"Art and the artist can be destroyed. But the spirit in which art is made is immortal." That is powerful. And so inspiring.
Do you ever feel like you/your art are part of something bigger than yourself? I have such respect and admiration for artists of all kinds from the past whose works continue to impact others to this day. I wonder what present-day artists will be impacting the world tomorrow. Sorry, that got rather deep.
I love the finished "Waverly" painting. It might be my new favorite. And I can see how doing a hardscape is particularly challenging. And yet you're doing it! The fact that you were smiling through the process you shared about here regarding the bridge art, makes me smile right now.
Also, now I'm wondering where/how you store your paintings?
Thank you for yet another wonderful, inspiring essay filled with equally wonderful examples of your art. Well done, my friend.
Thank you so much for your wonderfully supportive, thought-provoking comments. I so appreciate it. And it warms my heart that you smile because I was smiling while painting!
Your question about whether I feel I and/or my art are bigger than myself is a great one. My Breast Cancer, Young and Female series definitely has a purpose bigger than me. Yes, the paintings are cathartic to me to release my pain and grief on canvas, but the purpose that's greater than me is to possibly help others going through or having gone through breast cancer and their loved ones, maybe just letting them know they are not alone.
I am not a political artist, but I feel that with my paintings, such as Waverly (and it's one of my favorites, too), I try to create some kind of beauty in the world to counteract the ugliness in our society. Sometimes I think, the world has so much harshness to it, and all I'm doing is painting pretty pictures. How meaningful is that? But upon closer introspection, it is so important to paint what is in my heart, and if a nice painting lifts people's spirits during dark times such as the one the U.S. and the rest of the world is enduring, then it has done its job.
In addition, lately, I feel my art has taken on another kind of unexpected purpose: to defy authoritarianism. The authoritarian regime operates on fear and tries to do this by focusing on the ugliness of violence, lies, and horror. By painting what fills my heart and buoys me and potentially other people up and discussing art with others, I feel I'm contributing in some way to achieve the opposite effect: to distract myself and others from the nastiness in our society.
I'm sorry I got kind of long-winded there, but these are truly the ways that I feel my art (or any art, really) transcends the artist.
Now another good question: where do I store my paintings? I don't have a big house, but I don't want to damage the paintings, so I simply hang them on whatever walls I can find. I have to be creative with how I use my space. Hanging them up keeps them from getting my cat's long Himalayan fur on them and keeps them out of the way of harm. On top of one of my dressers, I have a type of drying rack, which stores about 10-12 paintings. I just bought a different kind of drying rack for another storage option. I will possibly buy another rack for the basement, but I have to be careful -- my daughter considers the basement HER space, so I might be out of luck there.
I hope I wasn't rambling. Thank you for your wonderful questions and your support, dear friend!
I loved how you reframed ‘toughness’ as showing up with hope, care, and commitment to the process, especially in these truly challenging times. Thank you for this reminder that protecting our creative practice is both an act of courage and a form of peace.
I really appreciate you! Yes, I think all kinds of creatives are tough, and strength does not lie in brute force. We must protect our art. Preserving peace takes courage, too, for it is all too easy to fall in line with evil forces.
How does one find the landscape where peace and enjoyment still live, when fear and hopelessness are trying to run the world, when unrest leans so close to madness? The bridge you paint shimmers in another palette altogether. It feels, at least in part, fashioned from creative compassion. Call it whatever we will, without that kind of art the soul has no passage, and hope is left on life support.
I love your art in all the forms it takes here, Beth. Thank you for this offering. It matters.
Thank you so much for your comment. To be honest, it is excruciatingly difficult to create art in these horrendous, fear-filled times. But the way I see it, creating art is a way of preventing those in charge from stealing my joy.
So I have to do the difficult task of sitting down amidst all of the world's chaos and block it out by putting a brush loaded with paint on the canvas. Instantly, there is flow and relaxation, and the world's worries are temporarily out-of-mind.
I so appreciate your kind compliment about my art. Thank you so much!
