money. It’s about love. It can be done and the money will turn up.”

If I can do it, so can you. Yes, it takes trust, patience and heart to live a good life in an artful collaboration. But isn’t that what it’s all about?

I think Barry Lopez said it best when he ended the day with this, “Let’s make something beautiful. Whatever you do, try to make it helpful. Show us what we fear and give us the reason to believe we do not need to be afraid.”

(Trimmed area) (Untrimmed area)

(Heron in Lake)





A Walk in the Park:
An occasional series.

After days and days of drenching rain, wind and hail, the sun came out. The park sparkles. Like a freshly polished jewel, the bright yellow green leaves shined in the sun, small white cherry blossoms sprinkled the ground and little ducklings floated behind their mom in the lake.

As Jilly, my yellow lab, and I walked around the lake, I spied a small blue heron fishing by the small island. We stopped and stared at this beautiful bird with its long, graceful neck, curvaceous body and stilt-like legs. Carefully, my husband made his way closer to take these pictures. Why were we being so careful? Because, we haven’t seen herons for awhile at the park. And that’s strange, because we’re used to seeing herons around our lake on a daily basis.

So why the change? Well, I’m not an expert, but I noticed that when the park workers began their forest trimming program to eradicate invasive plants, I stopped seeing the herons.

Take a look at the other pictures, here. Notice the beautiful naturally lush forest? That’s an area that hasn’t been trimmed, yet. Then, see the barren, flat area with the dead branches? That’s just one of the areas that have been cut down by large trimmers and mowers.

Now, they’ve started spraying. Yes. The other day, walking in the park, there was a small sign stating that herbicides were being sprayed on invasive plants, and a warning to stay from any foliage covered with blue dye.

The invasive plants they’re spraying are blackberries. Many a day, I’ve happily picked and enjoyed these plump, juicy berries while walking through the park. What’s nicer than a stroll through the woods, than one where you get free snacks, courtesy of Mother Nature? With nature now covered with herbicides, I won’t be snacking there anymore.

But what’s really bothering me is what they’re doing to the bird’s nesting places. First, trimming the bushes in the forest eliminates nesting for some small birds, snakes and rabbits. Now, they’re cutting down the bushes on the island where the geese and ducks nest. And right now, it’s the middle of nesting season.

Last week, I saw the first set of new goslings. Three sets of protective parents surrounded 12 little goslings as they foraged in the grass. I admire the goose community every year. They work as a tightly knit group parenting their goslings. Together, they protect, nest, birth, feed and teach their goslings. When goose flight school starts, it’s an amazing thing to watch how well organized they are at teaching their goslings to fly.

But how can these parents protect their goslings now? Where are they going to go when their nests are destroyed? How will they know to stay away from the blue-dyed plants covered with herbicides?

Next week, I’m calling the park department. I’m going to give them a piece of my mind. I want my park to be a safe place for everyone, moms and dads with kids, goslings, ducklings and herons, too.

Happy Beltane!

Happy May Day!


Gather ‘round the maypole and dance with me! Let’s celebrate the ancient festival of Beltane.

Beltane is one of four fire festivals in the ancient Celtic calendar. These fire festivals, Samhain, Brigantia, Lugnassadh and Beltane were three day religious festivals marking the changing of the seasons. The party started the day before the festival and lasted until the day after.

Then, Beltane celebrated the start of the ‘light’ half of the year, the blossoming of flowers and budding trees. And in ancient times, men and women coupled beneath the trees in the forest to celebrate the earth’s new flowering.

Here, it’s May Day. A day to dance around the maypole, crown a May Queen and collect flowers to give out to friends. As a child, the day was celebrated in the Catholic church with a special mass. At the end, the eldest girls, wearing fresh flower wreaths in their hair, led everyone outside to place bouquets of flowers beneath the statue of Mary.

I loved it. I was allowed to wear a colored dress instead of my dull navy and green uniform. There were flowers everywhere and, except for Christmas, the only time the church looked beautiful to me.

