The sunrise out my bedroom window this morning....

 

 Bear with me on this one. I will eventually tie this journal entry into being an artist... but humor me for a bit as I lay the foundation for you. :)

One of my favorite bands in the world is a group of guys out of Canada called The Tragically Hip. One of my favorite writers and poets in the world is Gord Downie, the lead singer of this same group. I call him a poet, because when I read his lyrics on a piece of paper, without music, I am astounded that anybody could even put music to such streams of consciousness. But they do. And my world is all the better for it.

They aren't everyone's cup of tea. They certainly weren't mine when I first heard them. In fact, it was my husband who discovered them, about two years into our marriage. I would suffer through the inevitable playing of 'The Hip' in the car whenever we drove from point A to point B. Eventually I would grit my teeth and plead with him to put on something else. Anything else. I couldn't stand to listen to the grating vocals, and churning band any longer. Until the day I Got It.

When I say I Got It, I mean I had a literal EUREKA moment in the car. It was actually a moment born out of laziness. I didn't want to listen to the radio, and didn't want to reach behind the seat as I was driving to fish out another CD. So I just turned on whatever was in the stereo. It was The Tragically Hip. And, specifically, it was a song called 'Grace, Too'.  I sighed with complacency when it came it on. I know I did. But this time, I left it on, and listened. I gave it careful consideration. And by the end of the song, I was laughing outloud and hitting the steering wheel. I knew I had just discovered something important, at least in my little realm. I had just been introduced to a brand new love. This song rocked my world, and I knew it was only the beginning.

And my intuition proved true. The Tragically Hip became this amazing, bluesy, poetic, humorous, intense touchstone for me. I would listen to other bands, love other music... but when it was time to 'cleanse the palate' so to speak, it was The Hip, and only The Hip that would do the trick. I got where they were coming from. I understood Gord Downie's passion for words. I would jokingly and fondly refer to him as a Crow of words. Where crows and ravens like bright shiny things, and steal them away to their nests, Gord is a collector of words and phrases, who hoards them on napkins and journals for future use. I love this. I love the humorous and witty way he sees the world. I also love the intellectual, tender, and startlingly poignant way he sees it as well. And when he wants to scream, and dance like a worm on a hot rock...he does that too. And I love it all.

So what does this have to do with being an artist?

I was watching an interview tonight with Gord, and he said something that was so in line with things I had said in the past, that it was almost uncanny. And then he expanded on it, and it opened my eyes to a wonderful way of viewing the progression of myself as an artist. I felt compelled to come share it with you, the various friends and readers who stroll by this journal now and then to see how I'm doing. I don't know if it will strike you the same way, but maybe... just maybe it will.

Gord was talking about his love of music, and his particular enjoyment of hearing where musicians and singers are at this very moment. The interviewer was a bit incredulous, asking if there weren't any artists out there whom Gord considered past their pull date. And he said no. He really, honestly enjoys hearing where they are in this very moment. He likes the old stuff, the old hits... but to quote him, "those old songs won't keep me warm at night. I want to know what they are feeling, *now*. What they are thinking, *now*." And then he said that it was any musician's (and, you can also add in 'artist's' here, as it fits as well) dream to be carefully considered. To have someone thoughtfully consider their work, and give an honest opinion. Doesn't matter if it's negative or not, as long as it is carefully considered. That is the best gift a person can give to an artist. And, when we listen to music, we are listening to potential. We love what we're hearing, through and through, but what really jazzes us - knowingly or not- is the potential for what will come next.

The same holds true for artwork. We see something we love... and deep down, it is a thrill to imagine what might come next. The potential is exciting. It is why we watch certain artists. The anticipation of things not yet beheld is intoxicating.

As an artist, the anticipation of things not yet *created* is intoxicating as well. Possibility stretches before us. But here is where the Anchor comes in. Just like Gord pointed out, the old songs are good... but what comes next? Where are we, *now*?

As he was saying this, I heard a chorus of YES! YES! YES! in my mind, and instantaneously I imagined an anchor in deep water. Do we allow our previous works of art to weigh us down like an anchor? Is it dragging on the ocean floor? Because if we do allow this, it starts to drag other things with it. It catches every bit of debris, and rock, and old shipwrecks, and entire forests of seaweed, and suddenly.... your boat is capsizing. You are sinking on the weight of old ideas.

To really have creative freedom, we have to stop trying to include everything we've ever done, in everything we ever do. Reread that sentence. Give it careful consideration. It's not that we have to forget all that we've learned, and reinvent the wheel every time. But do we allow ourselves to freely sail the sea of inspiration without fretting about past successes? Are we dragging that anchor through every 'successful' piece of work we've ever done, so that they are trailing with us, slowing us down and keeping us from focusing on all those new, exciting ideas on the horizon? Where are we *now*? What are we thinking *now*?

