Category Archives: Walks in the woods

A Bon Soleil to you!!

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We spend our days in Haiti being shuttled from one location to another by our amazing driver Joel. Jess Jean-Charles, one of the students on our trip is Haitian American, fluent in Creole and French, so she acts as our translator, she tells him where we need to go, and he gets us there. We are being very safe, doing our best to follow the State Department guidelines. (Minus staying out of the red and yellow zones, don’t tell!)

  1. Stay with your group.
  2. Do not leave your hotel on foot, always go with your driver and your group.
  3. Do not wear flashy jewelry when going certain places, keep smart phones/cameras hidden.
  4. When getting in and out of the van, be quick. Locate where you are entering your destination first, get ready and then go. Apparently this is one of the more dangerous situations—where people get attacked the most. We still struggle with an efficient way of getting 10 people in and out of a mini-bus quickly.
  5. Be street smart. Never let your guard down.

Each place we’ve visited, we’ve been with Haitian superstars. I do not say that lightly. As a result, we’ve been able to visit and meet people that had we done this on our own, its doubtful we would have EVER found them. It has made for a very special trip. Thursday and Friday artist and director of the L’Ecole National D’Arts, Philippe Dodard, guided us, Saturday, the musician BelO was with us.

The view from Soisson-La-Montagne

The view from Soisson-La-Montagne

Friday, we went to Soisson-La-Montagne, an area in Peitionville high in the hills. The Saint Soleil, or Saint Sun school of art was founded here and second and third generation artists still create here. Saint Soleil celebrated its 40th anniversary December 2012, which allowed us to see a spectacular exhibition of all the great Saint Soleil painters at MUPANUH on our first day. Prospere PIERRE-LOUIS might be one of my new favorite artists. Although Leroy Exil, the only first generation Saint Soleil artist still alive is a close second.

Leroy Exil painting that I purchased.

Leroy Exil painting that I purchased.

Prospero Pierre-Louis, not my favorite, but all I can find online. I wasn't able to photograph his work in the museum.

Prospero Pierre-Louis, not my favorite, but all I can find online. I wasn’t able to photograph his work in the museum.

 

We visited the studios of a half-dozen second and third generation Saint Soleil painters. Saint Soleil means Saint Sun. The style sort of mixes elements of Paul Klee, Australian Aboriginals and the graphic arts. Little dots are featured in some way in every single work. These little dots represent words, almost like little prayers to the vodou gods. In some paintings, the vodou pantheon becomes the conceptual center point, in others it is purely the sun and pattern.

At the first studio we visited, I was so overwhelmed and in love with one particular painting that I failed to take any pictures. BUT, because of Philippe Dodard, I was able to get in touch with the artist and he just delivered the painting to me!!! I am thrilled beyond belief.

Michel Maxene with the painting that I obsessed about for two days, and finally was able to get.

Michel Maxene with the painting that I obsessed about for two days, and finally was able to get.

Love, love, love this collage.

Love, love, love this collage.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thankfully I was able to recover by the third or fourth studio, and actually took some pics of my favorite pieces. This artist, Onel, my friend Karen Arp-Sandel would l.o.v.e. His studio consists of a pile of scraps of fabric that he cuts carefully and collages on to nearly anything he can find creating high end canvases as well as more commercial pieces that are extremely affordable. I refuse to keep my obsession with dots and circles quiet any longer. They emerge in my work from time to time, but now, I will let them come in more and more and more.

Philippe at the Saint Soleil Cemetery--see bit of mural in background

Philippe at the Saint Soleil Cemetery–see bit of mural in background

About half-way through our visit, we stopped at the cemetery where all the Saint Soleil painters will be/are buried. Some of the walls are covered in murals by my friend Leroy. While in the center point, a monument still in progress, Philippe told us a bit more about the Saint Soleil school and the importance of wishing anyone we meet in the school a Bon Soleil while looking meaningfully into their eyes. This simple wish embodies love, safety, goodness, health and happiness. And not only did we wish it to everyone we met, it was wished to us as well.

I am inspired—maybe this will cure my restlessness. I already was late to a group meeting because I got lost in my painting/making. I can only wish for more of this.

Bon Soleil!

 

Preparation. Anticipation.

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Advent–coming, coming to; approach arrival.

