The Laughter!

I got in trouble in the fourth grade. I laughed during a spelling test, out loud. I wasn’t laughing at my teacher as she methodically enunciated each word, (which I remember was actually really quite humorous) rather, I was laughing at the funny boys that sat directly behind me. I don’t recall what exactly sparked their enthusiasm but I know it wasn’t directed toward our teacher as she was a likable gal and very well respected by the class. “I heard something funny and I couldn’t help myself“, I explained. She didn’t buy it. So, down to the office I went. Next thing I knew, I was being swatted with a wooden paddle laden with holes…the paddle that hung proudly in the principal’s office as a reminder to behave, or else. This was the 70’s…definitely wouldn’t fly today.

These two boys were funny, not just during spelling tests but all of the time. It wasn’t the little chuckle kind of laughter produced by their antics but the bring on the tears type of laughter. They weren’t inappropriate, just hilarious… at least I thought they were! I was certain they would one day earn a living on a stage somewhere as comedians. I could say that I knew them back when and had front row seats to their very first show!

Life can sometimes hide our funny bone, stifling our laughter. Maybe we don’t want to appear silly or vulnerable so we become a bit guarded, taking life too seriously at times. Why do we often hold back when we know it is so good for the soul? Granted, during a spelling test isn’t the best timing to break out in laughter but when the funny bone is tickled …I often think back on that day, wondering how different that scenario would have been if our teacher had simply had a good chuckle along with us and then calmed us down before getting back to business. Maybe her funny bone was in pause mode or was lost waiting to be found? Maybe she was having a bad day or maybe she just didn’t have a good sense of humor? It didn’t matter, she did not find the situation funny, at all, and ordered swats… swats only for me, but not for the comedians! I was happy to take one for the team… I don’t remember any tears which was odd for this, never in trouble, sensitive soul! I really think I just needed a good laugh and wasn’t going to let anything ruin that moment.

I am thankful for that day & for those boys! My elementary school days make me smile and remind me that I do love a good sense of humor. I am also reminded of how much I really didn’t & don’t like tests and how much I loved & still love art classes! I wonder if those boys knew what a gift they gave me … they brightened my day with a little levity until the bell rang and we shuffled off to the next class where creativity awaited. Maybe one day, I will see them again so I can personally thank them…thank them for the fun memory they built, the smiles and the great story to hold in my pocket as a wonderful reminder to embrace the laughter! I think I aced my spelling test that day and turned out to be a pretty good speller… most of the time…LOL!

Smiles,
Jana

The Artist ~ How It Began

It was the early 1960’s. I was young, just around three years old… my mom was expecting my baby sister. We were living in a charming little rental house, up high on the south side of Camelback Mountain where only a few homes could be seen scattered about. My dad was painting for a living but getting ready to begin a career designing and building homes in the valley where his art forms would become visible in his incredible architecture.

I remember the big patio on the front of the house where my dad’s easel stood during beautiful weather, which were most days in the Valley of the Sun! There was a stately Saguaro that grew close to the house, so close that the overhang had a hole carved out to make way for the top of the cactus to poke through. The house was surrounded by desert with creosote galore…the summer sunset views were spectacular! It was on this desert patio where my art career began.

There were many fun outings to Simmon’s Art Supplies in Old Town Scottsdale where my dad would let me pick out a small canvas and some acrylic paint colors that I liked (not many 3-year-olds were lucky enough to play with acrylic paints… they don’t wash out easily!) Then back to the patio we would go … I would stand next to him with my big paint shirt on, sleeves rolled-up, ready for business. I would watch carefully as he mixed his paints, held the brush and applied the paint to his canvas. My canvas was so little and so was I, but I felt big standing there next to him! I was an artist! He just let me dip my paintbrush into those colors and paint away!

A few houses later and into my early elementary years, I attended various art classes. One that stands out was a class taught by artist, Earl Linderman, known for his flamboyant cartoon-like figures. This is where I learned and understood that no matter how or what I created, it was right. It was during the bowl of lemons still-life session that this lesson was made very clear to me. I clearly remember staring at that bowl of lemons, scared to begin. I remember Mr. Linderman walking to my side and gently asking what I was thinking. “I don’t know if I can do it right,” I told him. His response, I will never forget, “How you see that bowl of lemons is how you need to paint them, there is no wrong way to do it.” I recall the fear leaving my young body. This art teacher had just given me the freedom to be me, without judgement…what a life gift that was!

