My First Ever ART-a-Thon!

I like to think I was a derring-do-er.

Like back in the day when I was a single mom, a Festival shop builder, a 'step-out-of-my-comfort-zone-and-rent-a-studio' artist, a 'travel-by-myself-to-England' girl, a 'college-at-age-50' student....

I don't derring-do much anymore. In fact, these days, the derring-do-iest thing I can think of is to sign up for as many straight hours of art and creativity as I can hopefully manage via the RumRiver Art Center's upcoming 62-hour ART-a-Thon event.

When I initially heard about it I thought, "How fun does this sound?? SIGN ME THE HECK UP." And only later did I remember that I like to sleep.

A lot.

No; I mean A LOT. Like if this was the 62-hour Sleep-a-Thon, I'd frippin' WIN it.

So what was I thinking?....

Actually, I was thinking about hanging out with creative people non-stop for an entire Friday-night-to-Monday-morning weekend.

And I was thinking about 'arting' alongside some curious adults and kiddoes who perhaps have never 'arted' before.

And I was thinking: "Hey -- I'm 62, and there are 62 hours in this -- it just sounds like something I'm meant to do."

And -- perhaps most importantly -- I was thinking about what it would be like to be that young woman again, the one with crazy hair and bags under her eyes from staying up all weekend drinking pots of coffee and playing with pencils, instead of the grandma she is now that needs her sleep. (I swear that crazy girl is still inside me somewhere.)

Anyway. I signed up for all 62 hours and am keeping my feathers crossed that I can manage them all without snapping at anyone, locking myself in my studio with a book, or falling asleep headfirst onto my art. Maybe I'll shop for some silly pajamas for the overnight hours. Maybe I'll locate some chocolate-covered coffee beans for extra 'awakeness.' Who knows? But my plan is to do ALL the hours. All the HOURS. All. The. Hours.... (Just typing that made me shiver....)

The ART-a-Thon is open to the public and will be held from 6:00pm Friday, March 15 until 8:00 am Monday, March 18 -- again, that's 62 hours of continuous artmaking! -- and is an event to draw attention to and benefit the RumRiver Art Center (a non-profit that is close to my heart).

As stated in the link above:

'There will be a variety of art activities to participate in throughout the 62 hours, including wheel throwing pottery, drawing, watercolor painting, acrylic painting, hand-built pottery, polymer clay, mosaic art, stained glass, weaving and more! Everyone who comes to the art center can contribute to our three collaborative community art projects that will be put on display at the art center when finished. The projects will be a stained glass mosaic window, an acrylic painting, and a hand weaving. We will also have a canvas that will be painted continuously for the full 62 hours.'

And YOU can help in other ways:

• If you live close and would like to, please visit the RumRiver Art Center during the ART-a-Thon and say hi! Take a tour, check out what the wonder-filled place has to offer, see my personal studio, make some art, help ME make some art! (Go **HERE** to get directions, more info, etc.)
• SPONSOR ME or one of our other artists! (Go **HERE** to sponsor an artist)
• Make a donation. Every little bit helps! The Art Center does so much for the local community.
• Take home a piece of my work. My plan is to create one new art piece every hour I can manage to stay awake and upright! All will be for sale.

This is the first time I've ever participated in an event like this and I'm looking forward to it! I have no idea what to expect. Care to join me? If you can't be there in person, no worries; I plan to live-stream and Tweet my progress!

And in the meantime, I welcome ALL suggestions for how to keep this old young girl awake and working!
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Yesterday's Commute

 My walk to 'work' yesterday was filled with magick....

I witnessed a little mob of starlings in a treetop and enjoyed their crazy, freeform mutterings.

I did not slip on any ice! (Hooray!)

Everyone I passed ignored me completely, even after I said 'hello' (what's up with that??), except for a wizened man (who looked like he was a hundred years old) who stopped me with his toothless smile, pointed at ducks on the river, said, "Aren't they BEAUTIFUL?", grinned and wished me a happy new year, and then shuffled on. (He was a gnome, I'm sure of it.)

