Bright watercolor and colored pencil.
8.5 x 5.5 inches
This is what hope looks like. It's hands raised and face to the sun. Flowers in full bloom and shoulders light.
I didn't drop a tear, didn't show anxiety too much.
We discussed topics to include in the letters and how to address some of the elderly individuals. I used my special calligraphy style pen gifted to me. 🙂
I'd already started the winter project two weeks ago when my friend got the flu. Recently I got a response from a letter. It blew me away. All it said was, "I love you. Thank you so much." That was the response I got from a home bound person who received a letter from me two weeks ago. If nothing else makes me smile, that certainly does.
I once said that what I intend to do with my training is encourage people professionally. I got laughed at when I said that. The people who get letters aren't laughing but my heart smiles thinking that I could be part of something that matters. This is part of my reason for waking up.
Spark: Fire and Water now has a wall of its own. Soon it will be safely packaged up and sent on its journey.
Spark: Fire and Water is an art journal, two page spread that was offered in my Etsy shop.
Sparks of color fly as her eyes open wide to take in and hold all that grows around her. A signature of Sundrip is to have many hidden faces and objects that are seemingly random. This journal piece most certainly has the Sundrip signature along with bold chaos in color.
What will you see in this raw, collage art? You will see fragmented flowers, hair like waves of the sea, a blue girl. You'll see lines cross, curve and circle around holding tiny human figures. Crosshatch and stripes meet checkers and poles, then bring your eye back to the girl in the middle with doodles on her lips.
Two page collage and drawings in my art journal.
I didn't think about much at all. I just did the things I love. It was a much needed day of solitude, a mini mental vacation.
She is a shining star, this furry one.
She melts my heart when she does the slow blink.
Mary Jane is an integral part of the process of slowing down to smell the flowers.
I was told these are weeds. I don't know. What I do know is there are plenty in the yard of an abandoned, boarded up house and that they have done well in various terrarium set ups. A month or so ago I walked 8 blocks round trip to get these bad boys! ...continue reading "A day of solitude with the things I love"
The problem is that I'm embarrassed. Today will be my firs session with Dr. D after his vacation and after my closest support system has returned from Ohio. I took 2 milligrams of Klonopin about an hour ago. I think it laughed at me.
I'm going to talk to Dr. D about being fired by my general practitioner. It'll be a phone session which will be easier to say, but I'll be in his office on the 9th.
I wanted to write the old GP a letter but I'm not sure what it would say. Then I thought, write one but don't send it. Then I thought, I'm not writing a letter to a man that assisted in destroying our working relationship.
It crossed my mind very briefly to write a letter asking that he reconsider. I just got abandoned by a jerk, dropped on my head with the legal 30 day notice, but still dropped on my head. My abandonment issues have been touched. Lord knows I should have left that private practice the first time I saw him. After that appointment I never should have gone back, but desperation is a constant companion to those with a chronic illness and we put up with a lot of crap in the name of hope. Despite the fact that he was a jackass for two years, despite leaving his office in tears repeatedly, I am embarrassed that I got sacked as a patient. ...continue reading "High Anxiety Art – The Embarrassed Patient"
I have no idea how it got to be 7:30 am without a wink of sleep, but it's here and I'm wide awake. I can recount all I've done. I've been rather productive, it's just that it doesn't seem as though it should be so late.
My closest friends and biggest support system are out of town at a convention called "Don't Give Up." I so want to be there!!! I can't travel the three hours let alone sit for several hours for three days. I love that they're getting encouragement. They'll bring that back to me, but it hurts and feels as if I have been left behind. It doesn't help that my therapist is also on vacation. I have to remember that I have friends in other congregations around the city and that I'm not alone.
I can't believe I'm in the book of Revelation and will be finished with the entire Bible soon. I'm on Revelation 4 right now. Honestly, when I was a kid and read it I wasn't sure what to think. I know certain scriptures in the book but I can't say I know what to expect because of how much time has passed since I read it. ...continue reading "While They’re Away. Sketches and Bible Reading Progress."
