stephanie lee - Semiprecious Salvage

Do you really mean it?

Routine is coming back.

Day to day is returning in all it's various incarnations.

Are you living as deliberately as you want?

Are you (maybe even just a little bit) tired of asking yourself what you're supposed to be doing?

I totally get that.

Check out this little conversation (and stay tuned for the gag reel because when you're a mom trying to skype from the bathroom, the whole world beats a path to your door.)

 

We would love to have your insight and stories and beautiful vibrancy as part of the fabric of this course.

{{You, On Purpose: Rhetoric Recovery starts Monday. The best part is that you don't have to be totally on fire with banging the new year in with big plans to cut to the heart of YOU. On Purpose.}}

 

Thank you 2012.

I won't even ask where the year has gone, how it passed so quickly. It just did like it always does. Full, fast, and without attachment to what you did or didn't do.

The best part about the end of a year is the gratitude that inevitably washes over me when there are no more minutes left to convince myself I just might get "it" all done. It's just the end of this cycle and the beginning of another with not much really changing other than the number you write on your checks (if you still write checks) and the collective consciousness of starting fresh.

How do I want to flop over the fence, to drop both boots into the new pasture? I do it with  optimism but not without pause. I look back to the vast field I just walked across and I see as much happened as didn't. The footprints I've left near every bloom are not as sunken in as I see now that they could be. I could have spent more time admiring each petal but even though there is always room to say "I could have been more present, I could have stood in wonder and awe a little longer" does not mean I was not struck straight through the heart with gratitude and love in that instant that the bloom came into my vision. So it's like a dance, right? Where there is always motion. Part of completing one move is transitioning into the next. Be present but keep on dancing. I see you, bloom. I see you and am jolted by your beauty and before I can tell you it truly, you are behind me.

How lovely to stand in the new pasture and see that the blooms are all still wide open, blazing color, not one bit offended that I am human and easily sidetracked. Thank you, 2012. Thank you for holding steady while I darted around in a frenzy half the time.


I have but one resolution for fresh-faced 2013. It is to do my best to let go of all the criteria I have laid out for myself to qualify as purposeful, happy, useful, focused, healthy, and enough. I'm even letting go of the infectiously promising idea of focusing my energy to manifest anything. It's a lovely idea, don't get me wrong. It's even a noble effort for sure. But for me, I can see that a laser focus on manifestation has, all too often, simply been another time-managing, circumstance-orchestrating, keep-busy-to-keep-from-feeling-stuck attempt to find happy. Or happier, anyway, because I am by nature quite happy.

This past year brought the most intense parenting blows to date and I feel pretty confident in saying that after a few failed launches, I finally GET the difference between parenting from fear (however well intended) and parenting from love. Guess what, you guys? They are not the same thing. Wowza. Not at all.

This past year I honored myself by meeting almost all my work deadlines on time or early, with the exception of just a couple and considering I had developed a habit of running behind that even I detested, this was a HUGE gift to myself.

This past year I found incredible peace that comes with the release of trying to be or not be something for someone because there are too many someone's with different ideas of who you should be or not be. And the hardest part was thinking I was, like, so not playing that game and yet I still got sucked in from time to time.

This past year I worked out more than I have in recent years and getting reacquainted with running and working my muscles has been lovely. I have no shame in admitting that regularly I hit the wall of lonely after a few weeks with each spurt and am still trying to figure out how to navigate through that. Alone. I'm not fit. I'm still a hot hormonal mess. I still don't like seeing pictures of myself and I still don't have any interest in taking more pictures of myself to get more comfortable with that. And it's all good.

So, who knows what 2013 will bring me?!

I may or may not:
-organize my house once and for all
-get out of debt. Finally.
-adopt a gaggle of chubby cheeked little Korean babies.
-balance my hormones.
-bottle/dehydrate/freeze enough food.
-totally kick butt with my new licensing contract
-appreciate my husband or tell my kids "good job" and "thank you" enough
-go to Belize
-get a real, grown up website that is as full of all that I love to share as I am in my head
-keep my inbox clean
-get healthy and fit and flat-bellied forcryingoutloud
-teach anything online
-stop complaining to those who are closest to me
-make a single piece of jewelry to sell. at all.
-write that book let alone read all the ones on my nightstand
-hike to Havasu Falls
-practice the guitar or piano as much as I'd like to
-see all the National Parks
-finish sewing my living room curtains
-grow a prolific garden
-stop comparing myself to others
-wear a belt
-laugh with my whole big mouth and not worry about looking like a fool
-dance with people. in public.
-draw you in with witty prose and captivating art
-take enough naps
-nurture my treasured friendships as much as they deserve

Regardless of what does and doesn't happen, I know something for sure:
This year I will do my level best to fully engage in the clumsy dance of being me and doing what feels good. I have no idea how this may or may not involve a planner, brightly colored post-it notes, morning journaling, brain-storming sessions, furious painting sprees, and domestic duties crowd control. It seems to me, FOR me, that putting less energy in trying to reinvent some wheel or climb to the top of some topless ladder is the only effort worth doing my level best in. For now, anyway. As odd as it may seem, it will take a bit of effort to stop efforting in all the wrong places so much. Simple. Too simple? Not if it isn't something I usually do. Even simple tasks take practice. Especially when it involves the release of everything I've held onto for so long.

So, Self...you with the to-do lists, the million reasons why you aren't quite good enough, the blaring mistakes, the wasteful habits, the average life, the lackluster feelings about your art and your personality and your ability to do anything grand...welcome to the beauty of all of it. I see you. I see your bold, Amazonian gate. I see your unquenchable thirst for knowledge. I see your unwavering desire - your neverending efforts - to be kind and good and encouraging and supportive. I see your loyal, steadfast love. I see your chakras, sparks firing, shooting the best of what you are in all directions. I see your willingness to be beautifully, exceptionally average.

And I embrace you with all the love anyone has ever embraced you with.
It's good to see you.

Original Plaster Painting Pendants in my shop

There's a lot going on around here. A lot of painting and gift making and house keeping and food preserving and yard cleaning and pony wrangling and content writing. And a whole lotta waiting for baby. That mamma is a trooper for sure.

I was up late into the night finishing up these original plaster painting bezel pendants. The quiet kept me company along with a dog on each foot. The tree stayed lit, cut glass ornaments hung from the chandelier above the dining table where I was stationed, and down the hall I could hear a cat snoring. The House seems so much more alive when all the people in it are asleep. She's a broad woman, graceful and patient with wide hips to birth a lifetime of memories. I move slowly and quietly so as not to upset her rhythm. I feel like I am trespassing on her solitude time and I better be respectful or she'll open a hidden trap door and shut me away for the night just to get a little peace.

That last paragraph may or may not be rich with metaphors which I will not go into right now. You're welcome.

Anyway, House and I made you these. You can see the whole group in my etsy shop.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Just a reminder that the last day to take advantage of the early registration price for my new course, You, On Purpose, is Dec. 15th - that's this coming Saturday. Consider it one of the best gifts you can give your creative self to start out the new year.

Come on over and join in!

Exhausted by trendy buzzwords? Check yourself into recovery.

This is it. This is what my soul has been growing into for years. This is what every moment in the classroom, every piece of art I've created, and every conversation with artists and dreamers up to this point have led me to.

THIS is the best way I can imagine to launch a new year, a new focus, a new path. And if you are already on the path of your dreams, this is the ticket to staying there.
 
This is tailored for the creative call in all of us and is has no preference as to whether or not you are a struggling artist or a confident professional. This is for you, from me. With every ounce of love I have.

So what is this? This is my newest e-course, You, On Purpose: Rhetoric Recovery.

It is the course of all courses and it is all about cutting through trendy buzzwords to know exactly how your creative gifts will show up in the world and how they can be of service to yourself and others.

Tiffany Han (life and business coach and dream-powered freight train) and I have teamed up to create our most important personal work to date. We can't imagine a better way to

You deserve to identify, embrace, and embody those gifts specific to you.

• if trendy buzzwords and platitudes, however warm and fuzzy, fall short of helping you create sustainable practices for living an intuitive, vibrant life.
• if the tendency to compare yourself to others results in creative paralysis or if you ever withhold generosity in the name of protecting your hard work.
• if you frequently sign up for courses on how to be a social marketing whiz or creative business rockstar and are working more frantically than ever but feel like you're getting nowhere fast.
• if you vacillate between feeling the need to say "no" more but really want to be a "yes" person in a way that fuels your energy rather than depletes it.
• if you seek a creatively stimulating life, full of vibrancy and purpose, and want to maintain that energy through all the challenges or doubt that may come your way.    

Creative fulfillment is your birthright.

The doors are open. Come show your creative life how committed you are.

Go here to find out more.

      

 

   

 

 

Winter 2012 Ebook Sale

Thanksgiving was very quiet 'round these parts. The only cooking that happened at our house was making a spinach/blueberry/dried cherry/candied walnut/balsamic reduction salad to contribute to the extended family dinner. I love cooking AND I loved not having to on that day. I needed to just chill. Pony #1 made a decadent pumpkin/cream cheese dip that was oh so tasty and the leftovers got dumped into a graham cracker crust and frozen to make a delicious dessert that we've been enjoying sliver by frosty sliver.

I have a scary statistic to share with you. Three out of five children get the "lets look as goofy as possible in pictures" gene from their dad. It's sad, I know, but important for you to be aware of your risks if you are considering having more kids.

One of those three kids might try to compensate for it with sharp shooter skills that will make you choke on your turkey with surprise. She's that good (or so we've been told by family who have taken her out to the range. I'm lucky if I can remember where the beebees are for the gun we own, let alone how to load it.)

Never a dull moment here.

I'm a word-puzzle-piecing fool these days. My spirit is on fire. Beautiful, vibrant flames. I'm crafting up the best way I can think to start off 2013 and I can't wait to share it with you. If all goes on schedule, Wednesday will be the day. I'm all ruffled up about doing what I'm doing here behind the scenes that I decided a little exciting ebook sale to go along with it all would be fun too. Both my metalsmithing ebooks are now on sale until December 15th and since you'll get an actual disk chock full of techniques, videos and how-to information it would make the perfect gift for someone you know who might need a little injection of creativity. That might be you. That might be someone else. Either way, the content in these ebooks is not going to loose it's shine any time soon. There are no parts to break, no warrantees to register for, no rebates to redeem. Just idea generating creativity mixed with sleeve-rolling-up hands on.

To take advantage of this awesome deal, check out my Homesteader's Metalsmithing Ebook here and Handbook of Elements ebook here.

Okay. Back to word crafting. It's like an addicting game of solitaire.

 

 

New Work

It's been a while....a long while...since I listed new work in my etsy shop. A million mouse button clicks later and there's a hefty batch of original plaster paintings.
When I'm painting, in conversation with the plaster, I learn so much about myself. About patience. About the what is beautiful of everything and everyone. About how carefully I must use the words "I am" because they are like a magic spell cast out, creative and self-fulfilling.
I've had good mentors to tell me this way of working is not just a strange quirk only I have. I'm glad to know there are many of us on this path. Sometimes we don't see each other through the thick mists and rains. Sometimes we are huddled under the same rock for shelter telling stories while we wait out the storm but I like it best when we are standing shoulder to shoulder, facing the sun, encouraging each other onward.

 

We won't let you get away with lazy

I've been fixin' to write a nice pretty post for a while. Today, it kinda seems like doing it will be just the self-inflicted therapy I need.

There's a wild pony in the living room teaching herself a new song on the guitar. Youtube tutorials roll across the tv screen and she sits cross legged, determined, with the guitar in her lap. In about an hour she'll come tell me that her fingers are sore and I'll sympathize and tell her it sounded great. Because it does. She learns quickly and her musical bent shines in moments like these.

