The Bitter and the Sweet

Student Reproduction of Richard Lindner's Rock-Rock
Acrylic Paint, Grade 10

Painting based on a map of Lubec, inspired by the artwork of Maine Artist Eric Hopkins.
Last year grades 5 and 6 had the pleasure of meeting Hopkins who is known for his Maine island paintings, depicted as aerial views.
Tempera paint, grade 5

View of the Art Room showcasing current projects: High School Printmaking, 7th Grade Weaving, and 4th Grade Paper Mache Maskmaking

Scratchboard drawing
Grade 11

Still-Life with fruit and flowers
Crayon and watercolor, Grade 1

Student Interpretation of Van Gogh's Starry Night
Oil pastel, Grade 7

Chalk pastel drawing
Grade 11
This same student just won first place in a regional high school art competition.

It's been one of those weeks punctuated by both extreme highs and extreme lows. I think I'll start with the good news.

The first week of May is a flurry of activity at school. Students work like mad scientists and artists, historians, and mathematicians while they prepare for the school's annual Project's night. Granted, projects are completed in every class all through the year, but this one evening is an opportunity for students to show off their talents and interests with a new project. One skill that I see being honed during the two weeks preceding Projects night is the ability to set a goal and meet a deadline. I can totally relate to these students. There is excitement, and there is frustration. And despite the mass hysteria the few hours just before doors open to the public, it all falls into place.

Projects' Night is a huge deal in the community. It draws the biggest crowd that you'll ever see here, short of the Fourth of July or Fall Festival celebrations. Parents and students, community, and school board members filter through the classrooms checking out latest creations.

The Art Show is housed in the cafeteria to accommodate the mass number of pieces. Aside from the main display in the Caf, the bulletin boards are filled with student works and the art room is set-up to showcase some of the current happenings. Two weeks prior, I ask students to sort through their art portfolios and select their favorite piece from the school year to display in the "BIG SHOW". It's interesting to see what criteria they base their decisions on. Sometimes students know right off which piece to display. Others take an entire class period to work-out their decision, asking their peers to vote. They are asked to think about which piece shows a lot of effort and skill, would stand-out on the wall amongst 150 other artworks, and which piece would make them feel most proud when their parents see it for the first time.

Portfolios are available that night, too, to be taken home. I can tell by how many portfolios are left behind how good the "turnout" was. This year, of my approximately 125 art students, twelve portfolios remained. Of those few portfolios, some were siblings so it equated to only five or fewer families that were no-shows.

It was an amazingly successful Projects' Night; a sweet occurrence that followed a very bitter and sad event the evening before.

On Wednesday Evening, May 5th, 2010, Lubec Consolidated School board members voted four out of five to close the high school. Lubec High School has been in existence since 1896. The final decision will be made by town vote on June 23rd. If the town does indeed vote to close the high school, then this year will be the last ever senior graduating class in this town. As I type this, I am welled with emotion.

Since I first moved to this community and began teaching nine years ago, I have been hearing talk of closing the school. It is an issue that divides people and I can honestly understand where folks are coming from, on both sides of the "fence." My opinions in the matter are based on my experiences within the school and my views of education in general. My husband and I have been vocal supporters of keeping the school here in our own community. We believe that a school is a heart of a town and it helps students define their identity and their belonging. Rather than closing a school and sending students to another community, we believe there is no excuse to not instead invest in your own school and children and work together to make it the incredible learning environment it has the potential to be.

The final blow to the several-year struggle to keep the high school open came just a few months ago when the state cut our annual education funding by nearly $590,000. In a larger city or school system, that number may seem minor to you, however, here, it is enormous. Our total annual school budget is only 1.2 million. Peanuts for a PK-12 school education for an entire community. The state cut ALL but $19,000 of our funding. This happened in one-year's time. The reason? The state funding formula for education is based on a few things, including 1) student enrollment, 2) property evaluations, and 3) willingness to comply with the new educational consolidation law.