I still love it. My backyard is full of bright tulips and the heady, sweet fragrance of lilacs. Yesterday, I saw the first group of new little ducklings and goslings in the park. I gathered bouquets of lilacs and crabapple blossoms for the dining table, my bedroom and studio. Here are some blossoms to share with you, pictures from my yard and the park where I walk my dog, Jilly.

I hope you're enjoying spring wherever you are!

Two questions.
One Answer.

(Ball masque: Sun)

If you had all the money you needed and wanted and your health needs met, what would you do differently in your life?

This question came to me last week after a dream. Then later in the week, a colleague of my husband’s died. And the question took on new meaning, giving it even more perspective. Because, let’s face it, death is the end of this journey. With that in mind, I asked myself, the second question.

How do I want to live from now until then?

The answer to both questions is the same. I want to do what I love to do, be with who I love and enjoy it all much, much more.

I’d still want the same house that I have. But I’d appreciate it more. I’d plant more flowers and buy more flowers. I’d let myself sit out on the patio listening to the birds, sipping my coffee, reading and writing. I’d sculpt my clay, wire and copper. I’d paint and patina. I’d write blogs, articles and interviews. I’d want to publish and show my work to share it with others. I’d still want to teach in some form or other, again, to share the delight in being creative. I’d still want to make some money along the way, as a form of validation for work well done.

But I’d do it with ease, grace and flow. Gone would be the fear and guilt that has driven my life so far. If I wanted to buy something, I’d buy it. If I wanted to eat something, I’d eat it. If I wanted to go to a show, I’d go. If I wanted to go to Hawaii or Europe or New York, I’d go.

So with all that on my mind, here’s what I did today. I walked my dog to the park and around the lake with my best friend, and husband. I cleaned my house, with my husband, daughter and son, because I like living in a fresh, uncluttered place. While I dusted away, I thought about writing this piece, what I wanted to say. I had my lunch on the patio listening to birds sing, looking at purple tulips in bloom, tasting the salty ham sandwich and creamy potato salad. I worked on a few of my sculpture pieces, answered email from friends. Then I did some errands, picking up the makings for my favorite spritz and a dozen new flowering plants to fill my patio pots.

If this sounds boring to you, so be it. But to me, it’s been delicious to just live out a normal day with a new sense of ease, grace and enjoyment.

Ask yourself these two questions and see what answers come to you. Then let me know…what would you do or not do?

Now to have the courage to book that flight to Hawaii!

A Dream & A Message.

(Sculpture: Lion 2009)

I woke up from a scary dream last week and felt wonderful. I felt a kind of peace, mixed with a curiosity that I haven’t felt in a long time. And I also knew I was remembering the dream because it had an important message for me. I needed to figure it out.

Here’s the dream.

I was driving my car, making a left turn through an intersection when the gas pedal stuck. The car stalled. There I was in the middle of the intersection, the light about to change, cars about to start coming my way and the gas pedal was still stuck. No matter how hard I pushed or pumped, the gas pedal wouldn’t budge. The car was stopped. I was getting frantic when I realized that I had only one option. Take my foot off the gas. This seemed like an illogical move. How could I move forward if I took my foot off the gas? I pumped the gas pedal some more, the car didn’t move. So, I took my foot off the gas. Immediately, there was a popping sound and the gas pedal was no longer stuck. I knew I could go. Carefully, I lowered my foot, gently pushing down on the peddle and the car moved through the intersection. I made my left turn, continued on my way safe and sound.

Here’s the message.

The gas peddle – my energy – was stuck. I was afraid, but no matter how hard I pushed myself, I was not able to move through the intersection. I was literally at a crossroads – a decision had to be made. There was danger to myself if I didn’t take action and forces outside my control, illustrated by the oncoming cars. And it was clear that continuing to push on the gas was getting me nowhere. So I had to face my fear, and take my foot off the gas. When I did, I was able to drive my car through the intersection, making the left turn that I had wanted to make and continue on my way. Healthy and unharmed.

I’ve been working very hard in the last year. And although, I love working in metal, clay and paint as well as writing and teaching and showing, I’ve been driven by fear. This economic recession has hit home. My husband was laid off. My two ‘children’ are living at home. My art work has made money but it’s been small amounts that were ‘perks’ to our family budget, not necessities.

