Create, Not Copy

     Until very recently I considered myself a "fake artist" because my style of choice is very abstract.  I have a tough time painting the real world as it is.  Frankly, I don't know how to do that and when I take classes or read and try to learn how to paint realistically, I mostly only get irritated and frustrated.  About a year ago, I just let go of that need to paint for real and began to paint what I saw in my head or what my hands felt like painting.  I painted to get images out of my head and into the world.  I painted because playing with paint and brushes made me smile.  I also painted when I was angry or sad and somehow that process tempered my anger or sadness.

    A few weeks ago I discovered a book that changed my perspective about my painting. Written by Rolina van Vliet and entitled "The Art of Abstract Painting", this book actually made me feel less foolish about my artistic endeavors. It gave me some credibility as an artist! The artist was able to clarify for me what I have been doing. She writes about how the realistic painter is using external information to guide the painting. Things from the outside influence the painter's work. An abstract painter, on the other hand, uses the same elements as the representational painter (shape, color, and line, for example) but the abstract painter's art is not meant to represent "something". The art comes from the painter's imagination and feeling; there is no relationship with reality. Bingo! The light went on! 

    When formerly I saw myself as a second class painter (just messing with paints), now I see myself as creating something, not merely copying something that is already out there in the world. I like it when someone looks at my painting and sees something in it. That's fun and I am always interested. But I don't generally expect that kind of reaction. Sometimes, I know exactly what it is I am putting down on paper (although no one else may be able to recognize it) and I keep it a secret just because I can. I don't paint for an audience; I paint for myself. It gives me so much to think about (or not think about).

Skateboards, Teddy Bears, and Mascara

       So I had this wild brainstorm while riding my bike in the very early hours this morning.  I am going to write a blog about middle school!  I LOVE working at a middle school.  I enjoy the kids, I sympathize with the parents, I hear the teachers' frustrations -- I was born to be in middle school.  The blog will be pitched to parents and to people who work in middle schools (capturing the ah-ha experience) and will always end with something along the line of: and that's why I know I was born to be in middle school.  It is not about dissing the middle school child.  In fact, it is about appreciating the middle school child.  It is about celebrating their spark and their humor.  It is about acknowledging their sometimes unrealistic picture of the world but appreciating the eyes that see that world.  It will recognize the in between space that middle schoolers find themselves in:  too old for teddy bears, hot wheels and constant supervision,  too young for   driving, sex, and no supervision.  Middle schoolers do, however,  find themselves the right age for confusing crushes, for parents who don't understand, for teachers who expect them to care about English grammar when their best friend is in crisis.  They can care passionately for people suffering after a horrific tsunami, they can dream big dreams of playing major league ball or dancing with the Joffrey Ballet, they can be worried about their friend who is drinking on the weekends.  They can do those things  even as they are failing every class and serving detentions for leaving their gym shorts at home day after day.  They are such a mixed bag.  And that's why I was born to be in middle school.  This all makes sense to me.  The one difference is that  I can see it with the perspective that is generally lacking in a twelve year old.   Middle school kids let you see them if you look for them and at them.  I  go to work every day looking forward to seeing the kids!

Everything Changes; Nothing Changes

     I was recently surprised to receive a six inch high bundle of letters and cards that took me on a reflective journey.  The bundle was sent to me by my uncle and the cards and letters were the messages that I had sent to him over the years.  He is in his late 70's and, as he said, he is going through stuff.  I was amazed to learn that he had saved all those letters and touched that he thought to send them back to me, all bundled up and ready for discoveries.
     The earliest one appeared to have been sent in 1962, making me 9 years old.  Funny to read it and see my "best guess" spelling!  What!  You mean I didn't always know how to spell?  There are one or two from high school but the majority of the letters were sent while I was in my twenties. Through my thirties and forties I sent him one or two a year - mostly chatty updates about how the kids are doing.
     The most interesting collection came from that twenties decade.  While reading through them, I was struck by how much has changed and how much remains the same.  That was a tumultuous decade for me, beginning with a confusing marriage that turned into a messy life and ended with a wrenching divorce.  But talk about discovery!  That's when I found out who I COULD be.
     The decade played out with travel, education, a developing career path, a grand assortment of new friends and new connections and ended as it had begun: marriage at 29!   And, even though my path was convoluted, the cards and letters demonstrate that I was forever and always wanting to examine it.  Ah, some things never change!  And, even in my 20's, I was lonely and reflective while still pushing ahead with new challenges, willing to put myself out there and see what happened.
     In reading the correspondence, I meet a trusting, bright eyed, change the world sort of girl (and she was a girl).  There's the everything changes part.  The girl is now a grown up, an adult - no matter how much she wants to still be a girl.  She's not so trusting although the bright eyes can still be seen when she is engaged in biking, painting, or uncontrollable laughter with friends.  She does still welcome new challenges, hopes for surprises, and knows she can only change the world one tiny moment at a time.  Life is more realistic and responsible now, kinda deflating, but she is much MUCH stronger.  She can hold up anything that needs to supported  and knows enough not to worry too much about her future.  It will be what it will be and she will survive (or not).

