One of my first Zentangle (ZIA) works!
There is a book called One Zentangle a Day. I have the book but have been just doing what is called Zentangle Inspired Art since I got it. I think perhaps one is supposed to go through it. Instead last year I just continued to do the doodling that I have always done but with more of a guideline. At the end of December I committed to myself to do one Zentangle a Day whether it was following the format or not. Right now it is “or not”. I am a bit of an outlier or renegade in most areas of life so why not art as well.
So here is my first offering. It is called Global Garden. It is not necessarily the first one that I did this year but it is one of 20 so far. Eventually I will have them all up but for now there is this. Will I colour them? I am not sure. I may go for just shading. We will see. Stay tuned.
There is something about a birthday of a friend who is also not on Facebook that can cause some anxiety. When the birthday is in the middle of the month and right after a wedding and one is also minding small children can one be more easily forgiving for forgetting?
Yesterday as I checked my Facebook I noticed that my resident genius artist friend, Sean was having a birthday. As I looked at the date my eyes widened and that prickly feeling that one can often get over the entire body occurred. Oh no! I had forgotten Patti’s birthday. She is my best friend. What now? Well, it would have to be something special. I got out my art pens and did a zentangle inspired card. It may not be my best and it certainly doesn’t photograph as well as it can to show it in it’s best light but for what it is worth, this is it! Now to find an evening when she can come for dinner. Better still, invite her anyway and have her budding artist grandchild also join us! Rock painting ho!!!
YOUR PRESENCE IS THE GIFT
Here is our gift to the couple who requested our presence rather than our presents. If we so chose, though, they suggested our favourite bottle of wine for their blended family. As you know an upcycle artist would look for all the ways to provide a gift that would please at no cost. As I may have mentioned before, we live in between the two municipalities of old money (Oak Bay) and new money (Broadmead) in a place that my friend calls “No Money” and we call Fernwood. Artists abound and there is much to learn. There are also gifts by the side of the road. My husband retrieved a brand new bottle opener with an extra cork screw to boot so he asked me to decoupage a rock in which he had drilled a hole for the cork screw.
Voilà, the couple loved it . . . as well as the painted rocks used as favors for the guests! Pictures of those later. Stay tuned.
UPDATE for blog followers:
The weather for the wedding on October 13th could not have had better. While cool at the reception in the evening the day was bright and sunny. The composer/musician/stepfather of the bride performed at both the wedding and reception and a lot of healing took place. First of all the stepmother of the bride, the mother of the bride and the father of the bride were all in attendance for the wedding and the reception. The mother of the bride related a story about her former mother-in-law who was only there in spirit as she had made her transition several years earlier. While many of the relatives present had inherited various talents from Grandma Ruby who was raised during the Great Depression, the bride was blessed with her thrifty gene and her pragmatic side ~ other than her penchant for the purchasing of shoes which two of her granddaughter seemed to have gotten.
FORGIVENESS AND HEALING
After that toast the father of the bride came up and thanked the mother of the bride for what she had said about him and hugged her. Healing took place as two wonderful families were joined. The bride’s parents now live in the same town and share grandchildren so the hatchet has been buried.
The forecast for the wedding on October 13th is only 10% precipitation. Pray for the rain in the morning between 2 a.m. and 6 a.m. and they will all be good to go.
When I was a pre-schooler I wrote on the walls ~ with crayon ~ in my house. When I was about to sell my father’s home and the home to which I was brought as an infant my aunt revealed this artwork underneath the wallpaper. We had a moment again where I was able to bond with that damaged little girl who so wanted to paint and draw and colour. She told me that if anyone would ever say anything about the livingroom walls having scribbles on it that she would remark that that was my artwork and basically they could keep their mouths shut. You had to know my mother.
Now I relive that experience with my three grandchildren 3, 6 and 9 years old. They only know their granny as someone who always has an art instrument in her hand with a disarray of paints, brushes, books, rocks and other art clutter in her livingroom. Not much has changed except that I no longer write on the walls . . . yet! I am the person who paints poles in our neighbourhood and who lets the 3 year old go home with paint in his hair.
While I was colouring with this enthusiastic lad, I picked this picture of mushrooms from his colouring book and reworked it. It was one of my first brave attempts to forgiving the grade one school teacher, Miss McGowan, who told me NOT to use my left hand to print my name backwards from right to left and definitely to STOP drawing in the margins. It is the time to forgive Ms. Skelton for saying, “I told them NOT to let any left handed people enroll in my class.” No worries as I dropped the class and went with a professor who welcomed the left handed outcasts and said, “You will have good days with calligraphy and you will have bad days. When you are having a bad day don’t do calligraphy. When you are having a good day, do all you want!”
Now I draw in the margins, outside the margins, in public, in private and count among my encouraging art friends a Disney animator and his artist wife and in our artistic ‘hood a mosaic master all three of whom are inspirations to me. Life is good when we forgive the past and live in the present tantalizing the future with new possibilities.
One of my daughter’s art teachers when she was in grade 12 told me at her graduation, “Do not let her stop doing art.” My daughter’s father is an artist with a PhD who taught university social sciences. It is my fondest desire to see him return to his art.