Spiraling Spirals

I signed up for an art gathering on Zoom. There wasn’t a theme or agenda. Just a few people and an artist/leader using whatever materials they had on hand. Watercolors. Inks. Colored pencils. Crayons. 

We were muted so background noise wasn’t distracting. And we could leave our cameras on or off. I turned mine off. 

I had my desk area covered with a variety of materials: watercolor paints, brushes, watercolor crayons and ink. And blank white paper, not the good watercolor paper, just a sheet off a drawing pad. 

Then, I picked up a crayon and started to move it around and around the paper. Lines appeared. Circles moved around and became spirals. Somewhere during the time, I loaded a brush with color and tapped it over the paper. 

Splat. Splat. Splat. 

To me, there’s something so satisfying hearing the sound of the paint hitting the paper. And I love how the already wet colors merged with the splats. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t plan it. And I didn’t consider it ‘art’. 

It felt like kindergarten all over again. Where the easel is all set up with blank white paper, clean brushes, water and a row of paint colors ready to use. 

If the colors mixed by themselves that was even better. I tilted the paper, too. Even more fun!

Spirals spiraling. 

I didn’t even notice the shape or direction of my mark making. I didn’t control the splats. I just let go and let it flow. And I didn’t even notice how many spirals had appeared until the group gathered and we started sharing our papers. 

The artist/leader noticed all the spirals on my paper. She asked if I’d chosen to make them and if it had some special meaning for me. I honestly didn’t realize I’d made so many spirals and wasn’t sure what meaning they had for me.

But I did joke: maybe I’m spiraling? 

Something from nothing: a realization. 

After the meet up was over, I showed my husband the paper and mentioned the artist’s question about spirals and my work. I told him what I told her that it just randomly appeared and I had no idea why. He said I’ve used spirals in and out of my work for years. 

He pointed to a screening mask hanging in the hallway. As you can see above. 

A stamp I made and used on a bowl, a plate and a bird. 

I had no idea it was an ongoing theme for me. I’m not sure what it means. Or why I use it, except I like its shape and swooping curve. So I googled it, of course, and here’s the meaning and info from my online search. 

“Cycles of Life: Across many cultures, including Celtic and Indigenous traditions, the continuous loop of a spiral represents the natural progression of birth, life, death, and rebirth. It signifies that time and existence are not linear, but cyclical. 

Nature and Creation: The spiral mirrors patterns found everywhere in the natural world, from hurricanes and seashells to galaxies and the double-helix of our DNA. It acts as a visual metaphor for the generative forces of the universe. 

Wisdom and Progression: Moving along the curves of a spiral represents advancing through life's lessons, returning to familiar situations with higher levels of understanding and clarity.”

I do have a Celtic heritage, so maybe it’s coming from there? I know many people refer to ‘spiraling’ when they’re anxious and we are living through difficult times. Or maybe, just the opposite, it’s something my spirit finds calming especially right now? 

Maybe I don’t have to know the ‘why’ but instead just embrace it as part of my life and, obviously, part of my art.  

2026 Word of the Year: Relief

I’ll be the first to admit, this new word of the year seems odd. Especially considering the times we are living in right now. Or rather the time we are enduring right now. 

It’s chaotic. 

It’s awful. 

It’s scary. 

It’s the exact opposite of relief. 

The opposite of the word relief is: distress, extreme anxiety, sorrow, or pain.

Yeah. I know I feel it. We all do. 

So why in the world did the universe send me the word: relief?

I do not know. All I know is it’s there blinking at me: Relief. Relief. Relief. 

Now it’s up to me to figure it out. My best guess, like maybe all of us, I want and need relief from all of this crazy. But it feels deeper, like a touchstone, a power or maybe a place to land.

Rest and relief. 

The last few years have been filled with doctor visits, antibiotics and pain. What was diagnosed as a bladder issue was, in fact, a colon issue. This required major surgery and, also, major recovery. I’m not good at resting, but I had to do it anyway. 

The challenge was to find ways to create as I recovered. I couldn’t throw on the wheel but I could draw and paint and crochet. So that’s what I did and it helped me heal and thrive. I took a free online drawing/painting session and had fun with crayons and watercolor and ink. When we were showing what we did at the end of class, one person said my painting felt to her like relief.

Real relief. 

On my way through recovery, I found my way back to where I started. Years ago, I made clay, metal and screening masks and showed them in galleries around town. I loved mask making and even taught classes for children and adults in schools and at a local art museum. 