Many people all over the world are preparing and anticipating the coming or advent of Christmas, a time of giving, gifting and receiving and waiting for the light of the world to come–the arrival of Christ. I want to honor this time this year mindfully, by looking to what the light coming to the world and to me means. The light of love, of peace, of being fully awake in the now. This light can come to anyone, anywhere, regardless of faith. And as we in the Northern hemisphere go deeper into the dark for a few more weeks, I want to keep remembering how important the light within and the light around in the form of family, friends, fuels my ability to love, to find peace within my anxiety and to be fully present.

I grew up with Advent calendars and Advent wreathes–practices that built up the anticipation to the big day. I loved opening up the felted creation my mom had for many years, adding the wooden ornaments to the handcrafted tree that my sister made, or opening chocolates from boxes that some friend gave me. Yesterday I saw a beautiful little calendar at one of the many amazing craft fairs throughout the Berkshires and nearly bought it. I had it in my hand. I was standing in line and then I came to this idea. I’ll make my own Advent calendar, or something like it. I will make a collage or painting or some sort of mixed-media creation everyday from December 1-25. Here are my first two days

Advent Day One

 

 

Advent Day Two

Join me on my journey. I’d like to say that I will post my image everyday, come back and take a look tomorrow or the next day or maybe in a couple of days to see what I’ve been making as I meditate on the light that is this advent season.

 

Meditation begins with little dots

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About a month ago Doug and I spent the weekend at Kripalu participating in a great retreat about meditation with Sharon Salzburg. I first discovered Sharon Salzburg and her book Lovingkindness nearly ten years ago when I was trying to figure out if I should stay at Buxton teaching art or take the risk and go back to grad school to earn my MFA. (I took the risk!)

This retreat found us doing sitting and walking meditations, practicing metta and doing some slow, restorative yoga. I often beat myself up for how easily distracted I can be, but I took away two powerful things from this weekend.

1. The beauty of Metta, and practicing it regularly for myself, for my loved ones, for those who challenge me, for my perceived enemies, for all beings. I practice it for 15 minutes most days–five minutes for myself, five minutes for someone I will interact with later that day, and then five minutes for anyone who happens to come into my mind, friend or foe.

May you be free from danger.
May you have physical happiness.
May you have mental happiness.
May you have ease of well-being. 
 

2. That I actually can focus, and sometimes so well that I don’t hear people talking to me, I forget to eat and frustrate my loved ones because I am so focused. This usually happens when I am in my studio. And yes, I realized that in many ways this is meditating for me. I can often even feel my pulse slow, my mind zero in on the work and everything else drop away. When I teach, I have to be careful when I demo because I can drop into this state pretty quickly. This weekend, I reached this state quite a bit as I worked on my selection for Gallery 51′s upcoming 99cent and up show. Tree rubbings with little green dots and pathways. Bliss.

Here’s a preview:

I hope to see you there!

Power

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We lost our electricity around 5 pm on Monday during Hurricane Sandy–and it finally returned late the following night. I spent most of Monday, my birthday, working in my studio while Skyping with my friend Tara and my sister. MCLA cancelled classes because of the storm, and that added to my celebration.

And then the power went out mid-conversation with Tara. It was still light enough for us to finalize the flashlights and candles, having already filled as much water throughout the house as we possibly could.

Trees down along the Kitchen Brook trail in our backyard, thanks to Hurricane Sandy

Trees down along the Kitchen Brook trail in our backyard, thanks to Hurricane Sandy

This makes two years in a row that my birthday was celebrated in the midst of a weather event. 2011 brought us 12+ inches of snow in that freak late-October snow storm, and we all know what Sandy brought us. Thankfully power loss was the major disruption for us–house, trees and property all good.

So we played Scrabble, ate a lovely dinner by candlelight, and went to bed early with books and headlamps, a wonderful way to celebrate. And again, I am faced with the lesson of the unexpected–how as much as one can plan, there are all sorts of things that happen in the universe that force us to reconsider our path, whether that interruption is for an hour, a day or a lifetime, the wilderness exists not just in the wilds of the west and Alaska, but all around us.

To add a bit more, here’s a passage from one Michael Pollen’s early books, Second Nature: A Gardener’s Education.

Anthropocentric as [the gardener] may be, he recognizes that he is dependent for his health and survival on many other forms of life, so he is careful to take their interests into account in whatever he does. He is in fact a wilderness advocate of a certain kind. It is when he respects and nurtures the wilderness of his soil and his plants that his garden seems to flourish most. Wildness, he has found, resides not only out there, but right here: in his soil, in his plants, even in himself…
But wildness is more a quality than a place, and though humans can’t manufacture it, they can nourish and husband it…
The gardener cultivates wildness, but he does so carefully and respectfully, in full recognition of its mystery.
 