Basically, the town of Lubec, being coastal, is assumed to be able to afford the school. We are the classic example of "property rich - cash poor." Many of the people here are struggling multi-generational fishing families, many of them are those of my students. We have a 75% reduced lunch population and higher than normal special education needs. But as it is with many coastal communities, there is an influx of people who have been able to buy incredibly low-priced seaside property and have been able to develop their dream retirement homes. School enrollment drops as families move away to find work after the closing of factories and lack of available jobs. I myself am what is referred to as a PFA....a.k.a. Person From Away. People here make no bones about telling you that you are just that. But after nine years here, I have a new understanding of the lifestyles and people. I'd like to think of myself as an SPFA..."Semi Person From Away", thinking my ability to adapt to such a different way of life than I had been accustomed to, and my love for the people and this area, gives me some sort of honorary new status.

So, in a nutshell, reductions in funding over the years cause cuts in school programming lessening the perceived quality of education. One big blow comes along, hits hard, stirs fear, and defeats the spirit. The saddest part of all of this for me is that despite all the blows this school has received, it has continued, under excellent administration, to improve and excel at a steady pace over the past three years. I am not one to support testing as a means of proof of accomplishment, but for those who do, our remote school's state test scores are higher than the "surrounding" schools. I put "surrounding" in quotes because the closest high school other than our own is approximately 35 miles away. The states average for "Annual Yearly Progress" (AYP) is something like 4.8%. Our school came out as 14.2%. Impressive if you ask me, that we continue to get better despite lack of state support and resources. I attribute this to several factors in our school, one being a principal who has excellent leadership skills. He saw what needed to be done, set expectations high, motivated us and praised us along the path. We implemented a weekly literacy class with an on-staff expert. Our students have become phenomenal and inspired writers and the teachers are using new methods of differentiation to be able to teach to all kinds of learners so that they may find success. The arts have grown with the inclusion of a music program and my own visual arts classes have grown to include two additional levels. We have the most advanced technology of all schools around, including the colleges in Machias and Calais. Our Aquaculture teacher was recognized as a national teacher of the year, and I have myself received awards and participated in state arts pilot programs. We have a high percentage of students go on to college who have been accepted at such venues as Northeastern, Wheaton, Maine Maritime, Husson, Farmington, and UMO.

Still, a decision was made. Ironically, for those who think that closing a high school will save our town money, it just won't happen. A community is responsible for educating its youth. The money will be invested whether it is here or at a tuitioned school with long bus rides.

We won't know for certain if the high school is closing until June 23rd. This is highly bothersome to me. How do we proceed with the remainder of the school year? Do we move forward as if nothing has changed? Or do we say our goodbyes? It is an emotional time and the last thing I want to do is give up the fight for my students, but at the same time, I need to prepare them for the "if and when". I am a planner, and I want to be ready for either scenario. I want my students to feel prepared as well and confident of their success whatever the outcome. I know that, ultimately, people are strong and adapt, and we will all get through this. The not knowing is the toughest part.

If 2010 is our final graduation at Lubec High School, then it needs to be commemorated. If my art-college bound students finish out their senior year at another school, I want a working relationship with the next art teacher to ensure that that their transition is smooth and that dreams don't go by the wayside. If students are told that they have school choice, then the school needs to provide opportunities for the students to tour the other schools during a school day when students and teachers are in full working mode. If drop-outs occur due to the change of school venue, then we need to have an excellent alternative program in place to catch them before they fall. Decisions need to be made so that teachers who may be losing their jobs can make plans. Not knowing if your school will be here in September brings up the dilemma of do you apply for other jobs to ensure you can pay the bills, or do you hold on because you don't want to abandon the students that will be here should the town decide to keep the school. It is hard to find good teachers willing to commit to living in a remote area to work for one of the lowest teaching salaries in New England with more than the usual workload because the staff is small and spread far too thin.

This blog entry has been the most emotional one for me that I have ever written. Change is always difficult, as I spoke of a few weeks ago. I hope that as a community we can all move through this gracefully and intact.