I am glad to say I have always tried to create that way to a certain extent. I never wanted to keep from attempting new styles, new ideas, or peculiar notions simply because it might not live up to some freak wave of popularity something achieved in the past. But now I really understand it. I get it. I have a clear vision of it, and see the beauty in savoring my current mindset as it shifts and changes from day to day. THAT is real creative freedom, at least in my eyes. I'll still have my own style, my own touchstones that I do enjoy working with... but now more than ever I am determined to keep looking forward. Keep experimenting. Keep that anchor from digging in too deep to the tried and true.

So, Gord, wherever you are... thank you. Thank you for sharing your talent, the band's talent - and allowing your fans a glimpse into your current mindset with every new album. You inspire in more ways than you realize. I hope I can do the same with my art as well.

And - in the spirit of seeing where The Tragically Hip's mindset is right now, I encourage you to watch this fantastic 12 minute video entitled "We Are The Same" off their new album of the same name. I love these songs, so much. Yet again, I sit back and admire the poet who fronts the band, and the band who makes it all work.

CLICK HERE!

And if you are interested in watching the interview that inspired me to write this post, click here!

 Never lose your sense of wonder. It is the guardian of the heart, and the champion of our dreams.   Aimee   12.31.09

---

 So I am a HUGE fan of The Big Bang Theory TV show.  I was wishing I could find a decent "Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock" shirt... (doesn't everyone wish that?) and then I realized...why not just make one yourself?  So I did!

If you don't know what Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock means, then drop everything you are doing and click this link:  To the clip!

Anyway....after I made the shirt, I figured there might be a few of you out there who would like it is as well.  So check it out!  And the mug as well.  Dr. Sheldon Cooper would approve.

CLICK THE IMAGE TO GO TO CHECK OUT THE SHIRT!

 Artist's block. Writer's block. Creative constipation. I'm sure anyone who is reading this has suffered from it at some point. I can't think of a single artistic person who hasn't - at least once in their life - sat at their desk with head in hands wondering if they will ever have another inspired thought in their body.

I am not immune! In fact, I suffer quite periodically with this phenomenon, which causes me to sulk around my house in search of the Magical Cupcake of Inspiration. Or at the very least, the Somewhat Entertaining Twinkie of Unboredom.

It's an awful feeling, really. One minute I will be basking in the glow of profound and seemingly endless inspiration, and the next minute all I want to do is watch re-runs of The Golden Girls on Lifetime. It frustrated me, until I appeased myself by thinking that sometimes creativity needed to simmer. Sometimes creativity needed inactivity, to let the full flavor of Whatever Comes Next to ripen. Random, but unavoidable.

And that's true! Creativity does need to simmer. But I've recently realized something more about myself and my art, which made me appreciate that there is more of a cycle here than I had originally thought, and perhaps this will help the others of you out there who struggle with this like I do.

One day I was trying to describe to my husband how I felt when I was having Artist's Block. Eventually I likened it to a butterfly, all vibrant with endless possibility, suddenly reverting back to the cocoon - simply wanting to be tucked away, turned inward, without any outside activity whatsoever. And that's when it hit me. My cycles of "Artist's Block" weren't random fits of creative drought. I was, in fact, living the very illustration I had just presented to my husband. I was the Cocoon, and I was the Butterfly...in an endless cycle.

In Cocoon stage, I turn inward. All outward creative process stops. I do not want to pick up my digital paint brush, I do not want to pick up my camera. I want to sit and absorb my surroundings, whether that is going for a walk, reading a book, cooking, playing with the dog, staring at the ceiling, sleeping. Anything other than create. I *CAN* do it, if forced..but whatever I make during the Coccoon state is devoid of any heart and soul it would normally have, because it is premature. I've literally broke open the Cocoon too soon, and my fragile wings of creation are deformed and not yet ready for flight.

But, given time, given patience...the Cocoon will open on it's own, and the Butterfly will emerge...healthy, whole, vibrant, and ready for takeoff. That is my creativity, that butterfly. It won't stay in the proverbial Cocoon forever...it can't. By it's very nature, it HAS to emerge. But only when it is ready. Only when it is time.