Yes, i hear you on the difficulty front but you got it - how to cross the bridge of sighs to get to the open expanse of the mountain scape - to the beautiful flow of relaxation and lessened worries. You painted both, in a sense, and pointed to how the crossing can happen. At least, for some time for a necessary reprieve.
I especially love this: “ But what makes a person tough is whether people can look to him or her for healing, peace, solace, compassion – and hopefulness.”
This is true strength and bravery. And what we all need right now. And art…lots of art! I love how you share your process. It’s inspiring to see how your pieces grow and change in depth and beauty. Art, is indeed, self care at the highest level that helps not just the artist but the viewer as well.
Thank you, Susan, for your insightful comment. I love what you said here: "Art, is indeed, self care at the highest level that helps not just the artist but the viewer as well." Yes, both artist and viewer benefit from art. I believe that artists are some of the strongest people; they are not deterred by external events. They continue on with their art, no matter what.
Beth, this is one of the most inspirational pieces you've put to record yet--these weeks and recent days have been harrowing for the United States and the entire world. Thank you for setting the record straight--as you say so eloquently, "what makes a person tough is whether people can look to him or her for healing, peace, solace, compassion – and hopefulness. These are just some of the wonderful qualities I see in creatives. To use sheer physical force against someone weaker is easy, but what’s difficult, really much more difficult, is to devote one’s life to art, even within the backdrop of societal unrest." For this reason in particular I look to you as a hero for all of us--you are relentless your pursuit of your self-care through art and undaunted no matter how many private setbacks or what's happening on the world's often violent and chaotic stage. I look to you as I'm sure so many of your other subscribers do, for your courage and perseverance when it comes to not surrendering and using your talents to create extraordinary beauty in the world. Through these powerful two and a half years within your blog you've created a sanctuary--and in doing so you've become a great guide and mentor for all of us creative who so very often feel fragile and like giving up--but I still believe, love is stronger than all of this brute force and might. Thank you for offering your beautiful words and the lovely bridge scape --this is what it means to share joy and be a lighthouse to the world.
Oh my gosh, dear Gerry, reading your comment made my eyes tear up. You are my personal hero and role model. Thank you for communicating with me the other day after I was devastated about another bout of violence in the country I love but do not recognize.
You inspired me to write this piece. After our conversation, I did some deep soul-searching, and this essay was exactly what I wanted to say. This is the essence of what I strive to be: a creative who, like you and so many other creatives, show up to pen words, dance, or paint landscapes.
For me, drawing and painting are such joys. We never must surrender our art -- whatever the art it is we are drawn to. If we do, we are lost.
"I also realized I was smiling the whole time I was working on this bridgescape – not because I believed I was creating a beautiful piece of art, but because I was loving the process."
I'm smiling too, Beth, because I love your commitment to showing up to the canvas, the screen, and all the creative processes that you share with us, with the aim not of perfection, but of getting better, bit-by-bit.
Thank you so much, Robin, for smiling along with me! You are a creative whom I deeply respect, and you show up to the page to create your beautiful writings. I'm so glad and grateful our paths have crossed on Substack.
I will definitely read your Joy Manifesto note. Thank you for the link. :)
I love Waverly! Perfect name for it! I’m looking forward to seeing the bridge evolve.
We must keep creating art, it brings good to the world that so badly needs good right now. I’m struggling to paint these days. I know it will bring me joy, and I need to throw some paint at a canvas just to get started. Haven’t been able to get myself to go out to the studio. Thank you for your positive take on why we need to keep making art, it lit a fire under me today. Self-care is the priority these days.
Thank you so much for all your encouragement, Alene!
I can understand the struggle to immerse yourself into creativity. I had problems this week with concentration on my writing. The chaotic events that cause us to give up hope need to be in the backs of our minds.
I know, easier said than done.
Still, I suggest you keep showing up to the canvas, even if you don't feel like it. Once you get started, you will hopefully feel psychologically better. Art is such a key component of self-care. It's importance to put our own physical, emotional, and spiritual health first.
Thank you for this relatable essay, Beth. The process of giving one's self to a creative act; of getting lost to the degree that time is irrelevant; the sense of becoming the piece that you are working on -- an organic joy rises in one's being. I see creating art as an ongoing homage to our most essential selves.
