the tipping point



A yellow painting returned me to my love for painting.

It brought me to a tipping point – a point that I am now experiencing as an expansion and celebration of myself as a painter, as a very human being, and as a woman, in touch with her life. Like the cresting of a wave, I am now cresting.

How this happens is one of the mysteries of life. Pondering the creative process I am taking part in, through writing, is part of the pleasure and development of my life.  In this process of painting I become quiet, I see the color inside me and then observe how it takes form. Many colors come and a distillation occurs, that simplifies everything in sight.

The paintings I had made on returning from Germany were paintings that had to be painted. There was a quality in them that brought new meaning and power into my work. I believed in it, too.

Meditation retreats with Adyashanti and Mukti, which I attended in those years following my return, opened the door wider to the transformation that had found me and took me off my self perpetuating track.

Then the kind of pause that can happen after a big shift, spread me like fresh butter into my new life.

The gifted strength of purpose in being had opened me to a creative power surge. I didn’t understand how to relate to the creative source I had experienced. The necessity to paint faded away and I could no longer feel meaning in the paint I used. My search had given my life meaning. When this search began to end, I found my Self right where I was. I began living my life without the demand to be or do or get better at life.

Everything had become quiet in me, it was more than enough to be able to see and feel and hear; there was no apparent need to paint as I had before. Beauty was everywhere I looked and there was no need to grasp it or to get closer to it as I once had experienced through painting. No longer seeking for union with nature through painting, I breathed freely as nature. Sometimes I still painted, but what had once compelled me to paint had disappeared.

I had begun to play and I didn’t recognize it! 

During that transition, I began to paint only for process in the way Michele Cassou has shared.  This helped me reconnect to the natural impulse in me to respond to life in paint, not as a search for connection but from connection.

I’ve enjoyed documenting this part of the path here:

During those months, I was not painting as an artist who exhibits her work or as one who wishes for a larger audience and fears it at the same time; I was painting because I was painting, listening only to the creative impulse inside me and meeting so much of what was left to meet, in thought and feeling. Being lead from within, I was painting for the sake of my inner image maker, who knew how to play.

One day last winter, I saw a friend’s photograph of a flower shop seen through a moisture laden window inSan Francisco…..the flowers inside shifted into a rich and beautiful dense redness through her lens.  The photograph looked like an oil painting; like an oil painting I would want to have painted. I was compelled to paint it and I thought I would be satisfied to copy the photo as well as possible.

I wanted to enter the process. The process took me further than the idea I had to paint that picture. This image was an invitation for me and it lead me deeper into painting.

And that I am painting again is the subject of what I will share here in this blog.


Her Wild Peach Jumped the Orchard Fence 36x36 oil on canvas
Her Wild Peach Jumped the Orchard Fence
oil on canvas

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