She's home today. Not because she is sick but because she is officially a student of the local charter school. The past couple of days have been spent un-enrolling her from the local High School and I have to tell you, it was NOT an easy decision for me to support. I have great respect and admiration for her teachers and many of them are close personal friends who love and adore my pony and want grand success for her. Its hard for them not to see - and express - her choice as a cop out and this morning that came to a head. She and I sat in the car and talked about life and how it's not important to prove anyone wrong because sometimes in doing so, you loose clarity of the vision you have for yourself. Sometimes you just have to try something different, give it your best shot, and be able to truthfully evaluate it for yourself to see if its working or not.

This decisions means she'll be home most of the days. She'll be home, teaching herself stuff from books. I have labored over this decision because I knew I was not able or interested in becoming her homeschool teacher and the guilt, man. The guilt. It hasn't been easy for me to be honest and confident in my confession of this matter. I have all these weird ideas of what it means to be a "good mom". Theman told me the other day "you're doing a good job" (as a mom). It darn near both broke my heart and fixed it all up proper like it needed that day.

This girl of mine is a few months shy of 16 and she thinks she's supposed to know what she wants to do with the rest of her life (for crying out loud). We keep telling her that knowing what you want to do is so much less important than knowing who and HOW you want to be. She has this giant quilt of possibility stretched out in front of her and she's trying to figure out how to sew it all together in a way that will still work 20,30,80 years from now. She thinks ahead more than most kids...she's her dad's kid. He and I just keep slowly stitching (hopefully) unbreakable threads of centering. "Focus on being. Keep your energy invested in the development of your happy and purposeful self. You'll see the how as you go along. And don't worry, we won't let you get away with lazy." :) I need to hear it as much as she does. We all need to know we have people backing us up, giving us a little push, when we are tempted to be lazy. Lazy is dressed in all sorts of fancy clothes these days.

Now that I think about it, I haven't posted in a while because, for the most part, my life is pretty good and easy. My time is full of new and exciting things. I'm brewing up something that my soul has been aching to create and I feel ALIVE. I'm often not quite sure how to share that sometimes (without sounding unaware and insensitive) when there are so many people suffering. I'm less likely to say to the suffering soul "It will be okay" and more inclined to say "how can I help" and when I don't see a way to help, I am quiet. Our brothers and sisters on the east coast are fighting a valiant and steadfast battle for basic comfort and I am sending all my love in every moment. For what it's worth. As I see ways to do more that feel right to me, I'm so on it.
We all have our battles. We all have circumstances that weigh heavy on our hearts. I'm trying to keep a pony's head above water and water has taken away homes. It just goes to show that the scale of personal challenges is as broad and varied as it could possibily be and somewhere in all of that our job is to practice compassion, to re-invest in our ability to do hard things with integrity so that, if nothing else, we have light to shine.

 

Yes. This was just what I needed. I little meal of reflection. Now, for some dessert...videos of laughing babies on Youtube sound good. I need a good laugh.

Peace out.

P.S. On Wednesday, November 7 at 5pm PT/8pm ET, you can join me, Pixie Campbell, and Jess Greene in a live call all about taking personal creative retreats, I'd love to have you along!! By signing up you will receive a recording of the call, so go HERE to register even if you can’t make the live event.

in praise of hard labor

"People with dirty jobs are happier than you think. As a group, they’re the happiest people I know."

-Mike Rowe

I just watched this video and I can only say, Amen, brother. Amen.

If you have been thinking that it's time to renew your gym membership, I invite you to consider other ways to improve your health:

-Plant a garden
-Help someone clean something up
-Do something that requires a little elbow grease and maybe even something that would make you want to plug your nose...but dont'
-Let your shoes get dirty in the digging
-Wield a garden tool in some purposeful way so that you can taste the difference between the sweat from hard labor and the sweat from using an indoor treadmill

Those are my old-timer thoughts for the day in hopes that true blue hard work remains the most important teacher we can introduce our children to.

 

 

What to do when you turn 50

...watch it until you can't see it any more. Then get smothered in love and kisses enough to last you another 50. Eat some rainbow cake too.
What to do if you're the wife of a fresh faced fifty year old? Knit yourself into a giant, soft blanket and wrap all your love around your man and the family he is an integral part of. Then rearrange the living room furniture when you're home alone to give the appearance that you've been nesting all day - JUST for them. Don't admit that it's also in part a way to fend of the urge to throw out everything you own because you need SOME sort of fresh start.

I love it when it's that easy to trick myself into making peace with and feeling gratitude for the many faces of abundance in my life.

some days you're the stick

We're still watering the lawns. Still watering the garden. Still watering watering watering. September - with its hot days, cool nights, dry grass, heavy harvest...confuses me.

 

Makes me sleepy. My body doesn't know whether to keep the fast pace of summer going or to slow down into an autumnal saunter. I put on a sweater in the morning and when I'm out running errands in the mid afternoon when the golden light of a lowering seasonal sun washes over everything, it takes me a while to realize I'm not tired. I'm hot. And I need to peel off the sweater.

I took a quick dip in some summer memories just now. Back when the apples that are now crimson were just green little cannon balls hanging from hopeful branches. Back to that Sunday afternoon visiting family and after coming home from being gone a couple of hours, discovered that the dogs had taken liberties with a giant chocolate cake. Back when swimming at the river was the best way to beat the heat. Back when a rippling silk-cloud sky brought shade to builder men.

That picture at the bottom right...that's me in the orange...speaking with lovely women at my book signing at the new Joanne's store. I met some treasures, for sure. Among them was and artist, a mother of a one year old and two year old, Alexandra, with her wild woman hair, rainbow eyeshadow on her carmel skin, and hot pink skinny Jeans. She looked like Tyra Banks but her smile was even prettier. She quietly asked me a question about how I am able to balance being an artist and a mom. She had a look in her eye that I took as someone looking for the right answer and I'm not sure the one I gave her was the one she hoped to hear. I just told her my truth. Balance is a fine idea but I think a lot of people think it means finding steadiness and I'm not sure I have much of that. I guess I do in my way. In the way that my bones are rooted in earth and I'm more and more interested in listening rather than being listened to. She said "I want to do my art. I want to do more with myself than just cook and clean." I said "Sometimes you just have to make THAT your art. The rest will work itself out." I was talking to me too. I can be a good friend to myself, sometimes.

I sat down to write a little hello here. I thought some delightful, bubbly little paragraph would emerge from the static sparks of my fingers touching the keyboard. I just had to check a couple of blogs first. Sparkly, vibrant, happening blogs. And that's the point at which I realized today I am that 6 inch metal stick you're holding in your hand after the sparkler all burned up. Some days you're just the stick. And that's totally fine. It might not be a bad idea to give myself full permission to saunter as slowly as needed. This may or may not be the plums talking (16 quarts of juice and 36 pints of jam). The plums that have taken over my kitchen and my evening/late night hours the past couple of days. The plums that required the used of every last of the giant bowls and pots and pans in the plum-scapades. Sticky, sweet, sparkly plums on the end of my burned up stick. Sweet and tart and a little bit smokey. It's all good.

 

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Off The Chain Class Samples

Hi Everyone,

In keeping with my current dog-paddling, ball juggling state, I have not yet posted sample pictures for my upcoming Off The Chain online class. I am working on them as we speak and will be sharing them next week. A HUGE thank you to those who have registered based on merit alone and the trust you have in my from previous online offerings. I appreciate it more than you know!

Also, I want to answer one major question I have received in regard to the timing of the class (see previous post). Though the class is live for one week (October 1st - 6th) I will, as I always do with my online classes, leave the site accessible to registrants for a full three months after class. If you are out of town, vacationing, busy, hiding out, or otherwise unable to commit to the dates of the live class, no worries! You'll have plenty of time to work with the lessons at a pace that is comfortable for you. I totally understand (and live) a busy life with fluctuating timing. If I were a registrant of an online class, I would want the same flexibility.

 

Last Day for Early Registration Price

A month ago I opened registration for my newest online class - Off The Chain. I had intended to leave the early registration price up for just a week or two but I was on the road, internet/computer access was limited at best, and so the discount has been available much longer than planned. I'm so happy to have so many of you on board! Just a heads up...I'm closing the early registration price of $35 tomorrow night (Wednesday) so if you want to get in on it before then, you'll save a bit o' cash. No worries if you don't. The class is still super affordable (regular price of $45) for a week of daily instructional videos - often more than one a day - all about making a varaiety of chains. You can use the techniques you'll learn in this class for jewelry, assemblage, book making, or, my favorite, keeping a teenager at home when she would MUCH rather be out with friends. It works wonders. Or so I've heard.

Anyway, if you want to get in on the class early, come on over! I'd love to have you!

**UPDATE: EARLY REGISTRATION IS NOW CLOSED. You can still register for $45 by clicking the button below:**

 

In other random news:

1) I'm mucking through the trenches on these golden late days of summer. The nights have been chilly and I'm scrambling to keep up with the waning tomatoes and other garden produce. With the help of my friend over the past couple of days i've put up quite a stock pile of pear products. Ginger preserves, Pear/Orange/Walnut Compote, Pear Sauce, Whole Vanilla Pears, and Pear Butter. A warmer comfort I can hardly find than that of adding such decadence to the larder.

2) Pup and I are still in conflict over the property boundaries. We start round two of obedience school tomorrow. She's doing much better in some ways - more mature - but that Border Collie drive overpowers all progress when we are outside. I've taken to running her on my bike just to let her bust out into fully speed. All that energy kept on the inside of the skin ain't no good for a dog like that. You oughta see her on the end of that leash, toungue flapping in the wind, the might of 8 sled dogs pulling me along, a big old smile, I swear. Does a heart good. I lap up every bit of that unconditional love as it no longer oozes from the eyes and lips of my ponies. Geeze. I thought for sure that my sweet natured darlings would surely by pass "the phase". Sigh. I will not reject mail addressed to them that reminds them how good they've got it and what a loving mom they have. You know how hearing it from somone else sometimes makes it stick. :)

Speaking of ponies...I hear the bus. Time to go put on my June Cleaver face and hug the snot right out of them.

(P.S. If you have emailed me in the past month and have not heard from me yet, please know that i am hacking away the the mountain at every chance I can. Thank you for your patience!)

 

my beautiful August in pictures

I aim to get back to my irregularly regular postings right quick. In an effort to balance "I need to tell you everything that happened since I was last here" with "just start where you are and don't try to catch up", I am sharing with you my August in pictures. Some of you were there and you'll see that there are many pictures that could have been added. ((Thank you for spending time with me!)). From the first blue moon, landing in Arizona for Art Unraveled to the last blue moon spent with my tiny herd at an intimate, outdoor Brandi Carlile concert and all vast skies, open roads, rodeos, shared brokenheartedness and laughter among friends in between.

August, you were good to me. I lived you on the road spending just the last three days of you at home. Thank you for the love. September, you have a big job ahead of you helping me get caught up. You're up for the task, right?

And here we are today. The first day of school for my 10th grade Sophmore class president and my 7th grade, first year at the High School student. Who are those grown up young ladies? They resemble the babies I nursed just yesterday...

Off the chain!

Here's a picture for you...

My two hands covered in white paint.
Sleeping in a guest bed.
A freshly updated/redecorated room waits down the hall as a suprise for someone special.
Missing my ponies and puppies and man and land and all the flavors of home while...
Practicing presence where I am. Now.
Towering Mt. Timpanogas sleeps a stone's throw to the east in the same place she slept when I was 10 and would stare at her out the back door of the house i grew up in. She's thick in the middle...too many fluffy cotton candy clouds for lunch.
Canyon breezes.
Crickets.
Late night/midday/during breaks scheming up the details of my next online workshop. My mind works on it when my hands can't.

Yeah. So that's where I am. I'm here that isn't there where I usually am when I say I'm "here". "Here" is usually home but for now "here" is a couple of states over while the herd holds down the fort at home.

Enough of the blindfolded geo locating.

