I am in my third collage class session and am absolutely thrilled. I am learning, learning, learning. One snag though. It seems like the perfectionist in me is keeping me from creating as freely as I'd like to. The part of me that wants to do my work in an exact manner is hanging me up a bit. So I've been trying to pay more attention to what is inside of me, hoping to hear a whisper from the Holy Spirit. After all, the art is in me and so is He. I try to be aware of the messages that will lead me and memories come to mind of when I was a little girl, collecting and gathering this, that, or the other. I never understood why I was drawn to the things I chose. I just knew that when I liked something, be it a rock, an old screw, or a feather, I added it to my collection. I didn't think about it much, I was just happy with my stuff. Over the years, as I've been drawn to the "this and that", I have added it to my collection of stuff. There was no rhyme or reason to what I collected. Never did I imagine that God would connect the dots as he did. I envision His hand in it like a series of links of a beautiful chain. Somehow, he tied my frivolous, childhood obsession to my collage work today. I find it striking how He can make sense of life's bits and pieces. Psalm 139:14 says, "I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works, And my soul knows it very well." God is good. It has taken a long time for me to see, but over these past few months of working with collage, the Holy Spirit has opened a new place in my heart. When I am in my class, I feel the peace I felt as a little girl playing outside, collecting "stuff." I am learning that He is the true master artist working me to become all He has made me to be.
I’ve gotten into two fights in my life. I know, hard to believe. But I can remember them clearly. One was with Cathy, who lived two doors down from my grandmother’s house. I was probably around 8 or 9 years old. Cathy was mean and a thorn in my side. She was also the only other kid on the block who I could play with. I don’t know exactly how the fight started, but I can remember the final scene and how it all played out. I towered over her as she lay on the grass, pinned in a helpless position. She cried for mercy and I let her go. She flew home and that was the last time she bullied me. The other time was in sixth grade. I was friends with Rosie; at least I thought I was. She accused me of breaking her compass and told me that she was going to beat me up after school. I was shaking in my boots the rest of the school day. I wondered how I could avoid the ordeal. I wished I had someone that co...
I'm loving the new looks of your site Re. Your art, as always, is amazing! Really beautiful! I don't think art is supposed to be perfect though. That is what makes it so special and unique. Just like people. Relax and create. Love your work!
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