TRIPTYCH BUFFALO CITYSCAPE W/ NIAGARA FALLS
LEFT
CENTER
RIGHT
BUFFALO CITY HALL
BUFFALO SHEA’S THEATER
BUFFALO CLOCK TOWER
These paintings were a commission for an insurance company in Buffalo. It was such a pleasure to explore color and texture, while showcasing some of Buffalo’s architecture and landscapes.
I often struggle with the notion that being crafty is beneath the fine arts world. The truth is-being creative comes in all forms and just because there isn’t some deep conceptual meaning behind the piece, doesn’t mean it’s of lesser value. I think all creative forms serve a purpose and have a time and place. Well, the time came for me to make some crafty items. The reason being it was an idea I had and I simply followed through. It all started with our habitual walks to the creek. We gear up and set off with our yellow lab, Riley. He really loves it down at the water and has developed a new game. He goes “fishing” into the creek for rocks. He finds rocks that fit nicely in his mouth and he carries them to shore. As I saw him carry on with this task, I began to think about my childhood. I used to paint rocks with glitter and glue pictures on them. I then thought about how great it is to have a creek nearby with endless amounts of rocks…AKA free art supplies. So it began, I started collecting rocks in attempts to paint them and sell as crafts. I made a slew of animal rocks and will be presenting them for sale at a craft show this Saturday. I must say it was fun seeing the end result. What began as dirty, moss-laden rocks in a creek ended as an assortment of man’s favorite animal paper weights; one of a kind desk ornaments made in attempts to bring a smile to someone’s face. As much as I imagined this being fun, I have to admit I rushed through them to “get it over with.” I learned that I wasn’t making them because it gave me joy, I was making them in hopes to make a few bucks. There’s nothing wrong with that-but I have concluded that making art should be about serving my gift and expressing myself. Anything less than that and I am selling myself short.
So back to fine arts…I agree there is nothing wrong with crafts of any nature, but my heart does seem to be devoted to fine arts-the quest to express ideas or feelings. If anything, this crafting adventure served as a period for growth and understanding. I feel excited in a way I haven’t felt in years to get back to that canvas and really convey some deep conceptual thoughts. So rock art, I thank you for centering me and reigniting my inspirational flame.
I embarked on another voyage to Lily Dale, this time with my mom. We had consecutive appointments with Celeste Elliott. Her website gave me little feedback of what to expect, but I feel that in these situations, that’s a good thing. What I did like about her website was its tranquil imagery and uplifting messages. I have noticed that when I go into an experience with little to no expectations, I usually end up pleasantly surprised. That was certainly the case here.
We arrived with minutes to spare. We parked, and walked our way down the narrow street to a purple cottage with candles lit in the windows. It was very cloudy that day, but not raining and a light sweater was sufficient for comfort. Fall is nearing its way here and we enjoyed the journey seeing a sprinkle of fall colored leaves gracing trees along the highway.
We knocked and were greeted by a young woman-maybe in her thirties, with dark red curly hair tied up in a poly tail. She had a warm, friendly face and wore cozy clothes. I decided to go first and the moms sat in the waiting room outside her office, nearby a long wooden staircase leading to what I imagine to be the cottages bedrooms. Celeste had me sit on a couch and she sat diagonal to me in a chair, her tea resting on a small end table nearby. She started with a prayer and then she was on her way to picking up images, words, and messages from the spirits I carried in with me.
She first described the colors surrounding me-a very intense light blue. She said this is a good color and it symbolizes the balance between learning and teaching. She sees that I’ve been on a long journey of personal growth and have learned a great deal about myself and my relationships to others in my life. She said I’m now on a curve where I am starting to take my knowledge and teach others and guide them. She commented that although I’ve been quite hard on myself at times, it is important to celebrate the huge strides I’ve made. She also noted that I am at a point in my life where I’m deciding that certain relationships no longer serve me. Some people are slowly dwindling out of my personal life and it’s due to my self-worth achievements. She advised me to stick to my instincts with this, because I no longer need or shall allow people to take advantage of me.