I didn’t want to give up my art work. It’s a career that I’ve been working on for over a decade now. So, I did the only thing I thought I could and that was make more work, show in more shows, and line up more classes. And I’ve done just that, in the last year, I’ve made over 30 new pieces, shown in over 14 shows, written on more blogs, tried new online networking/marketing sites and lined up over 20 new classes. And I’ve made a little more money. But I’ve had a lot of classes and shows that didn’t make anything. If all the classes had gotten sign ups, I’d be teaching in three different places, 3 to 4 times a week. There was a part of me that realized that this schedule was way too busy.

The dream had a message. Stop. Quit pushing yourself. That the only way to make it safely through the intersection of all these oncoming forces out of my control, was not to be more controlling. But to let go. Take my foot off the gas and allow the pedal to pop up on its own. Then I could move ahead in the direction I want to go.

Letting go. Letting the opportunities pop up, then gently, pushing down on the gas is the way to move ahead safely. Now that’s a wonderful feeling.

Doing what you love can save your life.
Book review: ‘Walking Nature Home’ by Susan Tweit

When many of us are wondering how to make a living during this fearful time, perhaps the answer is to change the question.

What if it isn’t your livelihood that was about to end but your life? If doctors told you had two to five years to live but that although, they didn’t know how to cure the illness, they did know that where patients made major life changes, their health improved dramatically. What would you do or not do? How do you deal with the fear, find your way to love, and a healthy life?

These are the questions that Susan Tweit faced in her early 20’s when she was diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder. As a trained scientist, she took on the research project of saving her own life and shares her journey with us in her new book, “Walking Nature Home.” Her warm and wise memoir has lessons for us all on how love, nature and finding your own creative voice are important for our very survival.

After reading and enjoying, “Walking Nature Home”, I wanted to ask Susan more about how she saved her own life by doing what she loves.


SusanGT: When the doctor told you that it's much more difficult to get well, if you're not happy, how did you find your health and happiness?

Susan Tweit: I had to learn to listen to my body and to my heart and spirit. You'd think we'd just know that--I'm sure we do as children--but as we grow up it seems like we are trained otherwise, or forget how to pay attention to those inner voices. I started by paying attention to what my body was telling me by taking notes on my symptoms: what they were, when they occurred, what I was doing or eating or feeling. It helped that I saw this as research. That somehow gave me permission to pay close attention. After a while, it just became habit. But I still didn't know what made me happy. When I'd ask myself, I was so out of practice at listening to myself that I just drew a blank. So I started paying attention to when I felt good, too, and what I was doing or eating or feeling then. Pretty soon I could actually hear that inner intuitive voice when it spoke to me. As I learned to listen to myself, I learned how to manage my health, and of course, surprise, surprise! I saw positive changes in my life too.

SusanGT: You say that you saw your illness as a teacher, a source of wisdom that you needed to hear, what lessons did you learn?

Susan Tweit: My illness forced me to find those "core values," the things that are most important to me in living a healthy, authentic life, to being myself in a positive way in the world: How to be attentive to myself. How to trust myself. How to articulate my needs in a way that was respectful to me and to others. The importance of living in an open-hearted, generous way, a way that honors all of the lives with whom we share this miraculous planet.

SusanGT: How did your illness help you find your true voice?

Susan Tweit: It gave me permission to listen to myself, to be attentive to what I heard, and to take myself and my needs seriously. It also gave me the impetus to learn who this entity I call "I" is, and what sustains my life--why living matters to me. Once I got in touch with that entity "I," I gradually found my writing voice, the genuine and unique things that the real me has to say, and how to say them in a lyrical and compelling way.

SusanGT: In your book, you talk about how love healed you and how love has been proven to heal others, would you share that story here?

