May you always feel HIS kiss upon your cheek

Today I received HIS kiss upon my cheek - TWICE!

Around the Christmas season I always feel down, not just because I dread the holiday, but because it is especially busy and stressful at work as well.

On the dreary drive home, I was feeling very sorry for myself and half-listening to the radio, when suddenly the next song was a very familiar tune and voice. It was the beautiful tenor voice of Steve Bell (my boss) singing the Magnificat, one of the most beautiful pieces from his first Christmas album, The Feast of Seasons.
As he sang about how Holy our God is, the tears started coming, reminding me of the reasons why I do what I do.

The second "kiss" came unexpectedly from my friend Moe from the House of Hesed, who sent me a very encouraging email (right out of the blue)! She has a ministry working with people struggling with AIDS.

"The Gladdening" is a piece that I painted as a result of emerging from another period of  emotional turmoil.

God bless you all as you wrestle with the frustrations of the Christmas Season!

Destroying a Painting

What started with a desire to recreate a favourite sunset photo on canvas, ended with a foreboding message…or several, depending on how you look at it.

I photographed a phenomenal sunset from a moving vehicle with two friends after a retreat in Minneapolis. The cloud and light formation reminded me of an angel, and I named my photo Angel Sky.

On Sunday afternoon I decided to make an attempt at transferring the image in the photo to canvas. Foolish me…how can I possibly re-create something perfect that the Chief Artist Himself created first?

After viewing my “finished” version of Angel Sky, I realized that my attempt was pleasant, but weak in the depth department. So I took the canvas, and with a bit of trepidation, made some additional modifications…

The painting took on a whole new disturbing demeanor. One aspect of which is: while I spend an inordinate amount of time enjoying sunrises and sunsets (sometimes at the last second avoiding running my car off the road), not every spectacular celestial display is noticed and appreciated by everyone else in our busy world. 

Our earth is also running out of resources, as a result of centuries of greed, neglect and apathy (of which I am as guilty as anyone else). Not only are we gradually destroying our planet, we are not paying attention to the messages on the signposts and the loving Creator who wants only to be in relationship with us.

“Whilst we are cruising through the aisles of plenty,
Our hoardings screen us from the man of sorrows,
Our soundtracks drown his murmur: ‘I am thirsty’."

(Quote from Malcolm Guite’s: Christ the King Sonnet)

What can one do? One small step: This year, our families have agreed to forego the usual gift-giving, and my husband and I will make an extra effort to donate to worthy causes around the world instead. By the way, the new name of the painting is Harbinger.

As I meditate and pray further on the message of this painting that I have in effect destroyed, I will be looking forward to preparing for the Christmas season for a new, happy reason. While I have lost my dear Mother this year, I have gained a new granddaughter...:)

God bless you all this Christmastide. 

A Painting Story...

As I mentioned in my previous blog, I had been away at a refreshing weekend in Minneapolis for a conference called "Women of Faith". My husband called me on Saturday night to let me know that my pregnant daughter, Cherie, was in the hospital, and had been induced. I spent Sunday on the long drive home with my companions Jen Werner and Courtney Perez. We almost lost our way a couple of times, making wrong turn-offs - distracted with conversation and storytelling. Both girls were growing excited, in anticipation of finding out if my daughter had had her baby while we were traveling.

The sunset that evening was spectacular - so I took many photos from the moving car, and Jen even stopped the car for a few minutes to snap a few more.

At one point, Jen said that the sunset looked like a "crescendo", and I told her that if I painted it, I would give it that name in her honour.

Here it is, Jen!!

The weekend ended with a crescendo - Cherie had her baby girl on Monday, Oct.22nd - one day past her Grandad's birthday. 

On the same day as I painted Crescendo, I also finished a mother and child portrait called Safe Here in Your Arms. The title comes from a song I was listening to as I finished the painting: "In Your Arms" by Neworldson.

Sorrow, Remembrance and Joy

I was away at a weekend women's retreat in Minneapolis when I got the news that my daughter had been induced and that her baby daughter was on the way. I cried and prayed with my roommate Ruthann, because I was far away from home.

Jen, Courtney and I were leaving for our drive home the next morning, and we kept in touch with my husband as we traveled, in case there was news. Cherie and her baby were in God's hands, and if I had to miss the birth, it was my own fault.

However, when I arrived home, the baby had not yet been born. I checked in at the hospital the next morning, and there was no indication that the baby would arrive soon, so I went to work for a while, to keep busy. My bosses and co-worker witnessed my blubbering reaction to the phone call in the afternoon, when my son-in-law Chris called to tell me that my granddaughter was waiting for me to come and meet her.

