Category: Uncategorized

I am sitting in a tall chair on the second-floor balcony of Gulf Shore Condominium room 208.
I am watching a dear friend, her sister, sister’s hubby, daughters, daughter’s friends, and Jubilee playing in the sand and surf.

I am waiting for the sun to be less direct before I join in.
(Waiting did not work. I waited until 4:30 and still I am burned. It was worth it.)
Today I have been watching shadows on the dunes between my balcony and the beach.
I am watching for pelicans.
I began seeing pelicans on the drive into Port Aransas.

(I love pelicans. I hear Grammie Hannan sing-songing the pelican poem every time I see a pelican.
A peculiar bird is the pelican. His beak holds more than his belly can.
He holds in his beak, enough for a week, and I don’t know how in hellican. Every. Single. Time!
Wouldn’t the pelican be a great symbol for American. Aren’t we a nation of pelicans?
Its beak holds more than its belly can…the American way: more, more, MORE! )

For the past two days, the pelicans have been flying high above the condominium. Flying in tight formation. Gliding on air currents with grace and ease. I see their shadows before I see them.
The arrival of the shadows is dramatic.
Seeing the shadow on the ground, I know when and where to look.
Swooping in like F-16 fighter jets, I sense them before I see them.
Something about the air. I sense them with my body before I am aware of them with my eyes or ears.
The shadow is my invitation to look up and see what is there.
Seeing the shadow to know what is there?

Is there something my shadow can tell me?
I don’t see myself.
I see my hands.
I see my feet.
I see my legs.

With a mirror, I see a reflection.
With a mirror, I do not see me.

I look out from inside of my body to see the world.
Where do I look to see me?

Me lives inside of myself.
Me is not 56.
Me does not have gray hair and sun damaged skin.
Me is not 10-ish pounds overweight.
Me doesn’t have trouble fitting into last year’s jeans.
Me sees the world through my eyes.
Where do I look to see me?

Watching for the pelicans has me considering my shadow.
Looking down I know when to look up to see the pelicans.
Looking down at my shadow, might I learn to look up and see me?

My shadow is tall and lean.
Sometimes my shadow leads.
Sometimes my shadow follows.

The shadow announces the presence of the pelicans.
I am wondering what my shadow reveals.
Seeing my shadow and looking up, what will I see?
I can’t touch the soaring pelicans.
My shadow can.

Today I want to share some paintings that I had not visited for a while. What I have discovered is that my circuitous artistic journey has been less circuitous than I realized.

Looking over earlier work I can see a trajectory that began almost 30 years ago.  I plan on taking a few days at the end of each year to look back to better understand where I might be going with my art.

This post looks at paintings of greens and blues.  Heart Balance is one of my favorite paintings.   40 x 30 inches on (I think) birch panel.

Heart Balance is the first time I consciously flipped the colors:  earth and sky.

Most, maybe all, my paintings begin with the landscape. This landscape has the green on the top and the blue on the bottom. But while this is logically flipped, if you spend any time around water you are familiar with this layout. The sky, reflected in the water, lays beneath the green of the shore.

I once read that all paintings are self-portraits but I had not realized how my paintings are also landscapes.   Landscapes of the heart as often as landscapes of nature.

Heart Balance brings to mind my favorite Kandinsky mobile.  If I stand in the right place in the Amon Carter Museum of American Art and if the guards are in the next room I I use my trombone player lungs and send it spinning.

The details on Bridge Between are beautiful.  I love this painting.

I won’t identifying WHAT the bridge is between.  I have MY ideas.  What bridges are before you?   What bridges are behind you.   Are you facing any bridges in your life?  Is the bridge an obstacle or does the bridge facilitate your journey?

Maybe the bridge is between seasons of life?

Sometimes it is difficult to recognize the season we are inhabiting. Sometimes determining the season is a solo investigation and other times we are assisted by those we trust and love. (Remembering that some we love can not be trusted and some we trust we do not love.)

And on that downer note, Consideration. You can tell these paintings were accomplished during the same season. They began the same weekend after a trail ride with friends.

Cardinals are special to me. Each one is a sign of hope, a reminder to keep going.

These two are facing each other, but I do not know that they are looking at each other. I think they are looking past. They have chosen different elevations, different places to stand, but they take their stands in the vicinity of the other.

What is their attitude towards the other? Are they in competition? Is the mindset of abundance or scarcity? Will that mindset open or close possibilities? So many questions.

And the questions are often as important as the answers. Journey is a painting of questions strategically asked. Is it the horizon or a path? Is it looking ahead or looking back?

Journey doesn’t ask aggressive questions but invites the viewer to slow down and ponder. First glance it is a simple painting. Further consideration reveals an abundance of surprises to keep the eye entertained for a goodly while.