Like I said before - I'm scheming up a new online class. I've been in scheming mode for a while but I'm actually in planned-out mode. The date is set and everything. It even has a name: "Off The Chain"...as in "crazy and exciting; delerious and wild. By analogy to a frenetic dog when unleased." (according to Wiktionary)

When I get home to my own computer and whip up a pretty little picture show for you to take a gander at, you'll be able to see for yourself. If you happen to have some experience with taking a class with me - online or in person - you know that I'm going to be packing that week of class with videos and written instructions galore on how to make your own chains with design variations aplenty, tons of technical prowess, and maybe even a tip or two on how to use your new found chain making skills to strengthen your relationships in my new book tentatively titled "How to Keep Mr. Right from Walking Out". It's the prequel to my yet-to-be-written book, "The Guaranteed Way to Keep Empty Nest Syndrome at Bay: A Child, A Chain, An Attic".

But I digress. Where was I? Oh yes...

...If you also happen to be the up-for-anything type and are gung-ho to dive into an online metalsmithing adventure with me this fall, you can register early at a discount. Thirty-five buckaroos ($35!!) for a loaded week of instruction! I'll only have this available for a short while and then the registration will open at the full price of $45.

Let's get the pre-party party started, eh!?

OFF THE CHAIN E-WORKSHOP
October 1st - 6th
Early Registration
**EARLY REGISTRATION IS NOW CLOSED**
$35 USD

 

 

 

 

Hello Arizona. Goodbye Arizona.

Four flyby days of teaching in hot Arizona. Peach, banana, strawberry, grape, cashew goulash and a glass of keifer for breakfast each morning. Going out with friends to watch bull riding, mutton busting, and flippity-do, boot-stomping dancing. Windmills, full moons, and lots of laughter. Saying goodbye is not my favorite part.

 

 

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pickles and yarn

Tomorrow morning, after a week of girl's camp, the ponies will be home. I predict super tired, kinda cranky, very dirty girls. Showers, naps, family movie, maybe a walk in the golden moonlight. Maybe not.

Today I'm packing for Arizona. (I'll be leaving my family for three long weeks.)
Today I planted three bushes that, in a few years, will give a little more privacy to our front deck.
Today I'm making some pickles and dilly beans and planning a dinner for two of chard, more beans, and a bit 'o local, organic beef. Our monthly allotment of meat. Her name was Paula.
Today I'm letting the house be quiet.
Today I'm thinking that friend's calling you out of the blue is a pretty sweet thing.
Today I'm sharing my momma's new etsy shop. This hand craft was the first I ever learned to do at the tender age of 5 or 6 (and I have since used it in my jewelry work in more recent years). This woman, in all my life, has never been seen without a crochet hook in her hand. I'm pretty sure it only happens in church because she needs to hold the hymnal and all. She spent 6 weeks in a clinical medical research study where she'd'a-like-to-have-died and gone to heaven what with being locked up and having nothing to do but crochet and read and watch tv and listen to books on tape. This is her paradise and it could have only been improved upon if someone would have kept her very well stocked with nuts of all variety (her favorite) and soup. While she was there she made exactly 500 crocheted doll dresses "for 12" dolls (just in case they think they were little dolls)" she says, finishing the 500th dress at midnight on the eve of her departure from the facility. She has crocheted literally hundreds of afghans for charity and humanitarain efforts over the years. I could go on and on telling yarn after yarn (snicker snicker) or you can just read for yourself. I promise you, she is so much more fun than you'd think a hook-addict would be. :)

I know I'll be getting a pair or two of these for baby girl konetski when she makes her appearance in early December.

Fridays are a good day for random thoughts, dontcha think?

 

Last week I gathered with hundreds of enthusiastic registrants of Pipe Dreams in the virtual classroom where we dove in to indulge in this short (week-long) online metalsmithing project class. We had a blast and the students created amazing work!

Check out a teeny, tiny sampling of the skilled student work!





Awesome work, eh!?!

I'm keeping registration open and the class accessible for the time being so if you missed out before, you're in luck now! All the class content, including instructional videos, are up and ready for you to peruse at your own pace. If you deserve a little summer play date with your creative muse, you can read the details and register here.

Would you rather join me in a brick and mortar classroom?

I'll be in Phoenix, Arizona teaching three plaster based classes at Art Unraveled. Though the classes are project specific, I'm going to be ambushing you in the most playful way with techniques you can apply to more variations than you can shake a stick at. There is still a bit of room in all three classes so if you are hankering to get plastered with me (in the most wholesome way, of course). I'd totally LOVE to have you join in on the fun!

On July 31st I'll be teaching Half-Wit where we'll be making plaster bowlface-hold-a-majigs. You know, in case if you ever get lonely in the studio and need another loon to keep you company.

The next class there will be a two-part plaster book making class (yes, a plaster book), Illusion of Heft on August 1-2 from 9-12 am each day. I am so in love with how these books feel. They are beefy and yet not heavy...but still super sturdy. Because they are made from (mostly) plaster, the surface is so luscious for painting, drawing, collaging, rubbing your hands across, whatevering. yum yum.

My last class of the event will be a wickedawesome Santos sculpting class starting the evening of August 2nd and finishing up on August 3rd. If you have ever wanted to experiment with sculpting but have been unsure of where to start or intimidated by the process, let me tell you that THIS class is the class that will break through all of that and hand you the manual of easy sculpting in the palm of you hand. You'll be a plastering whiz in no time! If you can't make it to Phoenix, I'll also be teaching the Santos class (a slightly extended version) in Layton, Utah on August 10-11th. My beautiful hostess, Lorraine, is opening her home studio to serve as a classroom for full on creative exploration and, let me tell you, that girl is a total creativity conduit!! Email me for the details of how to register for this workshop. I'd LOVE to spend some time with you this summer!

In Lee Family news, Pony #1 didn't pass her driver's permit test. Totally suprised us both. She'll take another stab at it when she gets home from girl's camp this week. She left today - a day early - for the 4th Year's overnight hike/campout before the rest of the group arrives tomorrow morning. That's when I'll take Pony #2 up where she'll learn how to make fires, dress wounds, tie knots, cook lumberjack food, and pull respectful pranks. The buttcrack of dawn will be here in a blink. To say she's excited is totally an understatement what with this being her first year and all. Her camp buddy and she are in the bedroom chatting away as we speak...despite the fact that I've told them a half a dozen times that it's time to go to sleep. Ahh, whatever. They can catch up on sleep this winter.

While the ponies are away, I'll be putting the final details (i.e. last minute cramming) on my prep for my Art Unraveled and Utah classes. I was telling theman that it would be so cool to be standing in this moment with all my prep done and money stashed away so that he and I could steal away to our favorite campground in the Redwoods at the coast while the girls are at camp. Just the thought of it makes me....sigh. I try to asuage my ache by reminding myself that it's still summer...the campground would be crowded and we like it all to ourselves anyway.

I console myself with tonight's batch of Black Currant Rhubarb Jam with pickin's from the garden. Best use of my black currants I've found to date. You should see the color...and the flavor is as close as I can get to the feeling of being flat on my back on the river bank staring up at the stars in the Redwoods in summer. I'll take a jar and a spoon to theman and hope he forgives my underdeveloped time management skills.

 

the cake will tell all

 

**beautiful**

So there's picture of an ultrasound on the text messages of my phone. It's your typical black and white inksplot that's supposedly looks just like a baby. I've never been able to identify more than a head on those things but once the real thing emerges into the world, I totally know what's what and what to do with it.

Calm down. I'm not pregnant. That ship sailed two ponies ago (though it's not for lack of trying). BUT...I am going to be a grandma! My oldest step daughter is pregnant with her first young'n and tonight we will be attending our very first "baby reveal" party. The other beautiful step-daughter is making a cake and when the cake is sliced there will be something that indicates the gender of 20 week incubated little baby Konetski.

Yes. I'm going to be a grandma. Yes, I just turned 35 last week. No, I'm not the world's youngest grandma but it will be interesting to see how it feels. I'm the lady who can't finish her sentence when a little baby passes in view. I'm the lady who can totally tell a hungry cry from a "get me out of this car seat" cry from across the store and if that cry comes from a baby less than a month old (yes, I can tell that too), then my woom-bah flutters and I start gently bouncing the watermelon I have propped on my hip. I'm not sure what grandma's do but hoping it doesn't start with a hair cut and roller set.

while I wait

She's a week shy of 8 months old and still leash bound. She's still pooping in the house if we aren't careful (a result of a lack of freedom outside). 15 feet of black woven cotton tether her to me every time she goes outside. Unless, of course, she happens to escape and makes a bee line for the fence that is supposed to keep her separate from the cow and the horse. I've been talking to the old hooved girls and asking if they wouldn't mind helping me out a bit. "Just a quick kick to scare her home, please? Don't break anything...knock a tooth out if you must...but just please help me keep her wanting to stay home." They are too busy being annoyed and presenting pup with the broad view of their south ends. As if that will make her go away.

Inspite of class after class and even having a private trainer come out to the house, she's determined to create bad work. She needs to work. I have TONS I want to do with her to satiate her desire, her high-intesity NEED to have a job. But I am limited in that until we can get over a few hurdles.

It's almost embarassing. I think of myself as "not one of those people who let's their dog get away with anything" and so to have a dog that does what she does is challenging. We have the trainer coming out again soon. She's going to guide us in the responsible, effective use of a remote citronella collar. She is confident that it will work wonders and i am hopeful that she is right.

I've grown to love this dog so much. She has the brightest eyes of all! She knows exactly which garden beds are a no-paw zone and she loves to sit next to me - within the confines of the fenced in garden - and pick strawberries with her dainty little snout. She's fascinated with the bucket that i keep my vine clips in that hold up the cucumbers to the fence where little mushrooms grow. She drinks from the bird bath somehow, intuitively...midboggling to me...knowing exactly how much weight she can put on her paws to not knock it to the ground.

I can tell that she's going to be one of the best dogs ever - she and my Sadie Lou. In the meantime it's about patience. It's about sitting in the open field below while she sniffs and jumps and dances around me. I shiver as a cold summer rain storm rolls in and the dusk light washes everything is a vivid smokey gray. The only thing between me and being totally in love with this perfect moment is that leash. Patience. Patience.

Pipe Dreams starts today (there's still time to get in on the fun!)

Beautiful day. Beautifull weekend. The beets and tomatoes and green beans are growing an inch a minute and I have jar upon jar of pickled produce on the mind. That time will be here in a sneeze's instant. I'm plotting my church of the garden produce where in we will offer up a prayer of thanksgiving in my kitchen sooner than later. No special dress code enforced. Pastor Vinnie presides over the congregation nightly with hose in one hand, beer in another, clothed in Oregon-appropriate shorts and birkenstocks. His shirt flung over the fence because, I guess, it's important that he wears it when passing the rabbit cage on the way to the garden...?...even thoug it comes off as quickly as the garden gate latch clicks. He's a mystery, that blue-eyed dreamweaver of mine. A simple mystery. Yanni, Crash Test Dummies, and Alanis all cohabitate on his play list. I'm probably over thinking it all as I am wont to do.

(what we won't do for a good shot!)

Pipe Dreams starts tomorrow. I'm leaving registration open until further notice because this little class is the perfect vacation for those of you who imagine a week sequestered in your studio knee-deep in creative play a dream holiday.

 

The house is a total disaster. It's just what happens when I get tunnel vision (like preparing and putting the final touches on an online class). It's like the ponies think I don't notice the obstacle course of STUFF in the hall that sprouted up like an earth-consuming mushroom as a result of their spontaneous room switching. (remember doing that? Changing bedrooms? Dad used to let me do that whenever I wanted. It was just me and him and the dog in that big old house for a lot of years. I guess I had to keep things interesting.)

While I'm mostly confined to the bridge of the online classroom ship, I'm still taking breathers out in the rest of my life. The puppy wrangler and plant waterer parts of me are feeling a bit lonesome for the "whip this place into shape" part of me. My organization addiction kicks into high gear when things are such a mess. A consistent slower idle would be nice, but I'm not yet sure how to maintain that level of engagement in the all of it all. Little by little and sometimes big by big.

water for my birthday

I'm feeling so alive, inspired, empowered. I don't know how to even put it in to words. I have so much I want to tell you about my weekend at the World Domination Summit. While I'm drawing out the threads of thought and drafting a pattern of how to knit them all together in a beautiful shawl I'm also celebrating my 35th birthday today. 

