Big, Important Things

My work allows me to meet lots of people. Kids, adults and seniors from different places with different backgrounds. It's one of my favorite things - community projects that put different people together to make something great. It feeds me creatively and connects me those people participating and spectating. Of course it is hugely fulfilling to see the impact that it has on those I'm working with. And while I see lights turn on and walls come down with the adults that I work with, it's the young people that I most wish to inspire.

Usually when I'm working on a project with kids, there is a basic design that we are working on, with room for what I refer to as "happy accidents" - spaces where we can innovate and be inspired to add detail. Kids participating in my summer camp murals or after school projects are doing "real" work. They meet with business owners or an organizations leader and understand that the art that they are creating is permanent. There is no better moment when the project is complete and everyone stands back with pride at what they have accomplished.

I recently finished a large mosaic mural in Easton with an organization called Talbot Mentors. I've worked with this group for about five years. Their mission is to "match young people in Talbot County, Maryland with volunteer mentors in order to support those children in the challenges and opportunities of adolescence through friendship, guidance, and education." In the past mentor/mentee pairs have created stained glass mosaic windows together, participating in my regular mosaic classes.
As with all of my mosaic students, the design and mosaic style of the pieces were determined by those creating them. This year I was asked to do a little something different.

The Talbot Mentors team of Natalie Costanzo, Javana Bowser, and Rachel White were in the process of renovating the Talbot Mentors offices and had the goal of creating a warm, welcoming place for Talbot Mentors participants and visitors to hang out, engage in activities and workshops and to just feel at home. When we began the early planning of this mural I asked them about design content. "Let the children decide," was the answer that I received. And that's exactly what we did.

The first session was a design brainstorming session. The question I asked them was,"What should people know about the Talbot Mentors and the space itself?" The mural is on a very large wall facing the front door - it is the first thing you see when you step inside. It would greet all participants and visitors. There was no shortage of ideas: downtown Easton (including the paint your own pottery spot - a favorite amongst the kids), the Earth, the solar system, astronauts, a representation of friendship, animals, and many more. Our next job was to narrow the design features. This involved many conversations at the mural site. We drew in the parts that we knew we wanted; the word "Welcome" across the middle of the mural with the Earth in place of the "O." We added other features as we went, always talking ideas out and making sure everyone felt good about the direction of the project. Next we decided to add people, and the kids came up with the excellent idea to trace each other onto the mural. Flowers, insects, birds, and apple tree and a sun were added. Every part of the mural was their creation.

                                           Yikes! That's a BIG empty wall!
                                        

The completed mural is a colorful, cheerful and creative mural that puts a smile on the face of everyone who walks through the office. There are fun "characters" created by the kids; creatures that don't exist in our ordinary world but that live in the garden of their creativity. And while the finished product is an incredible, beautiful artwork to behold, it is something even bigger. It is a reminder to all the kids that worked on it of an experience that they were not only a part of, but the actual creators of. A large example of the thousands of little decisions we made together, the challenges that presented themselves, and the ability to think up an idea and see it through to it's creation. It's truly their's, not something thought up and controlled by the adults around them. I was there to help; answering questions, providing ideas, moderating discussions. I was simply a facilitator of their efforts.

 

                                           
                                                             The Mural Completed!

                                              A couple of my sweet proud helpers at the Partners In Art night!

A second project  finished just  this week was with an after school group at Colonel Richardson Middle School. We only had 4 days, 1 hour each day to create an anti-smoking mural funded by the Caroline County Health Department. The Director of  Wellness Promotions Leigh Marquess had the same idea as my friends at the Talbot Mentors - the design was to be determined by the students working on the project. Having the ability to truly brainstorm and the opportunity to see their ideas take shape in front of them set a serious tone with the kids. We didn't have much time - the piece was to be presented at an upcoming dinner so there was no wiggle room with the deadline. None of the kids had ever made a mosaic before, and most of them didn't see themselves as "art kids." But they went right to work, creating a design that was clean and eye catching while still delivering the anti-smoking message required.


Yesterday they saw the  finished piece and I was truly touched by their pride in their work. One girl was brought to tears, she couldn't believe what she had helped create. We threw ourselves a little party, eating pizza and cake, and showing the mural to every student and faculty member that walked by. These kids were excited and proud of the work they had done.

 

It is this pride of accomplishment that I believe we need to focus on with our young people. Kids need to have their ideas validated and taken seriously. We need to teach kids how to work in groups, share ideas, give positive feedback and work through challenges. We need to empower them by taking the time to hear their ideas and to help them affect positive changes on the world around them.  My friends at the Talbot Mentors and at Colonel Richardson Middle School know this - I'm thankful to have community partners to work with that share tis vision. These life skills will serve them wherever their path leads.

