nightscape, Monotype of the Day #725

Day 355 of Year 2 (Actually Day 360)

I haven't had much energy the past week. Life is full of choices but when your energy is limited your choices are like a knife slicing away parts of life that you love. Over time I've made peace with this aspect of my journey though sometimes, it's still not easy. In the US we are doers, but the beauty of my situation is in learning the power of being. Being is the place where creativity lives, where we find the ground from which all things must grow. Even unwanted pauses allow space for new ideas, work, or directions to root. I turn to tonight's poem (which I have posted before) to remind we of this because it's easy to forget when you desire to do but cannot.

Gitanjali #81
by Rabindranath Tagore

On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. But it is never lost, my lord. Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands.
Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts, buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness.
I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagined all work had ceased. In the morning I woke up and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.

From Gitanjali https://amzn.to/38iqHao

life force, Monotype of the Day #621

Day 251 of Year 2 (Actually Day 256)

Tonight's poem has brought me so much solace in my life. In many ways, to people who live with long term illness, shelter in place is a familiar feeling. We have had to give up so many things over the years, parties, trips, important family events. We know how much it sucks and how much grief it brings. But we also know that we can grieve our cancelled events and come through on the other side. We have been forced to learn that beauty is possible amid loss and that waiting is just a skill. So now as we wait for this storm to pass I offer you tonight's poem as salve. My love and prayers to all those who are suffering or ill.

Gitanjali 81
By Tagore

On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. But it is never lost, my lord. Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands.
Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts, buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness.
I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagined all work had ceased. In the morning I woke up and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.

From Gitanjali https://amzn.to/2Ux6jgV

keyholes by moonlight, Monotype of the Day #601

Day 231 of Year 2 (Actually Day 236)

I seem to be obsessed by keyholes right now (if you haven't noticed 😊). I'm pretty worn out, but I'm so filled up by my solo show experience that as I am resting, a torrent of new ideas are flowing through. I hope I'm able to get to work soon. It's challenging to wait and feel life moving forward while you stay at rest. During times like these, I take great comfort in today's poem by Tagore.

Gitanjali #81
by Rabindranath Tagore On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. But it is never lost, my lord. Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands. Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts, buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness. I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagined all work had ceased. In the morning I woke up and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.

From Gitanjali https://amzn.to/38iqHao

burning, Monotype of the Day #443

Day 77 of Year 2 (Actually Day 78)

Gitanjali 37
By Rabindranath Tagore
I thought that my voyage had come to its end at the last limit of my power--the path before me was closed, that provisions were exhausted and the time come to take shelter in a silent obscurity.

But I find that thy will knows no end in me. And when old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart; and when the old tracks are lost, new country is revealed with its wonders.

From Gitanjali https://www.amazon.com/Gitanjali-Collection-Laureate-Rabindranath-published/dp/B00E329VWO/ref=as_li_ss_tl?crid=3CZMIOSLAXSGO&keywords=gitanjali+by+rabindranath+tagore&qid=1569731906&sprefix=Gitanjali,aps,206&sr=8-9&linkCode=sl1&tag=artofthespi-20&linkId=792da1d92aa91214ced575ea7d2e3c19&language=en_US

tick tock, Monotype of the Day #349

Interesting evening. I was so determined to go to sleep early and stop working after midnight, but as you can see this did not happen. I have many, many excuses, but I won't bore you with my "stories". Instead I am thinking deeply about the cost to the creative process. Busyness is poison to art. Emptiness, moments of spaciousness and boredom are essential. Although we flatter ourselves that we have such great ideas, truly all that comes is a gift that we filter through our beautifully imperfect forms. Tonight's poem is one that has always brought me solace when I was held back from working, but now I find it is also a message about the importance of down time and in my case sleep. Just a note on tonight's print before the poem. I am so much more comfortable with bright colors. It's really interesting how easily we stick to something that was successful in the past. Comfort is another enemy of art so I am pushing myself to try and make friends with grey 🙂

Gitanjali #81
by Rabindranath Tagore

On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. But it is never lost, my lord. Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands. Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts, buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness. I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagined all work had ceased. In the morning I woke up and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.

xo

the artist receives healing, Monotype of the Day #313

At Home

Such a pleasure to have my green ink back! Am happy to be home. Sometimes it’s important to work, sometimes it is everything just to be with those you love I will revel in that feeling and leave you with this print and poem:

#1 From Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore

Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life. This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new. At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable. Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.
—
If you haven’t read Gitanjali, I highly recommend you do! It’s great to have my books back! xoxo