There's a lot around turning 35 for me. So much of it is unexpected. So much of it just part of realizing that I'm in that beautifull middle place. There are so many wise women (and men) still dancing around on the planet who have lived so much more life than me. They radiate so much kindness, so much aliveness, so much compassion. And the youngers...the ones who see 35 as a long-future mark in time...I love that I am able to walk on the path and leave tokens along the way to tell them "you are doing amazing. Keep the faith."

This is a tender time for me. A tender time when I feel stronger than ever. The vulnerability I want to honor and the innate buoyancy of my spirit intersect here, at 35. As I stand in that split second pause between the inhale and exhale, I see myself with so much more compassion than ever before. This picture, taken by someone I care deeply about, purturbed me for a while. She said it was beautiful. I was certain she was just being kind - not realizing her filter of me is not clouded by my own self-judgement. (too often I mistake my clouded view as fact.) Yet I look at it now with much kinder, more compassionate eyes. That is me. My long fingers, my upturned lip, my stub nose, my long jaw...my mothering heart, theman's beloved, the buoyant spirit, someone who will help you choose the right pectin in the canning isle so that you are overthemoon happy with the results. I am beginning to embrace the incomplete wholeness, the gritty-filmed brilliance, and the experience of what it means to live in gratitude in the face of plenty to be annoyed about. This is life. This is my life. And it's a pretty dang good one.

In honor of my gratitude for being alive on this planet, I'm inviting you all to the party of all parties. The theme of the party is gratitude through giving something we all take for granted. Clean water. I was moved to tears many, many times when I heard Scott Harrison, creator of charity:water, speak at the World Domination Summit. His journey through compassionate giving and building this beautiful charity are inspiring beyond words. If I were to be totally honest, I would have to admit that I'm not usually one to give to charity. I admit it. Not because i don't WANT to help, but because i'm never certain that my small donation will have much impact (a typical response when we live in a country of cheap goods at high prices. We may be a bit out of touch about how far our dollar can go to providing basic needs for those in developing countries). When I saw the transparency of charity:water - how not once single penny donated goes to admin (unless you specifically donate to admin intentionally) - I was inspired to "give up" my birthday in hopes that you, my dear readers, would be inpsired to join me in sharing our abundance and showing our gratitude for the often overlooked blessing of clean water by making a contribution to the efforts charity:water is so beautifully engaged in. I feel honored to be able to help in this small way to decrease the 4500 children a day who die and the 80% of illnesses caused by water borne illnesses.

You can tithe specifically in honor of my water-sign, cancerian birthday here: (any time, any amount - the site calculates the suggested donation based on my birthday age but you can enter your own amount. No amount is too little.)

Whether you donate or not, I hope you feel the blessing of abundance in your life today. I'm so glad to be here on this planet with you. 35 years and counting. Cheers.

ox

Bam.

(Guess which one is my pony...the one with dimples.)

I always hope to conjure up a more silky, ease-into-it start to a blog post - especially when it's been almost a month since my last post - but sometimes it's just BAM. Here I am.

I'm snacking on celery with peanut butter, stopping every other bite to de-string the stalk. If it weren't for those pesky strings I'd eat celery way more. I think somebody fogged our house with a strange, odorless chemical over the weekend because, you guys, my ponies are cleaning their rooms. CLEANING THEIR ROOMS!! Without my request. They woke up and, like, just had the idea all on their own. And we're not talking surface cleaning. They are full on, hard core, vigilante style cleaning. Going-through-old-birthday-cards-that-have-been-stored-in-a-box-under-the-bed-and-throwing-out-dried-nail-polish-bottles clean. The hall has growing mounds of "get rid of" piles. I don't even care that I look like a spy dodging laser beams when trying to get from my office at one end to the living room at the other end. They have music playing and everything. I'm sniff sniff getting all weepy sniff sniff...so proud of my little organizers sniff sniff!

I've had such a circus of life and head-stuff going on I could write and write and write and still just scratch the surface. This post could go any direction: "life is so amazing" or "what the bleep am I doing?" or "everything's just as it should be and I'm totally chill with it all" or "it's time to dump the whole thing on it's head and start all over". Yeah. It's all part of the circus. It's all pretty good too. I'm not a-feared of looking into the deepest of deeps and somehow manage not to spill my cuppa laugh juice while in the dive. I suppose it makes me hard to read to some folks but theman...theman always sees every layer, every beautiful and wrinkled and festering and luminous and expanding and dying off layer of me and somehow manages to still want to tie himself to my soul. I'm mostly at a loss for words when it comes to trying to express how grateful I am and how unbalanced I'm pretty sure it is - what he puts up with compared to what he receives in return. I grow him a garden and sometimes make dinner. Sometimes I clean the house too. Sometimes I make him apple pie and carrot cake. Other than that....

The Lake Oswego show was an awesome experience. HUGE thanks to everyone who purchased a painting from me! You are the coolest people - coming out in the rain, looking at my work, loving it enough to buy it. I'm grateful beyond words. Frank and Kathy...dang, was it Kathy?...the cutest people of the whole weekend. A retired couple with a zest for life and art. He (an artist) and i had a couple of awesome jam sessions talking about plaster and color and texture and the way we relate to the surface. On the first day I met them he wore a bright turquoise shirt - his favorite color - and visited a while. They came back later that day and bought a painting that matched his shirt. He loved the zing of bright red I had inculded. The next day they popped in to tell me they loved it in their house. That alone made my weekend. I have a few stories kind of like that. The richness of the experience is lingering.

Between my last visit here and now I've been that ball on the end of an elastic attached to the paddle of home. Thrown out and sprung back. Sometimes ricocheting off other surfaces first - like pony 2 turning 12, painting and installing rooster art with local high school art students and their teacher, our annual town celebration (hello small towns), taking my master food preserver certification test, packing my bags for my upcoming adventure at WDS and hanging with my homegirl Laurie in Portland for the weekend, and last but totally not least - preparing for my Pipe Dreams Online class starting the 16th of this month. (it's going to be awesome! You can still register if you want in.)

Bam. Here I am. I'm done with my celery and have moved on to gum and iced tea. I'll be back super soon with paintings for sale, a killer pineapple jam recipe, the current amazing window display of high school student art in our downtown windows, and the top 10 reasons to hand-water a garden.

i've missed you.

Studio Fruit Friday - the last one

It's June and I'm wearing socks and a sweatshirt. Cool weather and rain has been the story but I'm happy to see that the garden growth persists. In the not-so-distant future, I see jars of dilly beans, pickled beets, heaping piles of steamed chard drizzled with balsamic reduction, sauteed crook-neck squash, and fat sliced tomatoes with pepper and smoked sea salt splayed out on plates and devoured. **mouth watering**

I'm creeping in on the eleventh hour before the Lake Oswego Art Fair. A growing number of details are waiting in the bread line. I clock them through, one by one, being sure never to look up to see how many are left knowing I would slip into some OCD-like behavior and start calculating how many minutes each detail is allowed to all be accomplished before the time is up. I just keep at it one at a time because i have learned - both the hard and the easy ways - that this is the best method for me.

I've decided that this will be my final Studio Fruit Friday before the show. I need to focus on building my stock pile. I have absolutely no idea if I have "enough" art for the show. I have absolutely no idea what "enough" would be. It's an easy thought for me to panic about and my panic usually looks like avoidance. I fold laundry, run errands, water the garden instead. I'm doing better with than than I was a month ago and intend to abandon my avoidance all together any second now. My goal is to just keep painting and leave the rest to the powers that be. Before I leave I'll share images of all the finished pieces for you to gawk at. It may or may not matter to you that one out of three kitties approve. (The other two would likely approve, too, if they were not out hunting or napping.)
So. Two little pieces to share. I've been having conversations with simple, strong, black inky lines. They show up mostly as shapes - cages and ladders and firework flowers. The strong black lines are holding me in place somehow. It's a good thing - these ties to where real life is. I have no need to float away into some dreamy, airy place. I find all the answers to my questions, all the solutions to my mistakes, all the love to my fear in the strong black earth.

"untitled"
6" x 6" x 1.5"
plaster, acrylic, encaustic on wood

**unavailable**

 

"Open"
6" x 6" x 1.5"
plaster, acrylic, encaustic on wood

**unavailable**

 

freebie technique video

BIG thanks to everyone who has registered for my Pipe Dreams e-workshop! Just what you needed...another totally logical reason to sequester yourself into the studio and request dinner to be served hot to your worktable. With dessert immediately following. You're welcome.

So as I'm putting all the puzzle pieces together for this workshop - which is a matter of arranging and rearranging and re-rearranging all the technical and actual components - I thought it might be fun to give you a little peak into what you can expect if you have not yet registered and are considering it. I have a system I prefer when it comes to the videos for my class to keep them simple, consise, clear and super informative. Then I flood you with written content that supports the video as well as informs you on all the variations on the theme I can think up. I like to serve you an information sandwich with all the fixin's. A Dagwood of epic proportions. Though my videos are not "professionally produced" (which would not change the information at all...just the setting and, ahem, cost of production) they are absolutely full-on me giving you my all. Thanks to a tall, zoom happy, and skilled chair-balancing husband-camera-man, you get to get up close into what I'm doing in a way that even a live class can't give you. I love that about videos. Just love it.

So, I pulled this little video (7:22 minutes long) from my Homesteader's Metalsmithing online class/ebook. Not only does it give you a peek into what an online class with me is like, it also gives you something to do today. Because I know that you are just like me...bored with absolutely NOTHING to do. No twenty mile long list. No sir. Not us. We're free birds.

(if for some dang reason the video says "sorry, the creator of this video has not given you permission blah blah blah..." just click on the video title under the block to view it directly on vimeo. I've been wrestling it all morning and haven't figured out the problem.)

Enjoy!

Flooding Metal with Solder from Stephanie Lee on Vimeo.

**Go here for more information about my Pipe Dreams e-workshop.**

 

 

Studio Fruit Friday - a break

Yo guys. So here's the deal. I've been pulled in a lot of differnt directions this week and have no new artwork for studio fruit friday. Friday kinda, um, snuck up on me. I still have prints in the shop, though, and new artwork being made every day so I'll be back again next week with some more offerings.

Thanks so much for everyone who has registered for my Pipe Dreams summer eworkshop. I'm loving the enthusiasm and can't wait to go live! I'm shooting the video from my "new" studio where the lighting is better and the space is more...spacey...so I anticipate great things as I continue putting it together. I visited the chiropractor today and got my neck adjusted (wow...eyeballs are NOT supposed to feel like they are being pulled into your head by some invisible chord attached to the back. Did you know that?), I have a belly full of salad, the sun is shining, the bean and beet sprouts are up, my allergy pills are working, and life is all cram packed with stuff to be grateful for.

Oh, and the puppy-slash-pooping-lightning-bolt is pretty insistent on keeping her bad habits. I'm practicing patience and wondering when she decided that singing like a wolf is something cool to do.

 

Pipe Dreams - a summer online workshop

Announcing a little summer vacation for all you house and work bound adventurers! Now open for registration is my new Pipe Dreams online workshop taking place

You can read all the details here!

 

Studio Fruit Friday - A theater of clouds

 

The rain we've had the past couple of days is welcome, as far as I'm concerned. A torrential downpour yesterday surely beat most of the pollen out of the trees, down to the raging creeks, and out to the ocean...? The soggy afterparty is still going strong but by tomorrow this time, it will be over and all the guests will have gone home. I've enjoyed the show, the theater of clouds that has performed with vim and vigor and I'm not one to pass up an opportunity to make popcorn.

A giant bowl of it is hanging out in my studio with me today. Loud music, ever energetic playing pups, and popcorn. Being alone all day has it's pluses.

Speaking of good things - I have a cool announcement coming Monday! It involves metal and interactive play. It's going to be good. (stay tuned!)

For today's Studio Fruit, I bring you a waxy, plastery theater of clouds...