The sun is shining and I am itching to soak it up. I will head outside to find a piece of fallen birch limb for my sculpture project. Art does the soul good, even when everything around you seems to be a bit of a mess.

Turning the Earth does the Mind Good

Transformation Tapestry in progress

I am sitting in my studio, breathing easy and feeling completely at peace. Sad to admit, but this is a rare feeling lately. Life has been speeding by and if there were any roses, no, I did not stop to smell them along the way. Not in the past couple weeks anyway.

Yesterday afternoon was a turning point. After two solid days of work that was accompanied by pure frustration with techniques going bust and materials running out at critical moments, Chris and I headed outside to soak in the sun and the first real warm day here in Lubec. We planted a rose bush in honor of Chris' brother Gudger. It replaced the ancient rambling rose that met its unfortunate demise last summer due to excavation equipment and my not being here to save it.

Digging into the cool moist earth was rejuvenating. In fact, I get the same feeling turning the earth as I do when working in the studio with clay. We decided not to stop at the rose bush. We raked rocks and heaved up weeds. Hyacinths and hostas were planted as an attempt to green the dreary dirt landscape that is a remnant of recent construction.

Today I entered the studio with a new frame of mind. I felt okay. I felt like I could accomplish what I set out to do, and dare I say, maybe even finish-up a project?

At 4:45 p.m. this afternoon, I was able to call a piece "done" that I began working on back in January. Maybe I would have finished today anyway, but, I think that yesterday's shift in scenery and time away from the studio gave me a fresh perspective.

I am almost done with a clay sculpture that began in January as well. Both projects are for the MFA program that I am in at Heartwood College of Art. It is an incredible feeling to finally see the ideas, formulated nearly five months ago, come to completion. Or near completion anyway! I still have a few details to work out on the clay piece, but I'm in the homestretch. Final project evaluations are May 15th, and I suspect that I will be tweaking things right up until the last minute.

Here's the interesting thing to me. I am forty years old. I have been calling myself an artist since I was about twenty. I have created hundreds of works over the years and sold much of them. But for some reason, this current sculpture feels like my first real piece of artwork. I might be confusing this with, simply, taking a new direction. But there is more to it I feel.

This is the piece that I have labored over more than any other, with over 150 hours and hundreds of dollars invested. It has challenged me to persist even when I was completely frustrated and wanted to can the whole idea. I stuck it out. I spent hours sketching, journaling, researching. No doubt, this project that challenged and frustrated me will be a spring-board for further pieces. And silly me, I am thinking of going through some of the same processes again! You would think I had been beaten down enough already by it, but as I have said before, artwork is not all fun. An artist has a vision and will do what needs to be done to bring that idea into physical manifestation.

I know you must be wondering what is that I have actually sculpted. I have provided only bits and pieces the past few months in this blog. I plan to post the final piece after my MFA evaluations later in May. Even I have yet to see the finished piece all assembled.

In the meantime, head on outside to soak-up some warm rays, breathe-in the fresh air, plant something beautiful, and remind yourself to smell the roses.

The Starving Artist and the Importance of Patrons

Jay's Sun-Dried Tomato Pie
(I am not allowed to tell you his secret sauce ingredient, but will say this.... it is bizarre, and oh so tasty!)

"A starving artist is an artist who sacrifices material well-being in order to focus on their artwork. They typically live on minimum expenses, either for a lack of business or because all their disposable income goes toward art projects." -Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Starving_artist)

I'm not starving in a literal sense. Not by any means. This past week I was treated to both a steamed lobster dinner (thanks to Mom) and a gourmet sun-dried tomato pizza compliments of my brother. I felt extremely well-fed, perhaps over fed, and didn't feel like a financially-struggling artist at all. In reality, though, it is a tough economic road for most artists.

It isn't for lack of ambition. Artists tend to work hard. I'm not a slacker and I doubt anyone who knows me would say otherwise. I am grateful for all that I have and recognize that by many people's standards in this world, I am "rich". I have a roof over my head, food on the table, medical care when needed, and the usual North American material gadgets: car, TV, stereo, kayak, furniture, etc.