The Birth of Ouvert Gallery

I'm a sentimental gal. I aways have been. I save ticket stubs, buttons, and little notes; all cherished mementos. Sometimes I pull them out and spend time holding each one, feeling the way that moment felt. Not all are happy. But I honor the sad memories just the same. I've never been one to edit out the less than great pieces - it is all important.

 This may seem like an intro to a secret hoarding confession, but, ( spoiler alert!) it isn't. Hang in there, I promise I am getting to the point. 

As a kid I would keep a calendar in my room and write little notes about the day. Each year I would look back and see what had happened on that day in previous years. It's a ritual I've never lost, however technology keeps some of those records for me now. The past two days (via FaceBook memories) I have been reliving the excitement of one year ago, when I decided to open a gallery in just five days.  It's a pretty good story and I can't help but share it.

It all begins a few years ago. I had been looking at St. Michaels as a potential gallery location for the entire six years since I had moved back to town. The crowds of people throughout the year, the ease of navigating the downtown, and the closeness of the waterfront were all desirable features. But I was unsure that people would want what I was selling. After all, my taste and style lies on the more contemporary side and I wondered if the crowds there were looking for art that was more traditional. And I had seen several art ventures fail. I did little "tests" in town over the years but didn't see much to encourage me. Until December 2013. Then one of my tests succeeded.

It was a hunch, that showed up out of nowhere. I knew Midnight Madness was approaching in St. Michaels, and suddenly I couldn't get it out of my head that I needed to set up for this event. I had attended Midnight Madness in previous years (an awesome event which draws many residents and visitors to the town) and enjoyed it as an attendee, but never really considered it to be a venue for my own work. But by Dec 1, of 2013 I was determined to try. I contacted several of my artist friends, and checked out my options. On the night of Midnight Madness we were set up in a parking lot right in the middle of town. It was bitter cold that night and we had minimal lighting but we forged ahead, trying to ignore the freezing temperatures. And by 9pm I had sold out of my inventory at gallery prices. That's when I really started to pay attention.

Throughout the next 12 months I continued with regular tests. I helped launch a gallery in town, and consulted on a few other art related events. Everything I saw was encouraging. By the end of November 2014 I again knew that I wanted to be set up for Midnight Madness, but this time I was ready for my own space. The day after Thanksgiving, I walked through town with my step daughter Mackenzie, and wrote down the numbers of every available building on the main street. We went home  that afternoon and made calls.  I began meeting with building owners and real estate agents the following day. I saw many beautiful spaces, but none felt "right." And I have learned (often times the really hard way) not to ignore that instinct. I was starting to think it just might not be in the cards. But I had one more appointment the next day. So early on a Sunday morning, my husband and I met with an agent and checked out the building at 207 S. Talbot Street. It was love at first sight. In that moment I knew I had found the perfect space.

Immediately I started calling, emailing and texting my artists friends. Feeding off of this excitement I negotiated the lease, set up insurance and other details, and began planning. The goal was to open that Saturday for Midnight Madness. I had the keys to the building on Tuesday, and artists began to drop things off. My good friend and DC gallery owner, Margery Goldberg was the first to hang work in the building, driving a van full of the coolest art from the District to my space in St. Michaels. The building has two floors and seven rooms. Throughout the week work arrived and we hung things, then moved them, then hung them again. My husband Mike Campbell and friend Deena Kilmon and I became a team, brainstorming constantly through texts and phone conversations that probably sounded incoherent to any outside listeners. There was work to do from the moment we awoke in the morning until we could no longer stand up at night. Just to keep things interesting I ended up with a stomach virus for part of that week, but was able to work through it. We were completely creatively engaged, performing superhuman feats without thinking twice. By Friday evening the space was almost complete, and we turned our attention to making food and preparing to be hosts the following night. Excitement almost kept me awake all night but exhaustion won and I was able to pull off my most amazing accomplishment which was getting a good night's sleep.

We awoke the next morning to cold,driving rain and fog. My daughter had a cheer competition that day, so I found myself on the phone being interviewed by Kathy Bernard for her NPR show "Two Boomer Babes" while applying glitter eyeshadow in my downstairs bathroom. And while it may have been tempting to be overwhelmed, I have to admit I loved every second of it. The anticipation of potential is a feeling that I live for, and in those moments I was breathing it in and my creative wheels were turning. Total bliss. And then the brief, but panic stricken moments of doubt, where I wondered,"What am I doing? This is crazy!!!" Experience has taught me to shut that sentiment down immediately, to not let that destructive monster in the door. But truly, would people come? We had no sign, and a limited amount of time to get the word out. I also didn't want to disapoint the artists. Had we done enough? 

