Here’s an exercise that might help as we head into the new year.

It came out of a conversation with a friend who, after a career of major contribution, including in international locations, is looking at options for the future. In one sense, he has so many he could do it can be overwhelming; on the other, it should be only one. But which?

On a napkin I jotted a little “assignment” that could provide focus. It might also be good for the rest of us. Here it is:

1   Evaluate and label your gifts

2   Evaluate and label your major areas of experience

3   Identify your potential contribution

Do it all on one page.

It’s my opinion that each of us, as we go, are refining our gifts and gathering experiences that in time culminate into contribution that only we can make. And we should be making it.

When we started out we didn’t know our gifts. Education tried to introduce us to them all, just in case. As time progressed we began to understand our particular leanings, what interested us and what didn’t. As we’ve matured we’ve come to identify these without inhibition or fear of boasting. It’s not that we’re so great at these things, or in any way “arrived,” but they are the areas we want to pursue, and do so with joy.

Then, in life, there have been circumstances . . . jobs and roles that have honed these talents. This has also meant working them in a social setting, among the bristly coworkers, the opposers, the visionaries that understand us and the dolts that never will.

Some good, some not so good, all experiences have influenced a perspective that, if we don’t give up, can work to bring something together closer to perfect.

Then: contribution. I use that word because it puts all this in the right direction. Our gifts, though ours, are really for others. It’s all to somehow add to the wider good. And if we think about this way, it helps us get off the undermining accusations that we’re only pleasing ourselves (even if we are also pleased).

So, it’s a(nother) starting place. And, really, we’re starting again all the time. Make your own list. Maybe it’ll help as we enter another new year.

6 Comments

Anne and me on one of our travels.

It’s the day of looking back and looking ahead. Actually it’s the latter that’s capturing my attention this morning. But it’s all part of a continuum, and a review can be healthy. In fact, this week we shared a meal with a dozen of our closest friends and followed it with a “go-around,” each sharing their year’s high points, and next year’s hopes. Each was followed by remarks of affirmation and encouragement by others in the circle. It was great.

Just because I have mine already written out, I’ll share its essence here. You might enjoy it, but more, I’m sharing it as model for you to consider doing the same. Do it today, being the transition day. And then share it with a friend. Or don’t. Remember what Socrates said, “An unexamined life is not worth living.” And each of ours is very worth living.

Here’s my list:

High points of last year:

Travels–
Oregon for art making
Italy for art history
Idaho for art making
Dallas (twice) for art making
Chicago for art making/presentation
Anchorage for art making/presentation
Ft. Lauderdale for art making/presentation
Phoenix for art making/presentation
Ojai and various day trips just for break and togetherness with Anne

Accomplishments–
Published another four books
Painted three major mural projects
Various (12) public-painting events, some while speaking
New bathroom remodel and various house and grounds enhancements

Reunions–
Of siblings (with spouses, 10 of us), on anniversary of parents’ passing
Of children (5), their spouses (4) and grandchildren (16), in Kansas City [Vernon not in attendance]
Another great “personal growth” retreat [among same friends mentioned above]

How has life changed since a year ago–
More focus on helping with son-in-law Vernon
Daily reflections in writing each morning, a great benefit

Lacks–
A regular income stream from art still an evasive mystery (though income continues . . . also a mystery)

Hopes/Goals for next year:

Additional book projects
More and better paintings
Another international trip for art history (France)
At least another art-making trip (somewhere)
A 50th anniversary commemoration (coming up)

Spiritual Goals–
To learn what it means that the eye be single (that the whole body be full of light)*

That’s it, at least in synopsis. Yours will be different, but you might use the same categories. You’ll likely be pleased with what you discover. Life, once examined, is very worth living.

________
*Matthew 6:22

6 Comments

Casting about for an illustration for this post, I remembered this door size painting I did this year. It was one of the gifts. I was blessed. (Click for larger view.)