I love how Waverly turned out. And the beginnings of the bridge -- so perfect, because what we need to be doing now is building bridges. Thank you for these lovely insights into process. I look forward to watching the bridge develop. Sign me, your forever friend and fan.
I always appreciate your insights and wisdom, Stephanie. I love that feeling of getting so lost in art that I become part of the artwork itself. Pure magic. And I love the term "organic joy," because I believe so many creatives experience this feeling.
I'm so glad you love Waverly. It was a pleasure to paint.
Even though my painting architectural subjects is not my strength, I so enjoyed painting the bridgescape thus far. Even if the painting eventually fails, it won't be a failure to me because I had fun during the process, always more rewarding to me than the final product.
It is so nice to see you get so much pleasure and peace from creating your art. It really does calm the soul. Writing does that for me as well. Your mountainscape looks wonderful and you've made a great start on the bridge.
I so appreciate your words about how enjoyable art is for me. And, yes, your writing is not only wonderful, but you enjoy what you are doing. This is so key. to a craft such as writing. The process, in my opinion, is everything.
The bridge is turning out better than expected, but it has some flaws. Yet, the joy I feel in creating a piece of art -- the bridge -- outweighs my feelings of discomfort tackling an architecture-based painting. Before I started painting this work, I said to myself, "If this painting fails, no big deal. I can always try again."
Hi Beth, Always inspiring hope — I love your art, always, P
Thank you so much, Prajna! I so appreciate your viewership.
Thank you for writing this Beth. I love the line "the process is sacred" . It sure is. And as you said we show up with hope.
Hi Dee,
Thank you so much for your readership and comment. And thank you for weighing in on the process of art. Let's keep the hope alive.
Hi Beth,
"Art and the artist can be destroyed. But the spirit in which art is made is immortal." That is powerful. And so inspiring.
Do you ever feel like you/your art are part of something bigger than yourself? I have such respect and admiration for artists of all kinds from the past whose works continue to impact others to this day. I wonder what present-day artists will be impacting the world tomorrow. Sorry, that got rather deep.
I love the finished "Waverly" painting. It might be my new favorite. And I can see how doing a hardscape is particularly challenging. And yet you're doing it! The fact that you were smiling through the process you shared about here regarding the bridge art, makes me smile right now.
Also, now I'm wondering where/how you store your paintings?
Thank you for yet another wonderful, inspiring essay filled with equally wonderful examples of your art. Well done, my friend.
Hi Nancy,
Thank you so much for your wonderfully supportive, thought-provoking comments. I so appreciate it. And it warms my heart that you smile because I was smiling while painting!
Your question about whether I feel I and/or my art are bigger than myself is a great one. My Breast Cancer, Young and Female series definitely has a purpose bigger than me. Yes, the paintings are cathartic to me to release my pain and grief on canvas, but the purpose that's greater than me is to possibly help others going through or having gone through breast cancer and their loved ones, maybe just letting them know they are not alone.
I am not a political artist, but I feel that with my paintings, such as Waverly (and it's one of my favorites, too), I try to create some kind of beauty in the world to counteract the ugliness in our society. Sometimes I think, the world has so much harshness to it, and all I'm doing is painting pretty pictures. How meaningful is that? But upon closer introspection, it is so important to paint what is in my heart, and if a nice painting lifts people's spirits during dark times such as the one the U.S. and the rest of the world is enduring, then it has done its job.
In addition, lately, I feel my art has taken on another kind of unexpected purpose: to defy authoritarianism. The authoritarian regime operates on fear and tries to do this by focusing on the ugliness of violence, lies, and horror. By painting what fills my heart and buoys me and potentially other people up and discussing art with others, I feel I'm contributing in some way to achieve the opposite effect: to distract myself and others from the nastiness in our society.
I'm sorry I got kind of long-winded there, but these are truly the ways that I feel my art (or any art, really) transcends the artist.
