I see our little planet as our very own precious floating terrarium. It’s too easy sometimes to forget how we are indeed floating.
This one is hand-painted using gouache on cold-press watercolor paper. I can’t remember when it was done so it may have been some years. 2 or more? Time flies especially when making something with our hands. Each mark is a recorded moment in time. Preserved. Saying, “this is how I spent that day” and it was wonderful.
A lucky few have been gifted with effortless talent for their chosen craft or field. There rest of us have had to work tirelessly for decades and that is perfectly beautiful too.
I have been drawing and making pictures since I discovered that pulling a pencil or paintbrush across a surface was calming and kept me out of trouble as a kid. I simply never stopped.
I was terrible at it, making ugly whole-hearted little paintings. I have grown after years of devoted practice not talent and call myself an artist because I see it as a lifestyle. A commitment to live a creative life which in turn becomes a fuller life full of wonder, play, and intellectual curiosity.
Today, I think I am a confident painter rather than a skillful one. Time spent creating something of our own gives confidence to those of us who need it most regardless of what the final piece looks, sounds, or reads like it is never time wasted. It is time spent learning about all the potential burning inside. Or in the least it keeps us out of trouble by engaging restless energy in all of us.
Before he was Rubin the Mango Spirit. He was Rubin, a little one.
Jotting a story down sometimes with pictures first, sometimes with words first. It’s always a different process with each story revealing itself in a different form. Just jot it down, scribble it down, make stick figures, whatever it takes so you don’t let it run away with whatever moments you have. Stories are impatient and temperamental they want to keep moving.
Art is prayer. The voice of the spirit unveiling the heart. Sometimes prayer is graceful painted with gentle strokes of light. Other days the prayer comes out broken with a sorrow tinted voice; or no prayer comes to mind at all. Each color in the palette plays the murmur of a greater symphony waiting to be heard.
Our Garden Ship is a mysterious miracle. Here we are floating and rotating day after day. The grounds are dressed with more plants than we have explored and studied. When I was a kid nature was my play house. Without tv, books, radio or any other modern technology all I had for entertainment was the trees, the hills and the river.
Botany as a science is intriguing to me and more so because I grew up watching my mom grow 50 foot trees from a tiny seed. It is magic to me. Tending to a garden or simply a couple of plants can be soothing. Plants are living beings healing the very air we breathe. Isn’t that amazing?
The pressure to be constantly interacting online and to self-promote daily as a freelancer gives me anxiety. I was a late bloomer when I discovered Instagram many years after it launched. I have been interacting for years now and although I love supporting the community, I can’t shake the feeling that it is a shiny distraction hindering my long-term growth.
So I am testing my theory for the next 7 months by removing myself from the Instagram realm to see what I experience because during the time when I didn’t know of it’s existence I created the largest body of work. Science and research are fascinating to me so I made myself the test subject.
My mind needs time to process everything I throw at it every second of the day. Time to reflect on what is a true priority. What goals do I want to devote my laser focus towards this year?
It has almost been a month since I uninstalled the social App and it does feel strange to not be constantly connected. I am surprised by how much more time there is to play with, it almost feels like going backwards in time. This freed up time is different, it is like walking into an empty room both silent and vulnerable. What I make in that time is invisible to everyone else which highlights three questions:
Why am I making this? why does it matter? Is this the best use of my limited time?
In this month’s time I have created two new paintings and in the process I used the extra pockets of time to experiment with new techniques for the sake of curiosity. In addition, I write more every day to improve my skills so I can tell clearer stories. In fact, this is the longest article I have ever written on my blog. A blog I actually started to pressure myself into practicing the art of writing.