A couple of years ago I came across an anonymous Internet rant about selling art. It was so odd and so amusing I kept it. This morning I happened on it again. I’ll share it here, complete with its own unique spelling and grammar:

Are you interested making money in fine arts? Well if you are an artist then you can forget about the money part that’s the part you’re not gonna get it.Anything else is just fine.We all know many artists around including ourselves beeing one, how many people do you know who buy arts?And why someone should buy your art why?why?Why anyone should even buy an artwork in the first place did you think about that?Well friends let me clear one one thing
First too many people are relying on paintings to make a living in art, 1-)artists (zillions of them let me clear that with one thing for you there are NO zillions of art buyers),2-)Galleries mostly sell frames without frame business they would go out of business,3-)Dealers,4-)publishers with their employees this list very long I won’t go on.I have been in art business for 25 years, mostly commercial because without it I could not put food on the table,This has nothing to do you beeing good or bad, there are just not many art buyers out there.
We all buried under our egos as if we’re the only artist out there ooh gee my work is superior and people go for my work WOOOOV holly s..t unbelievable yeah. Friends nobody cares, art lost its momentum it is going down.With this computer age, future of art along with population groving number of artist and artist wanna be’s no good.
you want to be succesfull and make a good living art is a wrong business

Hilarious, you’ll say, if it wasn’t so close to true.

When I’m asked if I make my living making art I say, “No, I make my living selling art.”

But, while knowing how to make good art is challenge enough; knowing how to sell it is a trackless forrest.

If you’ll remember one of these blogs about a year ago, I came across (again) what I thought was a marketing approach I could do. It’s right out of the Bible: A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed.*

I won’t go into how I’ve applied that, nor have I thought about it every day. But things would come up when giving a painting, or a bunch of paintings, seemed the right thing to do. Sometimes it was with a gulp, and maybe a days-long hesitation. It’s with some chagrin I confess I’ve probably given away more paintings this year than I’ve sold.

Imagine my surprise, then, as I’ve approached the end of the year, that this has been not only a good income year, but the highest of my life!

I rejoice, of course. But, more, I marvel.

I go back to the first line of our Internet ranter, “ if you are an artist then you can forget about the money part.” There’s something true about that, but there’s more truth that adds to it . . . something he’s yet to discover . . . and I keep discovering.

Have a good year.

_______________
*Proverbs 11:25

9 Comments

Yesterday was an unusual Thanksgiving for us. Well, not altogether. Anne spent many hours and her abundant culinary talents preparing a traditional feast that fairly overflowed the table and our respective limits. And I spent the early hours looking up and reading Thanksgiving proclamations, starting with Lincoln’s in 1863, then Washington’s in 1789, then by the governing council of Charleston, Massachusetts in 1676, and finally by the 53 surviving pilgrims at Plymouth in 1621. All were elegant and inspiring, with true thanks to the True Source in every case.

Meantime daughter Allison had been making preparations to bring husband Vernon out of his care facility for a few hours of the holiday . . . a first in the year and a half since his accident. It was a big deal, his getting out, and he was as anxious about it as anyone . . . both positive and apprehensive.

Along with Vernon, we also brought his roommate, defender and friend, Joe, also permanently in a wheelchair, but without the brain trauma.

In all it was great, though not altogether easy. I want to keep this brief and refer you instead, if you have time, to Allison’s blog, posted the day before, anticipating it all.  It’s here.

I do want to mention just this, however, that when it came for the thanksgiving meal prayer, Vernon was invited to do it. With eyes open but looking into space he started right in, giving thanks for Allison first of all, and her “open-hearted” love for him, his family, and all the food (though not for him–he’s still being fed intravenously). It was precious.

Here are a couple of photos, including of Vernon’s son Maki playing guitar, a couple of friends dropping in, and one with Joe, Allison and Justine.

In all, in spite of all, and for all, we give thanks.

Again, for the fuller report, and many more photos, check Allison’s here.

11 Comments

We’re still in Idaho, have been eight days, with a few more to go.  Both of us have been supremely productive, me keeping to my list (thanks for your comments on my last blog) and Anne doing beautifully without one. Next blog we’ll show some results. Meantime, here’s a mediation (prayer) from a page in the sketchbook after one of our daily walks.

