So this is my second attempt at blogging – the first one fizzled when I had a confidence crisis with my tech skills on the computer. I’d just purchased an electronic notebook and after serious time invested writing my first blog, I hit a wrong key and the whole thing disappeared into the vault of blue I assume is now called “the cloud”. I usually don’t give up too easily, but I admit I’m a dinosaur when it comes to computers and have no real interest in learning. A recently purchased typewriter is proving to be my undoing as well as the machine seems to have a mind of its own and bangs off letters, I swear just by looking at a key. I looked for a regular typewriter but they’ve gone the way of the dodo.
Reflecting on my dilemma, I realized that growing up in the 50’s and 60’s, having choices on just about anything and everyday life in general, seemed much less complicated. Of course this is a rather simplistic view but things unfolded rather slowly, compared to the gruelling pace of today.
Growing up, my parents were unfamiliar with art and not much interested in it either, but neither were their friends. We had the same pictures, in the same place, for as long as I can remember. One picture (my mother purchased it when she bought the sofa) was a variation of the same one I saw in all the other homes. Art was something one took in school and of course everyone had some relation who “did art” and we had one or two poorly rendered watercolors on the wall too. However, once a painting was hung, it did not move unless the whole family moved.
Obviously art wasn’t a household word growing up so I suspect this is a long round-about way of getting to the point that I didn’t begin “doing art” until late in my life. Actually, it took my father’s death to bring the artistic urge up from where ever it was hiding. My recollection of that time is sketchy but I do remember being deeply depressed and confused. I loved my father and at 66 his death was so sudden and unexpected I had to make some sense of it and so I began a very serious spiritual quest to find answers.
Along the way, I discovered a hidden wellspring of creative energy which bubbled up and manifested in the need to paint. I found a mentor and began a journey which continues to this day.
In 1997 I moved to Cabo San Lucas Mexico to open a studio/gallery with my “mentor” now husband, artist Chris MacClure, spending a chaotic, wonderful 12 years there making art and stories.
Living life as an artist offers opportunities to transcend the mundane world and in this blog I would like to share some stories, ideas and experiences with others who also have discovered the transformative power of art or just want to go along for the ride. I hope you’ll join me on these weekly explorations.
Cactus Studio/Gallery in White Rock, BC Canada