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Painting April 26, 2008

Posted by Liz Mead in : Matters Blue , add a comment

I paint. I paint with oils, acrylics and watercolour. I guess my favourite medium are oils – because they are so seductive. Depending on the medium you use, you can get all sorts of transparent and rich colours.

Right now I’m wrestling with 2 paintings. Both are based on photos I took on a recent trip. The wrestle is with the process and I guess the outcome.

My problem is that I don’t want the work to be a replica of something I saw, yet I do want it to replicate what I saw – if that makes sense. The images that are pre-occupying me are steps that lead into the water. In both, the water seems so mysterious: one is slightly more bouyant or playful and the other receding with the tide – revealing the rich variegated stone patterns beneath.

I work with the forms yet all the time resisting them. I want to shape and push the forms, to stretch them so they don’t resemble the starting point, and then reconfigure them to make sense of the whole picture. This means continually massaging how they relate to each other on the canvas. I enjoy the colours, the balance, the solidity and fragility of some elements – and have immense fun with the texture of the paint itself. Yet I wrestle with the fact that it should look more like life, more like the original picture, more like reality.

People who see my work – describe it as impressionistic.  Is that because I can’t reproduce forms realistically? The reason they say this is because each painting has a feeling of transience and movement.  I also think they are impressionistic because I use the knife more often than I do the brush.

Another pecadillo, if you like is a lack of planning. I prefer the painting to emerge as I go along. I like to be suprised at what the painting process delivers – almost magically. It may not resemble the starting point much at all, but it comes to a point when the work is finished and I’m happy to let it go as an impression of the starting point.

Nearly every time I look at my work I feel good about it and about myself. Which is a world away from what I was like when I was a teenager or young adult. In fact, I would recommend painting for all depressives and those working on the renovated self. It’s a great way to fall in love with life and with your participation in it.

I knew a woman once, whom I thought was quite a gifted painter. I couldn’t understand why she judged her work so harshly, refusing to pick up the brush for many years after a “bad” experience (ie a painting she didn’t like). I’m not saying don’t strive for perfection, but really - the world is full of critics enough, why would we add another one to the equation?

Yes, I love the process and I do like the workat each iteration. I like its boldness, the “painterly” (as a teacher once described it) style, which I think just means the fact that I’m not afraid of using a variety of and large amount of paint.  In fact I relish in it. Bloke used to find the “mark of bubba” everywhere around our house. A smear of paint on the light switch, on the fridge, on the phone and of course on every wall along my path.

He would be frightened of the work. Not because of the mess, but rather frightened for me I think. He’d notice when the perspective was wrong, or the composition didn’t resemble reality. He thought I’d be disappointed at the end. Of course he was projecting, and when I asked him why he didn’t paint, given that he was an excellent draftsman, he told me that he was too scared. He would spend so much time planning what to paint, that he would become too intimidated to begin – in case it didn’t work out.

I guess I get scared too. Scared that it will end up looking like crap. But I push on through that, it happens about a third of the way through the painting’s life cycle. And I remind myself that crap is all relative. One person’s crap is in fact another person’s delight. Last week I dreamt someone commented on my painting to the effect that “It looks like shit”. “Exactly what part of it and what sort of shit?” I asked in the dream. At the time, I put it down to a heavy night on the turps (booze that is)  because the painting resembled a truncated intenstine, and I did feel like shit the morning after.

So I’m writing this while my two (yet to be finished) paintings dry. I’m writing it to remind myself that the process is incredibly rewarding – with fresh discoveries all the time. And I’m writing it to remind myself that the process itself is a way of wrestling with my own way of seeing the world - ”In real life” or in my head. The view in my head is like “real life” but is mixed up with all the excitement of other inflluences.

Farewelling my sister on this morning’s flight to Hong Kong, and then onto Budapest; cleaning the house and washing the linen in preparation for interstate friends; getting ready for dinner with a close friend and her guests tonight, and remembering how sublime the Merchant Ivory production of “Howard’s End” was last night.

Yes, all of that has an effect on whether I see the water as emerald or mauve, and whether I paint the stones with a dab or a dash and just how much paint - that I’ve just plied on  do I now scrape off – in order to give a sense of well trodden steps.

Magical.

 

 

Deep solitude March 27, 2008

Posted by Liz Mead in : Matters Blue , add a comment

burdel-marseilles-03634.jpgI did a reading this morning. A tarot reading.

I’ve read the cards for over 30 years and use them to focus and believe.  Not because they have any power, but because I believe in the combined wisdom and history they represent.