Art, it seems, is man’s part.

Looking down at the ground,
out on a walk
on a road unpaved but for small stones,
I remark to Anne
that there’s more art here
than in any museum or gallery.

But then I correct myself.
This is not art.
Art is rather a rearrangement of things,
aesthetically (or not).
It’s man’s part.

It’s beauty that’s here, in the stones on the road.
More of that, with wonder,
than in any museum or gallery.
But, art, that’s what we do with it!!!

Now, later, having said all that, I look again and see
the arrangement of trees,
often in long lines
by wind and bird-planted seeds,
making uniform pattern
set in fields of blond-beige grasses,
also patterned,
and this set below mountains and hills
blue in their distance,
all under sky of first one color then another,
the light and the clouds changing both it (the sky)
and everything on the ground.

And I perceive that it’s all of a harmony,
with nothing that doesn’t work,
and working with the rest !!!

It’s not just about beauty and wonder and dismissive non-art,
but that there is intentionality here,
a mind and a hand.

So, returning to basics and child-like belief, I pray,
Father, You are the Artist.
You say you’re in me
(I say it too)
Then work your art through me (and in).
Let’s do something together.

And when it’s finished, let’s call it “good.”

Do you see what I mean, about the lines, horizontal and vertical, and the colors kept in their places?

Here the shadows cast the design, thanks to the sun and its angle.

Speaking of sun, sometimes it paints directly, overwhelming all.

Once again, the long lines of design, with contrasting diagonals in sky. It all works, every view, every moment.

Finally, one more, looking down at the feet. Even the dying leaves a wonder of harmony . . . and when cropped, art!  Maybe that’s our part.

14 Comments

We’re in Idaho. It’s the place we came to serendipitously last year and stayed a couple of days before moving on (to Wyoming). This time the place is Swan Valley, Idaho is the destination and we’ll be here ten days. And we’re working, just what we love to do.*

The trip here was its own odyssey, taking the long way, with various stops in California and then Portland, making it all one big triangle.

Among the various stops we met a new friend, Bill Lee, owner of a lovely inn in Los Osos (after other occupations). Happily he purchased a couple of paintings for his new restaurant and in the end we exchanged books we’d written. Later, reading just one page of his was enough to change my life.

It’s a concept of “strategic thought” that, once he adopted it, changed his life.

Basically it’s organized thinking. Here’s a paragraph from Bill’s book:

“ . . . I was fascinated by the idea of strategic thought. Organization is a concept that never came easily to me because I stopped at just naming the topics to be organized as opposed to creating the action steps necessary to organize each topic. As someone with ADD, I have a lot of ideas flowing through my mind at any given moment. I’m constantly on the receiving end of getting different tangents of thought, by by 5 o-clock, many of the ideas are gone and are not recoverable. For the better part of my life, the ideas were there; the follow-through wasn’t.”**

Here’s the plan, divided into sections for early morning meditations, then periods of writing (three projects) and painting (many projects), drawing, reading, and watching (occasional evening movies). Anne, by the way, is just as happily productive, though without such a list. 

There’s more, much more, but the concept fascinates. So I immediately began applying at least the first steps. While Anne was attending a printmaking workshop in Portland I had a free day on my hands. Rather than just hanging around I divided even that day into quarters, with a different focus for each, and had myself a most productive—and enjoyable—day.

In fact, the first hour was to plan the ten days in Idaho with a focus for each part of each day.

You’ll role your eyes. Is this any way of spending a vacation? Maybe not, but who said this was a vacation?

I remember one of the art-making trips we took a couple of years ago in Baja California. It was another wonderful place and a wonderful week. But, as I went with no particular plan, the first half of it was spent in growing frustration. I finally manufactured one and got happier; but the outcome was never as productive as I’d hoped.

So, this time I’ve got a plan. I confess it can seem a little harried at times, meeting goals that no one cares about but me. And I can always flake. But it’s not my way.

I’m happy to say, at this point I’m on schedule. Of course in the end all that really matters isn’t volume, but quality. I remind myself of that. But I also remind that good art comes from doing lots of art. So I do lots.