Next, my Grandpa Lee gave her some messages. He said to her that he had to come through first, as to be the most remembered. This made me giggle-for he was known to be somewhat of a praise seeker. He always enjoyed the credit for his deeds and seemed to bask in the attention. I have to be honest; I was a little surprised he was with me that day. This was my second reading with a spirit guide and both included his visiting. I suppose I feel this way because we were not close at all. He was a bit of a drinker and was not always a great person throughout his life. Celeste pointed out that he wanted to give an apology for his behavior. He then showed her an image-“handcuffs” and she asked me who is in law enforcement? I said, “ME…or well…I used to be.” She said he held them in his hand and wanted to say how proud he was of me.
After this, she wanted to connect to my mom’s side that was there with me that day. She said five visitors all together were from my mom’s side and they were all sort of “led” by a very tall bearded man. I knew immediately that she was referring to my Uncle Jerry. He passed when I was just a baby, but I know he was extremely close to my mom and my dad. I once painted a portrait of him for my parents so I know his bearded face well and she made sure to mention his memorable smile. She talked about how he’s with me a lot and likes to play games with me to see if I notice. For instance, if I’m clicking the remote to change the channel he makes it change twice. She says he plays with me by messing with electronics and gadgets. Also, he spends a lot of time with someone else who has an old fashioned telephone in the house-one that isn’t functional just ornamental. My parents used to…but I am currently awaiting a response from my brother to see if he has one. Hmmm, he said no. Maybe I’ll paint one. ..
She then continued to talk of my mom’s pack of spirits. I didn’t know at the time, but now it’s clear as day that my fun-loving wild and crazy Great Aunt Gert was one of them. She described her as a woman who enjoyed being outdoors and had a garden. She then asked if she had cystic fibrosis and I said, “I don’t know.” Come to find out she did indeed and had a breast removed due to it. When I was younger, my mom would drive us to visit her brick home in Cheektowaga. I always remembered her tomato garden and my mom would salivate over the big red tomatoes she would take home. She used to stand over the sink, tomato in one hand and salt shaker in the other and sprinkle, bite, sprinkle, bite, etc., until it was devoured. It used to make me sick-being young and hating most vegetables. It’s funny, now I salivate to do the very same thing!
I found it interesting that although she was dead on (no pun intended!) about acknowledging their characteristics and uniqueness, that they didn’t really have anything important to tell me. I suppose I was wondering if they wanted to give some advice or warnings as to my future, but nope…just a “hey there Lindsay, we’re here!”
Celeste did however send me some messages about my future and I’m not quite sure how she obtained them, but they made perfect sense to me. She said I’ve been waiting for things in my life to take a turn for the better and that I am wondering why things haven’t exactly happened just yet. She said that it is because the spirit guides are making sure all my “duck are in a row” so to speak for the next chapter in my life. She said it’s coming though-February of 2013 will start the clock on the new chapter which is to last about 3 years. She sees me in more of a teaching role and really blossoming in this chapter. Doesn’t it just so happen that I applied for a position in my agency that I really really want! Isn’t it happenstance that these applications take anywhere from 3-6 months to come to fruition? So, if she’s accurate and I do get this new job, which surly will allow me to flourish the way I envision myself to in this career, then February makes perfect sense for all these elements to come to a head. She also saw me moving, which left me a little unsettled. Heck-we just moved into what we plan to be our forever home! I do know that anything can happen, but I truly do not want to move at this point in my life. Perhaps it was a glimpse into the fact that this position I’m yearning for requires a 6-week training program in Charleston. I can totally handle that! She mentioned I’d be a mom someday…in a few years.
Whatever the case, I am a believer that those family members were with me that day and for that I am smiling today. I’m sure to pay more attention to my electronics and hopefully I’ll catch my uncle playing tricks on me more now. I really enjoyed my time with Celeste and again felt a better sense of my journey in this life. The moms had equally interesting experiences, but those aren’t for me to tell.
