I Can't Draw

"I can’t draw." 

I can’t tell you how many times I've heard this comment.  First of all, everyone can draw.  You just don't think you draw well - whatever that means. Second, feeling like you can't is all the more reason to try! Isn't that what we teach our kids?  Set an example for them.  

The problem is that most beginning artists are hung up on realism and accurate reproductions of objects, landscapes, and people. Realism is only one style of art. If I wanted to look at a cup, I could get one out of my cupboard. I don’t need to look at an exact replica of a cup rendered in paint hanging on my wall. 

While the skill of realistic reproduction is impressive, I would much rather see someone’s impression of a cup, no matter how wonky. If I’m teaching a class with a cup as the subject, I would love to see twelve very different interpretations, and I love that one funky cup painting that stands out with it's originality. 

So you think you are a terrible artist?  I don’t believe it. Come out to one of my classes and show me. Then I’ll show you an exoressionist or abstract masterpiece worth more than a hundred thousand dollars that isn’t all that different. Besides, if we only do the things we are good at and don’t challenge our assumptions, we will never grow. You might have a hidden talent to reveal. It is better to paint flowers that look "flower-ish" than not to try to paint at all.  

Need more convincing? Check out the book, ish. It is disguised as a book for children but it shares a valuable lesson for all ages about appreciating your own artistic impression. If you're pressed for time, just watch to the video of the book. And do share it with your kids, so they never say, "I can't draw”.  

If you enjoyed this post, considering checking out my book, Approaching the Blank Canvas, Real Talk on Fear, Inspiration and Not Giving Up in Art and Life. It’s full of true tales and tips from my 20+ years of making art for a living. It’s available on Amazon Books and you can also find the link to it and my other books on my DesignsbyArianne website.   

How to Climb a Tree

"One of the best ways to see tree flowers is to climb one of the tallest trees and to get into close, tingling touch with them, and then look broad." John Muir

"With ideas it is like with dizzy heights you climb: At first they cause you discomfort and you are anxious to get down, distrustful of your own powers; but soon the remoteness of the turmoil of life and the inspiring influence of the altitude calm your blood; your step gets firm and sure and you begin to look" - for dizzier heights. Nikola Tesla

The hardest part is reaching the lowest branch to pull yourself up.  Sometimes you have to shimmy up the trunk using your feet for leverage to even reach that branch. You can do this.   The fact that it is outside your reach is no reason to give up.  As you ascend,  you must test every successive branch to make sure it is strong and sturdy enough to hold your weight.  Climb high enough to settle in a crook between the branch and the trunk and gaze down upon the world like a minor deity.  From this vantage point, you will gain a different perspective than you can upon the ground.  

Go high enough to feel the movement of the tree and to have an unobstructed view.  Hopefully a fall from this height will not kill or maim you, but that is a risk you take when you dare.  It is unlikely that you will fall if you take your time, hold on tight, test each branch, and pay attention to what you are doing.  The view from the top is worth the climb.  

When I was a kid, I couldn't wait to get out of school to go home and climb the tall poplar next to my house.  I did this almost every day.  I might be a bit old to climb trees now, so I do the next big thing: I hike up mountains.  I'm not talking about Everest or Kilimanjaro here - nothing that requires oxygen and sherpas.  There is something about looking out at the wide expanse of the world from a high viewpoint. A reminder of the vastness has a way of resetting priorities.

If you have never tried to reach the lowest branch or never walked the first mile to begin the climb, you cannot comprehend the view from the top: how everything looks so small and manageable.  It does no good for someone to describe it to you.  You have to see it for yourself. Once you have made the climb, you can see the bigger picture: how it all ties together.  Reach for the bottom branch. 

Thanks for reading,

Arianne

Signs of Spring to Cheer Your Day

“Spring is nature's way of saying, 'Let's party!'” Robin Williams

“Never cut a tree down in the wintertime. Never make a negative decision in the low time. Never make your most important decisions when you are in your worst moods. Wait. Be patient. The storm will pass. The spring will come.” Robert H. Schuller

The weather has been pretty crummy lately, for want of a better word.  We’re pretty spoiled for sunshine here in North Carolina, so several consecutive overcast days leave me feeling a little gray inside.  When I feel the February blahs, I start looking for signs of spring to lift my spirits.  Take a little walk and look, listen, and smell for these…

Birds singing more than usual

Birds can sense the change in season by the increased amount of daylight. It apparently makes them happy, because there is an absolutely riotous bird chorus happening outside my house every morning.  I like to open the window for a few minutes just to listen to their joyous songs.  