I used the Grimaud version of the Tarot of Marseilles. A modern issue of the deck that evolved in the south of France in the 18th Century. The oldest deck is from Italy and dates back to 1450, drawn from a number of fragmented decks and commissioned by the powerful Visconti-Sforza family of Milan. I’m very excited to be visiting Milan soon, and hope also to visit the Accademia Carrara in Bergamo to see the oldest deck on display.

My reading this morning though was done with the simple blue yellow and red deck of the Marseilles variant. I like their simplicity. I think it makes it easier to focus on the associated and traditional meanings rather than battling some obscure symbology stuck on by a well-meaning occultist who had a penchant for wolves, blood, Indian headpieces or fairy wings.

The Tarot of Marseilles requires an unguarded approach. I started the reading with the Emperor and finished with the Empress. No prizes there for the question I asked was related to the work I need to be doing in the world.  The Empress is my card of choice, the self-sufficient artist at home creating from the earth what she needs. Gaia, Mother, delighting in her own creations – giving birth to her future.

The next card, the 4 of Pentacles was matched on the other side of the reading by the Moon. On the conscious side, if you like, are my preoccupations with security and stability. A sense of place in the world. Finding my place. Owning my place. On the unconscious side is the dreamer, the psychic, the madness of loss and grief, the lonely path ahead, but also the creation at night from the deep well-spring. Of course I want to feel safe, but I also want the psychic freedom to create my own way forward.  In fact I dreamt last weekend of a new job (but that’s a topic for another blog).

Then I laid out my favourite Queen. She of the Cups. The manifester, the lover of the unseen magic and other realms. I think she’s  a mini-version of the Empress, though she has more of the moon-mood-altering madness than her older sister. She’s the reason I get depressed, but she’s also my muse.  She sees things as she wants them to be and intuits the next step. It seems magical from outside but its because  in sync with her own process. Matching her in the reading is the adventurous energy of the Knight of Wands.

You’ve got to love this guy. He’s the journey expert. Off on another trip, this time to Greece, Italy and Croatia. This is the optimist, the expansive energy of hope and self-belief. This energy of adventure will play a part in the quest for my work. I will journey to the work. I’m on a journey for the work. I work right now and that work is my journey.  This card always comes up when a journey is imminent. So no surprises there. dussere-dodal-03577.jpg

My final card – the answer card – was the last one I pulled out this morning. It was the Hermit. The hermit - me now in the middle of my life. The hermit needing to focus on what has meaning and what matters to me. The hermit, alone, and forced back on my own resources, free of demands, save those I set for myself.

The Hermit and the Moon are friends. It used to be my late husband, Bloke’s card.  He pulled both several months before he died. It is also the card my twin sister invariably pulls out of the deck when I read for her. Father of prayer, meditation, deep solitude and reflection.  The Hermit, representing a new way to think. Uncluttered, crystalised this sort of thinking will light the way I need to go.

Normally I’d lay out another card over the top of this one to find out more. But I think I’ll just sit with it and meditate on it. I won’t rush in to fill it up with the wrong, empty, clanging thoughts that sound like; Move now, Leave the job now they don’t deserve you, choose another job out of the paper, Seek is a website not a way of life,  that one will do – it’s close enough.

Instead, I’ll sit with it. Being still, being alone, being focused, getting clear about my way of working in the world. It will be partly magical, partly dreamy, part adventurous, part secure, part creative and part controlled. With perfect stillness and peace of mind.

Doesn’t sound half bad.

Working with sparkle March 19, 2008

Posted by Liz Mead in : Matters Blue , add a comment

The quickest way to make a connection is definitely not by using an ADSL broadband connection courtesy of one of the countless internet providers,  but rather by using the  right hand side of the brainsmaller-working-with-sparkle.jpg, and a bit of sparkle.

My fabulous friend James has patiently spent three separate sessions sorting out my ADSL broadband connection. Taking that long, because he had to systematically diagnose which bits of which puzzle didn’t work with which bits of which other puzzle.

The process was exhausting but rewarding. Whilst I kept him plied with gin, all I could do was marvel at his resilience and systematic discipline.

And the best part is that I am now on the net! Or as my friend Sparkles would call it, the interweb.

James and I have another blog called Working with Sparkle.  The postings are about communication processes, systems, tricks of the trade, provocative ideas and war stories.  We do it by blogging, simply because it’s the way we both think well. We think with a tale. Not a fairy tale. Nor a dog-wagging tail. Just a tale.

