I just can’t explain it

I started this piece when the first freeze came and I knew I wouldn’t get any more blooms.  It was supposed to be about me holding too hard onto summer, but then it kept asking for revisions (artwork does talk to you) and it became about something else — acceptance, deterioration,  rebirth — so many metaphors swirled around and defied explanation.  After a month of working on it off and on, it’s finally finished.

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I finally figured it all out I just can’t explain it, 8×10″ mixed media on canvas

What do you think?

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Thanks for reading my post.  If you like it share it.  If you find a typo, please let me know and I’ll send you a thank-you postcard.  

You can now follow me on Instagram@joymurrayart and Twitter @joymurrayhere.

You can get prints and cards of some of my work on Redbubble.  They also print my work on lots of other items, including phone skins, tote bags, shirts and journals:

https://www.redbubble.com/people/JoyMurray?asc=u

If you’d like to support my art and writing, please consider becoming a donor on Patreon.  If I get enough supporters, I can make this blog ad-free!  Here’s a link to my Patreon page:

https://www.patreon.com/user?u=8001665

If you prefer to make a one time donation, you can do so at paypal.com  Please email me at joyzmailbox@gmail.com if you’d like details.

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Books on Books

Here is great blog post by Books Around the Table on great books about books. I’m especially looking forward to reading The Velocity of Being.

Books Around The Table

A book is an idea. It is also an object. You can feel its weight, smell the ink and paper. The pages rustle as you turn them.

When I think of books that have delighted, scared, comforted or bored me I can see and feel the physical books in my memory. I now read many e-books because it is easy to get and store them. But I wonder if the ideas will linger as long without being anchored to physical objects.

Isabelle Arsenault from Velocity of Being

Right now I am reading The Library Book by Susan Orlean. It tells the story of the LA Library fire. It is the story of millions of pounds of books, of one specific library and of  libraries in general. Her prose is exhilarating  and surprising, enriched with odd morsels of information.

Violeta Lopiz – Velocity of Being

I am about to read The…

View original post 197 more words

Visual Journal – Connection

I went to a new mental health clinic.  A friend of mine drove me and I used my new light weight wheelchair.

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The clinic takes medicare and medicaid, so there were lots of older people and people with disabilities.  In the middle of the the parking lot, was an older woman in a wheelchair.  Her back was so hunched over that she had to tilt her head sideways to look at anything besides her lap.  She had one leg amputated below the knee.

As far as I could tell, she was by herself, dropped off by one of the non-emergency medical transport companies.  She looked so frail, but was also able to get around in what looked like an extremely heavy wheelchair — up and down the ramp, and over thresholds, into the clinic.  I needed help from with that from the friend who drove me there.

When the older woman saw my wheelchair, she was delighted.

I used to get lots of compliments and questions about my 3 wheel walker, an easily maneuverable thing that didn’t take up much space.  Then I became too unstable for it, so I started using the standard 4 wheel one.  I found that I missed the attention I got with my old walker — I guess I felt I was a cool handicapped person with the 3 wheel one.  None of us are immune to wanting a little attention and compliments.

Now I’m using a wheelchair most of the time.  I have a power chair for everyday use and a manual one for when I need a ride somewhere and can’t take the bus.

So, when this frail, friendly woman started complimenting my chair, it felt really good —  that she noticed me and took time to tell me, in her own way, I was lucky.  And, as often happens, when I go to clinics, I realized how much movement and mobility I still have.

I had a good session with my new psychiatrist, but I think the thing that felt best was my brief connection with this woman, her clothes tattered, her body bent, her eyes a milky blue, her life limited but so alive.  And though it was a short conversation, it lifted my spirits.  What people go through, what they survive — it seems like resentment would cloak us all, but over and over again, I see people find a way to shed bitterness and share their sweetness and light.

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In my journal, I tried to capture her glow as well as the golden autumn light that shone on our brief meeting.

~~~

Thanks for reading my post.  If you like it share it.  If you find a typo, please let me know and I’ll send you a thank-you postcard.  

You can now follow me on Instagram@joymurrayart and Twitter @joymurrayhere.  I no longer have a facebook account.

You can get prints and cards of some of my work on Redbubble.  They also print my work on lots of other items, including phone skins, tote bags, shirts and journals:

https://www.redbubble.com/people/JoyMurray?asc=u

If you’d like to support my art and writing, please consider becoming a donor on Patreon.  If I get enough supporters, I can make this blog ad-free!  Here’s a link to my Patreon page:

https://www.patreon.com/user?u=8001665

If you prefer to make a one time donation, you can do so at paypal.com  Please email me at joyzmailbox@gmail.com if you’d like details.

You Are Like a Piece of Gold

When I lived in Portland, OR, at Bridge Meadows, a 9 year old girl I mentored there made me a sign which I kept hung on my apartment door.  When I moved to Memphis, I did the same:

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You are like a piece of gold, by Monica Davis, 2017

It’s one of my most prized possessions.  But over the year and a half it’s hung on my door it’s taken quite a beating from the wind, rain and elements.  I’d sealed it in acrylic medium and it’s under an awning, but it was in pretty bad shape — faded, torn and dirty.  Plus, from the sidewalk, it was hard to read the important message.

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So to spruce up the porch now that the flowers are dying off and going dormant, I refurbished the sign.

I wiped it clean, attached it to illustration board, and added a bit more color to the border.  I also wanted the words to stand out more, so people walking by wouldn’t have to squint so hard to get the message that they are precious and should take care of themselves.

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So, in time for Thanksgiving, I was able to hang the new sign.  Of course, I just started working on it with no thought of measuring the paper, so it’s clipped on for now.  Maybe for the winter holidays, I’ll see I can find some gold bells or ribbons to fancy it up a bit more.

But for now, anyone who passes by can see it clearly.   Hopefully, it will make them shine.

You are like a piece of gold to me.  I’m grateful you read my blog and I  hope you have a very happy Thanksgiving.

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