And, yes, we had. The night was a success. We still had people shopping at 12:30am! The next day was great, and the next. We stayed open throughout the winter, holding workshops and seeing what would happen. It was intimidating at times not knowing what was ahead; we saw another business in town set up an online donation account to compensate for slow winter months. Yikes! What were we in for? 

But we found there were sales to be made, and were surprised and encouraged by the business of January. The weather was prohibitve in February but it gave us much needed time to paint, add lighting , and make necessary improvements. By May we had recieved a Certficate of Appreciation from MCE, a sign that our hard work was paying off and we have never lost momentum. Amazing artists from near and far have contacted us about showing their work, and we have made many new friends. We have contributed to our community by partnering with local non profits such as Check Yourself Talbot, Talbot Humane, Talbot Mentors, Mariah's Mission, TalleyWags Productions, Destination Imagination,St. Michaels Rotary and Tilghman Waterman's Museum. We have promoted and sold the work of many artists. We could not have come as far as we have without the work of our young, talented interns; Sarah Kilmon, who designed our beautiful logo and created our website, and Zoe Pochron, who became a technical advisor and cinematographer. Both of these ladies have also produced and sold their art in our space. Our children, Mackenzie, Collin, Seth, Selene and Mason who have all worked in the gallery, brainstormed with us, and created and sold their art at the gallery are also invaluable members of the team. Artists Teri Bildstein of Tide Together Jewelry, Ryan Jacobson, Erin Fluharty, Dawn Malosh, Bill Wilhelm and Victor Abarca have been with us since Day 1 and have offered their creativity, time and encouragement and we are forever grateful. It is an honor to represent such great local talent and to call these people my friends. Tim Boyle of Vintage Books and Fine Art of Easton took a chance with us and has given us the opportunity to sell great books and rare historical documents and maps. The list goes on and on, and we are continually reminded of the wonderful people around us.

This Saturday it all comes full circle; we will be celebrating our One Year Anniversary at Midnight Madness 2015. We are of course throwing a party, and rolling out the red carpet to our customers as a sign of thanks. I haven't lost that feeling of excitement; the magic of potential is bigger than ever. I know that with my partner/husband Mike Campbell that the sky is the limit. And it just doesn't get better than that.

Black Eyed Susans 2015

A Touch of Magic

Maryland Flag Remix

"A Calming Effect"

The Burden of Loving a Creative Person

The other day I had a revelation. To me it was groundbreaking. To those around me, not so much. Really it was just old news for them. And what was this "ah-ha!" moment for me, you ask? Well, ready for it?

I am possibly not an easy person to live with.

Yes, it's true. But in my defense, I'm really not trying to be difficult. As a creative person, I am literally overflowing with ideas. I get excited and want to make things happen. I see so much potential and have a hard time walking away from opportunity. And I tend to just jump in, and give 100%. There is a zone, or a groove that I get in where I am performing optimally and it is one of the best feelings in the world. Adreneline is pumping, my heart beating fast and I posess the ability to organize, plan and pull things together in a near perfect way. It is euphoric to skip from project to project, with ideas flowing, connecting people and places. What I tend to not recognize is how this fast pace of wild creative abandon feels like to those around me. While internally I am feeling blissful, the external me reads quite differently. 

Truth is, these times are a roller coaster of emotions and moods. I work to near exhaustion, push myself past my breaking point, have little patience, and can easily burst into tears. Having a conversation is very difficult because I can't just focus on one idea and everything comes out in an intense burst. There are waves of despair; when I think it all won't work out and that I've just made a series of mistakes. An hour later I am positive again - all of my previous worries forgotten. My loved ones scramble, trying to offer support, or even just figure out what the hell I'm talking about. I don't mean to make them crazy, it's just hard to remember that I'm experiencing a very different reality than them.

I wish that during these times I could see how my intensity affects my loved ones. My focus on the events and projects I am co-ordinating eclipses everything else around me and I push all other concerns aside; things like meals and kids' schedules are secondary. I know how selfish it all sounds (and is). And when it's all accomplished and I have a chance to catch my breath, I only see the sweet wonderful people around me, forgetting what I've just put them all through. Hopefully I let them know all of the ways I love them. And hopefully I remember to tell them how they inspire me. Because it is my life with them that encourages me to move mountains.

People say,"I wish I had your energy!" or "How do you do it all?" and I just shrug. It's no big deal I say. But for those special people around me, they know differently. They know the blood, sweat and tears that goes into everything that I do. And they know that each piece is me laying my heart on the line. And that is their burden to carry. The burden of loving a creative person. 