My son Thomas works near to my office, so the two of us hightailed it to the St. Boniface Hospital.... I can't remember seeing my dear son so happy about anything as this new little niece. He wasn't as thrilled when his  sister Cherie was born.

Thomas was almost two years of age when Cherie was born at the same hospital. Thomas is the image of his father Werner Kliewer, my first husband who died suddenly in 2007 at the age of 48. It saddens me when I think that he is not here to witness the birth of his first grandchild, but I know he is aware, I am sure. :)

Holding my granddaughter in my arms for the first time is something I will never forget, and can't possibly describe in words. My present husband Darrell and I are the proud grandparents of Kaylee Ann Shearer. We are blessed to co-grandparent with Chris' Mom, Karen and her husband Daryl Beckingham.

Wern's parents are both gone, and Great Grandma Helen Goertzen missed the birth by six months.  We were told of Cherie's pregnancy the day before my mother's funeral in April/12. One life has left us, and another joins us. This has been a time of sorrow, remembrance and unbridled joy.

Of eye candy and prophetic utterances

How do you know when art is good? 
They say "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." For visual art, the answer is easy. Good art is "eye candy". You will find that it is difficult to draw your eyes away from it. Perhaps it is the combination of colour, the textures, or the way your spirit is drawn to the meaning of the piece. My own art may mean one thing to me, and another to someone else.

The art of music is the same way. Ever since I received my boss' preview tracks of his new Christmas CD, I can't help but be drawn to listen to it over and over - the lyric and music attracting my attention in new ways every time. I play it in my car to and from work, play it while I exercise (I can think clearer then), and while I paint. It inspires me to paint in new and creative ways, and also to meditate on God and how He uses music as a key to open doors in people's hearts.

A poem or book can draw one's attention so that you want to read it twice, thrice and more. You inhale the words and the oxygen of certain mixes of words can be intoxicating.

Good art is in the eye, ear, heart and mind of the beholder. I suppose if many people can "connect" with your art, you are a blessed person. My boss once asked me what I would consider success in my painting career, and I gave some quick answer involving a major art exhibit. I've changed my mind drastically since then. Fame is fleeting, popularity is meaningless. My true joy is when a painting of mine connects with a special person who finds meaning in it's dabs of paint. It is then that I know my art is good.

The painting shown is called "Isaiah 35", inspired by the lyric and music of Steve Bell's song "Oracles", on his new Christmas CD "Keening for the Dawn", coming out this fall. The prophetic utterances of Isaiah unfold like a rose in bloom as we learn about the coming of a King who will be born of a virgin. The actual lyric of the song are written into the design of the painting.

Those Epiphany Moments

Have you ever had one of those moments that seem to stand still in your mind and memory where you know absolutely for sure that where you are in life is exactly where you should be? I've had two of those moments recently. The first when I saw the squirming silhouette of my unborn granddaughter, and the second while walking and holding hands with my husband's grandson Carter, who suddenly brought my hand to his cheek for a squeeze. Oh, those melting moments...

At this moment in time my life is perfect. I am loved - really loved. We are healthy. We have family, grandchildren, jobs we love and a beautiful home. I am able to paint when I feel the urge or inspiration. I am truly blessed.

It hasn't always been this way. Losing my first husband and my mother's gradual descent into dementia has been the most difficult period of my life. I just read today Romans 5:3-4 "...but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope."

The rough times are not over, but I will be purposefully thankful for these moments of today.

Sufferings can bring out the best in us and the worst in us. In my case, I like to think that for the most part, the best has been brought out. For example, many of my paintings are a direct result of pain or joy in my own life or someone else's. Faith was painted during a time of stress and realization of God's intervention. Could Be, Precious and Judy's Garden were painted as a form of sympathy for friends and family going through tough times. My recent Sunset Series started as a result of joy, rest and fresh inspiration.

The biggest question is how we deal with our stress. Do we wallow in self pity (I surely did many times), or do we ask God for help us? He wants nothing more than to have a relationship with us, not just during the tough times, but also during the joyful times. I enjoyed the paraphrasing of the famous poem Footprints of Jesus, where someone changed the wording to "see those footprints in the sand? That's where I walked beside you. See the ridge in the sand? That's where I dragged you..."

Looking West - Inspired by a sunset sonnet by Malcolm Guite

Unfathomable Love

The last few weeks I have been participating in a summer program designed by my friend Meggie, for the women of our church to pray for each other all summer long. I have a list of women, and I pray for one per day, and Meggie supplied some scripture references to help us pray.

