Help from on high

"From on High," watercolor, 8 1/2 x 5, 300 lb d'Arches rough press paper

When you need inspiration,  "Go to Work!" yell the experts.

The muse shows up when you work, even when you're in the doldrums, when you're in a valley. Don't actually work, just play around, and see what happens. 

"Put butt to chair, pen to paper, and just write" has been an axiom for writers and journalists. I know of many times in writing, I would get the nut graph, and then a lead, and somehow, by the end of the article, the appropriate  conclusion would somehow just show up. I think that's the muse, help from "on high."

Creative people in every area probably have similar experiences. (Aside--I irreverently wonder if that happened when Yahweh created the universe, not knowing exactly how it would go and turn out? Picture the Spirit saying, "Hmmm, let's try this next and see where it goes." No wonder "He" rested on the seventh day.)

I do know it is true in painting, especially watercolor, the medium you want to have some control over, but can't control. And, when you're in the valley, and nothing seems to inspire, or there's no energy, the answer often is, "Just play around," for help from on high.

And for me, I think of the Psalmist, who asked the same question "...where does my help come from?" with

"I lift up my eyes to the mountains...." ---Psalms 121.1

Sort of my mantra too, and even in Oklahoma, as a child of New Mexico and the West, I can remember, dream,  and imagine, the mountains are inside me.

Thus today's playtime watercolor, seeking help from on high, in more ways that one.

Beckoning the Muse

"El Santuario," 5 x 7 watercolor holiday greeting card

What's a cure for feeling cooped up  as a cold front arrives on a cloudy day. 

Beckon the muse, which includes an early  walk in the park when it's quiet with few people, where you can use your senses to connect with nature.

Then it's easier to let the muse beckon, thinking of other places  you'd rather be, back to memories and favorite places.

Pick up the brush and start painting, and the muse answers.

Thus today's watercolor, of El Santuario de Chimayo in New Mexico site of the miraculous curing earth, painted many times. 

But today, for a holiday card, it helped me get started on more cards, curing malaise as I worked out the problems and remembered our great times there. Just wish we were there now. 

Back porch musings when the Muse takes a nap

"Pot," pencil, 4 x 4

I wondered what was wrong, sitting on the back porch after the cool front, in what old sailors would call the doldrums.
The Muse seemed to be napping today. For the first time in seven weeks, I didn't pick up a brush.

My lonesome paintings at In Your Eye Studio & Gallery in Paseo

I think I figured it out, without making excuses. Earlier today, I donated and delivered a watercolor painting to the Paseo Arts Association, planning a fundraiser for Paseo District employees who've been out of work, coordinating with a virtual First Friday From Home, program, "live" streaming from 6 to 8 pm Friday, with videos of some of us artists, and of merchants, etc. I'll get you the link.
It was the first time I'd been back to Paseo in about six weeks, and the vacant streets and closed shops and galleries was disturbing. 
Then I walked into our gallery, In Your Eye Studio and Gallery, to look at my paintings,  and the almost eerie quiet of the place. There are three vacant places on the wall, and it just looked lonesome.
I'd forgotten what my paintings looked like, and by the time I left, I realized how much I miss the atmosphere of the gallery, the interchange of ideas, the camaraderie of fellow artists, the inspiration of other art. I hope we can re-open for June First Friday, but I know everybody will consider where we are in a month, putting health first.

""Twisted Tree," pencil, 8 1/2 x 11, 

By the time I got home, I thought I was inspired to try a painting, but just kept putting it ff.
So as I sat on the back porch this evening musing about all this, I went in and got my sketch pad and pencil.
Others have written about napping muses. The advice is to go to work. To wake a napping muse, go to work.
I sat there on the porch, and did two quick sketches, the first of a vacant flower pot in our yard, and another, over the fence,  of our neighbor's twisted post oak tree with a cloud in the background. Hey, they're not great, but that's beside the point. 
Those are my musings about my efforts to wake the Muse tomorrow.

The muse of snow and adobe

"After the snowstorm," watercolor, 5" by 6 1/2 ", 140 pound paper

Old photographers who love black and white film are always inspired--activated really--by a fresh snowfall, the contrasts of white and nature's shapes. And when you grow up imbued by the texture and multi-colors of adobe, you find a muse arrives when snow and adobe sensuously touch.
Thus it was today, when the snow began transforming our non-adobe Oklahoma neighborhood, shortly after I'd viewed photos and more of snow in Santa Fe, that the muse arrived. All of a sudden I was just painting.