There was a man and his dog in the snow, playing with a frisbee, and the dog was having the time of its life.

Leaves, leaves, leaves.

And clouds!

And the sounds of dripping, melting icicles.

And shadows....

And a studio that hasn't seen me for a bit.

And some FaceTime with this faraway grandbug. 

Due to a sudden poor connection partway through our computer visit, my face was frozen on her screen, and it remained so until the end of our conversation. 

As we said our goodbyes I was hesitant to throw her a kiss (as is our custom) because I wasn't sure she'd know when to catch it. And when I told her this, she just laughed and said,

"Oh, Yaya! I will catch anything you throw at me!" 

See? MAGICK.

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Good Question

Last week I stayed with my parents at their house Up North, and at the end of my visit my dad drove me home again. Too late I realized that we'd passed the turn-off to the Rum River Art Center and my little studio, and I said so aloud, adding, "If I'd thought about it sooner, I would've had us go there so I could show it to you." I knew he was in a hurry, so I didn't expect him to turn around and really go there! But it was an enormous pleasure for me to unlock the door to the Art Center and invite him in, the guy whose opinion matters more to me than I can begin to express.

I showed him the large classroom space as we approached my studio door, and I heard him chuckle when he saw my busy window full of my drawings and comics and doodles. And he chuckled again when I opened the door and turned on my light. "So this is it! Well, you sure have a lot of stuff...." I do. And I expected a comment like that. My little room is cluttered with art supplies, show materials, product displays, and art on the walls that I find comforting and inspirational. It's somewhat of an 'organized' mess....

Inside the door on a little table were some leaflings that I'd recently created, spread out on craft paper and awaiting more of my attention. Dad said, "So you work on your leaves here...." And then after a pause he said, "Do people really buy these?"

I get that question a lot, usually from well-meaning family members (and my tax guy, who I suspect is surprised that anyone buys anything from me at all). The first time I heard it I was a bit offended, but now I understand.

With his question, Dad was trying to wrap his head around why someone would buy a leafling because THEN what do they do with it? I've been asking myself this question ever since the first customer picked one up and asked me how much it was. But I've since gotten lots of answers. And I would've shared them with Dad that day if I thought there was time. So instead I just laughed and said, "They do. And no one's more surprised by that than I am."

I've had people purchase leaflings for all sorts of reasons. Many have gone on to frame one or display it in a shadowbox or tuck it behind a picture on the wall. A friend of a friend bought five and hand-carried them to Glastonbury Tor as gifts for the other attendees at a spiritual get-together. Three siblings who lost a nature-loving sister to cancer bought one to leave at her gravesite. A young woman toted one on a hike to the Grand Canyon and then made a wish before sending it over the edge. Another left her purchased leafling on the Gun Flint Trail in memory of her father, who enjoyed hiking it. And these are just a few of the stories I've collected over the short period of time that I've offered these creations....

I wonder just how satisfying these explanations are, really, to anyone but myself. Do they really address my dad's query?

People who follow me online respond to my leafling images in a way that both pleases me and surprises me. And when they hold one in person, the reaction it gets is too heartwarming for words. What IS it about them?? I have no idea....

But I'm just the messenger, the middleman, the conduit. What do I know?

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Leafpower

It's been one of those weeks.

You'd think it was due to the rapid approach of Fest, but MNRF is the furthest thing from my mind lately....

No, there's been other stuff, hospitals and health-related stuff (not for me, for someone I love), and some crazy shenanigans in the White House, and things that have raised my blood pressure and made me question whether or not I went to sleep one night and woke up in a Stephen King novel. The kind where otherwise intelligent and empathetic people suddenly go off the rails and begin wreaking havoc for no apparent reason. Nothing makes sense! It was REALLY not making sense about this time a year ago, but this is off the charts now....

Anyway....