The Magic of Potential

A little over a year ago, my whole life changed. Not that this is news - I'm pretty sure the only way to avoid change is to not be alive. And I have always been open to change - while I may fear it in the abstract I tend to embrace it when it knocks on my door. I love the excitement of the unknown - a blank canvas waiting for inspiration and creation. And so it was a little over a year ago that I was wrestling with the constant questions of "What is it that I really want?" and "What direction do I go next?" Oh wait - I don't want to leave out "What does it all mean?" I devoted a lot of thought to these questions as I lived and breathed a version of myself that I couldn't come to terms with. And then my phone started ringing and I had my answer.

It was the day before a big event that I was running and I sent the first call straight to voicemail. The  call was from Margery Goldberg, owner of the Zenith Art Gallery in Washington, D.C. The Zenith is the oldest, most established gallery in the District and I had been proudly exhibiting my work there for the previous three years. Usually I would jump to answer a call from Margery, but this day I didn't want to lose focus. I figured I'd just call her back after the weekend was over. But one stands the test of time by being persistent so Margery called back a few more times and then I received a Harry Potter "howler" style email where she didn't just ask for me to contact her but demanded it. So I returned her call, and when I did she gave me almost unbelievable news.

Of course before she would tell me anything she yelled at me for sending her to voicemail. Well - and also for having a full voicemail account. Once that was out of the way she delivered her news. And I couldn't even believe what I was hearing. Somehow, without even realizing it was happening - I advanced as a semi-finalist in a huge public art installation in Washington, D.C. After a nationwide call to artists and many applicants, it was down to myself and three other artists.  The Zenith Gallery had submitted me, providing me with an awesome opportunity. I had a moment of over the moon excitement, and then Margery began firing off what was expected of me to get the job; design, proposal, references and a sample board. With a little over a month to complete everything not to mention staying on top of my current responsibilities I had a bit of a nervous break down. Was it possible? Could I do it all?

"You may not get it. Probably won't."said a less than enthusiastic friend. While a few around me had similarly less than inspiring sentiments to offer I had the total support of my husband and kiddos and truly through the weeks that followed it was their belief in me that carried me through. My  schedule seemed to have no available times to get everything done, so I began waking up at 4:30 in the morning to create work time. Many mornings the alarm would go off and my sweet husband would have to talk me into getting out of bed. He would often start the coffee for me. Sometimes I was less than appreciative of him, but I always got out of bed. And so I began to gather information and put together my design. I reached out to past clients and organizations as well as parents and children I had interacted with over the previous decade. The love and support I received from these individuals and organizations helped to fuel my early morning work sessions. And when it was time to create my sample board I contacted two of the most creative people I'd ever worked with. It just so happened that Nathan Mullen and Ellie Kilmon were high school students - while some questioned working with teenagers on something so important, I knew there were no better peeps for the task. The rest of my team was made up of Madeline Moffett and Matty Tall on the sketch, with David Grafton contributing. There were moments full of doubt and exhaustion - but every time I was ready to quit, I found another burst of energy and moved further ahead. 

The excitement of this prospective project eclipsed any other ambitions I had been considering. And it was an awesome moment when I realized that even if I didn't get the project the possibility of it had become a catalyst to answering my previously asked questions. Yes, this life full of potential is what I want. After more than a decade of this life, I keep learning that I can really do anything I set my mind to.   Undoing the self doubt I have been taught is an ongoing project - but with each passing year I can say I'm living life to my fullest potential. The importance of the company that I choose to keep was once again a lesson to learn. Theres just no room for the negative people. I find that they only stick around as long as you are doing work for them, and usually sort themselves out in the long run.

When I recieved the news that the project was mine I was overwhelmed with gratitiude. And while the project itself posed new challenges that were both exciting and frustrating, there was never a prouder professional moment than when I stood back. Now  I prepare to begin a new project I have been selected for. And I've got the best people around me, my friends and family, so I don't worry too much about the challenges that lay ahead.

You Can Stay or You Can Go

I don't believe in living a scripted life. Mindlessly going through the motions, reciting words that we think that we should say because it's the "right" sentiment to express. Passionless expression - it's so easy now - all we have to do is hit the "like" or "share" button on our FaceBooks and it almost feels like we've taken a stand. It almost feels like we've taken action. But it's a false accomplishment. 

I've not always been much better. It's hard to turn my attention to something that isn't directly affecting my world at the moment. But then it does, and along with fear and panic, comes the guilt of wishing I hadn't waited until I was drowning to pay attention.