I have also been contemplating for the last few months, the role of the Holy Spirit in our lives. Whatever I am studying or reading comes out in my paintings. Today's painting is called Unfathomable. It is from one of the scriptures that Meggie gave me: Ephesians 3:18 & 19.

The photo in the painting is taken from a rather unflattering photo of myself as I was sitting in the sun on the long weekend. I never realized my nostrils were so huge! I could have named the painting "Nostrildamus", but I digress...

I started painting the face at the bottom, and as I contemplated the rest of the painting, I realized that yet again the piece would represent several things: Pentecost, the Holy Spirit in us, and also the wild thoughts and ideas spiralling out of my head onto my canvas.

But most of all, Unfathomable represents "how wide, how long, how high and how deep" the love of Christ is. "May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God." Eph.3:19

Imposed Drought

It had been 3 1/2 weeks since I last painted. Starting a new painting was almost a bit intimidating, like I might have forgotten how. But for some reason, last night I was driven to pick up the brushes and a new masonite board that I am trying for the first time. It flowed beautifully all evening, and I feel like I'm free again.

The reason for not painting was my mother's sudden heart attack, hospitalization, death and funeral. It was a shock to my system, and one that is taking a while to recover from. Two days before the heart attack, I was taking a weekend painting class in multi-media. My last assignment resulted in a small painting of my mother's face. The facial expression was very fearful looking, and she looked rather ghostly. Having my Mom become seriously ill after painting the portrait kind of freaked me out. Too much of a coincidence.

I had been planning a spring art showing in my home, so I decided to go ahead with the showing - even though my mother didn't know much about my painting (due to her dementia), and she wouldn't appreciate the portraits I've done of her (she didn't like to see herself old), I will feature three portraits of her that I've recently done, including the "spooky" painting that I did four days before she died.

I re-read one of my favourite books, "Heaven is for Real" by Todd Burpo, because I really feel that his son's experiences of heaven are what I'd like to think of my Mom as inhabiting. She is now with my Dad again, and that is wonderful. I dreamt about the two of them the night before Mother's Day, and particularly remember a comforting hug from my dear Daddy.

If you would like more information about my spring showing, visit my website at this link. All are welcome.

What does this painting mean?

Sometimes when I paint, I don't see the meaning of the piece until it's almost done. But this particular piece wasn't clear for days... I even asked the opinion of friends who have been known to interpret my art for me in new and strange ways.

It was after my morning devotions today that the "scales fell off my eyes", and the answer was so obvious, I laughed. Steve Bell had confirmed one of my earlier ideas that it looked like something from creation, and he encouraged me to look at it in a horizontal format. He suggested the name, "Emblem".

The painting fits nicely into my Creation Series. The swipes of colour representing (in order from left to right) the Father, Jesus (the sacrifice) and the Spirit, in the creation of our world. They meet in a neat little triangle at the bottom. So there!

Of course art is meant to be interpreted in different ways by different people. Everyone "sees" in their own way - right, Byron?

Technology Nightmare

Sometimes technology doesn't work, and you have to depend on God to speak through you and with you. I had that experience last week. I was speaking to a group of art students at the King's School in Winnipeg.  I had met their teacher, Andrea Atkinson at last fall's Manitoba Art Expo at the Assiniboia Downs. She had asked me at that time, if I would visit and talk about my art to her class of students.

Well, the time came for the class. She and I had met earlier in the week at my home to discuss the content, and I prepared a powerpoint presentation showing some "progression stages" of certain paintings, to demonstrate technique. I put the presentation on a thumb drive (brand new), and tested the presentation on my computer at work.

At the last minute, I sent the presentation via email to the teacher, and even attempted to burn it on a disc. I thought I was ready. A half hour before class time, the thumb drive would not work on two different computers. There was nothing on the disc, and Andrea was unable to access the personal email from the school computer. Time for more PRAYER! Carol, a fellow teacher, joined us to pray for the class. I drove the 10 minute distance to my home to re-email the presentation (feeling remarkably calm, I might add), and arrived back for the class at exactly the start time.

Once again, the email (large file) did not arrive in time, so we accessed my website from the computer and showed it on the screen and I began to tell my story, along with stories of some of my paintings. Many of the stories included those of Steve and Nanci Bell, whose photos contribute to much of my portfolio.

I had brought along 8 actual paintings for display, and was able to describe technique and "stages" without the presentation. It was a full class, and while I initially thought that I would not have a lot to say, there was much that went unsaid! The class of about 30 people took a close look at the paintings and asked questions at the end of the class.