There were school art projects and contests entered. There were college drawing classes attended. There were greeting cards created for local stationery stores and craft fairs. Fast forward, there were stage props created and Art Masterpiece classes taught in my daughters’ classes. Then, it was time to get serious about putting my art out there. I was ready to become a working artist! Yikes! It had all been for fun but this decision changed everything! I had made the choice to share my work with the world and put a price tag on it!

I purchased a beautiful wooden easel and a set of acrylic paints & brushes. It was getting seriously real and honestly I was full of doubt. I loved to create so why so much pressure? How are people going to receive my work … remember the lemons , remember the lemons kept running though my mind. Am I going to be compared to my dad, how could I ever create like he did…. remember the lemons, remember the lemons. I set-up my well-lit painting area, all my supplies neatly placed upon my painting table, just waiting there for me to begin.

I dove in… that was 2008 and in 2012 I had my first art show. I rented an empty space, a perfect fit for a showing, with big, blank, white walls and great lighting… it was meant to be. I wanted to be in the space by myself as I prepared for and hung the show …I thought about my dad. It was emotional for sure and at the same time freeing. I wasn’t truly by myself, I felt my dad there with me. The two beautiful nights in October of 2012 were amazing, humbling & emotional. It was my debut….I was now officially a working artist!

A website was created, a blog section was added… my love of writing emerged. Commission paintings were created, art was shown in various venues, intuitive art classes formed and the story continues…. and every time I go to my easel I think about that little artist standing there next to her dad, creating away, feeling like a big artist. I think about those lemons, honoring the artist within me & my teachers along the way….creating & painting, just as I see it! And that is how it began.

♥️Jana
Abstract -Age 3

The Artist ~ How It Begins

People often ask how I begin a painting .. what is my process? I love this question because I feel it helps them to really get to know the artist within me and provides such great insight into an artist’s world. The answer is: it is different for each new piece I create… some just flow and some have to be worked and reworked. Often a vision for a painting will pop right into my head and I will quickly sketch it out before the vision disappears. The sketches stay in a file that I go back to for inspiration and some never make it on a canvas. Sometimes it begins with a hike in the desert, taking in the beauty, the colors and the natural organic shapes that live there. And sometimes, my work begins with tears. Tears you may ask? Yes, tears …. beautiful, cleansing tears that make way for the sun to shine & inspiration to bloom! Tears, a sign of strength not weakness… the honoring of emotions and letting go.

The act of creating comes from deep within. My latest painting began with tears, as I sat in my studio staring at a large blank canvas. I was overcome with emotion thinking about this gift… this beautiful gift to pick out glorious colors that I love and arrange them on a canvas that feels good to my soul. I was reflecting on my life, wanting my art to represent the journey I continue to live out. I thought about how my dad pounded the pavement as a young artist, painting what felt right to him and how he & other teachers taught me to do the same. I thought about how a sensitive soul can get lost in the shuffle of life, underestimated at times. I thought about the heart and how much this small & intricate organ experiences in a lifetime: the pain, the joy, the disappointment, the strength, the fear, the hope, the love and how important it is to feel, really feel, all of these emotions. I thought about what my agent recently told me (I don’t really have an agent, actually a dear friend, smile) “It is time to stop holding back, time to fly!”

And then, with those tears still flowing, now standing in front of that large blank canvas resting safely on my sturdy wooden easel ….with strength and clarity, the chosen colors mixed, I picked up my paintbrush…it just began .. .every tear turned into a brush stoke. And then, when the tears dried, my eyes saw a bold and strong piece. I couldn’t stop painting …I worked on into the night.

The how it begins…. unique to each work…. and with the completion of each piece, an honoring of the artist within me … an artist who wants you to know that a good cry is healing, as for the grace that blooms from those tears is simply magical….

♥️Jana