"Theater of Clouds"
12" x 24" x 1.5"
plaster, acrylic, beeswax on wood

**unavailable**

and a ladder to the stars for climbing after the clouds have cleared. Best hold up the hem of your nightgown while climbing.

"they're not as far as you think"
6" x 6" x 1/5"
plaster, acrylic, beeswax on wood

**SOLD**

 

Studio Fruit Friday - wax on wax off

A stuffy-nosed hello to you all! I have a 50 lb bowling ball of a head on my shoulders, sinuses all stopped up, and sniffles galore. hello beautiful oak trees that give us luxurious shade in the hot summer months. hello the precursor hell that is a continuous fog of greenish yellow pollen that blows down from them like a cloud of death. hello spring allergies. (three million cheers for Canada that still carries my allergy pill of choice that I can no longer get in the US. three more million cheers for buying stuff online and having it delivered right to your door just when you thought you couldn't take another minute of what feels like someone's elbows shoved into either side of your nose.)

And yet, I still paint. I paint and sniffle and sneeze and paint some more. I listen to loud music and drink lots of water and wonder what famous people are doing right this very second. Not really. i just had that one thought earlier today. Like, I'm in here painting in my garage while Tom Selleck is doing what? Digging ditches?

I dug a few ditches of my own this week. Mostly in wax. Then I rubbed some paint down in them ditches and had a little conversation with the marks that made themselves evident. Working with wax is always such an adventure. It's like planning your birthday party with someone who is planning a bigger surprise birthday party for you at the same time. You know there's going to be a party, you just have no idea how cool it will really  be until it happens. I make marks in the wax but then I find even more cool marks that I didn't put there. I love that.

I might be subconsciously craving a long road trip because I feel like I'm painting a lot of sky in some form or another. Or at least mostly open space where the wind is probably blowing a little bit. I'm pretty sure that the deserts of eastern Oregon and Nevada are putting on an awesomeifying sage-blooming show right about now. Bet it's purdy.

untitled
plaster, acrylic, and beeswax on wood
12" x 12" x 1.5"

unavialable

"portals"
plaster, acrylic, and beeswax on wood
6" x 6" x 1.75"

unavialable

 

 

It just occured to me

If there is this place in your mind where you are free of all the weight that you have felt burdened by and in that place you are fully alive, confident, loving, allowing, kind, compassionate, trusting, bold and all of the other ways of being you can imagine for yourself...

...and if you feel like there is much work to do to be there, that there are too many things "in your way", parts of you that need fixing, pain or stuck ideas that need releasing before you can be there...

...it just occured to me that the energy put into fixing and trying to release might be better used in practicing the opposite. I mean, if you practiced enough the being fully alive, confident, loving, allowing, kind, compassionate, trusting, bold and all of the other ways of being you can imagine for yourself, pretty soon it would be easier to be that than to be forever trying to fix yourself, forever believing that the pain or stuck ideas need to be relased first.

You don't need to wear yourself out trying to fix a false-flawed self. Take a breather in the practice of being totally okay. In this moment. Now. (does your mind start to explain itself? does it try to justify the discomfort?)

Bless your heart. Bless all our beautiful hearts.

The morning showers outside in the early sunrise are stirring up the deep thinking parts of me that want to be totally satisfied with exquisite beauty of each moment and the possibility (reality) that I am an integral part of that.

Studio Fruit Friday - the distraction

I'm getting used to - even fond of - the early morning showers outside. The air has been cold but the water is good and hot. As long as you keep your arms tucked close and turn slowly around and around under the shower spray, you can stay toasty warm. We're doing dishes on the outside wall of the outdoor shower house at the big salvaged farm sink we installed a few years ago. To get to the shower we have to walk in through the small garden gate. There is so much awakening in there right now. If everything that is growing made music, it would be the symphony of a lifetime. I have yet to pull up last year's cabbages. They've all bolted beyond bolted but just look at the cute little bally blooms! So touchable.

Among the other blooms are strawberris and currants. And the marigolds I showed you the other day are as velvety and rich as every. Perfect for rubbing gently on your cheek.
There is a mirror hanging on the outside wall of the shower house and the view ain't half bad. The oaks are all leafed out - seemed to happen overnight - and the poppies are putting on a frilly, vibrant show. Where they are growing was the end of a neglected, ill-planned flower bed when we bought this place a few years ago. Now it's more of a thoroughfare. Especially now that we are tromping from house to shower to house to sink to house and back again multiple times daily. I see no need to move them to a "better" location. I mean, it's not everyday that you have an enthusiastic crowd of brightly dressed cheerleaders waving their poms poms at you as you walk by with a bin full of dirty dishes! "Go, girl, Go!" I will collect thier seeds soon and spread them elsewhere on the land. I consider this patch a patch of volunteers now and dad always says about volunteers: "If they've volunteered to grow there, might as well let them and see what they do."  I've been painting painting painting. I have a gillion pieces in progress but have only completed two large paintings these week. Two that are too large to try to ship easily so this week's Studio Fruit Friday is a flash back of last week. Prints are still in the shop with the addition of one more print of my most recently finished piece.
The original measures 24" x 24" and feels oh so yummy to the touch. This plaster love affair keeps deepening. Every hour the pull between the dirt in the garden and the clay in the studio intensifies. I'm steadied only by going back and forth between the two and while I'm in the studio, I keep the big door rolled open so I'm practically outside and while I'm in the garden I wear my painting apron so that my flowers know what I'm doing when I'm not with them. As if they don't get along just fine without me.

it could be worse

It all started this past Thursday. I take that back...it started a month ago. The toilets clogged. But not just the toilets - the sinks and showers wouldn't drain either. Bad news because it's not a problem that can be solved with some drain cleaner or a wire hanger shoved in the pipes as far as you can manage. Nope. A month ago the problem magically resolved itself by the end of the day so we figured that whatever was holding things up had passed on through.

Okay, so Thursday. Deja vu. I first noticed it when I was taking a shower and by the end of it I was standing in a couple of inches of water. Same thing happening in the other bathroom. When it didn't resolve itself that day, we had the neighbor (who owns a plumbing company) come and snake the lines. No dice. So, he dug a hole over the lid of the septic, lifted that big, 'ol concrete top off and jumped aside as the septic contents burbled up. Yeah. Gross.

Fridays are not well known for being able to get people out to work on stuff on a moment's notice so we rode it through the weekend - not doing laundry, then having no clean clothes so then a visit to the laundromat where I did homework, showering outside, washing dishes outside, doing other...stuff...outside. Pioneering it (which was probably much easier, mentally, for the pioneers who knew nothing else and who didn't have neighbors within eye and ear shot who are flushing and dishwashing just fine. Don't know for sure...just a guess.)

I tell you what, when the honey truck showed up this morning to pump out the septic, I could have kissed them. They might have well been wearing super hero capes. I went to run some errands anticipating being able to come home, load the dishwasher, run a load of whites, and go about my American dream life as usual.

Turns out it's not that easy. The leach field is dun tucker'd out. It's totally shot and needing to be replaced. We just bled a turnip to get the septic pumped and then to have the plumber hydroflush the lines just to find out that he couldn't flush the lines because the leach field is shot and we'll have to get the septic pumped again when we replace the field. Cough Cough ca-ching! (Tell you what...if I were a plumber hired to do a job and couldn't do it for whatever reason, I would have a hard time still charging full price for the service. But that's just me.)

Anyway, there are so many rules and red tape about this kind of thing. I know there are good reasons but it sure makes me want to jump on some soap box about ridiculous building codes and over regulation and the horrendous fees for upgrading and repair. This is also when a little money stashed in savings would come in handy. Or a sugar daddy. The cool thing is that this kind of time is when my cockeyed optimism kicks into high gear (it's self-preservation) and I march around full of purpose tidying up things as well as I can so that I'm ready when the suprise that we never could have imagined shows up and gives us exactly what we need. This is the way things go when you are certain that this is the way things go.

But i digress.

Today, there was shining sun, birds collecting chicken feathers for nests, the puppy minding her manners a little better each day, plenty to keep me busy, a house full of awesome help.  

 Yes, it could be worse. A lot worse.

Studio Fruit Friday - Prints, at last

"This IS my happy place"

"star spillers in a cloud forest"

In lieu of posting original painting this week for Studio Fruit Friday, I've listed a small collection of prints in my etsy shop. I've been meaning to do prints for years but have had a hard time with the idea of letting go the tactile quality of original work. It was time to finally give it a try and I'm happy to say that the prints are just as lovely as the originals in their own, printerly way. The colors are true and the content is maintained. I look forward to venturing more into the world of prints (which also means even more originals coming available as well!)

"catch a ride into a daydream with a cup of tea"

I'm off to the studio to see if I can get my head into a happy, painty place. My motivation may or may not have something to do with the fact that we've been toilet-flushingless and shower drain-less for two days, getting creative about taking care of business, using the solar shower and now we have a giant hole RIGHT outside the living room doors that is the exposed, open septic tank ready to be pumped. Trying to think good thoughts about living in a house with real toilets instead of just holes in the ground....

 

 

soul saving on an overcast Wednesday

Today is one of those days when the bliss of being a self-employed artist (la la painting la la music playing la la dancing in the studio la la being inspired by every little thing) is hiding in a closet somewhere refusing to come be my companion. It makes me want cake, cheese, hot saucy noodles. 

Every day, just by engaging in what I do, I committ to this life more and more and the more committed I am, the more I am required to examine all the facets of what it means to be an authentic artist. I don't believe that this examination necessarily needs to be a battle. It's just part of being fully connected to who you really are. I'm not currently sitting solid in pleasing-people-with-my-work mode...which isn't to say that I am not fully and one million percent committed still to my intention to create work that uplifts and inspires people in some small or big way. I feel I've just scratched the surface of how that will show up for me. And sometimes scratching the surface long enough makes your fingers bleed. Sometimes, when you think you've had all you can take without having a good scream, grace steps in and gives you a hug. Or in my case this morning, directed me to this artist who, drives 100 miles from his home to his studio and today, saved my soul - the soul that needs to make stuff without everything else appearing perfect. Thank you, Brian.

Here's what he said in a video interview that set my compass back on the right path for today - mud, snakes, poison oak and all.

"If the process of painting is simply a matter of me making a decision and then me executing something that will make you feel a certain way, there are too many places for deception – even my own self-deception – to exert their influence."

"Some of the mess of our lives seems to show some evidence of particular design for our good. Some of it seems to just be the incidental mess of what happens when you have…people."

"I do not FEEL like I have a balanced life. However, I have learned certain things where it seems like none of the categories that I value greatly are screaming from complete neglect. They are all a little bit neglected. Maybe that’s the balance. I’ve balanced my neglect."

I laugh at the truth of it all and this little knowing chuckle is like a big "Amen! Let's get on with making a mess of things. With dancing through it. With letting spirit move into a through me without deciding anything yet. This is what I do."

 

Spring Ebook Sale - Last day!

Wowza! Thanks for the incredible support of and response to my Spring ebook sale! I'm sending them out daily and hope that when you dive into the content, you'll feel a wind on your creative fire.(you can read more here and here).

Just a quick reminder that today is the last day of the sale. Feel free to drop me a line if you have any questions. Just in case you are wondering, these ebooks are hard copy disks with tons of instructional video and written content. They work on any computer and are yours to keep and view forever and ever and ever.

I walked out on the deck a few minutes ago, barefoot and robed, to watch the ponies walk to the bus. The birds are competing for air time. The air is fresh and damp. The pastures are weighted down by the juicy emerald velvet. Beautiful. Leaning against the rail, overlooking the garden spread below, I can't help but be excited about harvest time. I start my Master Food Preserver's program tomorrow and i can't even tell you how excited I am for that. Do I REALLY have a full day every week for the next two months that I can be out of the studio and not producing work for the Lake Oswego show? Not really. Have I been wanting to do the MFP for so long that I'm doing it anyway? Yep. I'm hoping the cookies I left for the muses keeps them around.