I work a full-time job which (usually) covers basic necessities and bills and though I am not selling my works (yet!) for thousands of dollars a piece, I do rely on the income I make from my art to cover the expenses of living in mainstream society.

Still, if judging by Wikipedia definition, Chris and I both fall under the category of "starving artist". We struggle financially and have to make choices everyday with where the limited income is to be spent. Most purchases require some sort of deep-thought or explanation. Our house could use some major repairs, we share one car, don't subscribe to expensive cable channels, and a bulk of our clothing is purchased through Goodwill. We don't travel, except to see family, and have no major electronic "toys" like Blackberries or fancy cell-phones. We rarely go to the movies or other events that require a ticket fee. When something breaks, it isn't a given that we can replace it. Simple things that others sometimes take for granted aren't on our list of possibilities.

In the whole scheme of things, though, our sacrifices are tiny. Nonetheless, we do make sacrifices everyday for our art.

That being said, we also could not do what we do without major support from those who acknowledge the importance of what we are doing as artists. We have been the fortunate recipients of various benefactors' generosity. Without the help that we have been given along the way, we would not have grown as we have.

"Patronage is the support, encouragement, privilege, or financial aid that an organization or individual bestows to another. In the history of art, arts patronage refers to the support that kings or popes have provided to musicians, painters, and sculptors."
-Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patronage)

Our patrons have come in more than one form, and there have been many over the years. For any artist, writer, musician, actor, etc., patrons are a lifeblood. Without these supporters of the arts, genius works from the likes of Leonardo Da Vinci would not have been possible. Much of creative society relies on financial gifts for such things as museum collections, artist grants, and public radio and TV broadcasting.

My mind is flooding with all the patrons that Chris and I have had over the years. What these generous people and organizations are giving is more than a few dollars to pay a bill. They are helping to fund projects that in turn benefit a mass of people in society. Chris' poetry and novel will inspire many to analyze their own ways of being and aspire to be better people. My artwork hopefully will spark similar thoughts as well as bring joy and meaning to those who own and hold one of my creations.

I was the recipient of a life-changing fellowship that moved my work as a weaver forward. Three years later, I still feel the effects of that gift. We have had family members come to our aid, offer us a home, help with building studio space, and support with our education. As well, I am grateful for every person who visits our shop and for those who have been loyal returning customers over the years.

In turn, I try to give back to community and society by not only creating artwork that might either inspire or awaken to new thought, but by volunteering my time with projects such as Lubec Arts Alive or hosting sessions in the new studio. The patronage we receive has a ripple effect that affects many more than the benefactor probably realizes.

So, thank you to all those folks who have supported us financially or with volunteered time - those who have purchased our work, given us a home, made or bought us food, slipped us a few extra bucks for supplies, paid insurance and taxes, sponsored a building project, vehicle assistance, labored to make our studios more sound and beautiful, photocopied chapbooks, painted walls, fixed our toilet and funded hot water, sponsored travel/lodging to conferences and workshops, published poetry, hooked-up the kiln and lights in barn, hosted readings and gallery showings, landscaped, and to those who have given us incredible emotional support and direction over the years.

Without their support - we would not be where we are today.

On the Business of Being an Artist

Many people have a preconceived notion of what an artist's life is like. It isn't REAL work right? An artist gets to play with paint or clay and spend endless self-indulgent hours in the studio honing the fine art of fantasy. Spectators fawn over the magnificent creations and exclaim "how do you do that!" They roll out of bed at extraordinarily late hours to offset the night before that was no doubt filled with hordes of people gathering in a gallery toasting the genius of this talented super-human.

Um, excuse me, where do I apply for that job?

The truth is, while being an artist can be exceptionally fulfilling, it is also hard work. Yes, I said work. That four letter word that the non-artist community often thinks is in no way synonymous with the word art.