After a couple days of back-and-forth hospital visits spent in a car full of memories, remembering the past and wondering about the future, studying the physical effects of the passage of Time, and being waaaaay far away in my head, I finally got myself in to the Studio. I opened the door there and saw leaves EVERYwhere -- some awaiting their frames, some spread out on my little table, some raked into a pile on the floor, some in various stages of completion, others sticking out of books and bags and boxes, others decorating the walls. Their mess was everywhere. Their scent was glorious.

Dr. Leo Buscaglia

Walking into the room reminded me of an anecdote once shared on PBS by the late Dr. Leo Buscaglia. He told his audience then of his great love of leaves and how one Autumn friends of his raked up a whole yardful, carried them into his house, and dumped the lot onto his livingroom rug. (The camera was focused on some older ladies in the audience when he said this, and the looks of alarm on their faces was priceless. I was reminded of my mother. In fact, when I recall this particular program now, I sense her in the background behind me, aghast, just like those women. But then he went on to say that all winter long, he and his friends hung out in that livingroom, sitting in piles of leaves. Everyone laughed. The audience ladies giggled uncomfortably, perhaps imagining all the eventual compost. I'll never forget the anecdote, and I can recall that feeling of recognizing a kindred spirit out there in Television Land....)

He loved leaves, too.

After hanging up my backpack and sitting down to work, I found that I didn't know how to begin, where to start. Should I clean the room? Would that make me feel better? Make a list? (Lists always soothe me....) Turn on Public Radio and let Capitol Hill wind me up some more? A class of kids was noisily and animatedly creating art outside my door, so there was no chance to stroll around the classroom and get my bearings. I didn't even feel comfortable using the microwave out there for my tea, in case I disturbed them.

Then I remembered headphones. And the audio book I'd bought at a sale -- 'The Dark is Rising' by Susan Cooper (read it years ago and loved it). And soon I was caught up in the tale, and before I knew it there were gilded leaves in front of me, old and crisp things that were suddenly beyond beautiful. Even the imperfect and overlooked ones were now soothing my soul.

Things weren't perfect by the time I left for the day, but they were definitely better. And I'll take that! I'll take that and run with it.
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My Head is Gonna Explode....

Thinking about you. Thinking about LIFE. Thinking about the planet. Thinking about EVERYthing.

So. Much. Thinking....

When the *boom* comes, it'll be epic....

When James came home early yesterday and found me staring into space, lost in some big-ass thoughts, he found me my shoes and my keys and my cap, pointed me in the direction of the studio, and sent me on my way. I'd been home for four straight days, trying to tidy up around here because there's just so much that needs doing. But even though I started out strong, I petered out fabulously and was pretty much just walking around in circles by that time, putting stuff in places where it didn't belong.

It doesn't help that there's the usual outdoorsy stuff now (garden tasks, chicken chores, etc.). In addition to the spring house- and yardwork, there's also the non-stop, stressful, Big News (every day's a new crisis!). Way too much to take in and process; my poor head's all over the map! So hiking to the studio yesterday was apparently just what I needed.

It was late in the day and the rush-hour traffic was loud, but I was able to ignore it as I walked slowly along the river in the shade of enormous cottonwoods, stopping to collect leaves and maple keys and to appreciate the spirea in bloom.... The art center was dark and silent when I arrived. I unlocked the door, breathed in the heady fragrance of paper and creativity, and sighed a big sigh. Of contentment, maybe. Relief.... In the few hours that I was there, I did nothing more than add to my sketchbook, really. (And it revealed to me some surprises, as always. Thank you, blank paper, for all that you do....)

And now today I'm ready. As soon as I press the 'publish' button on this entry, my shoes will be on their way again. North along the river walk, through the colorful tunnel, past the Four Silos and across the overpass, to the art center. To my Safe House, my sanctuary, my place where the world can't find me.

May I never ever run out of rent money. Ever.
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My First Ever Art Crawl

The North Artists Studio Crawl occurs this weekend. I've wanted to be a part of it for years, and now I am, and I invite you to attend. 