Addiction rocked my world almost 10 years ago when I watched my loved one suffer from the disease. It tore apart my world and my dreams for my family. I had no idea how to help and felt completely lost and overwhelmed. And hurt and frustrated. Hadn't I done everything "right"? Why was this happening?" Questions that I asked over and over. I didn't understand addiction, and wasted a lot of time taking it personally. Simultaneously a close friend began to struggle. I suddenly realized that the disease of addiction was all around me, and I started to wonder why I didn't know or understand more.

A big part of the problem was, and is, the shame associated with addiction. And the shame breeds silence. A suffocating silence so stealth and lethal it prevents family and friends from asking for help - denial laced with humiliation. 

We all want to be strong, and in control. And so we don't tell the people around us when we're in trouble. I remember what shocked me the most, as I attempted to organize an intervention for my friend, was her family's response. They coldly thanked me for my concern but could I please mind my own busines. I am sad to say that my friend has never received the help needed. I continue to watch her struggle.

I look at my children and wonder what magic will protect them - I would love to bury my head in the sand and pretend I've done all the "right" things to keep them safe. But the truth is, addiction penetrates even the closest families and the sweetest children. I have openly discussed addiction with my kiddos since they were little. "Protecting" them from these truths only makes them vulnerable. I have to be mindful of my own thoughts of denial - "Kids like mine would never take such risks." But that's just not the case. And so I arm them with information and truth and pray they will know how to make smart choices and then also know how to ask for help when they need it.

We all need to wake up and look at the truths around us. We need to have open, real conversations with each other and with our children. Rolling the dice and waiting to see if this is "your" issue is the worst kind of gambling. Don't be confused - choosing to play pretend and ignore what's happening in our community and to our youth is putting your loved ones at risk. 

When Talley Wilford had me read his script "You Can Stay or You Can Go," I knew that it was important. Talley's story chronicles his real-life friendship with Matt Schilling, a great kid who had every opportunity to succeed. Sadly heroin took his young life. Since we have been promoting the project we have met and talked with families whose children were destroyed and taken by heroin. Their grief is palpable, and their only consolation is working towards educating other families. I look at the pictures of their lost children and can't help but cry. That sense of helplessness washes over me, but only for a second. Because working on this project, talking openly and honestly and creating solutions is the anecdote to the struggle our community faces. Our picturesque small towns do not protect our families. This epidemic is in our back yard. 

Don't make excuses, take action now. Be a part of the solution. If nothing else, support the people who are. 

Click on the link and give what you can and help us do this important work.

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/896538845/you-can-stay-or-you-can-go-a-feature-film

Doing the Whole Thing Differently

Things used to be a whole lot easier during the holidays - producing Christmas wonder in the kiddos meant a trip to the local toy store and maybe a few online additions. Christmas morning they would stand in front of the tree amazed at the many boxes wrapped in beautiful paper. Inside were building toys, books, and games that we would all play with together.

Fast forward a few years.

Electronics are everywhere in our world. At any given time there are laptops, I-Phones, and  I-Pads scattered all around our house. These days there's always a brand new piece of must have technology - at the cost of several hundred dollars. I am resentful of it all as it steals little pieces of our time together - of course I can't imagine trying to do all of the things that we do without modern conveniences. We're always trying to create a balance.

As we contemplated gifts for the kids this year we decided to forgo the giving of many "things." After all - they have so much - and the one thing we are always wishing for is more time together. It's what they ask for - time to talk, time to 

play games, time to just be together. This year, along with our traditional giving of footy pajamas, they would all four open packages containing itineraries of a family road trip we planned. There will be time to relax, play games, and talk as well as have a few adventures.

We were completely confident about this gift up until a few days before Christmas - then we started to wonder, "Will they be disappointed?" "Was this a bad idea?" We just didn't know what to think.

Then the time to open gifts was upon us - we saved the kids' until the very last. And as one by one they opened their gifts we saw big smiles and excitement - and we knew we'd done a good job. "We're going on a road trip!!" "This is so awesome!" Hearing the kids' enthusiasm was music to our ears.

I am now writing this while in the car at the 8th hour of our 15 hour road trip. We've already had a good time - we honk the horn every time we pass through a new state and half of us are still wearing footy pajamas. We have some of our favorite games packed - chess, Monopoly, Connect Four and a new one, Betrayal of the House on the Hill. It's a good feeling to know we're just going to be together for the next few days. It's a relief not to have bought a bunch of "stuff" - most of which would have been forgotten after a short while. As the kids get older and time moves faster and faster I'm thinking that the best gifts we can give them are knowledge of the bigger world,experiences, and time together to just be.