Susan Tweit: I came across one of the most fascinating pieces of research about the healing power of love in Women's Bodies, Women's Wisdom by Christianne Northrup, MD. She tells a story there that I retell in Walking Nature Home: Scientists studying heart and blood vessel disease at Ohio State University bred a group of rabbits to develop both hardening of the arteries and coronary artery disease. The bunnies were then fed a killer high-fat diet, but when they were dissected at the end of the study, researchers were puzzled to discover that a significant group of them showed no trace of coronary artery disease. Finally, the grad student who fed the lab rabbits confessed that at mealtimes, she took these rabbits out of their cages to pet and play with them. Subsequent studies replicated this result: the animals that received loving attention came out clean.

What that says to me (and to others as well) is that love can heal. Being loved, being tended to in a loving way, causes chemical changes in our brains and immune systems that can actually heal our bodies. Studies of the chemicals that transport our emotions from cell to cell explain the mechanisms for that kind of healing, and studies of various sorts on touch in healing, emotions and healing, bear out those conclusions. What it comes down to is that love--not sex, not passion, but steady affection, respect, caring, and support of those who feel warmly toward us, really can help us heal.

That does not say that love will banish every health condition. It didn't make me well. But the love I live with has helped me adapt to my physical challenges, and live a good life with them.

SusanGT: So, if love heals, did you find doing what you love also created healing and health? And what are those 'things'?

Susan Tweit: What I love is writing, speaking, and restoring nature and its community at home in the places where we live. I believe in the power of love--love for my husband and family, love for nature and the community of lives whose interrelationships make this Earth a habitable and inspiring place, and love for life itself. Living in an open-hearted and generous way that respects the lives around me--human and all the others--has restored my life to a rich and rewarding path. I believe that our species has one important talent to contribute to this life and this planet: love. It is our capacity to be compassionate and generous and loving that makes us special, and could well save us. It certainly has given me back my life.

Thank you, Susan, for sharing your story with all of us. The lessons you learned about love could be life-saving lessons for us all.

You can learn more about Susan Tweit and her book, “Walking Nature Home,” by visiting her website at http://susanjtweit.com/ or her blog at http://susanjtweit.typepad.com/walkingnaturehome

And you can participate in a teleseminar with Matilda Butler and Kendra Bonnet, phone 1-712-432-0600, access code #998458, at 5pm Pacific time/8pm East Coast. Here’s the link for you http://womensmemoirs.com/2009/04/author-susan-tweit-provides-insights-and-writing-prompt/#comments

A Walk In The Park:
An occasional series.


To quote poet, ee cummings, “in Just spring when the world is mud-lucious..”

Here, in the Pacific Northwest it couldn’t be more true. Spring arrives here in waves of rain and wind. Some call it liquid sunshine. I call it wet, windy and cold, but it does make everything bright green and mud-luscious with occasional sprinkles of pink snow from blossoming plum trees.

As I walk my dog, Jilly, around the lake, the geese squawk loudly alerting their community to our presence and warning us to keep our distance from their nesting areas. I respect their homes and their beaks. You don’t want to mess with a protective goose, it’s dangerous. One thing that never fails to amaze me is their unity as a goose community. They all watch out for each other while at the same time protecting their own nests. They group together for nightly swims, and once the goslings are hatched, they all take part in protecting, feeding and teaching them. The goose unity always amazes and inspires me to search for such group unity in my own life.

As we head out of the park and through the suburban neighborhood, I notice some daffodils that have popped up one by one through the grass in someone’s front lawn. It’s obvious they weren’t planted there. They just came up from somewhere beneath the sod on their own. The bright yellow trumpets are even more spectacular against the green grass. And the fact that they ‘stand alone’ independent of a flower bed or planter, seems amazing.

It makes me wonder. It fills me with awe. It shows me that life will spring forth out of the unknown to bloom in the most unexpected places.

In these difficult times, when I’m fearful of all the unknowns in life, these little daffodils make a powerful point; that life grows up from the dark soil, through the tough grass and blooms brightly.

That gives me hope to believe that while I might be in the dark about the future, that doesn’t mean growth isn’t happening. As I walk along my path, there’s new life springing forth and blooming. Perhaps, all I have to do is remember to lift up my eyes and see it.

Speaking of learning life lessons from nature, be sure to come back next week and when I visit with author, Susan Tweit, about her wonderful book, "Walking Nature Home."