I depend on electricity–on water, heat, food–and what electricity brings to me–and that makes me dependent on so many different people out in the world doing their jobs. This becomes especially clear in wilderness moments like a hurricane. I send out many thoughts and prayers to those who were not as fortune as I was…

Missed turn?

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How did I miss the turn?

I have run this route countless times. How did I miss the turn? I rarely get lost or let myself get lost–this is both a curse and a blessing. I nearly always know where I am in map terms. (Other regards, not so much.) When traveling, once oriented to the map, I can see the path in my minds eye from one location to the next, occasionally stopping to make sure that I am still on the right track. It’s really hard for me to just let go and wander–to quiet my mind and see what happens. The worry of getting lost, losing my way churns and churns and churns.

So how did I miss the turn, on a track that I know? Was it the distraction of seeing another person? The first time in the five years of walking, running or hiking this route, I saw someone hiking. He was from Mass Wildlife and Fisheries working on a project on West Mountain Road. He arrived from Boston a little early and decided to explore.

Was it the gorgeous blue sky and warm air on a fall day?

Was it the chatter in my mind?

The turn off is at the second clearing. When I arrived at it, I thought it was the first one, so I continued even though the road started to go down and then up in a way that did not seem familiar. About a half-mile past the turn-off I reached a clear cut section and realized that I missed the turn. I contemplated the view into the valley and calculated the approximate distance back to the turn-off versus continuing to the AT and making a big loop. My body wanted to continue, the warm air, fall sunshine and my need for Vitamin D beckoned me to keep going. My work and my obligations told me to chance it that the turn-off was closer than I thought and to retrace my steps.

And my mind was amazed that I missed the turn-off and wondered if it was possible to get lost and enjoy it. I can get totally lost in my studio work, finding my way back to the path when needed, but in other areas of my life, not so much. Missing this turn-off plays in my mind, encouraging me to look for times and places where I can get lost, knowing that the path is still there, but exploring the freeness of being with the flow of wherever I am going.

Intermittency

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Hudson River School sunrise over Outlook Ave

When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet, this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships. We leap at the flow of time and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible in life, as in love, is in growth, in fluidity – in freedom. The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what it was, nor forward to what it might be, but living in the present and accepting it as it is now. For relationships, too, must be like islands. One must accept them for what they are here and now, within their limits – islands surrounded and interrupted by the sea, continuously visited and abandoned by the tides. One must accept the serenity of the winged life, of ebb and flow, of intermittency.

Anne Morrow Lindbergh

 

Feel the Fear

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A role of beautiful Japanese paper, Shikoku natural paper, 10 meters by 38 inches–80 grams sits in a corner of my studio. Beautiful, beautiful paper. Along with it are two other sheets of Japanese paper, a pure Gampi paper. The two different papers cost over $150 combined. Both sit cosy, comfortably and quietly in the role section of my studio, and have been–for nearly three years.

Does this sound familiar? Fabulous art supplies, the ones that cost just a little bit more than normal, and are gorgeous, special, maybe too special to do just anything with them. So they sit, and they wait for the perfect project. But the project doesn’t quite come, so they sit some more.

It’s time.

It’s time for me to do something with these papers.

Who knows what will happen. But this week, when I go to my studio Tuesday morning, I’m going with these papers in mind. I’m pretty certain they will go with me into the woods with some encaustic crayons and charcoal. Wish me luck, and maybe this is some inspiration for you too, to play with some of those saved supplies.

The best is yet to come

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I spent the past weekend walking in the woods and revisiting my own writings about walking and wilderness (look for a post about that in the upcoming weeks), remembering a conversation that I had with Doug about wilderness as a state-of-mind, present in the city as much as in the middle of Denali national park.

Wilderness as a state-of-mine embraces the unknown nature of living, that a grizzly bear could enter your path in Denali is just as possible as a mugger entering your path in New York City. Possible, but perhaps unlikely. But a good reminder when on a new trail or even an old trail, in the woods or the city, that anything is possible. As much as I try to control my life, I can’t really. I can embrace each moment, plan for what I can, and then be with what comes. Is the best yet to come or is it here right now?