It was such a relief when I finally realized what was happening. A TREMENDOUS relief to accept the fact that as an artist, this cycle of turning inward, before turning outward - is essential. Without the Cocoon, there is no Butterfly. Without formulation, there is no creation. And the butterfly cannot fly forever. It must give in to the cycle. However, unlike butterflies, who cease to be when their cycle is over... artists experience creative rebirth, time and time again. When our wings become brittle, when our energies are sapped...we simply revert to the Cocoon once more, to recharge, to heal. To reinvent.

Knowing this has made it easier to deal with. It still isn't a cakewalk to feel that cessation of creative spark. But now I have a better understanding of what is going on. Now I have a clear grasp of what's happening when I force creativity, and am unhappy with the results. Now I can truly revel in the times when I am free of the Cocoon...and flying high on inspiration. I no longer have to question my skill, my artistic longevity, my very interest in my longstanding passion. It's all there, tucked safely away behind a shimmering veil. And just like the Möbius Strip - the symbol of eternity, the cycle will loop back on itself, again and again. Inward, outward. But never stopping.

So, let go of the frustration. When you feel the creative spark fade, know that it's not because it is dying...it's just deep in the Cocoon, waiting for the right moment to emerge and shine bright once again. Go on those walks, read those books, and let time work it's magic...so you can work yours.

 Every year I am taken by surprise with how quickly summer jets by.   It seems I wait all winter to see the first glimmerings of green, and then in the blink of an eye I am seeing those same leaves starting to fade a little.  This summer is no exception!  I can hardly believe it is already two days into September.  Egads!  Time to go run a few times through the sprinkler while it's still warm enough to do so!

It may have seemed a bit quiet around here over the past few months, and with good reason.   I took a break for awhile, and tried to rest my eyes.  Seems I've been overworking them here in front of the computer, and I started having headaches and even seeing flashes of light in my periphery.  Eye strain to the max!  So I coasted for awhile, allowing myself to unplug from the computer and to let my creativity simmer for awhile.  Then I dove headlong back into some major projects, which I cannot wait to share here!   The first of which is a project having to do with a certain white rabbit, late for a very important date!  This will be the first time I have actually set out to illustrate a story, and it has been tremendously fun so far!  Challenging as well. 
I have also been receiving a number of requests through this website, asking if I have more tutorials or if I teach workshops.  Nobody is more surprised than me to know there are people out there who would pay to take a workshop from me!  I'm honored, to be sure.  Though I have to grin at the thought of me actually in front of a class, trying to wade through my wonky way of creating art.   That is the curse of being self-taught!  Everything I do in Photoshop is backwards, sideways, and upside down I'm sure. lol  To try and boil that down into an understandable workshop would probably be about the same as wrangling a herd of cats toward a lake.  However, I *have* managed to have some success with my tutorials for Advanced Photoshop Magazine, and I have had quite positive feedback from people who have taken the time to follow the tutorials, so maybe it isn't a strange thought after all!

That leads me to my next project:  A book.  Or even a couple of books, full of tutorials by me.   It is a possibility!   Talks are underway right now with publishing houses, so we'll see if one bites.   It actually would be a treat if I were able to write a book, rather than clip my tutorials down to an almost impossible word count.  I think a lot of people may not understand that when you submit a tutorial to a magazine, you have a word limit on each paragraph you write.  So - you may need 300 words to describe a process you just went through, but you only have 100 words to do it in.  OI!  A challenge to say the least.   So, I would love the opportunity to really discuss and describe my methods as they were meant to be explained, and not the cryptic short-hand version!

I have also licensed another puzzle (and when I say 'I', I actually mean my tireless agent and cohort in crime, Angi Sullins), and will be working on a few more throughout this month, for 2010.   There are bits and bobs of other projects floating around out there as well, so you can see it is a busy time for sure!   

Last, but not least....is my mission to actually get a studio in order, soon.   You may not realize this, but I create all of my lovely artwork in an upstairs hallway dormer. LOL  I do!  My desk is tucked here in a small corner nook, and I am surrounded by stacks of magazines, shelves of trinkets that inspire me, and a computer tower that doubles as a catch-all for whatever I fling on it at any given time.   My actual working space is no bigger than the desk I sit at.  Suffice it to say... S P A C E is a priority right now.   My heart's wish these days is to find a yurt to call my own.  I have the perfect place behind the house to put one.  In the middle of a hollyhock patch, with a view down the valley...  I could set up a yurt, and in no time flat have a studio worth dancing in.   Of course, the money to do that seems elusive!  The trade-off of doing what you love is sometimes making do with less.  Which I do, happily!  But oh how I would love to have that studio, and a little space to breath in while I create.   So if anybody wants to contribute to my yurt fund, I'd do a Snoopy Happy Dance Extraordinaire. LOL  (Or, purchase someartwork knowing that those dollar bills are being fervently tucked away to keep the Yurt dream alive! ;) )

  
Check out my feature over at Expose' Online!