Brookland, DC sample board.

The sample board for my Brookland, DC installation!

"The Locals"

Identity Crises

We humans are complicated beings. I feel like I'm always trying to oversimplify everything; I want it all to be neat and tidy, organized and orderly, and to follow some sort of straight path. But it rarely, (if ever),goes that way. I want to define myself with one summarizing word, so that I can easily identify myself to others, and maybe even me. Yet, when I am able to break things down into simple terms I am never quite satisfied. I am always evolving, my perception of that around me always changing, along with the perception of myself.

I have worn a lot of titles proudly:artist, single mother, activist, ect. As time has gone by, I've sought out more and more challenges, mostly because I can't stand to sit still and have an absolute fear of boredom. I want to create and participate in the world around me. Sometimes I resist, because I have committed to a certain identity, and then there's fear. After all, if I present myself as one concept, how can I also be another?

There have been so many life changes for me in the last four months; I've taken on a new job, moved my household, and two days ago, married the most wonderful,loving man. And while it's all been exciting, I'd be lying if I said there hasn't been fear. Fear of being someone or something different. Fear of not knowing what's next. Fear that I'm not the person I thought I was.

After the fear passes though, there is excitement. Who really wants to know what lies ahead anyway? What would I even do with that information? I may fear change at times, but I fear not changing more. And if I have to pick one simple word to describe me and who I am, it shouldn't be a title, maybe just an adjective. I want to be brave, and embrace new ideas and new experiences. But most importantly, I want my children to be brave, and face this world with enthusiasm instead of fear. And that means I've got to walk that walk, wherever that twisty, unknown path may lead.

The History of Mosaics Class

It's a little hard to believe I'm about to begin my seventh year of teaching mosaics!  For starters, most days I still think I'm about 22 so when I do the math it doesn't even make sense. Especially when you throw in the fact that my "babies" are 8 and almost 12. So most days, I skip the math.

 It's fun for me to look back at how my class has evolved; I now see it less as an event and more as a living entity. When I first began teaching, students had six weeks to create their project; five weeks to design it, learn to break the glass and adhere it and the last for grouting. We only met once a week. And so there was stress and pressure to finish. Those first couple of years I felt that I had to keep projects moving along in order to stay on schedule - after all, once that six weeks was up a new class began in the shared space where it was held. And God forbid any of the students had unexpected life circumstances pop up that required make - up classes - it sometimes felt impossible to make it all work.

I knew this wasn't optimal; it's not easy to take an art class. Almost every person who walks through the door immediately confesses that they are not "artistic" or "creative." "I can't even draw a stick figure," is what people tell me. But I know that's not true. Because it is my belief that anyone can do anything if their desire is great enough, and if they have the right environment and support system. The trick is opening up, becoming comfortable, and discovering your own style. I see people limiting themselves because their work isn't like their favorite artist, when in reality there is greatness in the vision and technique we all possess. It's that tricky confidence thing that holds us all back. I know this from experience - my high school art teacher once declared me hopeless. It has been my great pleasure to prove her wrong. But her words shook my confidence, and I had to work hard to erase

them from my heart and mind. She did me a favor though, as I have been determined to help people find their way in the often times intimidating world of creating art.

After I had my own teaching space, I had an epiphany; why did any class have to end? Why should someone limit the amount of time they work on a project? I know from my own professional experience sometimes I work quickly, while other times I needed to experiment, try different things, with the focus being the quality of my work, and not simply finishing as quickly as possible. I took the time constraints away, began charging per project instead of per session and added an extra day a week, allowing the class to be "drop in," so that students could work on their projects around their own schedules. Immediately, the quality of the work being produced improved. And I've been seeing amazing results since. Some students call it their "therapy," as there is truly something soothing about breaking apart glass, then reassembling it and creating beauty. There's also a camaraderie within the class, people of all ages, male and female, from different places come together with the common goal of creating, supporting each other, telling stories and laughing. We learn from each other, and even though we are all in the same room together week after week, no two projects are the same. Not even close. It's a kind of magic as I watch person after person shed their insecurity and face their creative fears. Every person leaves with a beautiful piece; most return to create more.

It's been seven years and I can not imagine my own work evolving without mosaics class. I am inspired by every person, keeping the class going year round in order to not lose momentum. And I must be doing a pretty good job - most of my students continue making mosaics, seven have begun their own mosaics business. I look forward to the next seven years - the class has moved to my most favorite and magic place - the third floor of the Avalon Theatre. We will work under the beautiful stained glass dome, as musicians make their art on the stages below us. We can take breaks out on the balcony that overlooks my beloved downtown Easton. I can't even imagine what's to come.