Holding Out For A Hero

    This whole idea of a hero has been on my mind lately.  Are there any heroes in today's world?  Before drawing any conclusions, I have to define hero.  A hero is not to be confused with a person who performs an heroic deed.  To act heroically in the moment is commendable but to be a hero involves more than momentary action.  So what would that look like?
    As my dear friend and confidant Megan Rooney noted a hero is courageous.  As she also pointed out courage cannot to be confused with fearlessness.  Courage means the ability to confront fear, pain, uncertainty, danger in the face of hardship, suffering, or even death in order to benefit the greater good.  A person with moral courage is able to act rightly in the face of popular opposition, shame, or discouragement.  Fearlessness isn't quite so noble in my mind. Danger may be confronted but the motivation behind the action is more egocentric as opposed to community based.

Uncle Frank

    So, a hero must show courage in some aspect of his or her life.  My father's courage in the face of WWII has always impressed me.  He was a 19 year old boy and he went off to places remote and scary (the South Pacific).  With very little training, his assignment was  to fix the bodies of friends and others who had been blown up (he was a medic).  I can't imagine how frightened he must have been and yet he went and did what he believed to be right.  My wonderful and loving friend Frank Schiavo showed tremendous moral courage in the way he lived his life.  Frank put his care for the environment above anything else.  He LIVED environmentalism and could tell you the why and how of everything environmental.  It wasn't easy to live modern life Frank's way but he resisted so many of the popular trends in favor of a life style that would sustain the planet.
    I think a hero also has integrity but integrity is tough to assess.  A person with integrity has the courage to say no and to face the truth.  He or she does the right thing because it IS the right thing to do.  Again, referring to Frank, he was a man of integrity.  He lived his life very honestly and openly.  He had strong beliefs about the right way to live and he stuck with them even when I am sure it was a hard thing to do. From what I have read and seen about Fred Rogers he was a man of pure integrity.  He had strong beliefs about what was in the best interests of children and he worked hard to make that happen.   He could laugh at himself and the caricatures that SNL and others made of him but he knew what was right for kids.  I am sure his intentions might have been questioned for a variety of reasons but he was steadfast in making media healthy and  tender for small children.
    A hero also inspires others to strive to be the best they can be.  By their words and actions, heros encourage other people to become more courageous, more compassionate, more deeply involved with the world, no matter how small or how complicated that world might be.  Christopher Reeve and Gilda Radner come to my mind when I think of inspiring people.  Both of these young celebrities were handed tragic surprises by the universe and yet they turned those tragic circumstances into something that has inspired and benefited so many other people.  Both Gilda and Christopher wrote about their afflictions and how their lives were dramatically changed and their words and actions have made a huge difference to many other people.  Michael J Fox is doing that now.  I read Michael's book Lucky Man when it first came out in 2003.  Prior to reading his memoir, I assumed he was another rich celebrity with questionable integrity (my cynical nature showing through).  However, my assumptions were shattered after reading that book. I now eagerly listen to Michael when he speaks or writes because I trust him.  His experiences and his attitude about his life make me want to be a better person.  There's a hero for you.
    I still need to ponder this for a while - I want to get it right.  I have answered that earlier question:  are there still heroes today?  Yes, I would say that my heroes include (but are not limited to)  all of the people mentioned above.  But this doesn't really feel finished.  It is as if I am missing something.  What about the notion that a hero has something much bigger than his or her own self as their driving force?  And what are the avenues that create heroes?  With the exception of Frank Schiavo and Fred Rogers, the people I referenced above  had the opportunity of being a hero thrust upon them.  They were just going along doing their lives when something disrupted their plans.  It is what they did, how they handled the disruption that made the difference.  Mr. Schiavo and Mr. Rogers made choices and acted on their beliefs.  To advocate and watch over something of value made them heroes.  They weren't given a disruption to direct their stewardship.  They chose to take a harder path and that choice elevated them to heroes in my opinion.  I am seeing that heroes do take on something bigger than themselves, if only to allow themselves to find meaning in tragedy.  What else am I missing?


