Beauty Is In The Left Eye Of The Beholder.

Beauty is in the Left Eye of the Beholder

I routinely welcome people into the studio who insist they’re not artistic. Some are downright adamant. Many describe themselves as creative, but would never consider themselves artists. Add physical or health challenges to that self-perception and the weight of doubt can be quite heavy.

That’s okay with me. I sometimes stumble over the a-word too. 

It is completely understandable for someone faced with illness or mobility issues to have trouble believing he or she can create something beautiful.  Imagine having full range of motion all your life, then suddenly losing motor control on one side due to a stroke. Or recovering from bilateral mastectomy, which can make it painful to raise your arms.  In those times of transition, it’s easy to focus on limitations rather than potential.

Emerging from my own health journey, I turned to art as a form of physical and emotional rehab. Now I have the great privilege of sharing that experience with others. 

At Thinking Brain Arts, we adapt to whatever our bodies need so our creativity can pour out onto our canvases.  We make beautiful things.  Even the so-called non-artists among us make gorgeous, expressive works of art.  Sometimes it takes another pair of hands to assist.  Sometimes it means using lightweight materials rather than heavy ones.  Most of the time it just calls for diving in and believing in our ability to try.

I love that moment when art emerges from effort.  When the artist sees a beautiful canvas in front of her, even with just the one eye that works, she knows she has done far more than simply try. She has succeeded, with glorious flying colors! 

Deborah

Darkness and Light

Darkness and Light

Welcome, Deep Ebony paint! Hello, Burnt Umber. Have a seat across from me, Stormy Violet. I surround myself with these old friends when I’m in a dark mood.  We all have moments when pastel feels like a four-letter word. No way, Sunbeam Yellow, stay in the box! It’s a relief to sink up to my elbows – sometimes literally - in the color of my temper.  

I’ve learned to celebrate transitions as opportunities for joyful self-discovery, and what better way to discern what’s beneath my mood than to give it color? 

The dark purple and black scrap in this photo was created during a phase when my body was frail. I was angry at the weakness that day, so I painted until I needed a nap. The painting and the sleep were cathartic. When I woke, a section of the piece caught my eye. A flower! Where did she come from? I embellished with some yarn in a lighter shade and suddenly there came a need for a background. I was surprised by the obvious answer: it was Sunbeam Yellow’s turn to play!  

On a single day and within a single piece of art, color helped me navigate and understand my way. 

What happens in the studio stays in the studio. Thinking Brain Arts provides space where we use art play to steep in our emotions. As we create, we investigate, recognize and learn. Darkness can stay right there on paper. If it gets thrown away, fine. If it’s used as a contrast in a collaged piece later, fine. If it goes up on the wall, as is, for us to remember who we were in that very moment, fine. We celebrate each of these possibilities as ways to accept who we are, in all our bright and dark moments.

Deborah

Powerful Transitions

Powerful Transitions

I have many superpowers. I can calm colicky babies, craft hand-made birthday cards and maintain decades-long friendships with people who live continents away.

However, just between you and me, I’m no superhero when it comes to transitions. I “lost” my car in three different parking lots after trading in one gray car for another. I moped around the house when my youngest daughter moved to her first apartment. I cried on my husband’s shoulder when I received a scary diagnosis.

I grumble and bleat while standing on the edge of situations that feel unmanageable. It’s only after I’ve managed them – survived them – when I realize they were valuable growth opportunities.

The brain likes routine. It’s understandable that we react when our habits are threatened, even if the change is something we have been expecting. Run-of-the-mill change is hard enough, but catastrophic change tests every part of our being – brain, body and soul. It’s understandable that we come unglued when our world shifts suddenly.  How can we live in this new reality?

There is rarely just one right answer to a change-related question. But there’s one right approach: the ability to sway with the winds of adjustment while standing firm about who we are and who we want to be.

When I consciously think, create and discover … ahh, now that’s when I begin to bend within the transition instead of push against it. Life begins to make sense when I take great care to involve my whole brain and body in the evolution I’m experiencing. I ponder and make lists. I splash paint around and create art in my studio. I reach out in all directions and find anchors to tether myself while I seek a new balance that calms.

Thinking Brain Arts opens its studio doors to those who want to explore the realm of change. We use our hands to create. We use our minds to tap into individual and collective strengths. We reach below the surface and into a place where we may not be super-human, but where we are experts in our own lives. We learn how to celebrate transitions as opportunities for joyful self-discovery.

Deborah