Meantime, the setting is more than wonderful. Being fairly remote, there’s nothing to distract. Even our walks are just down a dirt road, or a path to the river. In the “studio,” the quiet is only broken by our own conversation, our music, the occasional rain, the refrigerator, or our own breathing.

Breathing, by the way, is not on the schedule. Some things just happen by themselves.

Just because you’ll be curious, I’ll supply a couple of photos.

_________

*All this is by the generosity of friends Jeff and Michelle Aleixo.
**Chasing Excellence, by Bill Lee and R. Craig Coppola
PS Due to technical difficulties, I’m not confident this is getting to you. If you have a moment, please confirm with a comment. Thanks.

21 Comments

Seems these days our lives are described by “trips” and “between trips.” Must be something I inherited from my mother. Whenever she’d return from some adventure of visiting friends and places around the country she’d say, “Well, where are we going next?”

In her later years she was carrying on like this in spite of physical limitations that would keep most people homebound and complaining. Well, she did moan at times about her too constant companion, Arthur-ritus. There were other aggravations too personal to mention, but the urge to keep going was strong, and she did, along with Dad.

The van, full of art supplies, even Anne’s press, at an early (business) stop in Los Osos.

I never meant to talk about her here, but rather relate a brief projection of the weeks to come. We’re heading for Idaho, and the wonderful hide-away supplied for us by friends (who also knew my parents, and ultimately bought their house). It’ll be our studio away from home for making art, writing and various projects . . . enough of which we’re already feeling behind.

(Below) That’s Mom and Dad, with a friend between (and another taking the picture) adventuring somewhere in the Rockies. Very likely they all kept in touch, and stayed at one another’s houses all down the years. (Click twice.)

We’re taking the long way to get there–like through Portland, Oregon, where Anne long before signed up for an encaustic (wax) workshop. On the way there we’ll stop in Palo Alto where I’ll be speaking and painting to a couple of groups.

Add to this some four or five other business-type stops, galleries and the like, and it looks like a full-on working trip. But that works for us. Oh, and don’t forget the stays along the way with family and friends. That adds to the quality and meaning of it all . . . and exactly how my mother would have done it. She modeled well.

PS. Don’t forget, that book that recounts this and so much more is available here.

9 Comments

Today I planted a tree. An oak tree. My friend and master native plant nursery man Mike Evans had brought it this far from an acorn. As I put it in the ground it’s about six feet tall. He says, with normal care it should grow about three feet per year, and two inches in caliper. Who knows if I’ll live long enough to see it in any kind of mature glory?

Looks pretty scrawny now, but give it a couple of decades, or centuries.

Mike says that whoever plants trees loves people. Interesting thought. The fact is, I was doing this for myself. Behind our house, on something of a green space, is a line of majestic and mature eucalyptus trees. To me, they’re the soul of the whole area. But the tree trimmers come far too often and lately, due to “liability,” have taken to cutting some down altogether. I figure it’s only a matter of time before they’ll all be gone. So, in a measure of self defense, I’m planting a few of my own.

The oak is the most ambitious, the most far reaching. Others have included a ficus, a silver dollar eucalyptus (still in a pot) and a couple others before that. All wonderful.

But why an oak? Because of the spreading, strong, and ever-green majesty. Any drive through California’s central coast will remind of their sprawling beauty. And we saw them again (along with many other species) growing so beautifully in Ojai on the recent birthday trip.

Remember that? Or did I mention it? It was a short end-of-summer break . . . with Anne finishing up her time at the Laguna Art Festival, and me reconnoitering on what I might do next with my life.

You’ll also remember (or did I mention it?) in all my reflections I didn’t come up with anything particularly new, just a desire for deepening in all things. (See “Another Year Ended,” here.)

So maybe planting the oak is symbolic.

Shady oaks at The Blue Iguana, our favorite get away in Ojai.

Then, this morning’s meditation brought me to this: “Whoever sows to the flesh will reap of the flesh; whoever sows to the spirit will reap of the spirit.”