Abundance is all around us, but In a world of abundance, lack is too often our focus. Kinetic, like its companion piece, Heart Balance, invites us to consider our focus.

Everything is so interconnected and becoming more so every day. A touch here, a breath there and the world spins. (Love me some Kandinsky mobiles! I see them in my dreams.)

Here is a bold statement and one that I believe more true with each passing year.  Maybe this is wisdom?  Maybe it is a delusion.

The belief in autonomy is a false belief.

I really love this painting. It is David’s favorite. It hangs in our living room.

River Glow One is titled River Glow because I was in San Marcos talking to the owner of a new gallery and she was opening a San Marcos River show the next week and she liked these two paintings. Not remembering the titles, we named them on the spot. And, yes, River Glow One and River Glow Two do call to mind the glow and glory of the San Marcos River.

But the original inspiration was Ms. Well’s cow pastures. Ms. Wells is the real deal, an honest to goodness cowgirl. Elderly, tough as nails, and ever so elegant. She rocks her jeans and bouffant while maintaining her pasture with her big John Deere tractor.

A single road leads to and from my house and it passes Ms. Wells’ manicured pasture. The small black Angus herd is friendly. Gregarious even, for cattle. filled These are the bovine we feed grass to on our walk. The ones with the huge black tongues.

Cowbirds keep them company in a glorious inter-species dance. The lower pasture gathers runoff after rains and a seasonal pond forms surrounded by huge trees. The pond reflects the sky and the sun and the upper branches and it is magical.

Walking past Ms. Wells’ property is magical. Magic is why these paintings call to mind a spring fed river as easily as a cow pasture. Magic is the common denominator. I hope you can see the magic in these two paintings.  River Glow Two

And finally, the little gray mouse found in Perception. In an earlier curated email, I mentioned something about the stories we tell are the stories that define us. Well, this is one of those defining stories and the lead character is a little gray mouse.

But the question remains, what story is the little gray mouse telling?

When the mouse looks in the proverbial mirror is the reflection one of weakness and frailty or one of lion rescuing strength and fortitude?

Perception of self is fluid. A mix of gut and choice.

How do you perceive yourself today?

 

I have been working on a grant proposal.  While I would love to be chosen, I am not even crossing my fingers.  Regardless of the outcome, I am THRILLED with the project and I will be refining my vision over the coming months.

I envision large abstract landscape inspired painting situated IN the landscape.

These will be accompanied by an empty frame inviting the viewer to see abstraction in the landscape inspired by seeing the landscape in abstraction.

Art with a side of covert art education!

I am thinking of five to ten paintings along park trails, hiking, biking, or maybe even horse trails.  If permission is slow coming then pop-up installations on Sunday afternoons at parks where families gather in the spring and fall.

Each painting will be accompanied by a frame.  A perfect place for a selfie AND and an opportunity to look through the frame and be inspired to discover the abstract qualities within nature.

If permission is slow coming then pop-up installations on Sunday afternoons at parks where families gather in the spring and fall.

Who knows what will become of my grant proposal, but I will find a way to make it happen.

The next time you take a hike or a bicycle ride or saddle up, please keep your eyes open and we will find the perfect venue for the FRAMING NATURE art installation.

Peace and freedom, Gwen!

PS I Know all these photos are of the same painting but it was hard hauling this one out to the woods.

Subscribe to my occasional email updates for the latest news and new painting releases.   

Christ, a living stone…. rejected… yet chosen… Yourselves… like living stones…built into
… through Christ. 1 Peter 2:2-10

My strong rock… castle… crag… stronghold…
Psalm 31: 1-5, 15-16

Stephen gazed… saw… “Look!”… “I see”…but they covered their ears… and began to stone him…
Acts 7:55-60

Ebenezer … stone of help.
1 Samuel 7:12

Stones from… midst of the Jordan… bring them… a sign
… memorial forever.
Joshua 4

A white stone… a new name.
Revelation 2: 17

A new heart… I will remove… their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh.
Ezekiel 11:19, 35:26

Cairn.  A mound of stones built as a memorial or landmark.  Found worldwide throughout history and prehistory.

Balancing rocks. Markers.
A moment.
A meditation.  A prayer.
Considered a nuisance by some.
Considered art by others.
A gift.

I am reminded of the church, “living stones,” when I discover a cairn or balancing rocks.  Built with stones, common and found, unique in shape and weight, formed by time and circumstance.  The individual qualities of the stones enable them to fit together.  Each stone is positioned to be supported and to support.  Together the common becomes uncommon.  A firm foundation provides stability necessary to release creativity.  The whole is more than the sum of its parts.