The 10th annual Music is Art Festival was a smashing success. At 6am, we ventured to the closest drive thru coffee shop and headed to the park with our car loaded to the brim with art. Once the hubby and I arrived, we checked in and found our tent location which was in the far back section adjacent to the “Americana Stage.” The good news was that a beer tent was close by and I was soon to discover that I would be painting ON STAGE while the bands played all day. They constructed a large canvas to stretch the length of the stage and affixed it to the back baseboards of the stage. The next few hours, we assembled our tent to showcase my paintings and a displayed sign for the Husband’s recording studio, and our art club. By 11AM the tent was ready and I found myself, back to audience, landing my first stroke of paint on stage. The Americana Stage had up to 20 bands upon it that day and it was interesting to let my strokes be guided by the tunes they played. Some of the challenges I faced were that a band was right behind me, so I had little perspective to observe the large scale transformation. I kept jumping off stage to get a looksee-which didn’t affect me at the time- but the next day I was damn near limping when I could muster the energy to walk! That’s neither here nor there…so back to my story. Oh yes, at midday, I took a break and checked in to see the progress our tent was making. I had sold a handful of paintings and Scott was busy talking to bands as they inquired his recording services. After some more “live art,” we decided to hit up the VIP tent for some much needed free food and booze. Unfortunately, all that was left was some cold chicken legs and watered down wine, but hey- we artsy folks aren’t going to turn down free anything. When the mural was finished (or my body was finished squatting!), I met up at our tent and watched the crowd cheer and dance to the country band that played before us. I ain’t much for country and folk-but I’ll tell you this: that crowd was rip-roaring and it was probably the biggest crowd out of all the stages that day. This surly made for good exposure! At one point, I ventured off to explore the whole festival and see the other artist’s works. There were seven different stages with all sorts of bands playing (100 bands all day) and over 70 artists. There were murals sprinkled about with about 10 other “live artists” completing their day’s masterpieces. It was such a whirlwind of emotions-being part of such a big event here in our not-so-prosperous city. We certainly have a special charisma and this event embodied our culture, and our intense love for the arts! The sun was now down and the nightlife exploded into flashing light, techno music, and all sorts of eye candy and ear candy for the masses. When the festival came to a close, we loaded up the remaining artworks and crawled our crippled bodies into the car. It was an intense day on all fronts, but a huge victory!
Two days until the art festival. The forecast calls for partly cloudy and mid 70’s. Earlier in the week there were chances of rain, but I think we’ll be in the clear. I am brainstorming our itinerary for Saturday which will start around 6AM-LONG day…but alas we are very excited. We will unload and set up in the wee morning hours at the park behind our city’s big art gallery. I will have a tent to display up to 30 paintings which I’ve worked diligently to complete over the past couple of weeks. Nearby, I will have a station set up to perform live art. A large canvas will be hung and paints/brushes will be supplied. I will paint all day long while the hubby manages the art tent. I hope to take a few breaks to stroll the festival/catch up with fellow artists. I think there will be around 70 artists, over 100 bands, food, drinks, etc. It would be a great reward to sell a few paintings, but I know how these things go. People come to look and usually don’t buy. Next year, I must get on the bandwagon of selling prints, but for now I will play my luck on originals. Our tent will also hopefully draw in some musicians for our Recording Services advertising. I figure there will be 100 bands there just “starting out.” We can offer them affordable, quality recordings. At the moment, I am anxious and already feeling the exhaustion set in. I know it will be a lot of fun, but doing these festivals is always a lot of work. That is why I took the liberty in scheduling back-to-back (pun intended) massages for us on Sunday. I can’t wait to document the experience! Blog and pictures coming soon!