Spring Peepers peeping away

I first heard them on a walk along a quiet trail by an abandoned swimming hole a week ago, chirping loud and proud. You’ve probably heard their song announcing the coming of spring, but may have been unaware of the origin.  These little frogs can be found from coast to coast in all sorts of wetlands.

Buds and blooms emerging

I always feel a touch of happiness and hope when I see the fresh green tips of my bulbs emerging through the soil each and every year.  Little bitty blooms decorate the tips of budding branches. Look for them! These early spring flowers are a reminder of the faithful cycle of nature as their scents fill the air.

The smell of spring

Surely, you know the smell.  It is a scent of dampness, worms, rain, and moist soil.  It holds the promise of new growth and fertility.  One day you step outside and there it is.  Then you know warm days and green growth are right around the corner.  Interestingly, I just learned in this article, that warring bacteria are responsible for the smell.  If you are at all interested in the science it’s worth a read.  

In many cultures and traditions, spring is welcomed as an opportunity for regeneration after a period of dormancy.  I can’t help but feel energized when I see the signs of seasonal change.  I think of it as a great time to reevaluate, discard the old, and move on to new challenges.  Spring-cleaning is a great ritual for starting with a clean slate.  I’ll talk more about that in my next post, A Tidy Exterior is Necessary for a Tidy Interior, about a friend of mine who learned this maxim during his years in the Merchant Marine.  

Thanks for reading,

Arianne

The Lure of Being Lost

"I have never been lost, but I will admit to being confused for several weeks." Daniel Boone

"I am no longer afraid of becoming lost, because the journey back always reveals something new, and that is ultimately good for the artist". Billy Joel

I grew up in a small town in Ohio – a picturesque postcard kind of place with historic buildings lining Main Street and a waterfall running under the bridge.  The local paper reported on criminal activity involving the theft of Halloween pumpkins and the bitter controversy over the architectural plans for the new post office.  The population was small enough that there were hardly any strangers.  I walked to school, to my job at the drug store, to my friend’s houses.  I knew that town like the back of my hand.  It was completely safe and predictable – a bubble if you will.

 

That is why we craved the uncomfortable.  We wanted to feel uneasy, to delve into the unfamiliar.  My sister and I snuck out the bedroom window to see what the world was like under a blanket of inky darkness.  We set out into the world with a goal of getting lost.

 

We’d walk past the three birch trees where the high school kids would drink beer, leaving shards of green glass from broken Rolling Rock bottles littering the ground and shimmering like emeralds in the moonlight.  We continued past the heap of rocks some farmer had piled up to clear a field.  We forged ahead to the place where the swinging vines hung low enough to grab on a running start.  Behind this was uncharted territory.   

We continued to walk until we looked around and saw nothing-familiar, only trees and more trees.  No sound of traffic or humans, only silence.  We’d stand mutely letting it sink in.  We were lost.  We no longer knew the way to get home.  

Then the fear touched us like a cold clammy hand on a shoulder in the dark.  Soaking into our skin to settle in our stomachs, an unsettling sick feeling.  It tapped on our hearts increasing our pulse rates, and we reveled in that feeling.  It was so unfamiliar to us.  

We wanted this – to have someone yank the rug out from under our feet for a moment, to poke a hole in the blanket of security we constantly wore around us.  And when we regained our senses and looked around us, we remembered the direction home.  

In fact, we could never forget where we came from, no matter how hard we tried.  We would return among familiar paths, worn smooth by our feet to the comfort of our home and revel in the comfort that was all the more poignant now that it was spiked with a taste of the unknown, leaving a thrilling bitter taste in our mouth and  shocking us momentarily out of complacency.

 

I still love this feeling.  I am an organizer for a trail running group.  On Saturdays I lead them into the woods to the only remaining unmarked trails in the area, and we run until we are lost.  I like to see how different people react to the realization.  Some are clearly uncomfortable.  They want to consult their GPS; they want to know the way out.  I just want to keep going and see what we find.  I know we’ll find our way home eventually, but for a an hour or so I’d like to get a glimpse of the unknown.