I am happy to answer any questions over the phone or better yet, meet for tea and cookies.  817-832-6952

Sometimes I check email. Gwen@GwenMeharg.com

You can subscribe to my occasional email via either website to be the first to see new work .
www.DrawNearToGod.com   www.GwenMeharg.com

If you enjoy social media we can visit on Gwen Meharg Art on facebook.  www.facebook.com/gwenmehargart

Today is May 12^th.  |
Twenty years ago it was a very long day.   As May 13^th approached I asked Margie Spencer, our midwife, if we might hurry things along as we really hoped Roy would be born on the 12^th.  The 12^th was Lauren’s birthday and cousins sharing a birthday seemed like a splendid idea.   We hurried things along and Roy was born minutes before midnight.  A very intense May 12^th birthday.  HOORAY!

Roy did not ask to be born on Lauren’s birthday.
Roy seldom asks for ANYTHING.
Roy is content in himself and his lot.
We love him with all our hearts.

Today Roy is 20.
Today Lauren is not 31.
Six years ago, two weeks after she turned 25, Lauren was killed by a drunk driver.  Lauren is near our hearts on Roy’s birthday, but mourning is not our focus.  We focus on celebrating Roy and remembering the joys of Lauren’s short but very full life.

We cherish each moment.

Life offers no guarantees beyond death.

Today is May 12^th.
Tears of laughter.  Tears of mourning.  A multiplicity of tears and emotions run paisley through the day.

The moon is full.  The sky is bright.  The breeze is gentle.  The figs are heavy on the tree.  The birds sing songs of spring.

Happy Birthday Sweet Roy David Meharg.
We love you.

 Collaboration is a beautiful thing.

In January my 21 year old son, Josiah, and I went to NYC for Ping and Peter’s wedding.

I had taken everyone but Josiah to NYC so the wedding  and $160 round trip tickets made the timing perfect.   (Josiah was at Air Born Basic Training the last time we went.)

We stayed at Hotel 31 for $75/night and we could see the Empire State Building from our window!.

It was a glorious week and I reconnected with beloved artist friends.  When artists meet, ideas fly!  Each meeting filled my heart and mind with months of isnpiratoin.  Thank you  Judy Krueger, Darilyn and Tony Carnes, and Eva Flatscher.

Eva Flatscher shared what she saw in a dream featuring my art.   The dream was bigger than I would have allowed myself to dream, but seeing my work through Eva Flatscher’s eyes gave me a bigger vision of what is possible.

A bridge between reality and abstraction.

Eva saw the art OUT doors interacting with the environment that inspired the paintings.    

This week I applied for a grant to make the project a reality.   I have never applied for a grant before and I am not holding my breath, but I am hopeful.  I am hopeful that regardless of whether or not this proposal is accepted that I have taken the first steps towards making it a reality.

Maybe along the Trinity Trails.  Maybe woven through the horseback riding and hiking trails around Benbrook Lake.   Maybe pop-up shows in our beautiful Fort Worth Parks.

A painting and an empty frame.

The combination inviting the viewers to look through the frame and see the beauty around them in a new way.  An invitation to look closer.  An invitation to see abstraction in nature and to see nature in abstraction.  

Not to mention a super-duper selfie opportunity.

I am excited.  Hauling a 4 x 5 foot painting over the barbed wire fences and through the weeds was slightly challenging.

Preparing artwork to hold up to wind and weather will be more so.  But oh how fun the results will be.

Art in a museum can be intimidating.  Art on a trail, not so much.   Signage in English and Spanish will offer hints for enjoying abstraction.  All it takes is little bit of  encouragement and education and a visual world opens up to those who care to see.

Maybe an encounter under the blue Texas sky will embolden viewers to visit our tremendous Fort Worth museums.  Sundays are free at the Modern and the Amon Carter is ALWAYS FREE!

See you on the trails!
Gwen

 

 

I have better things to do with my heart.

Have you considered your heart recently?

How is it doing?

Free.  Torn.  Content.  Pre-occupied.
Open.  Guarded.  Hidden.  Seen.

How is your heart?

I am usually neck deep and sinking before I remember that I have better things to do with my heart.
Before I realize I have a choice in the matter.  I have some control in where I invest my heart.

Seeking the balance between an open heart and the mandate to guard one’s hearts is tricky. 

Quite possibly, impossible.

As we enter a new season, Lent for some, Spring for all, it is my intention to be discerning about where I invest my heart.
To consider my heart.
I tend towards passionate as personalities go.  I tend towards rescuer/fixer.
I tend towards don’t just stand there, do something.  (Fools rush in and all that.)
I tend towards believing in and for everyone but myself.

It is a false modesty.   And I set myself up for disappointment.
Disappointment.  Being un-appointed?
Removing the appointment.   Appointment fail!