I was once a girl who was very good at being self-destructive. I couldn’t see past the vicious cycle and wasn’t able to access the whole other world that awaited me-a world called self-love. Now that I have crossed the crooked step into the kingdom of positive assertions, I have found a better way. Reminiscent of my past, I took a moment to view this artwork I made in college. It was done with oil on wood. I also used a handful of sharp objects to pierce the wood and carve the phrase, “who will save me from myself.” I have realized that I finally have an answer to the question. I have saved myself. I have made a choice to heal and grow. I chose to push past the barriers of the past; I found a nice place in the sandy beach of hope and perseverance to bury my baggage. I won’t say, “And I’ve never looked back.” In fact, I have looked back- but in attempts to mark my progress. I’ve transformed into someone who appreciates their good fortunes and finds a way through the hardships. I suppose I now strive to help others see that there is a way out of the darkness. It takes work and perhaps outside help, but it can be done. The funny thing about all this “growth” is that it is intangible. There is no physical evidence of self-development, but you can certainly take measure on achievements. I undoubtedly believe that good happenings are accomplished with positive thinking and the power of self-love.
There is something so ephemeral about New Orleans, Louisiana. It’s the warm breeze, the dank aroma, the littered streets. It’s a feeling that can only be experienced. Its evanescent aura cannot be captured by all, but to a creative soul it is a place in splendid limbo-balancing between reality and fantasy.
I truly love it there; It’s where I acquired a handful of vacation memories. The thing that sticks with you the most when you leave is an insightful sensation, and the desire to return to that special place one day.
Some of you may not believe in the alternatives to western medicine, but we all have our own philosophies. I am a firm believer, especially after my experience with homeopathy. What I have confidence in is that prescription drugs are symptom specific remedies, and are typically “Band-Aids” to ailments. My goal is to discover the root of the problem and heal from within. Aside from my back injury, many of my ailments (headaches, tension in my neck, anxiety, irregular sleep patterns, nightmares, irritability, control issues-to name a few) are thought to be the result of being imbalanced emotionally. This makes a lot of sense to me, considering my history.
In order to understand my diagnosis, I am going to delve into my past. To sum it up: I grew up believing I was a doormat. I had a bad case of lowest self-esteem and little self-worth. My big brother was a bully to me, and he was somewhat of a golden child. I suppose this is why I instigated him so badly. Sibling rivalry is a part of growing up I suppose, but I know now that I was too fragile for the combat. Even though I did better at school, had better manners, and was more self-motivated, my core belief was that he was better. Do not misunderstand me, my parents loved and cared for us both. In my mind, however, I simply didn’t measure up to my older bro. Indeed the thoughts were irrational, but it planted the seed that I was not good enough. In order to be liked, I found that I had to go above and beyond for people. I saw this happen in work settings, friends, and romantic relationships. I always felt the needed to give so much. As Dr. Phil would say, “I taught people how to treat me.” Teenage angst was the result, but deep down it was simply a naïve, confused, young woman- unsure of how to deal with life. Without having a good relationship with my dad during my teen years, I felt starved for male attention. The first boy to notice me- and I was willing to derail my whole world to please him. This is where life took a nasty turn and it took years to break the self-destructive pattern. I was manifesting a horrid case of self-hatred. I felt tortured, lonely, unloved, and completely FURIOUS at myself for what I had let others do to me. It was a very dark time in my life, and art may have been the only healthy escape that I had.
*Self Portrait; “Surrounded by the demons”
College- I had grown in many ways, but I was still riddled with self-esteem issues and trusting others. I made progress, but I was still not in a healthy state. Then, I became a tattoo apprentice. This was in some ways very uplifting, and yet looking back I see now how I was abused and threatened there-thus repeating a vicious cycle. The apprenticeship that lasted for 2 years ended abruptly. Over time, I was worn down from the abuse there. Don’t get me wrong, I am aware that as an apprentice a little bit of “playful” abuse occurs. Cleaning toilets, running errands and being jokingly berated is part of the experience. However, it was taken too far when a certain co-worker would scold me, shout and say horrible things to me in front of my clients, and lastly, locked me a in a closet. I had enough self-worth at that time to know that I didn’t deserve that. This was a hard thing for me, because my dream of becoming a tattoo artist had been shattered. The boss threatened me not to go to another shop and I was naïve enough to listen. This was yet another hardship that set me back emotionally.