 

 

Finding Art in The Woods

"Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair."

- Khalil Gibran

When I was young, our parents used to shoo us out of doors to play for hours on end.  I would explore the yard and nearby forest through all four seasons, collecting shiny golden brown acorns with jaunty caps, fresh green Spring tree buds, fallen blossoms wet with dew, seed pods to open like fortune cookies, and other gifts from Mother Nature to stock my "store".  My "store" was a mobile one, with objects categorized into departments and displayed in my rolling red wagon.  My older sisters were then coaxed into purchasing items from my fresh inventory, handing over tarnished pennies they found in the pockets of Dad's overcoats. Who says you can't make money from your art?  I must have grossed at least 25 cents.

This habit of looking for treasures on my walks in the woods never left me.  As an adult, I often returned home with special found objects in my pockets to display on my windowsill or turn into works of art. Then when I became a mom, I taught my kids to walk through the world with curious minds and observant eyes looking for beauty and wonder along the way.  I was not surprised when, come laundry day, I would find my son's pockets filled to the brim with hickory nuts or hard red berries and once, black rubber pieces from the playground.

Give it a try.  Take a walk and fill your empty pockets.  Display your finds on a windowsill or porch rail.  Arrange them in a pattern or create a little work of art.  If you have a moment check out these links to see beautiful art made from natural objects: Andy Goldsworthy & more Andy Goldsworthy.  Consider investing in a glue gun which makes it possible to attach your nature finds to all sorts of things.  Make your next walk in the woods a treasure hunt. If you make this a practice, you will never look at a patch of bark or acorn the same way again, and hopefully you will not walk without actually seeing.

Have fun creating,

Arianne  

 

If you enjoyed this post, considering checking out my book, Approaching the Blank Canvas, Real Talk on Fear, Inspiration and Not Giving Up in Art and Life. It’s full of true tales and tips from my 20+ years of making art for a living. It’s available on Amazon Books and you can also find the link to it and my other books on my DesignsbyArianne website.   

"There are always flowers for those who want to see them."  - Henri Matisse

“It ain't what they call you, it's what you answer to.” ― W.C. Fields My name is Arianne, and I’m a cookie burner.  I was labeled a cookie burner when I was in my teens, and haven’t been able to shake the title.  Later, when I was learning to drive, I ran over a snake in the road.  I could not live that down either.  My family continued to find humor in the incident year after year.  I thought this was particularly unfair.  Should I, an inexperienced driver, have swerved into the opposite lane to avoid a snake?  Besides, I contended to no avail, the snake was already dead. My protestations were useless.  I was a cookie burning snake killer. I don’t recall running over any more snakes, dead or alive, so the snake killer label seemed to fade away with time only to be revived at the occasional holiday get together. The cookie burner moniker, however, followed me around like a curse. Many items in the cookie or the general bakery item category suffered a similar fate when placed by me into the oven.     I know what you are thinking.  Yes, I did use a timer.  Inexplicably, the chiming signal did not register with me.  I was completely deaf to it.  I would swear it did not go off.  So suspicious did I become of timers and a wider timer conspiracy designed to make me look bad, that I discontinued use of them completely relying instead on my acute sense of smell to determine doneness.  This approach yielded similar results.  Cue the smoke alarm. To make matters worse, our smoke alarm doesn’t just emit the obnoxiously loud, ear-splittingly high-pitched whine.  It also says, “Fire! Fire! Fire!” in a decidedly accusatory, but urgently calming female voice.  Taking it personally,  I argue with it.  “Fire, fire, fire,” it says.  “It is not a fire,” I respond loudly so everyone in my home and also the neighboring houses can hear. Why do I burn all of these innocent bakery items, sacrificing perfectly delicious chocolate chip cookie dough, yeast rolls, and cornbread to incineration?  Well, I’d like to say I’m distracted with multi-tasking.  Often I’m talking on the phone while folding laundry, listening to a podcast, and stirring chocolate pudding on the stove all at the same time.  Distracted, sure.  But isn’t this the state of every single person who is using the kitchen these days?  Is it unreasonable to dream of myself wearing a pressed pink apron with hands pressed to my knees as I lean over to peer through the little window in the oven door patiently waiting for my cookies to reach the perfect golden state like a new parent gazing through the window at the hospital nursery at her baby with a state of confidence that says, “I just know you will come out all right.” No, such dreams are a waste of time.  I burn the cookies because an expectation was set for me years and years ago.  It was like the Emperor of Domestic Tranquility touched a scepter to my head and declared with certainty, “This girl will be a burner of cookies.”  I took the title to heart.  If that’s what everyone thought I was, it must be true.  I burned the darn cookies, because everyone, even me, expected it. Not so damaging to be a cookie burner, except to the cookies, but what if you are given the title of “stupid”, “lazy”, or “weakling”?  Labels can be very hard to remove once they are stuck on. Were you given a label, or did you give one to yourself?  Has it affected your life negatively? Take a moment to think about it.  Once you figure out your negative labels, make a concerted effort to cast them off and give yourself new labels of your choosing.  I’m hoping my kids will have a chance to decide on their own self given labels – ones like “good friend to those in need”, “girl who is good at math”, or maybe even "excellent cookie baker".  In the meantime, check out the song, "Hall of Fame" by The Script, which beautifully encourages rising above labels.