 

Studio Fruit Friday - Spring's Curtsey

I went to my favorite nursery yesterday afternoon to wander as slowly as possible among the plants. I needed something akin to a morphine drip so I went to have silent conversations with them where I compliment them on their cute sassy outfits, darling blue faces, fuzzy slippers. They wave their short little arms with wide palms, their long gangly ones with slender fingers, some just nod their sleepy heads. Nevertheless, it's good conversation. Some of my favorite kind.

I need a can-can line as tall as I am for the top of our retaining wall flower bed. I want a blooming row of dancers that I can prune up their skirts so their long legs show and up top, right at face level, they'll be putting on their best, blooming show. Wisteria has decadent, drippy blooms but is too root hoggish. Pyracantha is a too overused for my liking but the red berries in fall are quite lovely. The Crepe Myrtle, in just the right color, would be ohsolovely but I'm pretty sure the deer would think them a tasty treat. Lilac...not enough sun. I just learned about the Fragrant Tea Olive bush and am intrigued. The lady at the nursery suggested rhododendron...which could work beautifully if I could find a color I love. I'm not so much into sucker punching our land with bolts of hot pink. I'd prefer a deep salmon or orangey-cream. The nursery lady with poor bedside manor also suggested holly and then I had to remind her that they will be planted in a very high traffic area and no barefoot Lee likes holly needles stabbed in her foot. The "Annabelle" hydrangea would be my dream plant there but, again, the hungry (read: belligerent, greedy, destructive) deer. But oh how happy I would be if only the dogwood would work there.... sigh. When it comes to plants, my problem is never that I don't like enough options.

I wandered past a table of bonsai all posed freeze-frame style "Hold still! Maybe she won't see us!" but I saw them. And I complimented their holding still skills. Along the back row was a small forest of Black Jack fig trees. One followed me home. She'll share her tasty fruit this summer and it will be worth every square inch of garden she will inhabit.

So, by now it must be obvious that the growing season is on my mind. Spring is finally coming out from behind the curtain and has given us her first little tentative curtsy. There is a orchestra warming up in the pit tuning up with dogwood blooms and lilacs. Even holed up in the studio I am influenced and I find myself painting florals when I'm normally not a floral-y kinda gal. I don't resist the urge, as you can see. Afterall, who am I to argue with the song of nature? I just want to sing background, is all.

(click on the images to view them larger)

"Dogwood" 27" x 9" x 1.75"

plaster, acrylic, inscribed beeswax on wood
ready to hang horizontally or vertically
(unavailable)

 

"Why Not" 8" x 8" x 4"

plaster, acrylic, inscribed beeswax on wood
this deep box painting is ready to hang
$150
**Sold**

P.S. These paintings are not listed in my etsy shop. If you are interested in purchasing them, you can click directly on the buttons above.

thoughts on getting + staying organized

Though all corners of my home may or may not, at times, reflect this, the truth is that organizing is one of my favorite things. I remember organizing the corner cupboard with the wobbly lazy susan in the kitchen when I was a kid - small enough to crawl half way in there to pull out the pan lid or three that inevitably fell off the susan and into the back corner. Once mom affectionately called me her "organizer girl". I've owned it ever since. My sister was the "finder girl" (she could find any lost thing any where at any time.)

I'm doing a presentation to a big group of women this coming Saturday on organizing and I'm finding myself writing enough notes to write a book. All or nothing - I guess - is how i roll. They're not really about clever storage solutions, the latest labeling gadget (I have no clue), or chore charts. Mostly I'm interested in sharing the connection between a perpetual state of chaos in the home and how it is a symptom of a perpetual state of chaos in the head. Well, perpetual or temporary. Either way they are connected and I hope to present the idea to the women that our sense of value lies more in our freedom to move around in our own homes, our own lives, than in how much stuff we have to show for our attachment to sentimentality or status. It used to be that only shiny, expensive and new was the epitome of status but now even the most humble, well worn, and shabby collections are now taking their spot high in the ranks of enviable. Whether shiny or chippy, too much of anything leaves room for nothing.

As with everything, no matter how much you think you (I) know about something, there's always room to learn more. Life is about expanding. Always expanding and reaching beyond the border of what we think is all there is, beyond the border of what we think makes us so smart, beyond the border of thinking we have it all figured out. About all things. I love that about life and I hope I always keep that slight sense of not-knowing that keeps me open to seeing where I can learn more. Some people say that owning the not-knowing parts of yourself is cheating yourself of the knowing parts of yourself but I say it's not. Not at all. I say they're each holding an end of the jumprope and if one of them gets lazy or cocky or self-important, you're going to end up in a heap of bruises on the asphalt. 

But anyway, back to this organizing thing. I've been thumbing through a bunch of books on the subject and love the simple model of processing STUFF that David Allen presents here. It's so perfect for real stuff and head stuff (you could easily replace the word "stuff" in this model with "thoughts"). All that over collecting and over thinking clutters up the space you live in and clutters up the space where your best thoughts should be able to reside in peace. Problem is that half the time your unsupervised, unsorted, and unexamined thoughts are throwing a big pool party and a bunch of thug-thoughts show up and muck up the pool. Time to call the authorities and clean the joint up.

Since most of you won't be there Saturday :) I'm extending the invitation to you now to take inventory one drawer, one closet, one defensive-of-my-collections thought at a time and see if there is anything there that, if cleared from your space, would make room for something you'd rather have - like fresh air, breathing space, or room to hang a mirror so you can get to know yourself a little better.

I'd love to hear what you come up with...

 

Studio Fruit Friday

It's sunny. And warm!! The garden is calling me....but today's post has been delayed long enough.

Today is the first week of my Friday sharing of the fruits of my studio labor. I've listed two paintings in my etsy shop that will remain there until I list two new paintings next Friday at which time the previous week's paintings will be unavailable. I'll continue until I leave for the Lake Oswego Art Fair at the end of June. I plan to introduce prints soon as well and will let you know when I have that all ironed out.

**UPDATE: Both of today's listed paintings are sold. Thank you!**

 

"Alive in Repose" 5" x 5" x 1 3/4"

"Patience" 14" x 11.5" x 1 3/4"

 

Also, to combine what I have to offer the world + creativity in the practical aspect of keeping all the ends meeting up here, I'm re-offering the (nearly) half price sale on my metalsmithing ebooks through the end of the month. You can find out more about them here and here.

.....zipping off to breathe in some sunshine. A beautiful weekend to you all.....

it's not like I try to fight her

 

((the free range critters like to pal around))

Join me, won't you, for a moment of quiet reflection as we here at the Lee house take a deep breath now that equestrian season is finally over. It will be just a short moment, however, as softball season is still in full swing and I have also been given the corner office in the building of "world's most opressive mothers". I don't remember even applying for that position but apparently I've climbed to the top of the ladder in very short order. I'm meeting with lawyers to see how I can un-hire myself without totally putting myself out of work. Let me know if you have any good ideas.

 

Last week we had company. I always love cooking for a crew. Dad was one of the company and, never being one to drive 1000 miles without his toolbelt, spent a few days in the garage building me a heap of substrates for me to get all messy with plaster and paint on. See him there working?
I've been meaning to tell you...I made it into a fancy pants art show that happens at the end of June. The Lake Oswego Arts Festival outside of Portland. I'm nervous and excited at the same time. It will be good to make art just for the sake of making art (well, and to sell) without the added adventure of packing every last pair of scissors and q-tip I own to teach. I love teaching. And I love making art. It's nice to see where sometimes, for me, they can be independent of each other.

So I'll be pretty focused on getting ready for that. I oughtta be out in the garage full time at least. We'll see how it all goes. Oh, did I mention? We've done a bit of work out there and the garage is now my painting studio. Theman still has room for his workbenches along a long wall and space for storing his RC airplanes (big suckers, they are!) but I have the bulk of it with a big table and wall space to work big on. I painted out the table top white so's the wood of the table doesn't jack with my color use on my paintings (I'm kinda sensitive to that, I've noticed). I'm totally stoked. Me and my long arms and my big ideas and my bottled up emotions need room to stretch into painting big. Either that or I'll need to get some expensive therapy.

The garden is waking up. Earth is waking up. She invites me to lie down on her sofa and tell her how I've been feeling. I oblige and thank her for the tight, unfurling new rubarb leaves because I recognize myself in them. I thank her for the greens gone to bold, yellow seed, for the Ken't Oregano so plain right now, but promising a flamboyant weeping display of lavender in the summer because I recognize myself in those as well.

I thank her for the ambrosial peach blossoms - so early, so bold.

I thank her for the poppies sprouting up in the middle of a rocky wilderness, for the Hostas stabbing their determined spines up through the soggy soil.

I thank her for the way the water drops sit perked up on the leaves of the Lady's Mantle (I've always loved this most about this wispy cloud-blooming plant...the flowers take a second fiddle to the way the furry leaves hold water). I thank her for the spicy arugula still producing heavy since late last summer.
I thank her for all these things because somehow each one tells me a little bit more about myself. Even when I'm trying to be cynical and self-pitying...but it's not like I try to fight her. (Just like it's not like I try to fight the ponies...) She is one of my best teachers and I go to her when I need to find myself. Her and what made her.

So, if you need me for anything I'll be out in my new painting studio. I'll most likely have the big door rolled open and music blasting so it shouldn't be too hard to find me. If you know of anyone that needs a good great carpenter, theman is on the prowl for some work. I'll be posting two paintings every Friday for sale between now and my show to do my part as well as I can. I'll need to work hard at building up my supply though, so each batch will be up for one week and one week only after which time I will pull them and list two more. Prints may be on their way to the shop as well if I can work it all out.This coming Friday will be the first batch. Stay tuned!

I think a competitive game of kickball or a two mile run or a dance party is in order. Screw this tennis elbow...my body needs to MOVE!

 

 

Artfest Reflections

I arrived home from Artfest on Sunday, April 1st and intended to post all about it the next day. Monday found me in a total, exhausted fog - much more so than I had anticipated and so my post was bumped to Tuesday. Between trying to get rested up (still trying) and having company come for this week, here it is ten days later and I'm finally getting around to it.

It's probably just as well I didn't report right away. I was holding a handful of sand where each grain was a memory I didn't want to let slip through my fingers. I would have tried to tell you about all of them (and I'm trying to outgrow my reputation and someone who talks too much.) What's left of the sand after sliding back into normal life is mostly just that expanding sense of thankfulness that I feel for all that Artfest and it's people have been for me over the years. It has been the fertile soil, the garden itself, and a bountious harvest all at the same time. Even now, there are seeds awakening that will mature into more rich and soulfull, art-centered gatherings. Mark my words.

My two classes were awesome - the students were amazing. Not only did they create brilliant and rich work, they were also light hearted and playful. Judy helped me on the second day - a day with 32 students - and the amazing energy was strong there as well. So much openess. So much willingness to get dirty and experiment. You students...man...in this very moment I want to thank you for your energy which is just such an insufficient expression of how I feel towards those who join me so enthusiastically. You teach me so much about how fun art making is supposed to be. So, thank you.

And thank you to my housemates. My darling, kind, encouraging, funny, playful, soulfull, housemates. I love you all.

So today, in my retelling of my Artfest 2012 experience, I will share pictures. I have more than I usually remember to take this time around. For me the Artfest experience is as much about getting there and back (8-10 hour drive each way depending on traffic) as it is being there. On the way up, my mind is full of anticipation for all that awaits. On the drive home, the experience settles in my soul as it finds it's way in to some sacred fold where it can remain safe there when normal life becomes my all again. That normal life greets me at the door without so much as a sneeze-worth of time allotted for my recovery unless I insist on it. I'm there now - in that space of wanting to keep resting up and wanting to step fully back in to my hours here at home. The tether to life itself keeps me from being gone too long. I'm back to pony wrangling as usual. Every once in a while I have to spray them off with a hose full of strong, cold water to get their attention so's I can get a word in edgewise. You fellow brood mares know how it is.

On my way home a rainbow painted itself for me. I'm pretty sure it arched clear to Port Townsend where we all left a little piece of our colorful selves for safe keeping.