But I won't be displaying and sharing the kind of work I normally create. I'll be sharing something so close to my heart that I find it hard to talk about....

For at least a year I've felt 'called' upon to draw faces on leaves. It began not long ago when things like climate change and the current political administration began giving me anxiety attacks. Getting outside helped to calm me. And soon I was collecting leaves that 'spoke' to me and taking them home. 

Drawing faces on them soothed me. As I drew, I imagined each one absorbing my wishes for the planet (or the friend that was hurting, or the stranger that was afraid, etc.), and then I imagined it going on to spread its energy for Good as I released it back into the wild. (I originally wrote about doing this here: The Leafling Story. It was the start of something precious and humbling.)

For weeks now, in preparation for the Art Crawl, I've been creating leaflings like crazy, and then trying hard not to let them go. I've also begun to frame them. (Have I told you that it's been suggested that I frame them?)

I love how they look framed, and I think others will love them, too. But it's not been easy for me. By putting them under glass I feel like I'm trapping them somehow! And I know it's silly for me to feel this way; well-meaning friends have assured me that their magick will still be free to escape to do its thing. Still, I'm not 100% convinced.

Up until this morning I was busy papering frames and adding little hangers. And now today I'm sort of anxious.... Maybe it's because for once I'm rather prepared instead of burning the midnight oil before a show. Whatever the reason, I feel like I'm circling a big old panic attack. Not about the crawl itself! I'm excited about the crawl! And right now I should be typing in all caps and exclamation points about how excited I am, seeing as how I've WISHED for this.

No, there's other stuff contributing today to my mood. Stuff that's out of my control. It's coming from all directions, and it's making me want to take the leaflings that I've worked so hard on and put so much magickal energy into, break their frames, and release them to the wind.

Which is why I'm at home today and not at the studio, vacuuming and organizing like I should be doing. It's the only way to keep them safe for the weekend....

Those leaflings have big jobs to do and they know it -- I've written before about why I now make them and what I think they're meant to accomplish -- and I swear I can hear them shouting to me all the way from their frames at the Rum River Art Center. They're reminding me of that creative soul in ICU right now, fighting for life. And the stranger battling deep depression. And the friend who just lost her son. And the loved one undergoing chemotherapy. And the people without hope, the butterflies fighting extinction, the bees wasting away, and the planet that's raging against the human inhabitants determined to harm it, and the fill-in-the-blank(s).... So, so, SO much healing work to do! And they want to get started....

It's a constant struggle for me to shut the door on all that breaks my heart. I know I have to. And some days are worse than others. Sadly, today is one of them, and it couldn't come at a worse time as I've got tons to do to prepare for this event. Yet, all I want to do right now is draw on leaves and let them go.... To feel like I'm helping somehow.

Perhaps that's why I'm typing this; sending out a silly distress signal in hopes that a few folks will see it, identify with me, and show up this weekend. Not to view my art, necessarily, or even see my corny little wonder-filled delightful sanctuary studio space. But to exchange a hug. 

And to help share and spread the magick by taking home a leafling*.

Yes, I know they're just leaves. But they're magick. I know they are.

*Deep shaky breath*

What a tangent! Forgive me. This post was originally supposed to be about the Event, about how great it will be, and about how pleased I am to be a part of it. 

That being said, here are some links to the North Artists Studio Crawl (HERE) and a map (HERE) so that you can either find me or avoid me (haha). Fourteen studios in the North Metro area (with 32 featured artists) will be open to the public both Saturday and Sunday, April 1st and 2nd, from 10AM to 6PM. All the artists are amazingly creative, talented, and WAY more emotionally stable than I am. I promise. 

And I promise, too, that I'll get a dang grip by the time I see you there.

I promise.