*Tattoo that I did on myself as a form a “healing” from the horrible tattoo apprenticeship experience. This tattoo symbolizes female strength and beauty and perseverance.
After college, I became an officer. This was an accomplishment I never knew I was capable of. I became stronger physically, and emotionally. A part of me wonders if this was some sort of subconscious revenge on my brother-whose life-long goal was to become a cop. I think I deny this possibility because I love my brother and don’t want to accept that I tried to hurt him. Once I was able to work through my anger issues and the fact that I truly didn’t desire to be an officer, I was able to make amends with my bro. I spent a year working out the issues of family dysfunction, self-esteem, and relationship trust and made much progress. The most important thing I learned is PERSPECTIVE. I was able to forgive myself and to see my relationships in a new light. So, here I am in a better job, and having resolved any negative issues with my loving family. I feel almost complete. I’ve made great strides in health, learning more about my emotions and how to have control. All in all: how tp achieve my model life. Homeopathy unlocked the door to my exploration.
*My dearest brother and I…a friendship in the making
I was able to identify characteristics of my disposition. My personality is comparable to a dog’s. See- a dog is loyal to the end. A dog is a people pleaser. Even if an owner has beaten a dog to a pulp- that dog will still be waiting by the door, tail wagging, for owner to come home. This describes me fairly well. Now, eventually an abused dog learns to BITE back. Similar to a rabid dog, I tend to “bite” back when I am most vulnerable. Much like the symptoms of rabies, I find myself out of control, full of rage, defensive, and engulfed in negative, irrational thoughts. In the past, this was a dynamic in my everyday life. However, since I have done hard work, this state only appears when I am most vulnerable…in instances like PMS (due to the hormone changes). This is also rearing it’s ugly head through physical ailments-headaches, anxiety, nightmares. If you can believe that it’s all connected- you can start to solve the puzzle, and learn to heal.
With homeopathic remedies, I am treating the very thing that ails me (symptoms wise) by reaching the root. I am not writing this blog to play victim in any way. Indeed, many of my own “problems” were simply erroneous thinking on my part. I choose to see the world differently now which reminds me of one of my favorite quotes, “Change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” I am so thankful for all my trials and tribulations. They led me here and I am in a great place now. No longer the “tortured soul,” I have sprouted into an optimistic survivor. Negativity and darkness no longer serve me. I now follow a path of light into a world where creativity isn’t about suffering-it is about celebrating.
Letchworth
New Orleans
In college, I had wished that I had enrolled in a school away from home. I longed for the experience of being on my own and living in new surroundings. I lived with my parents and commuted to school and was a little envious of my new college friends who lived in dorms and got that whole college experience. I admit it was the wise thing to do-my University was expensive and I am grateful for the opportunity to attend college regardless. Sometimes I miss those college days. I have fond memories of being spontaneous, inspired, and hopeful that I was working my way towards my life plan.
Throughout the college years, I was able to go on a few spring break road trips, and of course plenty of parties. I was a waitress. I was broke. I had much to learn about money management. I had much to learn about friendships and romantic relationships. I was young and foolish, but I was true to my passion in art. For a while, I thought I wanted to be an art teacher or art therapist. Then, I delved into tattooing with a 2 year apprenticeship during which I was on a hiatus from finishing my college degree. Once that fell through, I went back to school and got my BA. So what does an aspiring artist do who’s done with school and looks around to find herself still waitressing, still finding herself in unhealthy relationships, and still broke? She goes down a different path. She abandons her instincts and flocks towards the herds of normalcy.