 

 

"The Pulse of Mixed Media" by Seth Apter

Heads up, guys. A new book is in town and it's one of the best books on the relationship of the artist and his/her work I've put my hands on in a good long while. When Seth asked if I'd be willing to join him on the blog book tour, I was more than happy to say yes. I've worked with Seth a tiny bit and love his energy and the way he so generously shares the work and thoughts of others on his blog. Nary a wiff of pretention will you sniff there.

In his first (amazing) book, "The Pulse of Mixed Media: Secrets and Passions of 100 Artists Revealed" he has curated a beautifully diverse group of artist not only in the mediums they work in, but also in age, gender, life experiences, and aesthetics. The book is full of juicy artwork and equally as thirst-quenching q&a's by the artists. The questions Seth asked the artists are extremely relevant especially today with the added complication that a public persona through the internet can be as an artist. I especially love pages 122-123. The question Seth presents there is "Is creativity built-in, learned, or both?" The answers are all so perfectly penned. (I was going to share a favorite but they are all amazing for different reasons.)

On page 134 he asks "What do you think your preferred art medium says about your personality?" I got to thinking about all the studio messes I make in pursuit of a finished piece of work and the metaphors came flooding into my mind. Both metal and plaster smithing - my mediums - are not clean and tidy. They are earthy, grounded, raw. They require slowness and conscious connection with time. I can't just push something into being done in a hurry. I have to wait for the right heat or for something to dry (heat guns don't do much to rush plaster like they do paint). While i'm in that slow time of waiting, I get this slow whirlwind of energy going on around my body. I have to pace my thinking so that there is a balance between the ideas that are coming (or not coming) and the readiness of the medium. I have to connect with the thoughts about myself that come alive during that waiting time and the slowness of it all allows me to work through so much in my mind while I'm just sitting in a chair. It's a trip. My mediums are like me - earthy, grounded, raw. I'm willing to go through a whole heap of mess  to get to the truth of what I want to create. I'm like that about me too.

The questions Seth presents to the contributing artists are so centering in that they slide right in to the heart of what it means to be an artist and the aspects of life and identity that we have the experience of juggling more in the forefront than our non-artist counterparts. I love that so many perspectives are shared and yet there is the commonality of authenticity in each and every answer. I adore many of the artists in the book and am delighted to be introduced to new-to-me ones. Seeing the faces of dear friends among the pages as well is pretty dang cool too.

You'll be hearing a lot about this book in the coming weeks. Lots of people are happy to share this labor of love with the creative community. If you want to make a few more stops on the tour, bring a snack and wear some comfy walking shoes. It's like Disneyland...without lines and expensive junk. This book is the real adventureland. :)

Tour Stops:

April  2  Rice Freeman-Zachery  
April  3  Stephanie Lee              
April  4  Ali Edwards                  
April  5  Ro Bruhn                     
April  6  Roben-Marie Smith       
April  7  Nancy Lefko               
April  8  Kelly Kilmer                 
April  9  Trudi Sissons              
April 10 Melody Nunez             
April 11 Dina Wakley                 
April 12 Stephanie Hilvitz         

P.S. I just returned home from Artfest late last night after a long drive home and I have so much to pick through - all the tender parts, all the silly parts, all the bittersweet parts, all the parts that are still trying to fit somewhere. From the sorting I'll share with you what I can put into words in the next day or two.

 

half wit

I've commandeered a wall in the living room where I have set up a big table which is slowly, but surely disappearing under a pile of plaster works in progress.The window it is in front of looks out over the pastures below but I don't see them much what with my head looking down at what I'm working on and all. I hear it's winter again outside. I feel so disconnected from the world outside of the ten foot circle I've been living in at that table. I glanced up this morning and saw tiny, slowly falling flakes of snow. For a minute I thought they were the cottonwood fluff in late spring that set my alergies aflame. An entire full minute - long enough to look up, take notice of the fluff and then look back down to the paint I was applying - was how long it took for the reality to fly in my head that it's still winter. Not spring. That the fluff is snow, not cotton wood. I had totally lost my bearings so much so that for that full minute I forgot that it was winter.

Weird that.

We have a new kid on the block. There's nothing like a big sister in the house to light up pony eyes. She's shacking up here until she knows what to do next. She's at that age of transition and takes it all on with gusto and optimism. She's a joy to have around...sweet, fun, and all together a radiant ball of light. She's my own personal cheer squad and you'd think by how she reacts that my works (in progress or otherwise) are coated in gold with chocolate sprinkles. She had a little fun with my half-wit bowls in progress. The moment of playfulness brought me into myself for a few minutes where I could just laugh at life and feel totally connected to things in progress - however they look. It's good to have light energy around when your bum is full of lead.

 

a short update that turned into a not-so-short recalling of mentors and magicians

Man. This time change thing is taking time for me to get used to. More so than ever before. I thought it was just me but everyone around here is dragging their feet even the belly-up sleepy pup. I've been so tired and foggy - rocking and bobbing 6 feet from the peer like a driftboat not completely unmoored. I don't mind. It just is what it is but my body isn't sure what to think. Daffodils in one blink. Snow in the next. Biting winds, than sundrenched hillsides. All in one day. It all fits together somehow.

With the bobbing and rocking come random thoughts.

Pony 1 got her hair all fancied up today with real dye and everything. The perks of having a Paul Mitchell graduate as an older sister. There comes a time when a mom has to surrender and I figure 15 years with not a speck of dye on that kid's head ain't half bad. The concession came when the rule was laid out that she had to keep 75% of her natural color showing or dye it a crazy wild, totally unnatural color like magenta or raspberry blue so, you know, people would know she's just creative and not trying to be someone else with blonde or black or red hair. She looked at me like I am crazy. Like there is no sense to a mother's logic. Like I just pull these rules out of some 1960's alien parenting manual. Like she has to keep an eye on me to make sure I don't start collecting cats and moo moo's. Like I've never been 15 and have no idea what it's like on that side of life.

Pshaw. Whatever.

I tell you what. I have a keeper in that one. In both of my ponies. They're circus performers balancing hormones, boys, schoolwork, sports, and family life with a prowess I couldn't have only dreamed of at their age. I'm not always sure if I'm part of the act or the audience but either way, I'm lucky to be a part of it.

It's not like I don't have my own circus going on. I'm the juggler with two too many balls in the air all the time. I drop them, pick them up, drop them, pick them up. Sometimes I'm even okay with not picking them up and just tossing around the ones that are still in the air. Sometimes I throw one out of the ring because it's not the right wieght or color or size. You don't always know these things until you are in the middle of your performance. Thank goodness for dim lighting.

I'm getting ready to teach two stuffed-full classes at Artfest. I can't tell you how grateful I am to be a part of this last hoorah. 13 years, I think it is. There will not be a 14th. You've heard it before from others and it's true for me too. Artfest changed my life. Whole new horizons opened up for me the first year I went way back when. I took a class from Micheal deMeng who has since become a dear and treasured friend and mentor. His creepy-dead-doll-mythology art is all just a decoy so's you can't tell how kind and compassionate and eternally buoyant he really is.) I owe him more than I can ever say because he talked openly to me about the perils of artistic greed and thinking that you can always stay above the gossip. Sometimes it takes a guy to tell a girl that drama is no bueno in a way she can hear it and were it not for his candor, I might have fallen in a tar pit or two without even knowing it until I was stuck. There were a couple of grimy hands that were still reaching for me but deMeng would do this song and dance show in front of my face "look at the shiny mirrors look at the shiny mirrors" and I'd manage to step out of the way without knowing it until later. Sometimes you don't see the messes people saved you from until later.

There were others who, by way of their kindness, encouragement, and flat-out genuine-ness, were beacons of light to me. Katie Kendrick and I met before that first Artfest at a class on Whidbey Island. She was so radiant and kind and guileless. I was a moth to a flame...and still am because she still is who she is. We met again at that first Artfest and sat on a couch musing about A Course in Miracles while everyone around us was drinking a little too much and dancing and laughing loudly (thanks, in part, to Sir Mixalot deMeng).

It was the very next Artfest where I found myself teaching plaster. Neverinamillionyears would I have thought I'd be doing that when I was a wee student. I didn't even have aspirations to. But the universe had other plans and so I've just tried to keep hold of the guide rope without tripping. It was around that time that I met my friend Sue Hadden who happens to live just 8 miles from me. Every thing about her is slightlytwistedfunnyawesome magic. Her home, her beautiful garden. Her. I thank my lucky stars that I can call her my friend.

It has been nothing short of a miracle that I have been blessed with so many dear friends what with all my shortcomings and whining. The list is too long. Each one a layered treasure with depths beyond explanation. Each one a beacon of light. Each one a mentor because I learn so very much from their examples of generosity, bravery in navigating the rocky waters of an external creative life, laughing at the lunacy of all our egotistical mistakes, humility beyond description. There are so, so many. (I see images of paper wings and peanut soup and flying lessons and ebooks and...oh my...I can't name them all!)

Judy is one of them. Right up there sharing the top spot. If I didn't know better I'd think she has come into this world just for me because I swear to you, were it not for the one liners she can deliver that cut to the very core of truth in me, I might have gone and cut that mooring line a long time ago and let myself drift off to sea in hopelessness. (She's reading this right now. Maybe a little huff like "oh please, girl". Then she'll laugh and blow me a kiss. Later she'll stand in her kitchen with her beloved companero and tell him how weird I am. Or maybe not. You never know with her. She's a surprise all the time.

Well, not ALL the time. I wasn't surprised that she was so willing to help me when I sent out a distress call saying my class is big at Artfest and I need an anchor! She will be there assisting me in giving you, the students, the best possible plaster experience a single day can hold. We work very well together. We both love being a teacher. Not just teaching, but being the bearer of information that opens doors for people. We both want every student to leave the class with enthusiasm for experimentation, for discovering yourself in the layers of your medium. So, yeah. To have her there is no small thing. Thank you, Judy, for being so willing.

I hope to keep you updated with my progress, to show you pieces in the works. Until we meet again, I feel it is important to inform you all that it's a lie when people say having a puppy is like having a baby. It's not like that at all because babies don't pull trash all over the house and babies don't run from you when you call them and babies don't turn in to lunatics at the fence with the lunatic neighbor dogs. Puppies are more like teenagers on sugar highs and hormone lows. Oh, and if you are thinking of getting a puppy, you should also know that they are poop factories. Made in the good ol' U S of A.

 

 

 

 

whoo-eee!!

Tuesday morning. Snow and sunshine. Yoga. Good news. Beans in the crock pot. Not a bad way to start the day.

My step dad sent me an email yesterday with the subject line saying, "This is what boys do who don't have video games." The email was a link to this video. Prepare to pick up your jaw off the floor.  

Refreshed 2012 teaching schedule

I'm darting around today. Cleaning carpets. Putting laundry away. Writing in my journal. Cleaning up dead chicken off the patio (lucky Racoon). Wishing the snow would not turn to mud so quickly. Breathing in and out super deep so I don't freak out that it's March already - that Artfest is in a scant month off, that I am due some (potentially) big news on Monday, that one of the ponies turns 15 tomorrow and I have no idea what to get her for her birthday. I'm off to my last guitar lesson for a while because i need my calender more open for preparing to teach, and for the Master Food Preserver's program I've signed up for that's available here only every other year. (So, so, so excited!)

I've been whittling away at solidifying my teaching schedule for 2012 and got swallowed up in wedding plans and forgot to let you all know what's going on. I'm going to share each one of my retreat offerings in depth soon but for now, check out the left side bar to see where i will be teachin in person. I'm developing new online classes for the coming year and look forward to sharing those with you when I have them all figured out.