The idea of running a concurrent blog came about whilst James was conducting his diagnostic process to connect me to the net. As I listened to him tell the annoyingly calm trouble shooter from Internode, that yes he had tried all the things he was now being asked to do again,  I had an epiphany. A blinding moment of insight. A bright blue moment of connecting thoughts, slap dang in the middle of our removing one ethernet cable to replace it with another wired router cable in some other portal of blah blah blah.

At that stage, Sparkles just wanted a hammer.

Who is Sparkles? And what’s he got to do with connections?

Sparkles  made an appearance on the flight from Armidale to Sydney. James and I work together and we were returning from an excruciatingly long working weekend. The weekend had been full of repeatable – how many times do I have to tell you -messaging; impossible sales pitches and endless doubt on the part of what was starting to resemble an entire army of website users.  Mind you this is typical for the sort of marketing we’ve been forced to do.

So there we were, on the plane. Exhausted. We watched a perfectly lovely steward demonstrate the bells and whistles attached to his yellow life-saving vest. You’ll recall that mind-numbing moment (for them) when they put on that yellow vest for the 50,000th time, and pull on one tag, whilst blowing on one other whistle, whilst juggling one further rope.

And in a flash of creativity, James envisioned a congo line of 30 such stewards, given bells, whistles, perhaps a feather or two, a sparkle and tiny touch of bling, to ensure they had no trouble getting attention. He quietly whispered just one word to me – Sparkle. Where the vision came from, we’re not sure, but it was an insane moment which made us both explode with laughter – and gave us a fabulous metaphor for our communication work. If you want to get attention – work with sparkle.

My own communication tenet has always been about engaging others to make the outcomes stick and last. Often my work is a bit left of field, shaking them up, making grownups paint with colour to make the unlikely connection between their company’s goals and the encroaching environments of change. I’m a firm believer that it is no good me being a hero or a legend, if it all falls apart the moment I’ve gone.

My partner in crime, James follows an equally empassioned truth – the art of diagnosis. His is a more incisive, more challenging art, because it pares back the situation in order to make the correct and systematic reading of a problem. When done correctly, this makes the solution all the easier to find and match and the subsquent roll-out more factual and enduring.

So working with sparkle is just that: a bit of dash to get us started, a few bells and whistles to get attention, but in the end an adjustment to systems, metaphoric routers and cables, and above all blissful sustainable connection to the whole wide world of possibilities.  

Thank you James – this blog is for you.

Dreaming the Blue Lynx March 7, 2008

Posted by Liz Mead in : Matters Blue , 2comments

icefield1.jpgThe best time of the day for me is early in the morning. At the still point of time between waking and sleeping. And a time I spend in quiet thought – usually on a dream I’ve just woken from.

This week I dreamt of a blue lynx, nudging me as I walked alone along a path in a forest – archetypal and totemic for sure. It was a lynx with its characteristic flat face, tufted ears and big paws. A lynx just like the one I thought I saw in Canada last year.

On the Icefield Parkway in Banff National Park, Canada last year I saw a wolf.  It walked past the car I was in. It was so close I could have easily touched it. It eye-balled me so calmly I stopped scrambling for my camera and just looked. My first thought was that it was a lynx even though I’ve never seen a lynx or live wolf before. When the French first settled Canada, though, they too thought a lynx was a cross between a domestic cat and wolf. So no surprises there.

But here I was dreaming of it. Why?  I’ve been confronted and comforted many times by my dreamscapes. Some portend events, like swirling rivers in New Orleans or crashing planes into towers. Others simply process information and food!  The difference seems to be that the ‘big’ dreams occur in times of personal change or crisis. 

I did a Google search which revealed that a multi-lingual recruitment agency, called Blue Lynx operates in Europe. This was strangely comforting given my desire to change work.  I wonder if dream language qualifies?

The Lynx symbology, my second Google search revealed, was probably more useful. The Lynx is honoured in a number of mythologies in Finland, Africa, Greece and the Americas. It is a totem of clairvoyance, vigilance and personal power. Because of her beauty, the African Lynx was beloved by the Northern Star who assumed human form to marry her. In 17th Century Italy the Academy of the Lynxes, of which Galileo was a member, was dedicated to the search for truth and the fight against superstition.

This totem Lynx teaches when to speak and when to hold silence – a great lesson for me who is figuring out the right level of engagement in my current workplace.

Mythology tells us Lynx got her flat face when she tried to jump through a wall chasing one of her forest buddies, another pertinent lesson for one who keeps hitting her head against a brick wall at work.