She becomes a federal officer. I traded a tattoo gun, for a P2000 and to my surprise; I was a pretty good shot! Living in Georgia for 4 months was a tough go, as I worked diligently at passing the academy while suffering a back injury. I felt that this was the “dorm experience” that I had always dreamed of, and realized that I was insane to have longed for it! Perhaps it was due to the fact that our rooms were concrete cells with a shared toilet and shower. Our water smelled of sulfur and the spiders in Georgia were atrocious! Maybe it was because I felt so very different from all the other aspiring officers, I WAS different-I was an artist, a creative soul. All my life I had abandoned normalcy and rules. Yes, I was one of the punk teenagers that scream “F#&% DA POLICE!” Life is funny, ain’t it? In a way, I was acting: on stage and putting on the costume and performing for my peers. It was fun at times, and really conflicting at others. It was a proud day when I graduated from the academy and was able to come home. I never knew I’d miss my small, non-prosperous city…but I sure did!
PAINTING GIFTED TO OUR ACADEMY INSTRUCTOR
I learned a lot about self-control and responsibility from becoming an officer. I learned about respect, and honor, and the importance of safety. I finally was able to manage money and take care of my debt. I also learned that working all day every day, missing every holiday and weekend event, and arguing with the traveling public was extremely draining. I found myself wondering how this happened. How did my life become so consumed with work and money and fear? I grew very anxious, and sad. I felt hopeless and upset that I led myself down a path that was so far from my “ideal self.” I also felt stuck-how do I walk away from a secure job, health insurance, a retirement plan?! There came a point in my life that I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. I took a pay cut and transferred to a desk job within the agency.
No more badge, no more gun, no more long weekends, and no more shopping sprees to fill the emptiness in my heart. After a year in this new position, I find myself recovered from the officer experience. My life is better balanced and my art has become a non-negotiable. I still wonder if I should create a fork in the road once more and reinvent myself yet again. I’ve always said that if I could win the lottery then attending college would be my life-long career. I love learning and knowing that it is temporary. In a few short months, I would be in new classes, learning new things. See, the thing about a career is the feeling of forever-ness. I love change; I love the excitement of something new. That is why I think it would be rad to be a professional student. Until my life involves some sort of endless flow of money, I suppose I will have to find a way to pay bills. This career choice seems to fit the bill. I am able to host an art club and participate in art festivals in our area. I can afford a nice home with a big studio on the 2nd floor. Traveling is capable due to paid time off and the ability to save. It is quite the transition from starving artist, to respected officer, to now somewhere in the middle. I wonder if I had to encounter both extremes to finally accept and appreciate a balanced life?
Music Man
About a month ago, I had a homeopathy follow up with the beloved Sally Williams. According to my list of ailments-[ severe allergies and itchy skin, eyes, throat, sinus pressure, headaches, constant stomach issues involving bloating and carb craving, etc] I have a major problem with yeast in my entire system. It has destroyed the healthy flora in my gut and no amount of yogurt will conquer it. When I crave bread, grains, pasta, fruits, etc-it is actually the yeast in my body trying to feed itself to expand even more! She thinks that if I clean my diet and remove any yeast products all these issues will go away. What does the diet entail? Basically-all the meat I want, and most vegetables (dark greens are great-but no sweet veggies like potato, carrots, corn, peas), eggs, fish, oils, nuts prepared a certain way, plain yogurt, quinoa, and that is pretty much it. Very restrictive-but hopefully only for 6-8 weeks until my flora is restored. Then, I can gradually add other veggies, some fruits, and some grains.
No more wine, beer, beloved carbs…but distilled liquor like vodka is OK. Which means…sugar free jello shots were a must have at our last Art Club Meet-Up. Anyways, I had a vision to paint the “yeastie Beasties” which are the little critters in my insidey parts trying to wreak havok on my digestive system. It’s been a month, so they are probably famished and withering away by now, but the slightest crumb of carby goodness perks their heads up and I can almost hear them saying, “my precious!” in their little evil Smeigle voices.
An Art State Of Mind 