Inspired by newly forming buds forcing the last lingering dead leaves from the trees I completed a six by four foot painting the week of Valentines Day.   I titled It, “I Have Better Things to Do With My Heart.”  Titled out of hope and frustration. 

Frustration with myself for allowing my heart to become caught up in unnecessary and invented drama.   While some thrive on adrenaline it is not my cup of tea.  And yet.  And yet I allowed another’s overly dramatic inclinations to infect my heart.

Looking on the finished painting, “I Have Better Things To Do With My Heart,” I realized it was not just a painting the confluence of the last vestiges of winter and the harbingers of spring.   I painted a self-portrait.  A portrait of letting go and making room for possibility.   It set me up for freedom that would be offered ever so gently at a pot luck luncheon the next day.

Letting go.
Getting help.
Clarity.

Free of the fog of a seven month headache I can think again.
Things that I intended to do and hoped to do and needed to do did not happen.
I am rejecting (daily) the temptation to “catch up.”
I am committed to starting  where I am, today.
It is the only place I can start.
I endeavor to cease the practice of self-condemnation.
I am releasing where I might have been had I more wisely invested my heart.
(I am preaching to myself.)

I had to be ready.  I needed friends call me forward.

I am not sure what forward will look like.  I am re-evaluating
the last 18 months and making changes.
Changes that I was incapable of making a year ago.
Changes to equip the artist entrepreneur in me.

My art and I have been in hiding.

Time to embrace Spring!

https://www.instagram.com/p/BP-i_cEhlLg/

October 14^th, 2016, way out in the middle of almost nowhere and a little past Bucky’s, I attended a memorial celebration for one who lived and loved well.

The oldest of six brothers, Ricky was a big brother to more than his five younger siblings. He was a big brother to all who needed or wanted a big brother. He just could not help it. It was his position in his family and a call in life.

For that, I am eternally grateful.

Darla and Ricky fell in love while they were in high school and that is how I came to know them. Through the trombone section of the San Marcos High School marching band and First Baptist Church youth group.

Two years older –JUNIORS!- when one is a freshman, seems significantly OLDER! When Ricky died two years older suddenly seem exceedingly too young.

Truth be told, both Darla and Ricky were wiser and kinder than their years.  

Ricky played the trombone. I played the trombone. He was a protective big brother for me. Darla is, and always was, kind and generous. She folded me into her heart and her collective of friends at church and in the band. As a shy freshman I found eye contact difficult. The kindness and love of these two brought me out of myself and introduced me to the world. It was as if they could see the me that I did not know existed.

Ricky would have celebrated his 58^th birthday this Friday, the 27^th.

Today I found my notes from the wedding. Wow, I just typed wedding rather than memorial service. I am going to leave it because Ricky would find my mistake amusing and the service was truly a celebration. A coming together of family, friends, and strangers to support Darla, family, friends, and strangers.

Darla shared their key to their happiness.

“We did not spend any time being angry with each other.
Every day – love.”

Can you even imagine not wasting time being angry?

Darla continued,

“Don’t waste Ricky’s legacy. Tell the ones you love that you love them.”

 

Family and friends testified to the witness of Ricky’s life at the memorial celebration. I took notes. The testimony of my funeral would be less. Unexpected death invites the living to wake up. Personally, I am making changes.

Here I share highlights and wisdom from a live well lived.

Never take yourself too seriously.

Be generous.

Judge not.

Condemn not.

Love the people you meet. ALL of them.

Make people’s lives better.

The past hurts. You can run from it or you can learn from it.

NOW. Live now.

Be present. Be passionate for life.

Being present. Be passionate for family.

Tuck, roll, and run.

Love deeply.

Welcome strangers.

Look beyond appearances.

Be magic.

Everyone who loves knows God. (1 John 4:7)

Do not waste time being angry.

Sky dive.

Grace is amazing.

If you want to be loved – love.

Buzzards do not make the best pets.

Meditate on goodness, mercy and grace.

Climb up on the roof and holler BOO! (Scare people, just a little)

Consider how you are treating others.

Carry on.

Help with chores that are not yours.

Live adventurously.

Living the gospel is better than preaching the gospel.

Be good news.

HAVE LOVE.

Fear not.

There are things more important than being a good cook.

Be kind to each other.

Care.

Take joy in those you love.

Do your best and that is enough.

Take initiative

Rejoice….Be anxious for nothing…pray…the peace of God

will guard your hearts and minds.

Darla and Ricky were instrumental in shaping my life.

They treated me as if I were important in their lives.

I was 14. Now I am 56.

I still want to be like Darla and Ricky when I grow up.

I hope it is not too late.

Happy birthday, Ricky.

I love you, Darla.

Thank you.