Now another good question: where do I store my paintings? I don't have a big house, but I don't want to damage the paintings, so I simply hang them on whatever walls I can find. I have to be creative with how I use my space. Hanging them up keeps them from getting my cat's long Himalayan fur on them and keeps them out of the way of harm. On top of one of my dressers, I have a type of drying rack, which stores about 10-12 paintings. I just bought a different kind of drying rack for another storage option. I will possibly buy another rack for the basement, but I have to be careful -- my daughter considers the basement HER space, so I might be out of luck there.
I hope I wasn't rambling. Thank you for your wonderful questions and your support, dear friend!
I loved how you reframed ‘toughness’ as showing up with hope, care, and commitment to the process, especially in these truly challenging times. Thank you for this reminder that protecting our creative practice is both an act of courage and a form of peace.
Hi Marie,
I really appreciate you! Yes, I think all kinds of creatives are tough, and strength does not lie in brute force. We must protect our art. Preserving peace takes courage, too, for it is all too easy to fall in line with evil forces.
Art soothes our souls. Beautiful landscape, Beth!
Thank you so much, Rea! And I totally agree with you that art is a balm for our souls.
How does one find the landscape where peace and enjoyment still live, when fear and hopelessness are trying to run the world, when unrest leans so close to madness? The bridge you paint shimmers in another palette altogether. It feels, at least in part, fashioned from creative compassion. Call it whatever we will, without that kind of art the soul has no passage, and hope is left on life support.
I love your art in all the forms it takes here, Beth. Thank you for this offering. It matters.
Hi Bronce,
Thank you so much for your comment. To be honest, it is excruciatingly difficult to create art in these horrendous, fear-filled times. But the way I see it, creating art is a way of preventing those in charge from stealing my joy.
So I have to do the difficult task of sitting down amidst all of the world's chaos and block it out by putting a brush loaded with paint on the canvas. Instantly, there is flow and relaxation, and the world's worries are temporarily out-of-mind.
I so appreciate your kind compliment about my art. Thank you so much!
Yes, i hear you on the difficulty front but you got it - how to cross the bridge of sighs to get to the open expanse of the mountain scape - to the beautiful flow of relaxation and lessened worries. You painted both, in a sense, and pointed to how the crossing can happen. At least, for some time for a necessary reprieve.
Hi Bronce, thank you so much! It is, indeed, a complete joy to turn over my worries and cross that bridge to create art.
Thank you for restacking my essay, ! So appreciate it.
Such a wonderful piece, Beth.
I especially love this: “ But what makes a person tough is whether people can look to him or her for healing, peace, solace, compassion – and hopefulness.”
This is true strength and bravery. And what we all need right now. And art…lots of art! I love how you share your process. It’s inspiring to see how your pieces grow and change in depth and beauty. Art, is indeed, self care at the highest level that helps not just the artist but the viewer as well.
Thank you, Susan, for your insightful comment. I love what you said here: "Art, is indeed, self care at the highest level that helps not just the artist but the viewer as well." Yes, both artist and viewer benefit from art. I believe that artists are some of the strongest people; they are not deterred by external events. They continue on with their art, no matter what.
Beth, this is one of the most inspirational pieces you've put to record yet--these weeks and recent days have been harrowing for the United States and the entire world. Thank you for setting the record straight--as you say so eloquently, "what makes a person tough is whether people can look to him or her for healing, peace, solace, compassion – and hopefulness. These are just some of the wonderful qualities I see in creatives. To use sheer physical force against someone weaker is easy, but what’s difficult, really much more difficult, is to devote one’s life to art, even within the backdrop of societal unrest." For this reason in particular I look to you as a hero for all of us--you are relentless your pursuit of your self-care through art and undaunted no matter how many private setbacks or what's happening on the world's often violent and chaotic stage. I look to you as I'm sure so many of your other subscribers do, for your courage and perseverance when it comes to not surrendering and using your talents to create extraordinary beauty in the world. Through these powerful two and a half years within your blog you've created a sanctuary--and in doing so you've become a great guide and mentor for all of us creative who so very often feel fragile and like giving up--but I still believe, love is stronger than all of this brute force and might. Thank you for offering your beautiful words and the lovely bridge scape --this is what it means to share joy and be a lighthouse to the world.