The Power of Immaturity

The Power of Immaturity

Arianne: Posted on Friday, March 25, 2016 5:11 PM

The Power of Immaturity "Look at the world with the child's eye - it is very beautiful"  -Kailash Satyarthi "You see a child play, and it is so close to seeing an artist paint, for in play a child says things without uttering a word. You can see how he solves his problems. You can also see what's wrong. Young children, especially, have enormous creativity, and whatever's in them rises to the surface in free play." - Erik Erikson When I was a child, I climbed trees, ran barefoot through the grass and rode my bicycle with no hands on the handlebars.  My job as a kid in the summer was to use my imagination to create fun and adventure and to enjoy every moment of my day.  Of course, life requires that we grow up and accept mature responsibilities, but I don't remember signing an agreement to relinquish all enjoyment of the simple pleasures of youth.  Sure, it would be difficult to achieve career advancement if you spent your afternoons building a pirate ship in your backyard out of spare pieces of lumber. However, behind even the most respectable facade, isn't there still a immature child waiting to come out and play?  We become parents or get to be a certain age and are expected to behave in a prescribed way, but you have to appreciate those that ignore the rules and somehow manage to squeeze a little more fun out of life.  My Dad was always someone I respected.  He was dependable, reliable, and generally predictable.  Though he spent most of his time in the corporate world doing serious work as a nuclear engineer, occasionally he did really silly things, usually at the prompting of my unconventional, free-spirited mom.  I remember him dressing up as a pirate for a treasure hunt and his spine tingling witch's cackle that terrified the neighborhood kids at Halloween. Now that he is gone, it is these things that are most remembered.   Every once in a while I meet someone who still retains the spirit of a child.  Sure, it is carefully hidden behind a calm, adult demeanor, but it occasionally seeps through in the twinkle of their eye, a silly joke, or a teasing gesture.  The child in me recognizes and responds to that spirit, and don't we all? Because we all secretly still want to run out of the office to play. I believe it is no coincidence that the elderly often begin to act in childish ways.  They are wise.  The years have taught them what is important.  Freed from the yoke of the responsibility of raising a family, earning a living, setting an example, they can return to the joy of youth. Their competitive spirit is revived with bingo and jigsaw puzzles, their childlike wonder and curiosity are sparked by travel, and liberated from self consciousness and the desire to impress, they say whatever they want. What is beautiful about being childlike?  It is a lack of preconceived judgments based on status, net worth, and lineage.  It is an open mindedness fueled by imaginative creativity.  A child can make a world out of three scraps of wood, a patch of dirt and a hand full of rocks. A child can dig to China and get wishes from fairies.  What if we brought some of these childish ways into our daily life?  How inspiring to entertain a bit of limitless thinking for a short time.   Buy a box of brand new crayons and draw an imaginary world, swing on the swings, sing a happy tune out loud, or ride your bike with no hands on the handlebars*.   *Disclaimer: I cannot be held responsible for any injuries that may occur should you actually try to ride a bike with no hands.