Lessons learned? Don't depend on technology!!!!!!!!!!!! Depend on God!!!!!!!!!!!! :)

PS: The email finally did arrive later on, and the teacher will use the presentation in another class to demonstrate the stages. Cool.

Before Me

My exercise routine usually consists of my treadmill in these dark, winter mornings, but the other day I was lured by the warmer weather to walk outside. I came upon an icy patch on the sidewalk and felt my left foot slip forward, and my right foot swung into the air. I knew I was going down, but the sliding of my foot stopped abruptly, and I slowly lowered the raised leg, amazed and in shock. There was no reason that I should have kept my balance in that peculiar position. I should have been flat on my back, with my head hitting the ice.

I continued on my walk, feeling like I was not alone. Once the shock started to wear off, the tears started flowing down my cheeks in thankfulness, and the song, "To God Be the Glory" sprang to mind. Good thing it was still dark out, and no one was around to see me...

So this weekend I painted a picture - just for me. It is to remind me that I am not alone - He goes "Before Me", just as He did when my husband Wern died in 2002, and I felt buoyed by the prayers of so many. His footprints are in the snow beside mine, and go on ahead of me. I will find Him on the path ahead... peace is mine.

My Post-Note: This painting now belongs to a dear friend whose life reflects her love for and dependence on our great God. The painting will still remind me of it's meaning, because I now have a self portrait with this one in the background. The story goes on... :)

Regurgitating Stress

While I love my job, (like I mentioned in my last blog) it can certainly deal it's own handful of stress, and last week was a doozey. I didn't know how much I had been holding until the weekend began. I know that I paint to release stress, but this weekend I couldn't stop - it was like a very urgent regurgitation of everything inside me - all at once!

Saturday started as usual. One painting was finished by mid afternoon (The Cleansing). After dinner, I was driven to the canvas with another idea that was knocking on my brain cells. Luckily, Darl was busy with some shelving renos, so I didn't feel like I was neglecting him. The second painting was finished in two hours (The Firmament).

Sunday I woke early and started the third painting. I tried to stay away from the canvas for the afternoon and evening, but it was really hard! (Really, I tried - only sneaked in an hour).

Thankfully, Monday's Louis Riel holiday afforded me a few more hours to finish this last piece.
Originally called "The Tree", I have to update the name to "Keening for the Dawn". I hope Steve Bell won't mind my using the same name as his new advent album, but there is no other name that can adequately explain this painting.

I have been thinking a lot about Good Friday and Easter lately - and this painting is in honor of Good Friday. I represents the moments before dawn of Easter morning. The tree is ugly and thorny, the mood is raw and painful, but there is a sign of life on the side nearest the rising of the sun.

I finally feel like everything inside of me is emptied and I can rest.

Special thanks to inspiring photos by Tara Craigon (sunset) and Meggie Kornelsen (gnarly tree from Texas).

A Valentine Song

It was a very good day at work today. Steve Bell came into the office for the afternoon and asked us if we'd like to hear a new Valentine song that he wrote for his wife.... ;) My new assistant Sabrina, Dave and I listened as Steve sat down with his guitar and played the poetic, reminiscent and slightly cheeky tune. Have I mentioned that I love my job?

One of the best perks of working at the Signpost Music office are these moments where we sit, listen to new music with virgin ears, and later watch the process of a raw song develop into a polished and layered recorded composition. Steve was explaining to us how a new melody usually has a word or note sequence that will at first make us question if we like the song, and then after listening a few more times, we get used to it and either decide we like it or not.  It's the same thing with a painting - we will look at it for the first time and see one thing that may irritate us at first, and then as we take a longer look, we see the "whole" and perhaps see a bit of what the artist is communicating through the piece.

Steve explained that a song is like a "journal entry" to the artist - an expression of something very personal. Whether one writes, sculpts, paints or sings his or her journal entry, it resonates personally and therefore fulfils its purpose.

I could identify clearly with this explanation, as an artist who is discovering the art of journaling on canvas. He went on to say that sometimes the work of art becomes meaningful for others who are in relationship with the artist, and occasionally the work will go on to resonate with a wider community. This happens if the theme of the art is universal enough and leaves enough space to "insert self here".

It is at this third level that the piece "gives voice" to a general audience and takes it's place as part of the larger cultural landscape.

I have discovered this joy of learning that someone else "inserted" themselves into the meaning of one of my paintings.  Don't you think that it's time that the work of more Christian artists should emerge and become part of our cultural landscape?

*Thank you to Steve Bell for waxing philosophic once more.