I have said before that a person doesn't choose to be an artist, rather, the art chooses the person. It is literally a calling. An artist feels compelled to create, much like a child who picks up a crayon for the first time and makes her first mark. From then on out, there is an obsession with making marks. For a two year old, they will make a mark with anything can they put their hands on. As children grow older hopefully this is nurtured and they retain some of that artist-self. For a few, that need to express outweighs life's other intrusions and that person becomes an artist as vocation.

So, what does an artist's life look like? How much of it is about "fun", and how much of it is about work? From my perspective, it is all work. That being said, it is work that fulfills me.

I am able to break my work as an artist into four categories.

Teacher:
I spend my full-time work week during the school year teaching. A lot of teachers claim that they are unable to be an artist while teaching because it is such a demanding and tiring job. For me, it is the opposite. Yes, demanding and tiring and wearing to the bone, but also inspiring. I have a job where I am surrounded by young minds creating all day long. Sure, there are school politics and endless amounts of paperwork, discipline issues, all those side things that go along with teaching, but, it is still inspiring to see the endless amounts of imagination that comes from these young minds.

Many artists that I know supplement their income with teaching. Maybe not all artists are naturally skilled with a patience and willingness to share trade secrets, but most that I know do enjoy sharing their knowledge and watching others' lives being transformed by the magic and power of art.

Visionary:
An artist is a visionary. They draw, sculpt, paint, photograph, dance, act, sing and compose a work that would never have existed, in a particular arrangement, without that specific artist's interpretation brought into physical existence. This is what artists, much like inventors, feel compelled to do. They have a vision in their mind, and they make that idea tangible for others to experience in the physical world.

Let this quote ruminate in your mind for a while.

"When I examine myself and the method of thought, I come to the conclusion that the gift of fantasy has meant more to me than my talent for absorbing knowledge." -Albert Einstein

Activist

What is an artist's job? Is it all about self-indulgence and making marks that make us feel good? Or, do we have an obligation to society?

Doctors are expected to heal the sick. Lawyers are expected to defend the innocent. Teachers are expected to teach, and law enforcement are expected to protect. What is an artist expected to do?

On one level, we brighten the world. We fill museums with color, write novels and screenplays to entertain, and design clothes for folks to wear. We are architects who build inspiring spaces, photographers who capture a child's transition from infancy to wedding, and people who create music that makes others want to dance.

And, we are a voice that records the society in which we live. We hear and see what is going on in the world around us, and we translate that message in a way that people can understand. When visual arts transcend spoken language, the message becomes universally understood. With pictures, we help to make others aware of what is happening in our world, what we should celebrate, and what needs to be changed. An artist takes license to be the voice that speaks a truth.

Business and Marketing Specialist:
This is the least glamorous part of being an artist, but one of the most important aspects should a person wish to make an actual (financial) living at it. We don't create for the monetary rewards, however, to support the work of being an artist, money does come into the picture. Supplies are costly, and there are bills to pay. An artists time may be spent working at McDonald's to cover the bills, but it would seem a more fulfilling goal to spend those forty hours creating in a way that feeds the soul and then using the income from that to support the household. It is bittersweet to hand one of your creations over to another, since each unique piece is in a sense your child, but there is also this feeling of sharing a part of yourself and the knowing that something you created brings meaning to another person.

I estimate that I spend at least one quarter of my creative time on the "business" aspects of being an artist. I don't want to go into detail on every component, but will offer up a basic list of what I contend with on a weekly basis that is just pure old grunt work.

The List: cleaning the shop, cleaning up after making messes, painting walls, painting signs for business, updating consignment lists, delivering work to shops/galleries, creating postcard announcements, thank you notes, organizing sales binder, tax forms, insurance paperwork, photographing artwork, blogging, community art meetings, banking, making tags, printing, contacting artists, networking, advocating, budgeting, ordering supplies, researching ideas, traveling to purchase supplies, making lists, making phone calls, paying bills, and continuing education/taking classes.