These are recent entries in my personal sketchbook. They're mindscapes - an artists version of a CAT scan.
I've done my best to toss out the notion that I must create something beautiful. I have to stop feeling as if I must please viewers with a masterpiece or outdo myself. I have to stop thinking and let myself paint. It's been a challenge but I'm getting better.
These are photographs. When I take them out of the sketchbook I'll scan them then put them on the working wall (the wall that holds all current projects) so I can grab and do more whenever I am able.
As you know, art without a wall of its own is sad, but today "Jane's Flowers Bloom" was adopted. To celebrate this momentous occasion is the legendary Phil Collins singing, "In the Mail Tonight".
Art Title: Jane's Flowers Bloom
Art by: Faith Magdalene Austin
Media: Colored pencil, ink, card stock
Size: 4 x 7 inches
Finish: Acrylic seal, signed on the front and back, unmounted.
Style: Primitive, African Americana, Ethnic Folk Art
Well I remembah, I remembah orange flurries, flurries, flurries
How could I ever forget
It's the first bloom,
the white moon
and an intimate moment.
But I know the reason why you kept your purse closed up,
Oh no you can't resist me.
Well the love it shows
and the heart it rose
with a flower from you to me
(enter awesome drum solo)
I can feel it coming in the mail tonight, hold on
I've been waiting for a wall of all my own, oh Lord, oh Lord
I'll be coming in the mail tonight oh Lord
for a wall
of my own. oh Lord (end remake)
Me: Thank you so much Phil for coming to Sundrip to sing that classic song; a song for all time. What do you think Mary Jane, studio cat?
Mary Jane: That song chokes me up every time. He kills it on the drums. Amazing job Phil. Thanks for coming.
Me: Thanks to everyone who has given original art the only thing it's ever wanted, a wall of its own.
Is there wall space in your home? Can you open your heart to grant the wish of original art? If so, please visit my Available Art galleries as well as my Etsy shop. Contact me and we'll work together to stamp out homeless art.
Faith Magdalene Austin
Mary Jane Austin
Studio Cat and Quality Control Manager
Well, that was heavy. I felt relieved after writing that story. Reading over it I'm able to see how close I stuck to reality. I'll put this to bed after I process why I said there's a reflection of me in each character in the story Tea for Christopher.
Content: Physical abuse of a young child. Processing the previous entry. No sexual abuse mentioned or discussed.
I'm primarily Christopher in the story who tries to manage the unmanageable. I had Christopher leave home just the way I did, an unplanned exit on a night of routine abuse. I couldn't do it another night, not another second. I left Feb 2, 1992 at 10:30 pm and I never went back home. I went to a hotel that evening then got up to go to work. I never went back home.
Just like with Christopher, I did watch my little brother beaten with a dowel rod. Just like in the story, he was held down with one hand by my mother and beaten with a dowel rod until he was no longer even screaming. I walked away and left him with that monster. A few days later he was removed from our home by Child Protective Services. I felt so broken by that loss.
It is safe to say, the story Tea for Christopher was triggered by what happened the other night outside my window.
Ruby, the mother
It's interesting that the mother wasn't given a name until about the middle of the story. I realized I kept calling her 'his mother'. I didn't think too hard about a name for her but I immediately rejected Diamond. Now, the name Ruby seems appropriate only because of the color.
Why am I the mother in the story? I see how much my life revolved around creating situations that would appease my abuser while ignoring myself and my needs. An abused child is always at the beck and call of the abuser, there is no time for anything else.
I never told her, but I apologized in my heart for being a bad daughter. Though my mother left us repeatedly (a few days tops) there was a constant threat of being sent to the orphanage where my grandfather grew up. She was neglectful in criminal ways. Abandonment issues are still a huge problem for me. ...continue reading "Thoughts on Tea for Christopher"
"She dreams of flowers"
"Her fullest potential"
"The Girl" in apostrophe earrings. ...continue reading "Paint Sketch and Alter"