   PS:
       Saint or hero?  That's another conundrum -- I prefer hero.  Saint feels all perfect all the time.  Hero feels more human, more not perfect just struggling to get it - something - right.  I would rather hang out with heroes than saints!

How to Write a Blog Entry

     Typically before you know the title of a blog post, you have to do the writing.  And that means you have to be in the mood to write.  Sometimes, it takes a little warming up - maybe reading something you've written before or maybe looking over some quotes or pieces of writing from other writers you enjoy.  Next, the room  has to be SILENT - not just quiet - SILENT.  It is best to write in a room entirely by yourself.  When there is another person in the room, you have to deal with their paper shuffling, their comments and coughs, their breathing.  Very distracting and VERY irritating. 

     When you are writing, you have to read over what you just wrote - over and over and over and over again.  You don't have to read the words aloud (although that is entirely permissible) but you do have to listen to the way the words flow.  Do they sound good?  Do they make sense?  Is there a more descriptive way of saying it?  Is the thought simply expressed?  Are the sentences short?  Are the phrases original or did you go for the hackneyed?  Change things and then change them again and then, yes, change them yet again. Be open to dropping the word or phrase that you just fell in love with ten minutes ago because now you have discovered that the word or phrase doesn't work. Set it aside.  You will use it some other time.  Sometimes you will realize that you started in the middle and you will need to go back and add on the beginning.  No worries.  It happens.  The beauty of word processing - so easy to write the middle before the beginning.  How interesting!

      Don't be too worried about length.  Say what you have to say and then wrap it up.  I usually think I am done and then publish the piece but come back to look at it in a day or two.  Of course, as you might guess, I want to clean it up again -- and that is how you finally finish the blog post - clean it up and move on.

Trust

       These early morning bike rides require me to dance with trust.  This morning I left the house around 5:00.  Yes, I had my red light flashing to alert cars behind me and I had my high beam cat eye to both light my way and show approaching cars that I was there.  Truth be told though, there are very few cars out at that hour (at least not on the roads on which I am riding) and the sun is already rising.  Within 20 minutes the lights are not really necessary and they are pointless in a half hour.  However, that doesn't mean it is a risk free ride.
       Here's the thing.  The drivers who are on the road early are often in a hurry.  I have to trust that they will not see the rural roads as a speedway.  I have to trust that they will graciously concede to me my right hand edge and that they will know that there often is glass on the edge of the road.  I have to trust that even when I stray away from my assumed lane the vehicle drivers will make room for me.  I also have to trust that when they are coming down their driveway, they will give more than a glance to the road.  Sometimes that skinny far right side of a country road can be obscured by trees or brush.  If the driver is looking for the glint of metal or the two big headlamps from an approaching car and not seeing that, I have to trust that he or she will also pause for the instant that it takes to know that there isn't an odd pedestrian or bicyclist coming down that hill too.  It can be tough to trust people but I do it.  It's trusting the universe that really gets to me.
      Trusting the universe (or whatever you want to say) is, perhaps, more difficult.  On my early morning bike rides it means trusting that those deer that I see along the way won't choose to leap onto the road the instant I go by.  So far they either leap away from me or take the plunge while I still have time to brake.  A deer/bicycle collision would not be pretty (especially if Lady Luck were still sleeping and a car got involved too).  Deer are not the only wildlife on the road at that hour but likely they present the most danger.  The other morning something small and furry (a fox?) darted out just ahead of me.  I think I could survive a small animal/bicycle collision - that is, IF a car didn't get involved too.  I truly am trusting nature when the glare from the rising sun blinds me.  There are brief moments here and there (sometimes veritable seconds) when I am riding directly into the sun as she moves into her day.  For that instant, I really cannot see where I am going and who or what might be in my path.  It also occurs to me that if I am blinded by the sun then so too might be the drivers who are rushing off to work.  Heaven help me!
       So why bother with riding with the risk? Because the air is invigorating, the colors are brilliant, the lungs and legs love the workout, and I know I am alive.  The risk in the ride only confirms that my life is happening.  And I suppose that's the thing about trust in life.  If you don't let go and trust something or someone other than yourself, you can pretty much curl up and die for all the living you will be doing.  Not easy to do and full of possible accidents and heartbreak, but what's the point of life it you aren't living it?

Walls

  WalWalls interest me.  The physical walls in the world can be low and decorative, they can be complicated and rich with texture, they can be high and shout , “I dare you to climb over me”.   Walls can keep dogs and babies in, they can give roses and kids a place to climb and they can keep robbers and heartbreakers out.  Walls can be concrete and smooth or can be brick and mortar construction.  It seems to me, if you are looking for protection, a wall might give you that.  Among my father’s many talents and skills, was the ability to lay brick, to build strong brick walls and I can still see him building the wall in our back yard (upon which he once told me that if I ran fast enough on the top of that three foot wall, I would be able to launch myself into flight.  Oh, how I tried!).