Oh my gosh, dear Gerry, reading your comment made my eyes tear up. You are my personal hero and role model. Thank you for communicating with me the other day after I was devastated about another bout of violence in the country I love but do not recognize.
You inspired me to write this piece. After our conversation, I did some deep soul-searching, and this essay was exactly what I wanted to say. This is the essence of what I strive to be: a creative who, like you and so many other creatives, show up to pen words, dance, or paint landscapes.
For me, drawing and painting are such joys. We never must surrender our art -- whatever the art it is we are drawn to. If we do, we are lost.
Thank you, Gerry, for being a wonderful friend.
"I also realized I was smiling the whole time I was working on this bridgescape – not because I believed I was creating a beautiful piece of art, but because I was loving the process."
I'm smiling too, Beth, because I love your commitment to showing up to the canvas, the screen, and all the creative processes that you share with us, with the aim not of perfection, but of getting better, bit-by-bit.
Your point on "getting better" echoes my Joy Manifesto on Notes this morning: https://substack.com/@robinpayes/note/c-197425240
Thank you so much, Robin, for smiling along with me! You are a creative whom I deeply respect, and you show up to the page to create your beautiful writings. I'm so glad and grateful our paths have crossed on Substack.
I will definitely read your Joy Manifesto note. Thank you for the link. :)
I love Waverly! Perfect name for it! I’m looking forward to seeing the bridge evolve.
We must keep creating art, it brings good to the world that so badly needs good right now. I’m struggling to paint these days. I know it will bring me joy, and I need to throw some paint at a canvas just to get started. Haven’t been able to get myself to go out to the studio. Thank you for your positive take on why we need to keep making art, it lit a fire under me today. Self-care is the priority these days.
Thank you so much for all your encouragement, Alene!
I can understand the struggle to immerse yourself into creativity. I had problems this week with concentration on my writing. The chaotic events that cause us to give up hope need to be in the backs of our minds.
I know, easier said than done.
Still, I suggest you keep showing up to the canvas, even if you don't feel like it. Once you get started, you will hopefully feel psychologically better. Art is such a key component of self-care. It's importance to put our own physical, emotional, and spiritual health first.
Excellent job, Beth! I love how your painting turned out. I think it's one of my favorites!!
Thank you, Pam! I have to admit that this painting is one of my favorites, too. Everything came together well.
Thank you for this relatable essay, Beth. The process of giving one's self to a creative act; of getting lost to the degree that time is irrelevant; the sense of becoming the piece that you are working on -- an organic joy rises in one's being. I see creating art as an ongoing homage to our most essential selves.
I love how Waverly turned out. And the beginnings of the bridge -- so perfect, because what we need to be doing now is building bridges. Thank you for these lovely insights into process. I look forward to watching the bridge develop. Sign me, your forever friend and fan.
I always appreciate your insights and wisdom, Stephanie. I love that feeling of getting so lost in art that I become part of the artwork itself. Pure magic. And I love the term "organic joy," because I believe so many creatives experience this feeling.
I'm so glad you love Waverly. It was a pleasure to paint.
Even though my painting architectural subjects is not my strength, I so enjoyed painting the bridgescape thus far. Even if the painting eventually fails, it won't be a failure to me because I had fun during the process, always more rewarding to me than the final product.
It is so nice to see you get so much pleasure and peace from creating your art. It really does calm the soul. Writing does that for me as well. Your mountainscape looks wonderful and you've made a great start on the bridge.
Hi Nancy,
I so appreciate your words about how enjoyable art is for me. And, yes, your writing is not only wonderful, but you enjoy what you are doing. This is so key. to a craft such as writing. The process, in my opinion, is everything.
The bridge is turning out better than expected, but it has some flaws. Yet, the joy I feel in creating a piece of art -- the bridge -- outweighs my feelings of discomfort tackling an architecture-based painting. Before I started painting this work, I said to myself, "If this painting fails, no big deal. I can always try again."