Wolf or lynx, dream or waking doesn’t really matter. My blue moment lynx reminds me to trust my intuition and inner eye more than surface information. Although vigilance and suspicion are valuable tools, the secret for me, right now is to just slow things down so as to really eye-ball the events and people that cross my path.lynx_011.png

Once you really look at a situation you can see everything as it is, not as you wish it to be. I am where I am because I’m meant to be here.There’s no hidden meaning or reason for things that I can’t figure out for myself. This lynx dream also reminds me thatI have all the personal power I need to do just that.

And for the record, I do believe it was a Lynx in Canada just pretending to be a wolf.

Sweet dreams

The Heaven Principle February 13, 2008

Posted by Liz Mead in : Matters Blue , 2comments

Mighty Mouse“Heaven begins with our favourite memory” my girlfriend Rosey once told me.

For me it was bumping out out a show, often at 3 a.m, doubtless tired and pissed, but so happy – in the smells, the dust,  the wonder and the satisfaction.

When I was starting school, my stage, cast and lead character was Mighty Mouse  a cartoon character from the sixties (who years later was disbarred from Comic Valhalla due to a perceived opium addiction!) Mighty Mouse was everything to me, my scene, my rising star, my metaphor and script for surviving the school yard. He was my Raison d’être.

He may have been small, but he was power-packed. “Here I come to save the day, that means that Mighty Mouse is on the way.”At that time in my life I was hanging out for a miracle and a saviour. And in the process, that wonderful alchemistical theatrical process, I rescued my self.

Notwithstanding the blatant fantasy fixation, the game provided me a rich vein of coping strategies. It  gave me the ‘pretend until it feels better’ mentality and the  ’practice until you get it right’ strategy. Both of which I’ve maintained to this day.  All through high school and through my working life I’ve cast the play, the characters, the scenery and style. So as to make my world interesting enough for me to be a part of.  If I found things boring I changed it. If the the colour was drab I’d enliven it. Sort of Steven Covey meets Colour by numbers.

But here’s something for nothing – the technique is exhausting. So I’m bumping out the show. No not suicide – just changing roles. A mid-life trauma has forced me to reconvene my cast of creative thousands into a new show altogether. But how?

In a recent documentary on the making of the Australian Hedda Gabler, the fabulous Cate Blanchett commented on the exchange between actor and audience. She ruminated that each production is forged in the exchange between actor and audience and each interpretation therefore is ”right”.

I’m not sure about this new theatre I’m engaging in. Not sure about the cast, or the role, or the plot. But I’ve settled at least on the audience. They’ll be explorative, faith-filled, imaginative, forgiving and kind (as much UNLIKE Hillsong as possible). This is theatre of the soul, not the masses.

And of the show itself? It won’t be outside the self,  it will be within. I’m happy to bump it in anytime.

Matters for mention February 8, 2008

Posted by Liz Mead in : Matters Blue, Matters Yellow , 1 comment so far

lizziesmallsteps2.jpgI have developed a penchant for steps.

They are a fit metaphor for my program of personal change. It’s a multi-step program to correlate with my great age. So far, the program includes:

Of course, I’m not the only one undergoing such a venture. Like many other women our age, my own sisters are taking steps of their own.

Yesterday I watched my sister, Gabby record her first podcast about positive parenting and how to set limits with love, helping parents in what is arguably the most noble of all professions – bringing up kids.

And this morning I congratulated my twin sister, Cate on getting a sweet gig, doing what she does best - mediation in the courts. 

I’m using this blog as part of my watch your step program. Just watch what happens. With the help of a  great career coach and suprisingly non-neurotic therapist,  I’m submitting my own ”matters for mention”  about and in a process of personal change.

Matters Blue and MattersYellow.

Blue matters when you’re still, stable, satisfied, safe, secure and speaking your truth. Did you know that marketers use blue if they want to build trust?

Yellow matters when you’re changing, moving, altering, striving, climbing and creating new ways of thought. Did you know that couples fight more when living in rooms with yellow walls?

So as my mult-step program evolves,  I’ll be moving between Yellow and Blue moments. Sure, I’ll want more blue moments but I know I’ll have to have an equal if not greater number of  yellow ones. 

And for the significant moments  the “oh my god, of course!! ” moments, I dare say, there’ll doubtless be a story that makes sense of it all.  A story about what drove me in the past, and a story that reveals what the future is and what role I’ll play in it. 

So all I have to do is to keep writing up and down the steps, until  I get to the top or the bottom of what really matters. 

Be sweet.