One day in my studio, I realized while I couldn’t throw clay, I could roll it out into a slab. I made a small face and set it aside. More faces appeared and grew into flowers. 

It took me a while to figure it out but I finally got it. I was creating clay reliefs. My need to rest and recover had led me back to what I’ve always loved. Faces and Masks. 

And my new word of the year: Relief. 

My hope is that this year, in this country, we will all recover from this chaos. 

And that would be a real relief. 

Relief

 

While the world swirls with ugly threats and bad news for their side, I am looking for beauty and calm and growth. I think we all need to look outside all of this crazy and try to find something that brings relief and helps us center. 

For me, that’s working with my hands, mind and imagination. I’ve worked in a lot of art media over the years: art quilting, beading, embroidery; oil, acrylic and pastel painting; throwing clay and sculpture in copper and clay. I’ve enjoyed the process of learning and creating in each media. But there’s something I’ve never tried: relief work. 

A new clay experiment. 

I’ve done repousse in copper but working on a clay relief is totally different. With copper sheets, you push out from the back of the copper to create the raised design.

With clay relief, you add clay to the surface of a slab of clay to make a design or image. During my surgery recovery, I got into painting again. I painted some landscapes and flowers. I like painting, but something in me wanted more. 

So I started rolling and cutting and shaping and soon one of my paintings turned into a clay relief landscape and another a flower. 

It was so much fun, I did a few more.

Now what?

I wish I could tell you I have a plan. I don’t. Like all of the art I’ve created and shown over the last 20 years, it was just something I had to do. Something came about because I needed to work with color and texture and shape. 

Some of the pieces tell a story, like this one, about a woman from Japan. (

(First picture-box closed, Second picture-box open, short story about Meiko on inside of door)

        

Some were masks make of window screening or clay.

. 

Some were just paintings.

 

Some were just cups, bowls and vases.

 

Art, like life, changes. 

What I do know is after the major abdominal surgery, I won’t be throwing cups or bowls anymore. But I still love clay and how it feels and how it forms and how it looks. And I can use underglazes to paint again which feels like a return to my creative watercolor ‘home’ but in a new way. 

Instead of putting myself down for not sticking to one art media, I want to let myself experiment. Embrace the fact that as my life changes and so does my art. 

And you know, to accept that, well it’s kind of a relief. 

Happy December to You

 

As I sit here on the window seat watching the winter sun set, I wonder. What will tomorrow bring? Sun? Rain? Warmth? Cold? Does it even matter?

Watching the clouds softly moving in a light blue gray sky, I sigh. Even though it’s the end of another day, it doesn’t feel that way to me. I see layers of clouds and light sky and deeper blue clouds and distant trees pointing upward. There are streetlights turning on. A stop light blinking red and green through the trees. And strings of colored lights on a rooftop a few streets over. 

There’s a lot of light to see as the sun sets. 

Life hasn’t been easy for many of us these past few years. I thought this year, it would be easier, brighter, safer. Didn’t you?

Red light. Green light. 

As the stoplight changes through the trees, I remember that childhood game. I loved playing it. 

Do you remember? Red light. Green light. 

When it was a green light, I ran around joyously. Laughing. Just feeling the breeze, the ground and freedom. When someone shouted, ‘Red light’, I stopped still. Feeling my feet on the ground. Holding my breath. Waiting. Wondering. Still. Eagerly waiting for the change, the chance to go. 

This last year has been a very long game of red light/green light for me.

Birthdays and funerals. 

This is my birthday month. It was also my Dad’s birthday month. In fact, the dates were just days apart.  That meant for most of my life, my birthday was a dual celebration. I’ll admit, as a kid, this was hard. No special party for me. No special cake for me. It was, most of the time, what my dad wanted. I just tagged along. 

My dad is gone now. I miss him always but especially this month on our shared birthday week. I do get to ‘do my own thing’ but I miss being able to share it with him, too. Ok, I don’t miss the pork roast but we did agree on chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. 

Let’s all make a wish. 

We are all still dealing with covid. Vaccinations. Masks on and off and on again. Waiting for everyone to get their vaccines. So we can all go out into the day and on with our lives. 

Since it’s my birthday month, I’d like to invite you to help me celebrate. 

Picture a cake or maybe just a slice with a candle on top. 

Wherever you are, light a candle. 

Look at it and let its shine brighten and lighten your heart just a little. 

Make a wish for yourself, your children, your family, your cat or dog or fish. 

Then, blow it out. 

Happy December to you!