Good Job, Feet!

If your feet could tell a story ......

what would they say??

Would they tell of loves lost?

Loves found?

Would they tell of the hard work they have been through?

Every life has pains and sorrows,

mixed with joys and happy memories

and yet our feet continue to do their job

taking us from here to there and back again.

Thanks, feet, for always being there! 

Be Vulnerable

What happens when people open their hearts?

They get better.

~Haruki Murakami

 

It isn't always easy to be vulnerable, to open your heart

I've done a lot of soul searching because circumstances changed.

and with those changes, I changed. 

I gave up parts of myself.

and allowed others to make choices for me.

But I choose to be me, to make my art,

and put it into the world.

And be vulnerable.

Muted Colors

"Progress in photography isn't about never making mistakes.

It's about showing up, keeping your eyes open, 

and finding beauty even when it's hard to see ... "

It's funny, but the muscle memory of taking photos seems to still be there.  

But it isn't easy stepping back into the shoes of the real me.

My hope is that I continue to improve, so be patient with me!

I couldn't decide ..... muted colors? or black and white? 

Morning Stretch

 

As the sun begins to rise, it's time for a morning stretch.

and my mind wonders over and over, "is this me still?"

Am I out of practice? Has my creativity waned?

Is there still purpose here?

So many questions ....

Good morning!

Time Goes By. I'm Back???

I stopped publishing to this blog in 2019.  I felt I had lost my creative being, and I've felt lost ever since.  I'm still pondering if I should take this up again.  So many changes have happened in my life.

My son died. and my mother moved to Arizona - and I've learned (with some help) that it's way too easy to fall back into the pattern of mother/child and totally lost my true self.  I am rebuilding that part of me back.  I don't need to be "her little girl" she can control, I make my own choices whether she likes them or not.  And most times, it's not.

When no one was looking, I wasn't bothered by old critiques or the pressure to "fit in".  Things changed, I fell back into that part of me, and quietly my creative activities stopped.  No more photos, no more writing or poetry or painting.

When I felt free to make my art, I built my life around my own conceptions and viewpoints, and if this was viewed through my mother's eyes, my art here is shameful.  

My body isn't a model's body, and my art isn't for everyone. But I was willing to take some risks, look at my body and see art, create art.  I bared my soul in some of my writings, my dreams.  

I'm happy to find this isn't all lost.

And I'm pondering creating art once again.

Love to all of you!

Gal