So, this year so far has been all about consciously shifting the way I relate to my work. It's been all about choosing timely action from faith and trust over fearful procrastination and the anxiety that naturally occurs with it. It's been all about giving my energy only to that which calls to me and speaking words of truth and kindness to myself. It's been about releasing any frantic fear that I have to keep people interested or I'll blow away. (Already I've been released from the stronghold of trying to keep up with the Joneses in all their various sheep's clothing.) It might take me the whole year to settle into just what calls to me, maybe longer, but I'm enjoying the ride much better. And guess what I'm finding out about myself? I'm finding out that I don't like putting things off just because I'm not sure the best way to approach them. I'm finding out that...

P.S. Please, oven-fixing fairy, come fix my oven so I can roast veggies again.

 

 

wedding hangover

 

It's been three days and I'm still "hungover". How anyone can add actual alcohol to their systems for a gig like that is beyond me because even me, without a single drop of it having gone in my body, am totally and completely smashed. My spine is rigid. My head is thick. I just want to sleep. I'm in serious need of emotional and physical restoration. Working on it...slowly but surely.

 

The wedding is done and we are working our way back to life as we knew it before. Lots of work went into it by many hands and I learned alot about myself and other people in the process. It's all good to know. I won't even BEGIN to go into it here because I realize now that I do not write to an empty room like I used to. We (our little family) are all too connected in the oddest of technological ways and I admit that I'm still trying to get my bearings with how to manage all that. :)

Three days of setting up tents, hanging lights, scrubbing tables, moving furniture, not drinking enough water, setting a scene, changing the scene, changing it again. I could go on and on. Saturday morning theman got in a tangle with a little hillside here at the house and tore his calf muscle and possibly a tendon or two. Bad mojo...but he was still able to walk Nikita down the isle and boy did he look handsome! Growl.

There was snow at the site the morning of the wedding but by ceremony time, the sky had cleared, the ground was dry, and we were all freezing cold. I'm pretty sure the temperature was hovering below 30 degrees. I opted for layers to stay as warm as possible, unlike the summer-ly dressed bridal party, with the effect being that my already generously padded frame looked even more padded. When you're in a crowd of stunning figures in such a situation, it's best to avoid any reflective surface so you forget. Not that I really gave a hoot when it came down to it. :) One of these days I hope to get my hands on some pictures but for now, the very few I took when I remembered will have to do.

On Saturday afternoon I ducked into the garage and put all the flowers together with just me an my man to keep me company. I'm in my element when I'm doing that. I was given carte blanche. Mostly. When the actual ceremony took place, I didn't shed a tear. That, my friends, is the 8th wonder of the world because I can cry at the drop of a heart-string-tugging tv comercial. I'm not sure why I remained dry eyed - maybe it was the build up, maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the fact that I felt, in many ways, a bit disconnected from certain aspects of the moment. They stood over the pond, candles all under, behind, and above them and they stood in silhouette to it all. Regardless, I was still very aware that this was my man's first born embracing her own life to the fullest. It's not easy to lay claim to love when not everyone understands the love {I know that first hand} and she is doing it beautifully.

I suspect that much of what my body is feeling now is the residue of the emotional energy that consumed every move I made, every light I hung, every word I thoughtfully chose, every hug I gave, every agreement I kept, every task I had to prioritize, every hair on my head that I tried to make presentable (epic fail), every mantra I repeated to myself to remember the reason I was doing what I was doing, even in what I'm not saying in this very moment. I need a three day nap. Family is big business and if you manage yourself poorly, you'll drag the whole lot through the mire thinking you run the show. Thankfully, there is a lot of love in the midst of it all. No doubt it is what carries us all through. I've been with theman for almost 17 years and that means I've also been with his kids and former wife for just as long. There have been some pretty intense moments over the years, I've made some hefty mistakes and have done so much work in the quiet of my own heart as has everyone else to various degrees. We're all just doing our thing, wanting nothing but the best for each other ultimately. Good stuff.

Congratulations, Nikita and Ri. May we all be blessed by your relationship and may the love you two have for each other bring you to living from the center of your most beautiful, radiant selves.

 

ox

 

 

tiny enormous love

I stand in my half-lit kitchen, an ironing board blocking the usual flow of traffic and a puppy doing her part to do the same as well. I sharpen the knife and slide the blender base back to the wall. I hold an apple in my hand and cut it into 32 thin slices before I realize I've been counting. I feed the dogs the core segments and they saunter off to feast in peace. I become aware of something in my body, a tension of sorts, something between my shoulders and up the back of my neck and head. I think it could show up as tears so I pray for an instant and clear connection to the feeling asap. Be willing to forgive? Of course, I'm willing and so it baffles me why it's so hard to see exactly where I need to forgive sometimes. The only certain place I see is inward. There's no gift in saying to myself "You should have known better" and I find that it is becoming easier to draw my energy in to create the warmth I need rather than to keep looking for reasons why someone else has denied me of it. It's been a big misunderstanding everytime I've held that thought. Recent life events have brought so much to the surface but when you're one of a dozen fish in a tiny bowl, there isn't exactly room to flail and whine. We're all swimming around with stiff spines and rigid fins mechanically flapping back and forth to keep enough motion in play to keep from floating to the top. It's all good, for reals. Lots of love. A little bit of uncertainty but that's just part of life and new beginnings. I'm pretty sure that the amount of love we will all feel when we are finally free of our individual confusion about ourselves will be enormous. We share what we can now and it's a pretty awesome tiny enourmous already. "Infinite patience offers immediate results." - A Course In Miracles

as if

{three sisters, a bride sandwich}

Mountains of laundry
wedding-art in progress on the dining table and kitchen island
wreckage from the two-dog tornado
half the living room being taken up by bins and boxes and piles of things for the wedding
a pony with a sore throat sipping tea and reading in my bed
clean dishes to put away and even more dirty dishes to clean
a heap of burn trash spilling onto the floor
floors that need vacuuming (not to mention mopping)
taxes that need filing
course material that needs writing
a teaching schedule that needs updating
food that needs to be cooked
a hole in my kitchen ceiling where the light used to be (since before Christmas...theman is a  carpenter...think "a cobbler's children...")
a broken oven that would cost more to fix than to replace
a new found pain from tennis elbow
ruffles that need sewing
a slightly disheveled everything

This is the picture right here and now. It's all in blurred competition for the focus but today, I live in the background where there is

a new found love of yoga
a body that is gaining strength
making pretty things for a beloved daughter's wedding
the laughter (and infinite patience) of my herd
conscious immersion in happy {in spite because of everything}
the pillow of time while i am waiting to know what happens next
dear, encouraging, funny, playful, guileless, kindhearted, strong, spiritual giants friends
cooking in soft light
raw food
new piano sheet music
a day off school
a pony who loves to read
a sabbath
new boots, blood orange dress, gray ruffles peeking through
theman in his slick new wedding duds (be still my beating heart!!)
two-dog tornado pure love energy
the healing power of the body

As if I couldn't go on forever.

What beauty do you see in your view today?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Somewhere in all of this

miserly heart

{{Here is where I would put a picture of things I'm making for the wedding.}}

My recent days have been filled with wedding planning (fun), Grafting Happiness writing (heaven), puppy pee spot cleaning (endless) and working out (yoga + cross fit = a whole new level of body awareness). It's all part of the adventure.

{{Here is where I would put a picture of me looking all strong and wicked powerful in a Warrior Pose.}}

I was listening to a {spirituality} radio program this morning and the guest was talking about our personal gifts and how they do not belong to us. That in fact, they belong to the community of humanity. I get it...even though I have to wade through all my defenses first to really feel and step into the truth of it. For me, at least. I think about all the work I've done, all the art and jewelry I've created over the years (a drop in the bucket compared to some folks) and it's obvious to me that the tangible version of my gifts are being enjoyed by many people. But I don't think that's the all in all of my "gifts belonging to the community".

{{Here is where I would put a picture of something I've made.}}

I could spend every ounce of energy I have making works of art, putting an astonishing amount of volume into the world, but if I did it with a miserly heart, it would all be empty. Void of any real message. Void of my gratitude for being able to live my craft and all its incarnations. Void of the spirit that would encourage one to follow her desire. And so I think of that. I think of how all I want to do when I make stuff is to make something that awakens a spirit of love and gratitude in the people who witness the work. I don't want to create separation of any kind - accidental or intentional. I think of mixing compassion, kindness, hope, playfulness, connection, and joy in everything I make and it feels like the way it should be. I am so far from adept at all of this but I see it clearly as my intention and I keep moving forward in that direction holding generosity in heart as kindly as I can. There are times when it is very, very hard. Very. (It's those times when I've confused my identity with what I do.) I am a stumbling-child-in-shoes-too-big in that.

I also include the wish for someone who has seen my work to feel inspired to create for themselves in whatever small way that may be. And the best part is that when I am giving what my heart is called to give, I am free to move into and away from it according to my heart. This means when something I'm doing does not hold my heart any more, I can release it with gratitude for the time I had with it, for the lessons I learned through it, knowing that I am being led ever forward into knowing myself better so that I can give better.

I'm going to take all this rambling, boil it down until only the sugary sauce remains and go swimming in it.

{{Here is where I would put a picture of me swimming in a giant pool full of fruity syrup. Be glad I'm not in a picture-taking mode these days.}}

"Your personal power is the wisdom of your mind + the generosity of your spirit."

-Iyanla Vanzant

 

no underwater dreams for me, please.

I was just now writing a story. It was a true story of how my organs knot up in cinematic terror when I stand at the edge of the black-green river on a hot summer day. Just summer - when the possibility that I might end up in that water in very short order to cool off is real. How strange it is for me to feel terror and overwhelming gratitude at the same time when I stand before the beauty of this part of nature. The conflict is surreal. When I'm out in the middle, feet kicking the syrupy wet, my mind implodes with the certainty that the creature living below has been waiting for me. Waiting to shudder the silt from it's scales and rocket to where I am in 6...5...4...3...2...1 feet and SNAP! I'm a goner.

I stopped writing the story in case I'm ever among company standing at the edge of the river and everyone is as afraid as I to go in the water. If in that moment they are all looking for someone to be brave because that creature needs to be called forth from the depths and wrestled to the death, I want the people to think I would do it. Because I would. If I had to and I wouldn't even let my mind go where it goes when I'm just standing there in the summer with no real imminent danger. I'm still trying to figure that contradiction in me out because let me tell you...if I have to, I'll drag your broken body from the train wreckage and deliver your baby without batting and eye. If you're loosing your mind, I'll take you by the  shoulders and tell you with a steel gaze to "listen. to. me. You. Are. Going. To. Be. Fine.". If you're shaking and sobbing and everyone around you is running circles with their heads cut off and wings flapping about, I'll drag you out of there and spray you off with the hose and then sit there in the sun with you quietly until the sobbing stops. I'd do that. I would. Because there is a big part of me that will not let the ship sink if it comes to that. In the meantime, I leave the underwater dreams to the people who won't wet the bed at the sight of a big fish coming towards her.

I'm not sure where all this comes from. But. Yeah.

Grafting Happiness Classroom is open!

Hi There,

Just a quick note to let those of you who registered for Grafting Happiness know that the classroom is now open and ready for you. I sent out an email with the class access information in it so if you don't see that soon, please drop me a line at stephanieleestudios at gmail dot com.

For those of you who are interested in joining in, registration will be open until March 10th (with the classroom being open until the end of this year!) Here's a little glimpse of the welcome message...

"The experience of happiness is not determined by what has or has not happened to you, what is or is not working in your life, or who does or does not support/get/encourage/love you in the ways you think they should. When embraced, this is the single most liberating aspect of this class...

...The fears you carry have no power over you beyond what you believe they do. Cliche, perhaps, but true nonetheless. There is nothing holding you down and nothing holding you back. If it seems as though there is, it is because of a misunderstanding you've had about yourself. We're going to gently hear out and explore this misunderstanding to release its grip on you. Don't worry if this doesn't make sense yet. Let's just hold space (and the possibility) for our happy to shine through and at the end of the month, we'll all have a greater capacity for gratitude, clarity, self-compassion and the happiness that naturally follows. It's going to be good."

The sky is confused today...sunshine or rain? Maybe both? Yes. Both is good. Maybe it's not confused. Maybe it just likes both too.