I am sure as soon as I hit the "publish" button for this blog, I will think of at least ten more things I should add the the list.

And while I am writing this blog, there are at least ten other things I should be doing! The shop opens at 10 a.m. today, so I need to shower, eat breakfast, get the sign up, turn on the heat, lights, music, price a few items, then get back to painting the sculpture that I have been working on for the past couple months.

So, if you are an artist, you understand this all perfectly well.

If you are thinking of plunging into the world of "working artist" then consider yourself warned!

Hindsight, knowing all that I know now, how much work and determination is required, the blood, sweat and tears.....

I wouldn't change a thing.

Living the Artist Life: All in a day's work

One of the casts after it was removed from the Anne's belly

Anne, in her ninth month of pregnancy, plastered

Our third drawing session with Anne as our model

My drawings from today's drawing session




Living the artist life is interesting, to say the least. This past week was full of creative, and sometimes unusual, activities that non-artists probably couldn't imagine doing. I sometimes wonder, when life is moving full speed ahead and I can't catch my breath, what it would be like to be "normal". Is there such a thing? I have this fantasy that I will wake, go to work, come home, eat dinner, watch TV, and go to bed. No major projects to complete. No big list of things I need to get done that week. No 3:00 a.m. wakings where my mind won't stop buzzing with the next thing I need to design.

If I were to experience that kind of life on a regular basis, though it might decrease the blood pressure immensely, would probably catapult me into complete and utter boredom.

This past week is a great example of living the artist life. I felt completely immersed in the creative process everyday.

After I blogged last Sunday morning, I spent the day working on a tapestry, then Monday began the "official work week" where days were spent at school teaching. The high school Art 1 class learned the monotype process and we had loads of fun! Albeit, there is a huge sticky mess that I am still trying to clean five days later! My other favorite project at school this past week was the aerial paintings in the style of Maine artist Eric Hopkins. We're painting very cool images of local Lubec maps.

After school, I continued my personal work as an artist. Monday evening I rolled clay slabs then worked on my end-of-the-month (a few days late!) project update for the MFA program I am in. Tuesday evening, I began painting a new sign for my pottery business, and edited some work I had been doing for the Lubec Arts Alive portrait exhibit that opens next Wednesday.

I know, you are thinking, "this doesn't sound very exciting for an artist's life."

Well....how about this? Wednesday, I plaster-casted a pregnant woman's belly. I mean, who gets to do something like this and not sound like a completely off-the-wall weirdo? Artists can get away with this sort of bizarre behavior all in the name of art. So, arrives Anne, I have covered the floor with two plastic drop cloths, cut strips of plaster, and loaded a bucket with warm water. Anne coats herself in petroleum jelly. I say how cool it is that she will let me cast her in her eighth month of pregnancy, then she explains to me that she is actually in her ninth month and says "I feel ready, like it could happen any day now." Of course, I'm not feeling too comfortable with that statement being that I am about to wrap her in a substance that dries solid and would completely render her immobile for a period of time, not to mention, I have zero experience in delivering babies!

We made it through the session. Two casts were made, one for each of us. And, those darn drop cloths didn't make much of a bit of difference. There was plaster all through the dining room, on the hardwood floors, into the living room, around to the kitchen, and into the bathroom. Somehow, there was even plaster in the toilet.

Thursday, I joined other committee members, my husband, and filmmaker Jon Wing Lum to view, for the first time, the video documentary about Lubec Arts Alive that Wing had been working on since last summer. We gathered at Jean's house, filled our bowls with popcorn, and settled-in to watch the DVD. This event definitely deems its own blog entry, so I will save the details for another time after the public screening occurs. I'll leave it at this for now. I am so incredibly touched by the film that Wing has created. He is a master of his medium and works from a place of love. I am deeply grateful for his presence, talent, and his willingness to share.

