Archive for July, 2013


Hats off!

Hats off to Anna Holden! An agent of change in the world. She is a wife, mother, athlete, globe-trotter, animal lover, artist, writer, creator of social change. She takes my breath away! What’s up this week?
Anna founded an online charity, The Isthmian Gallery, who’s mission is to empower young artists to use their creations to better the world. How does that work? Student artists donate works to the gallery where they are purchased by bidders. The artist names a favorite charity that will receive 85% of the money. (The other 15% goes to run the website.) Purchased work goes into an archive.
Details at http://www.theisgallery.org. This past weekend Anna created and manned a booth at the East Hampton (CT) Old Home Days. Passerbys were invited to paint on a large canvas…The result was documented on a youtube video, https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=aWf1TrFITO0. The art will be auctioned off on the gallery website and the proceeds will be donated to the East Hampton Food Bank (chosen by ballot of the people who visited the booth.) Win, win, win. Anna dreams BIG dreams and dedicates her energy to makes the world a better place. You rock, Anna!

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Take Time to Be the Roses

Celebrating the philosophy that your thoughts define your reality. So, dream beautiful dreams and create a beautiful reality. You carry the power within you.
This is a work in progress…. mixed media with more layers to follow.

this is so my anguish…..
http://www.maandpafilms.com/lostinliving/
do you feel this way?
women wear so many hats: some self-selected; some thrust upon them.
we are so critical of ourselves.
why can’t we celebrate our success?
I have watched the trailers for Lost in Living and find it reminiscent of Who Does She Think She Is? (my favorite movie)
two fine films that acknowledge the pull of forces on women artists and creative types vs the Shoulds of Life….
Am I home making art? no, I’m sitting in a parking lot of an abandoned air force base listening to my son’s band practicing across the field, watching jumbo jets take off and land, take off and land, because they train pilots here, and avoiding my mother in a hospital room
half a mile away because she was crying that it wasn’t her room and she didn’t know the people in the pictures, or recognize her bed.
I decided she might sleep if I left and I had been there for two hours so…… I left her. Never feel good about that. Rarely feel good about much. One more hour of practice and then the sixty-mile ride home.
Running as fast as I can, but most days it’s not fast enough.