How three become a story.
This morning I found a big pile of finished Soul Collage cards in my studio (what can I say? And also, aren’t there more somewhere? And what happened to the two dozen plus color copies ready to be trimmed and mounted? — This is what ADD looks like).
Years of Tarot reading (and now Soul Collage card pulling) have taught me that while within every single card there is a story to be found, with three cards, the story tells itself.
These three narrate a tale of parenting. Happening right now. There’s the young man being launched! Into the mountains, specifically.
After a bit of a fall (Humpty Dumpty) and emergency care (doctors have more skill than all the King’s horsemen).
Now the three of us huddle close, two holding up the third for the moment. Fluid, shared creativity will outsmart that horned and hulking bully. Bye bye big reptile guy!
(Fluid creativity is also what ADD looks like, PS).
The meaning of the dance photo is heightened by the fact that the image came from a glossy Vail resort magazine that I clipped years ago. We were at the resort while both boys were still in high school. It was a really special, once in a life time kind of get away (courtesy of my brother). D. fell in love with the Rockies during that trip.
There are a lot of “launch” cards in my deck. That I picked the one with a snowy mountain range demonstrates how synchronicity informs the process.
‘Nuff said. Much still up in the air. There and here. I have tons of pictures from our wonderful trip to Charleston and need to figure out how to share them. Reconsidering Flickr: yahoo keeps getting hacked.
It’s fifty degrees here. Hotter, I’m told, in Boulder.
It’s good to see you here this morning and to see some of your creative juices flowing. We need more of that these days, I do believe.
Thanks, Nance. It’s hard to fight against the rabbit hole of news. Hope you are holding up. With the rain, too.
I envy your ability to step back and to build a trilogy against the chaos and unknown as seems appropriate. ADD enters the scene, I agree, and if it isn’t ADD then our social e-fabric of the “news”, the ads, the activism, the melting glaciers, the exploding pipelines, the suffering of so many animals and humans, the global political fissures, and general uncertainly does daily increase everyone’s anxiety who is paying attention. This weekend as I sift through boxes of family letters and letters from friends that span more than 30 years (!) I seek an even keel, too. A three legged stool to sit on would help, but I never even thought of that! How grateful I am to see your images, your healing images of 3’s. You’ve thrown me an emotional anchor. We went to see “LA LA LAND” last night, and that also reminded me that it is art that helps give me perspective. Difficulties (when confronted) can free the spirit to rise and to meet the challenges.
You list out the daily / current stresses so accurately — the list is horrifyingly long and cannot even be scratched at until #45 is gone. As far as my “building” anything — when I’m pulling already-made cards, they are providing narrative and guidance. I look at them actively and try to do so with a mind open to meaning, but in a very real way, I’m just receiving. Not doing anything at all. Reading old letters sounds like a different kind of receiving. Not sure I could do that right now.
Your “just receiving” is, in my opinion, how an artist finds truth. Like “active listening”? not easy to do! You find ways and make choices about what guides rightly and provides or suggests narrative, yes? Maybe every piece not will not be historically precious Art, but each piece provides a foundation for the next and then you might stumble onto or choose another… anyway, its a process that provides a place for the mind to see refuge, find hope, experience affinity. When that happens I say you succeed even if you only reach a few people.
And *yikes* I am not reading these old letters yet! I only read enough to say, “oh I remember this” and then say,”keeper” or” tosser”. I actually found a stash of sand paper in one of my boxes of letters in a folder labeled “Artist Retreats”. oy vey. I thought I had sand paper stash somewhere for the past 15 years and finally found it. I mean that might not mean much to you but it does to me, at least this weekend 🙂
Sandpaper. Ha. I spent last night going through a drawer of papers that I thought was only old ‘art’ ideas, but held so much more! Funny how that happens.