I’m not sure where sowing to the soil fits into that, but it does establish the principle. Here’s the rest: “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”

Then: “As we have opportunity, let us do good to all people . . . ” *

And there we go, back to Mike’s statement, “Whoever plants a tree loves people.”

God bless us all . . . and prosper what we sow.

_________

* excerpts from New Testament, Galatians 6:8-10

BTW, mine is a “Coast Live Oak” (Quereus agrifolia) purchased at the soulful Tree of Life Nursery, of which friend Mike is proprietor.

12 Comments

Yesterday Anne discarded seven bags of books. It had been something needing to be done for a long time, bookshelves overflowing onto every level surface, including the floor.

There’s just something about accumulating them, and a resistance to letting them go. And that’s whether or not they’ve ever been read, read so long ago, or even (admit it) never will be read.

The fact is, even with the seven bags gone and a large box of others “to be stored,” we still found ourselves with only a little bookshelf space left for anything new.

It’s not that I’m such a reader. I’m painfully slow (unlike Anne). But these things become such friends, it’s hard to let them go. And their presence adds character and interest to any house. I’m reminded of a New Yorker cartoon where a sophisticated bachelor says to his equally sophisticated lady friend looking at his bookshelf, “I’ve had those books for years. They represent the person I once aspired to be.” (Actually I keep that cartoon on my bookshelf.)

Anne, rummaging at Bart’s, before entering.

But we keep buying. I’d just bought an arm-load from the library used book store, ironically the same place we donated our seven bags. In Ojai earlier this month we had to visit “Bart’s,” the famous outdoor bookstore. Of course, we had to buy something. And so it goes, a continual flow. Like an addiction. (Though, of course, I can quit any time.)

If that wasn’t enough, I’m making books. I’ve done six already since I first became a publisher two years ago. They’re all on my website, here.

The most recent one, Sketches of Italy, was featured on my “Blank Canvas” blog, here.

These, I mention, not to push, but just in case you share my addiction. There could be worse ones. And, besides, there must be something like AA for the likes of us. Maybe I’ll see you there.

5 Comments

Here’s a spread from the Mom and Dad book. That’s their first house, in New Jersey, and a snippet of how they liked to live. (Click for larger view.)
For more about the book, click here.

Today commemorates, 71 years ago, my mother’s last day of pre-motherhood. She’s gone now, but I’m still here to celebrate the result of her labor.

We’ll do that tomorrow, heading for a favorite get-away in Ojai. It’s part for the birthday, and part commemorating the finish of Anne’s long summer showing her work at the Laguna Beach Festival of Art.

This morning, being a last day before my New Years, I spent the first hours reading a book. That’s a book of my own writing, my own Pilgrim’s Progress, kept as daily entries in a sketchbook. I’ve done that for years—though not as regularly until this last period.

I will say it’s been instructive, both the keeping of them, and the reviewing. If what Socrates said is true, “an unexamined life is not worth living,” then mine is very worth living.

Not to belabor all the reflections and insights, here are just a few notes from the process:

That what happens is not up to me . . . and it is up to me.  Both.

That there’s always leading.

That there’s a discontentment and a contentment at the same time.

That in the end it’s all about faith . . . and courage.

That fears too often predominate. That the story of the rich young ruler may be, fearfully, my own. (Again.)

That one can only receive what he’s been given of God.

But at the same time, God gives the Spirit without measure.

That knowing what to do is a gift.

That attitude makes all the difference in things.

Though seeing much wrong in the world, it’s hard to know how to address it from my tiny corner.

To not think too highly of self . . . but be ready to serve those of low estate. (That’s work one can always get, even when the other eludes.)

That it matters what we do, but as much, how we do it.

That Anne is a faithful companion and help. And me, to her, too.

That I can always continue with the talents and pursuits already revealed, walk into opportunities as they open, make quality the higher goal for the art, and service its purpose.

There’s more, but that’s enough for today . . . and perhaps for the year to come.

________________

PS  Please, no birthday wishes. But “Happy New Year” will be fine.

13 Comments