Hello all!! During the past year I have been creating numerous new pieces of art for a Duirwaigh project called "My Wish For You" - a follow-up to their international best selling book and DVD called "A Knock at the Door". Today is the day it is released!! It's launch is cause for celebration for all of us involved with Duirwaigh.

24 of my works are featured in the film. Some you may remember, while many are brand new, and will be shared here on DeviantArt over the next few days. I am SO excited!! It's a wonderful feeling to be involved in something so heartfelt and uplifting. I hope you forward it along to everyone you know who would enjoy a break from the stress of the day, to disappear in a lovely daydream for a few minutes.

The other stunning artists involved with this project are Jena DellaGroataglia, Christophe Vacher, Agnieszka Szuba, Elisabetta Sinopoli, Barbara, Marc Fishman and Silas Toball, and the magical words of Angi Sullins. A lullaby for the soul - My Wish for You.

The Music on "My Wish for You" was contributed by Annbjørg Lien, with special thanks to Bjørn Ole Rasch.

Enjoy!! And be inspired!!

Aimee

Hello all!

Summer is here!  June already - packed with lots of sunshine and busy days!  To celebrate that, I've added several of my latest works of art in the Shop - many of which are collaborations with Angi Sullins of Duirwaigh Studios!

Here is one, called "Whirligig" - which just makes me want to hop on the nearest merry-go-round and wave a big fluffy cone of Cotton Candy in the air!


Also, Issue 57 of Advanced Photoshop Magazine is on the stands in Europe right now, and will probably be out in the US by the end of July.  It features a piece by me called "Rio - 2009" - which is part of a head-to-head challenge with another artist!  It also has a simplified tutorial to accompany it.



My Rio 2009:
Available as cards and prints!
 

Suffice it to say, this is going to be another hectic summer.   I am currently working on new card lines for 2010 - and will hopefully have a couple of new puzzles out as well!  Until then, here is the latest puzzle by me that you can purchase!  Called "Wish"



Enjoy!!

Someone recently asked me a series of fun questions, which included this gem:  What is something that you have loved, that has blown away?

An odd question.  Not many things in my life have physically blown away.  I've never had the movie-esque experience of riding in a convertable, only to have my favorite scarf whisked from my neck as I speed down Mullholland Drive.  Nor have I ever lost a favorite hat to the wiles of a gusty day.  So I thought of it, and realized the only thing that ever really blew away that I had loved, is probably repeated millions of times over across the planet:  A balloon.

Who hasn't had a beloved balloon as a child, only to have it plucked from our pudgy starfish hands and stolen into the sky by impish winds?  Who hasn't stood there, gazing through tear blurred eyes, frozen in that grasping pose of futility, trying to retrieve the quickly ascending string?  Who hasn't felt the plummet of one's heart at the sight of the bright purple/blue/red/yellow/rainbow balloon merging with the clouds above... knowing that no matter how hard one wishes, it's never going to be ours again?

Remember being inconsolable when a well-meaning adult told us to 'calm down' it's 'just a balloon'?  Could they not understand how you had bonded immediately with that balloon?   The color, the bouancy?  As a child, I swear, I did not see a balloon.  I saw a friend.  An instand buddy with a string body, and a bouncy head who would hold my hand and follow me into every adventure.  A friend who had the power (if one believed) to lift me right up off my white buckled sandals and draw me into a sky filled with grand adventures.  'Just a balloon' indeed!!  And a replacement was out of the question.  It was betrayal!  How could you go and find a substitute to your new best friend, especially as they were still in sight... a pinprick of color in the sky!  Surely they were just as distraught as you, all alone way up there in the clouds, face to face with birds and airplanes and thunderstorms.  It was so tragic that it kept the sniffles coming all through dinner until bedtime, when the pillow soaked up the tears.

As I thought of all this today, I realized something.   For me, and maybe for many...  that experience was our first taste of loss.  In the grand scheme of things, it was a very gentle introduction to the concept of losing something dear, and - try as we might - having no way of making it return.  Of course, as we grow, those losses are met with more than just confused tears.  They are met with anger, with self blame, with denial.  And maybe we felt the stirrings of all those things as a child too... but mostly I think it was a pure sort of sadness we felt.  It was singularly focused, and really quite sweet in retrospect. 

So, here's to all those friend-balloons that have been lost over the years.  Thanks for escorting me softly into a world where loss is an all too often repeated theme.  Here's to simply enjoying the view of brightly colored dots high up in the sky.