Yay!!!

Maps often seemed like more of a suggestion - I may have mentioned before that the tried and true paths often aren't of interest to me. There have been many nights that I've laid awake wondering why I couldn't be like everyone else - well, at least like my perception of everyone else. I'm not that special - I think we all have those feelings. When I encounter a fork in the road I ask myself, How did I even get here? And I have to smile because its really been quite the unpredictable journey......

I never would have guessed that art would be my world - my high school art teacher was less than inspired by me - and I didn't feel a connection. Writing and books were my passions,and of course travel. But sure enough, almost by accident I stumbled upon mosaics and the rest is history. I didn't know in those early years that I would achieve the things I have, I only knew that I loved creating them, and that no matter what, that is the work that I wanted to do. Once I knew that this was my path, I set forth determinedly - thinking that I knew the rest of the story. But life would be pretty boring if things wrapped up that easily. And I can certainly say it hasn't been boring.

While fundraising for my second large mural - I thought it would be fun to co ordinate a performance piece featuring an artist friend of mine and a gallery owner. He was playing blues guitar and she the ukulele and they had begun playing together once a week just for fun. I convinced them to do this to raise money for my project (I will skip how I begged and pleaded - no one is really interested in those details anyway, right?). The event was a huge success and after we celebrated reaching our fundraising mission I thought to myself - How fun! I'd like to do something like this again!

And I did. Not exactly the same, but I made events a regular occurrence at my Gallery 26, from artist talks and demos to writers promoting their books as well as showcasing local musicians. I never would have dreamed how much I would love this work, maybe didn't even realize it while I was doing it, but when I stepped away from life as a gallery owner, I felt that loss. It had inspired me creatively and stretched me personally. When I expressed this a lot of people told me not to worry about it - those things were distractions from my art. But I found the opposite to be true;  the energy, the excitement, the people, all fed my creativity. I volunteered for Plein Air Easton! and became a part of the excellent group St. Michaels Events. Feeling that energy was exciting and I knew I wanted more.

So it is with much pride, excitement and enthusiasm to announce that I will be taking on the Events Manager position with the Avalon Foundation.  I love this group of people and have enjoyed working on  various projects with them! I am excited and inspired to begin. I have big shoes to fill; Colleen Brighton is leaving the position to pursue other interests, and I can only hope to continue her work in a way that makes her proud. I'm guessing that every "emergency" phone call from me to her over the course of the last year will come back to me via karma, and I'll probably bug her a few times just for old times sake.

And so, like every time I've entered into a creative, inspiring environment, I've begun a new mosaic. And I love it, like the twisty, crazy road that I've been on in this life. Who even knows what's up around the next bend?

that's how I roll...

I don't always do things the easy way. In fact - I tend to go the hardest route, doing the opposite of what everyone tells me, and learning lessons the hard way. Sometimes I wish I did things differently but at the end of the day I'm just not willing to change! Using artist-speak I would say that it's part of my process....translation: that's how I roll.

My hands are always in bad shape - sometimes worse than others. I get cuts and scratches when I'm handling the glass - also when I grout. I get all kinds of unsolicited advice: wear gloves, use a trowel, or hire someone to do the dirty work. So far my favorite was a well intentioned e-mail link about using robots to create mosaics. Robots?!?!? Creating art?!?!?!

All of this advice came from a good place; a helping, caring place that makes me feel loved. However, when I think about it, I really don't mind the scratches, cuts or even stitches (and I only needed stitches once, OK!!!).  The whole reason I chose this crazy profession (actually, it kind of chose me, but that's a whole other blog....), was the feeling that I get while I'm creating. There is nothing like it. To stand in front of a huge blank wall is to stand in front of an empty canvas and I become overwhelmed with its potential. Cutting glass into tiny pieces that together make a beautiful design fills me with a joy that is still to this day indescribable. To see it done is not enough. I want to touch the glass, break it, adhere it and grout it in. That is where the excitement comes from - not simply the finished product.

It makes me think that our society puts too much into "safe perfection." I have to undo a lot of this mentality when I'm working with both children and adults. The idea of making a mistake or not doing something perfectly right away can inspire enough fear that one often chooses not to even try. What a joyful discovery that even when the work doesn't turn out exactly as planned, it is still wonderful. To me what differentiates the artist from the hobbyist is the ability to set forth on a path, encounter new ideas and celebrate the happy accidents instead of becoming frustrated that the end result was different than the original plan.

I can live with the cuts on my hands. Instead of worrying about it, I just think about how awesome it is to be working and creating. No gloves, trowels, or robots for me.