Friday evening....here comes the mundane but necessary. I spent several hours cleaning the house that had fallen into complete disarray over the past few hectic days of "living the artist life". I discovered that plaster doesn't mop up. Not at all, especially after it has hardened on the linoleum and hardwood for two days. Hands and knees, sponge and brillo pad. It wasn't glamorous by any stretch. But, I got the job done. Along with other cleaning and plant pruning duties to prepare for today, which was the third and final drawing group with Anne as our pregnant model. It's sad to see the sessions end, but I suspect she's willing to give up her gestational model sessions to birth that little bundle of joy.

The next week is looking to be just as full as this past one, thus the blogging a day earlier than usual. I plan to rise and shine at the crack of dawn on Sunday to fire the kiln, work on the tapestry, and prep for the days ahead that involve a small business workshop, field trip to UMM's Thou Art Fair, and the opening reception for "Faces and Stories of Lubec: The Portraits of Lubec Arts Alive 2009".

I kinda like how I live. I guess I'm not ready to give it all up just yet for a life of 9 to 5 and TV dinners.

Juggling It All

Beaver Stick Story Loom, linen warp

The pile

Preparing strips for weaving

Weaving

Progress being made

Sunday morning, I thought perhaps a leisurely entrance to the day with a late sleep, but Bello decided that 5:15 a.m. was the perfect time to rouse me. I would like to think that it was his deep adoration for me that brought all sixteen feline pounds of him kneading at my goose-down covered slumbering self, but it is more likely that he was hungry and demanding a can of marinated chicken morsels. Up I rose to begin the day, which in all actuality, is not so bad. Fog is slowly lifting and despite the current grey, we are expecting sunny skies and warm temps for this Oestre Sunday. Spring is finally emerging, the daffodils are sprouting, birds are chirping.

The past week seems a blur. A lot has transpired, pulling me in a multitude of directions. I try to keep my mind focused on last week's blog entry about letting go. I feel I can say that I have let go of the outcome in some respects, but while in the process of trying to elevate myself to that higher level of understanding, I found myself hanging on tighter than ever to other situations. I am starting to wonder if it is part of my path at this point to be a warrior of sorts and fight for what I truly believe in. I did not see this battle rising, but here it is. So, despite the understanding that whatever will be will be, I need to stand up for what I feel is right, to fight the injustice, in my own semi-pacifist style!

That being said, It felt great to have a weekend a bit more mellow than the past few. I worked overtime hours this week on my current clay sculpture. I had set a goal to finish all of the "wet-work" by last Friday night. It took me until 9:00 p.m. but I got it done. It was an incredible accomplishment and freeing of my mind, allowing me to focus on the long list of "to-do's" that had been building over the past month. I had been longing for the meditative ritual of weaving, and finally yesterday, I was able to return to the tapestry that I began in January. The new "Transformation Tapestry" is well on it's way, and time wise it is at mid point to completion. I am fickle though. One minute I love it, the next discouraged and wanting to start all over. Chris reminded me, though, that I always say, at this point in a tapestry, that I don't like what I am seeing. But somehow, it all comes together and I am happy in the end. I will hang onto that thought and see where it takes me.

This time of year, skilled organization and scheduling is deemed of greatest importance. We are in the final quarter of school and that means field trips, art shows and competitions, grading, service learning projects, room-cleaning, and submission of re-written curriculum to meet new state standards. I am trying to fit in my Spanish lessons a half hour here and there. Lubec Arts Alive meetings still happen regularly and we are preparing for a public exhibit of the portraits created last summer, due to open April 14th. My MFA projects are due in less than six weeks, and I am busy with marketing and prep for the seasonal opening of my business. Toss in a few road trips to see family, adjusting to my warrior status, and the usual spring house duties, and I seem to have my hands full. Not to mention, my plan book is pretty much filled for the entire summer already!

This all being said, I realize that I best end this blog entry and get to work! The sun is peeking through the fog and should energize me for the day ahead.

Letting Go

"Change wears my sister's moccasins. He stays up late and wakes up early. He likes to come up quietly and kiss me on the back of my neck when I am at my drawing table. He wants to amuse people, and it hurts him when they yell at him. Change is very musical, but sometimes you must listen for a long time before you hear the pattern in his music."

