Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Red Envelopes

I have a friend who studied
Feng Shui (the Chinese art of balancing energies in an environment). She once mentioned that traditionally, Feng Shui practitioners are paid in 9 red envelopes containing money which is also in multiples of 9. This empowers the 'cure' for the environment.

I felt inspired to thank her for the free advice she'd given me over the years (including putting crystals on 9 inch strings in crucial spots).

So I gave her 9 red envelopes, which I made. (I thought making the envelopes might empower the cure even more; but clutter still reigns around here, so I'm not sure that's how it works.)

Inside one red envelope, I put a check for $18, in others, 36 shiny dimes, 9 five dollar bills, 54 pennies, all polished, and so on--I remember it added up to being quite a lot, and it was fun to give. She was touched, and slept one night with all of them under her pillow. Here are 5 of the envelopes--I can't seem to find a picture of all 9:

Since then, I've set most of my prices and fees in multiples of nine (though I skip the envelopes!). I like how this association to Feng Shui acknowledges a positive power in paying for the client (along with the benefit to the practitioner of being supported to continue their calling).

Framing the exchange of monetary energy this way has helped me receive money with an open, light-hearted reverence that heightens gratitude.

I don't have to tell the client about it, but I imagine that setting my prices in a way that works for my quirky magic-loving self may make the exchange more comfortable and valuable for both of us.
And maybe it really does increase the helpful potency of the work, its transformative power.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

More on Show

Want to take a little tour with the artist? Step this way....

As you come in the door to the Belfast Free Library, directly across from you next to the elevator hangs this Portrait of Rodney Dennis.

Rodney Dennis was Manuscript Librarian of Houghton Library. He lived in Cambridge, MA and Union, ME. Thanks to Christie Dennis for commissioning and loaning the painting.

Across the room, you'll probably notice first the big picture called What Is, of Kathleen Hannan, conducting singing up to a high note at an interfaith celebration.

It's at the end of the wall across from you, which you might glance at...

...before you see that right next to you, as you still stand by the door, is a wall of little mirrors, ending with a small angel altar on the left.

At the right side of this wall is the artist's statement. Want to read it?

The first two (glass) mirrors have little vases inset in front of them, with an offering of a few small flowers. They are both called Made Mostly of Water, like the flowers are. If you look into them, you might consider that you are part of that same flow and freeze and melt, the drops and waves of life.

These two pieces were very loosely inspired by the photos of water crystals exposed to a variety of concepts, in Masaru Emoto’s The Hidden Messages of Water.

They're roughly 12" high, made with layers of handmade papers, some sewn together and then cut with a chenille cutter and raised in grooves. The one directly above has composition silver leaf crumpled and inset at the top.


The piece in the middle is called Mirror of Transition. When my soul-sister died, I traveled out with her into the night sky. I heard myself say, "I'll go with you a little way, Joanne" as I lay in bed miles away. I experienced an indescribable sense of expansion, spaciousness, peace and awe. The next morning I learned she had passed at just that time.

Maybe 20 years ago Joanne gave me the piece of black lace with shot through with shiny hot pink threads that veils the mirror. (The post Anger tells one small story of what I learned from her). The veil refers to the Jewish tradition of covering mirrors after a family member has passed. As you look at yourself through it, you may see a mystery.

Every transition is a little death and ascension to a new and unknown form, or into formlessness. This piece has layers of transparent and semi-transparent fabrics; it tiers back and back as you look through, into an undefined light essence rising, a distant evocation of that moment of letting go into transformation. Or, that's what I was going for. What's it like for you?

Here's a detail of what's under the veil--a small advantage of a virtual tour, since I know in person you would never pick up the veil to peek, it's very delicate.


Next comes Mirror of Aging Beautifully. Look in--obviously, you are (aging beautifully--admit it!) Here the mirror reflects the What Is picture across the room. To the left, the little angel altar; you can barely see the composition gold leaf inset center focus in the shelf from this angle.

Maybe you recognize this piece from the flyer that's up around town about the show:

It's intended as a magic mirror, like the ones in fairy tales--"Mirror, mirror on the wall..."

Something happens when you donate your face to the composition, right up close. All the symmetry and non-symmetry and near-symmetry, the dynamic balance of vivid and soft colors, the flowing, expanding lines of crows feet, or wings, the rising and falling and circling around of the shapes, all that harmonizes with your beautiful, changing face in this irreplaceable moment....

Well, sorry, guess you had to have been there....


Let's take a quick look at the opposite wall, shall we? This one, Inner Reach, is a particular favorite of mine.

It's a new departure for me to show more abstract pieces like this. It's done with fabric paints on canvas, and colored pencil, sewn onto a heavy dark blue denim backing.

I like how you can't really tell what's on top of what, but you wind up with an impression of depth or spaciousness, full and open at once. Maybe it evokes an enlarged section of an imaginary scan of your mind...or maybe not.

Someone at the opening said he saw an unhappy face with slashing claw marks across it. Hmmm. The eyes of the beholder, that's where art lives...


This one at the left corner is called Stick With Love. The story behind the piece is in Dogged Dedication. The image was done with pastels and glitter on black fabric, the border, with fabric applique.

An theme of the show is experimentation with ways of combining fabric art and painting/drawing. I worked primarily in representational fabric collage for 25 years and then returned to painting where I started, in oil portraiture. So I'm interested in how to integrate the different media.


There's three more to look at on this wall, and I seem to keep talking your ear off here. Is that enough for now? Personally, I can't look at a show for too long without getting a little jaded. Want to go upstairs and get a book out? We can come back in another post to look at the rest. As you head for the stairs, you'll see the corner on the left:

And looking down on the right as you climb the stairs, maybe you'll want to check out this Phoenix Mirror and Angel Altar later...

Oh, one other thing. Yes, most of them are for sale, but since it's a free library, the prices aren't mentioned on the wall, and there's not even a price list out.

But if you see one that might be for you, send me an email at and I'll be glad to tell you more about the piece, and the price.

Hey, thanks for looking and reading so far! Seeya later.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Cat Love

Wilda drawing '08

As I've said before (see post Wilda) "my" cat is my guru. She teaches everything I need to know, and less, which is very helpful. I need to know less. If I didn't stuff my head with human falderall, I could maybe meditate like she does, for a second.

Maine Coon Cat (detail) fabrics

A friend (who happens to be wildly ga-ga about his cat--you can see pictures of the happy couple here) complimented the occasionally serious content of this blog saying, "It's not just pretty pictures of cats and sunsets." Being a stinkwanink contrarian, I resolved to include more cats forthwith. Sunsets can wait.

Kitty, fabrics

Here's what I don't really get: what's so laughable about being seriously in love, as an equal or equal-wannabe, with a cat? It seems sillier, to me, to believe that just being human makes an entity somehow superior to a feline, or to anyone else, like a mollusk, or a turnip, for that matter. Not that we can't have our preferences, and to each her own and all.

Black Cat fabrics

I know a very rapid woman who loves a tortoise. She hates cats. (Her husband is reported to have commented, "She doesn't like anything warm-blooded"). To each her own, as I said. Love or hate 'em, cats mind their own business.