Keeping the Wheels Rolling

Sometimes I am full of energy. I jump out of bed and my mind is racing before my feet even hit the floor. I easily construct timelines and view complicated schedules as a fun challenge. At home I am fun, patient and light hearted. I roll with the punches and even when situations are turned upside down I can still find the good in it all.

Those are great days.

I am currently in a different mode. I'm tired and craving a little more slow time. I am pretty sure that I'm setting the world record for Most Trips To Easton Per Week. You might think that this would make my day pretty mundane, but just the opposite is true! Better than any casino is the gambling that I engage in every time I guess how long my drive to Easton will be! Last Friday, my first trip to Easton took 11 minutes. My second trip took 24 minutes. The third, a half an hour. Sigh. Can I just go home now???

I have to be my most disciplined at this time. Everything takes extra effort and I really just want to eat a giant bowl of pasta and nap on the couch. If the Jen Wagner Mosaics company offered paid vacation time I might be okay, but the reality is that if my feet don't hit the floor running then I will have some explaining to do to my landlord and the electric company.

 However, I have a super secret weapon that allows me to thrive during these times. It's simply that I love my work. I dig deep, make things happen, juggle everyone's needs and schedules, talk to a million people, and stay up late to get it all done. I take my exhaustion and frustration and create from it. And I have truly found that the victories are sweeter, and that it's at these times that I can amaze myself. When I am cruising easily through life, I am often moving so fast that I don't even appreciate what is being accomplished. When I have to work harder, I savor every hard fought battle, and use it to fuel myself to take on the next task.

That, and  I usually take one day to indulge in some Bravo and spaghetti. But just one day.

Is there an app for that???

Yikes! I am just coming out of a state of mind known as the Plein Air Easton! hangover. The week of Plein Air was, as always, exciting and fast paced -  full of fun events and lots of opportunity for us artists. This year I was allowed to co-ordinate a multi-media show called The Out of the Box Art Exhibit and Sale. The event was a success! The energy was amazing! Exhilarating! Oh, and also......exhausting.

The week of Plein Air flies by - I always have fun but it can often feel like I'm trying to survive the week as much as enjoy it. The kids are given a stern talking to - they are busy trying to make a few bucks at their annual lemonade stand - but they know not to test me during this time. Arguing, whining, complaining and all other annoying behaviors are banned during this week. Any infraction of this rule will result in an overzealous lecture from their stressed out, preoccupied mother. I always promise that it will all be over and things will go back to the normal, acceptable level of craziness the following week.

Another side effect of that busy week is that absolutely no housework or yard maintenance is accomplished. Miraculously I cannot even see the dishes or laundry that need to be done, grass that needs to be cut or demon weeds that threaten to take over flowerbeds or even the driveway. Mosaic "stations" pop up all over the house. It is normal to have two or three projects in the living room, several stations in the family room, where most of the frame painting takes place, as well as multiple projects on the back porch and in my studio. I am grateful for this temporary blindness -without it the mere thought of housework at this point in time can send me straight to Crazy Town, a place where logic and reason don't exist, and overwhelmed, exhausted, emotional responses dwell.

When it's all over - there is a long period of rest. And then re-emergence into regular life. It can be shocking - there is work to be done everywhere! And there's no food in the house! And we have no clean clothes! Oh my! A bit overwhelming, and has me asking, do I really have to do all of it??? Is there an app for that?

I'm Back!!!

Yay! I'm back! Where did I go? Oh wait - maybe you didn't even notice! Hmmm.....that's okay - all is forgiven. Just to give my generation one more reason to be ashamed of my less than savvy tech skills - I accidentally deleted my last blog. Once I realized this error, I did attempt to correct it. I called my computer guy (i.e. I texted my 10 year old who was reading a book upstairs) and asked him to assess the damage. After thoroughly checking the situation out - he announced that my blog was lost forever. At that moment I vowed to create a new one. A better, more interesting, more attractive blog. Then the summer mural season took over and three months went by in what seemed like an instant. It was not until now, Monday, Oct. 29 that I have been able to realize my intent. All it took was a hurricane to shut down roads, schools and any other distracting forces in my life. The hurricane has not only allowed me to create this new site but also focus on finishing the last few pieces for my gallery opening this Friday at Grafton Gallery in Easton. It's not always easy to put myself out there, in the blog world, the art world and, well, the world in general. For the last few weeks I've been wishing for more focus, the ability to bring to life the ideas that grow in my heart and in my head. As I hear the wind and rain against the window I know the time is here. So I'm here, cutting glass, creating, typing and being happy.The storm doesn't even phase me.