J. Ruth Gendler, The Book of Qualities

Change is a tricky thing. Sometimes we long for it, but most times, we fear it, and whether we like it or not, it is inevitable. Nothing stays the same forever. Seasons come and go, people are born and die, relationships end, jobs transition, bodies age and morph.

There are two categories for change, as I see it. There is the change that we actively seek and work toward, like when people rise-up to veer the political course of our country, to battle racism and sexism, or to fight for voting rights. This is a calculated and desired need for change and a goal is set. People move forward aggressively and welcome it.

Then, there is the change, or just the thought of change, that turns our stomachs inside out, makes us throw our fists at the wall, resist, and well-up with fear. We feel like we are walking the path alone in the dark and have no control whatsoever of the outcome.

As enlightened as we like to think we are, when this kind of change makes its presence in our lives, it is instinct to want to run from it, to fight it with all your might so that everything stays "status quo." Even I, when presented with the possibility of a major life change two weeks ago, did not accept gracefully.

Perhaps one of the most difficult things to do in a new and scary situation is to actually listen to the advice we have so many times given to others. I found myself, for the first twenty-four hours of the news, stunned, sad, frightened, and imagining the worse possible outcomes. If a friend had come to me in a similar situation, would I tell her "Yep, you're going down. Life sucks, accept it, you'll be devastated and never recover. Throw in the towel now and accept a life of doom and gloom."

No! Of course I wouldn't! I would instead conjure up the wisdom that change has taught me over the years.

Without change, we don't move forward. It is the impetus that allows us to reach our highest potential. I look back at different situations in my life and remember how devastated I felt at the time when a relationship ended, someone I loved died, or I moved from a home that was my comfort and my feel-good place.

Sometimes when we get too comfortable in our surroundings though, complacency sets-in, the kind that keeps us from growing and experiencing life to its fullest.

That's when the universe (fate, God, Goddess, Buddha, etc.) gets a little bored too, and decides to shake things up. Along comes a curve ball and we need to know when and how to swing to make that home run.

So, the universe has presented me with a new path. I can choose to wallow in fear or I can choose to say "thank you" for not allowing me to accept status quo and for helping to push me forward to the next phase of my life so that I may continue to learn and grow as a human being.

I remember about five years ago feeling completely overwhelmed and unhappy with my work and living situation. In one key moment, I made the realization that it was my attitude that might be holding me back. I wanted change so desperately, to move away and start new. Then it dawned on me, if I was meant to walk a different path at that moment in my life, then it would have been easier for me to leave. Instead, I changed my thinking to "there must be a purpose to this." And now, five years later, that purpose has been quite clear, and I am grateful for the struggle that I endured because it was instrumental in forming who I am as a human being today, and, I like to think, helped others along their path as well.

Lessons are learned in every experience, sometimes it just takes a while for us to figure out what those lessons are.

Another key moment in my life, that my mind keeps going back to, was about ten years ago driving north through Hartford, Connecticut. Alone, traveling in 60+ MPH three-lane traffic to to visit family in Maine, I found my car pushed out of the lane and sandwiched between a huge eighteen-wheeler and a four-wheel drive truck, both drivers oblivious to me. My car was swerving madly out of control and the more I tried to control the car, the more I swerved. Those few seconds seemed like minutes, and the thought, clearly, came into my mind "this is the moment that I die."

Instead of panic, I released my hands from the wheel and just "let go."

What happened?

Well, I am still here writing this blog. Like a miracle, the car straightened out, traffic slowed, and an opening appeared in the lane for me to pull into. My heart was racing, but I was safe.

What I learned that day (other than traffic through Hartford is horrendously dangerous!) is that sometimes just letting go is the most graceful way to accept change.

The universe may make some decisions for me, but then it is my job to make the most of that decision. Attitude will be a key player, but more so, trust in myself, and trust in the universe.