    There are also imaginary walls , created in the mind.  These walls can be designed to keep something inside.  They can also be  designed to keep someone away.  They can provide protection for the heart,  a refuge  for the soul, and some breathing room for the mind.   My father was the strong silent type of father.  Child of the Great Depression and boy soldier in the South Pacific during WW2, he saw more hardship than anyone should see in a young lifetime.  When he came back from the war, I think he build those imaginary walls in his mind.  I observed a hard working, responsible, loyal man who kept most people at a distance.  His internal walls were as strong and well built as those brick walls he laid.  I was a kid who watched the world.  Ever cautious, I looked at what the adults in my world did and I followed their lead.  I learned how to build strong walls from watching him.  Overall, they have served me well.m

jtoneill.net

So I am working on a website featuring both my photography and my original art work.  But there is an introductory page that I need to do - and part of that page is the dreaded "About me" -- hmmmmm - that is tough to write so I will practice here first.
      Long ago and far away I was a teenager.  What a time of angst and confusion. Solitude was my best friend and family was my refuge.  I pushed myself out into the world via a marriage and, with its demise, all doors opened.  So many exciting doors with so many choices! That twentysomething decade included roller coaster years of exploration and discovery, of roles and masks, of social life and solitude. Personal encounter and change characterized those times.  They are remembered fondly and with great appreciation for all that I learned.
     And still long ago and far away were my hard working thirties and forties.  These two decades were all about raising children and striving for professional perfection and acknowledgement.  Marriage, friendships and self had to be inadvertently set aside as the responsibility of parenthood and work simply took over.  Being a reflective, responsive, and present parent has been the toughest work of my life but the payoff is grand.  I am so proud of those two children.  Professionally, I remain in love with my work and believe I am in my element there.
     Now for the last third (or less) of my life...... scary.  It saddens me when I think that at least two thirds of my life has been lived,  much of it with my eyes closed and my foot on the accelerator.  I suppose this website is an attempt to meld together much of what I have learned so far in life.  It isn't really for anyone else but me.  It is a way to fuse past and present via my own words and images and the words and images of others who have profoundly touched me.  Putting it all out there for the world to see and judge is rather narcissistic, I venture to say, but it is one way to sort life out and be held accountable. What do you think?
     ps:  The website isn't up quite yet but I'll let you know when it is!

Make Your Own Kind Of Music

Remember that song Make Your Own Kind of Music?  Maybe that's the obvious answer to the question I posed yesterday.  Are there good surprises left?  Are there crests yet to come? I suppose if I cocoon my way through the next , oh, 35 years or so, the chances of real highs happening are relatively small.  I am sure there would lots of pleasant moments but intense joy, wonder, excitement?  I don't  know.  Maybe you have to go out and make those moments.  When I reflect back on my 20's there were lots of adventures - some travel, lots of adventures of the heart, always new people being encountered, and openness to explore and an ability to move lightly through life.  I can still travel, I can still  meet and connect with new people, I can be open to what is out there - I want adventures of the heart but that's complicated.  I think the surprises come when eyes sparkle, when attitude is open, when there is an element of risk at stake.  Risk adds to the excitement , to the surprise - but risk is, oh yeah, risky.  It doesn't always play out the way you were hoping.  I also wonder if surprises are more available when your life is not overly complicated, not a tangle of a schedule, not bogged down with things and the need to take care of things (like houses, yards, cars - those kind of things).  Just wondering....

Is it true?

I get grief for this but sometimes I feel as if all the surprises are done - all the good surprises, that is.  There are lots of bad surprises waiting to happen but when you get past the college and career decisions, the marriage and kids days, where can you find surprises?  Yes, there can be pleasures and daily pleasant moments - I get that - but how about moments of intense joy or excitement? Maybe I will be surprised but when I scan the future (which I seldom do) I see a collage of same old same old days.  For a few years here I will keep going to work every day.  And that's a good thing...... overall, I love my work and it brings lots of satisfying/challenging moments.  But it isn't a surprise.  I will enjoy plenty of laughter with friends and family.  I expect to have a few travel adventures and relish plenty of good books, good music and a few good movies. People tell me that grandchildren can be delicious and perhaps I will have the opportunity to discover that.  But I thrive on the highs in life - the way highs - and, admittedly, I am plagued by the lows in life.  I both love and hate the roller coaster that is life but if I have to be in the trough, then I want to ride a crest too.