Transition Into Now.

Transition
Season
Today
Now
Each word.
A finer point.

Fine points.
Sometimes they hurt.  If they are mishandled.
Fine points.
Sometimes they are just what we need.  If we know how to use them.

My friend Claudia introduced me to felting.
My artist daughter Ruth taught me how.

Long thin notched needles are used to hand felt.
I’ve felted my way through several packages of 50.
Ruth still uses her first felting needle.

Stylistic difference?

Today my bonus baby, Jubilee, waited under a pomegranate tree for the school bus.
I home schooled for 22 years.

For both of us this year will be vastly new.
This year I focus on the marketing side of my art business.
This year Jubilee is going into 6^th grade.

Benbrook built a new “middle school” this year and we thought Jubilee would go there.  Nope.
They decided to move the elementary school students into the new building and move the middle school students into the 28 year old elementary school.  (I watched the elementary school being built so to me, it will always be the “new school.”)  The street between the elementary school and the middle/high school was closed off to make one enormous middle school/high school campus.  The middle school students will cross over to the high school for extra curriculars and lunch.

Sixth graders are so tiny.  Twelfth graders are SO BIG!

Jubilee has five older siblings.
Jubilee is NOT intimidated by the older kids.
Actually, she is not easily intimidated.

Not easily, but occasionally. 

This morning Wesley, our 70 pound boxer mix, and I walked the half mile to the bus stop with Jubilee.  (Uphill in the rain!) She did not need us there.  She rode her brother Peter’s scooter.  We could not keep up.  Infrequently she deemed to wait for us.  We were thankful.

Jubilee was chill.  Wesley was NOT chill.
He suspected something ominous was about to go down.  It did.  Jubilee pulled her chair out of the neighbor’s bushes and plopped down to wait for the bus.  We left Jubilee at the bus stop.

Wesley and I walked home.
Wesley whimpered.  I groaned about the humidity.

At 8:30, school start time, Wesley and I drove to the bus stop to take Jubile to school.
The bus did not come.
She was chill.  Wesley was ecstatic.
We drove the two miles to school and spied a passel of students in a myriad of sizes trudging up a zig zag wooden pathway to a bottleneck of a door.  They disappeared into the building.

An image of German prisoners marching to the gas chambers flashed before my eyes.  I shook it off.

I pulled our painted van over and told her to follow the crowd.

That is not really what I want her to do.
Follow the crowd.
I want her to make her own way.
And try not to step on others along the way.

This morning,
she followed the crowd.

As an artist the push and pull of the crowd is very real.
Follow the muse.
Keep clients happy.
Consider this year’s Pantone IT colors?
Consider decorator trends?

Does SIZE MATTER?

I want to make paintings that invite stories.  I want my paintings to create ambiance.   I want my paintings that invite contemplation.  ( I read that looking at a painting for three hours can make you smarter.  I want to paint paintings that won’t be boring after three hours. )  I want to make paintings that incite passions.

I am prolific.  A jump in with both feet kind of spirit. Juggling children and art has been my passion for 27 years.

Can I even make art without the energy of children in the house?  Can I paint if I am not juggling?  Do I even remember how to focus?

I hope so.

It is 2:15 and I have a business call at 2:30.  I pick Jubilee up at 3:30.  We have an appointment at the barn at 4.  I don’t even know if swim team starts today, later this week, or next week.  The boys were supposed to tell me and we all forgot and watched the closing ceremonies of the 31^st Olympics.  My calendar for tomorrow is full.  Next Wednesday my eldest and her husband move to Italy.

It was good to have Ruth and Matthew home today.  I helped with a photo shoot.  I was not lonely.  It was not silent. I don’t remember silent.

Poor Wesley.  He is hanging off his doggie bed, his head under my chair.  Wesley reveled in the early summer hubbub of everyone here.   Eleven human beings.  Family dog heaven.

Every once and a while Wesley and I hear thunder.

It is 2:28.
I am glad I have you to keep me company.

Very sincerely, Gwen Meharg