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*P.S. My leaflings are available for adoption. YOU get to determine what one is worth to you. Don't worry; I won't put you on the spot. Instead, I will hand you a plain envelope. You are then welcome to put an amount you're comfortable with inside the envelope while I'm packaging up your leafling. It will all be anonymous. Unless you really want me to, I'll have no idea what's inside the envelope (or who's responsible for it) until after the day's over.... Fair? I think so. :)

A Little Update

I'm currently over my eyebrows in a watercolor class that I'm in absolute love with, taught by a beautiful friend whose amazing work makes my socks go up and down. I'm easily the slowest student in her online course, I'm sure, probably because I'm completely out of my element there (ACK! Color!). But I've chosen to temporarily forget all that I've taught myself over the years and become a blank canvas (pun intended) and start from absolute scratch, as if I'm finally in Art School learning the basics....

But this class isn't the topic of my post. (I promise to give it equal time here so you can see how things are going.) I watch the lessons online and do my homework during studio time so as to be completely uninterrupted by housework and pets and fill-in-the-blank. That's been my plan all along, anyway, but I find that I'm still frequently interrupted. Only this time by leaves....

I'm pretty sure I'm spending precious class time on them because I'm anxious as hell.... So much is going on in the world right now that I'm really really not OK with, and I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help. I don't even know how to help MYSELF. The best I can come up with is to just breathe....

So when the real world intrudes in my head, calling a halt and just breathing has been a helpful reboot of sorts. But then I have to pick up again with something soothing that I am comfortable and familiar with.

When I'm 'leafing' (just coined this now and it makes me smile), time stops and a conversation starts. It's a convo at its most basic, between me and Everything Else.... It's like the Universe or whatever takes over and creates while my overactive brain enjoys a break, just floating in an imagined blackness like an untethered astronaut staring at stars and listening to the sounds of her breath.... I need to be in that peace for a bit before I can start entertaining thoughts again. Which might also explain why my class progress is slow....

My leaves are getting the paint treatment now because my watercolors are front and center at this time. The results please and soothe me. And I want to share them with you. What do you think?

(P.S.: Since writing last, I've received all sorts of Studio Name feedback (thank you!!). And I've been holed up in my wonder-filled spot at RRAC, drawing/painting on leaves and contemplating my choices.)
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Name Ideas?

More news!: Larry Weinberg and Susan Yee of the Rum River Art Center -- the non-profit that hosts my new little studio -- met with me yesterday to talk about all sorts of exciting things (that I'll share with you soon!), one being an honest-to-by-gawd sign advertising my studio, can you imagine?? I get to create the design which Susan will then turn into a window decal. The idea makes my socks go up and down!

But then I began to wonder: what would I have that sign say, exactly?? Certainly not 'delayne's studio,' right?

A friend suggested 'Tumbledown Studio' and I love it. But the name 'Tumbledown' refers to my messy and wonderfilled house full of books and critters. And my creative space there is The Studio Formerly Known As The Extra Bedroom. Still, Tumbledown Studio sounds delightful, even if it's not IN my house.

Of course I could always just call it 'Mayfaire' again. That name was originally coined at the last minute when my first Fest contract asked me for a business name and I thought 'Mayfaire' sounded medieval and Renaissance-y. I like it, but I feel as though it's rarely associated with me and my work, is more of an afterthought, and it says nothing about what I do or create, and because of that I've occasionally regretted making 'Mayfaire' my business name. (Plus, I've been thinking about leaving Fest.... I've been thinking about it a LOT....) Still, the name 'Mayfaire' is everywhere -- on my labels, my business cards, everywhere....

My studio's particular room at RRAC doesn't have an address or a name. Larry and Susan referred to it once as the Georgia O'Keefe room (StudioKeefe?), and my key to it is engraved with a 'c' (Studio C?). Calling it 'delayne's studio' just seems weird, but what about 'studio d'?

And now I can't even think clearly -- GAH.

I'm sure this will all come together and I'm just being my usual overwhelmed self. Playing with a logo idea or something might create the breakthrough I'm looking for.

Still, I'd welcome and consider any ideas!

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