defining moments

Now that I’m in the midst of the New Book, it’s been harder for me to splinter my attention into blogging. I’ve continued posting my Goddess Inspiration Oracle countdowns each week, and some posts on publishing. But I’d like to share more than these bare bones.

14balanceyemana.jpgI’ve been thinking lately about defining moments. (Maybe this phrase should be written with a capital “D” and “F”, to underscore their importance.) My life lately feels a bit like this right now. For the most part, things are in a welcome state of peaceful equilibrium, like the Balance card in the Goddess Tarot. I tell myself to remember this peaceful state and to cherish it. Having sold the NB, watching my daughter grow up into a beautiful little girl, feeling connected to a supportive community around me — it’s all good. I want to capture this defining moment, like a snap shot to be pulled out of my memory at will.

Though other defining moments I’ve experienced haven’t always risen out of contentment, they are equally important to me. They’ve helped me to figure out exactly I am, what my path should be. We all experience these moments, these quick-brilliant flashes of mythic living that illuminate our lives. What’s tricky is to recognize them for what they are before they fade into yet-another-detail to be cataloged.

One true story: I think I’ve mentioned in the past here that I lived for a year in England after I sold my first book. It was one of the most magical years of my life — it was the first time that I was able to devote myself entirely to art. And I was living in one of the most beautiful places I’d ever seen, surrounded by intensely creative and gifted people.

Sometimes it was hard. Even with a book contract, I still worried about making a living and whether I’d be able to sell future books. I also worried that my art would be beautiful enough to move people as I’d like it to. Would I’d ever be able to reach the artistic goals I yearned for? I pondered this intensely, wondering if I’d chosen the right path. Art can feel like an indulgent proposition, when so much of the world is in trauma.

And one day, the answer came to me when I least expected it.

Of all places, it was on the Underground, London’s equivalent to the NYC subway system. I was in London to show my portfolio around, in hopes of alleviating my ever present “can I make a living as an illustrator” anxiety. Though the Underground was crowded, I managed to score a seat — much welcome, since I was tired from walking around the city all day. I settled in, keeping my eyes low and body tucked tight, to avoid any contact with strangers.

Suddenly, I heard a woman’s voice. “You must be an artist.” Sitting next to me was a middle-aged woman, neatly dressed in business clothing. She continued, “I usually don’t do this, but look at your hands — they’re so long and graceful. You must be an artist.”

Stunned, I nodded yes.

The woman said nothing else to me during that crowded train ride. But what she said was enough.

And what about you? What defining moments do you value?


Goddess painting of the day: Hathor

Last week when I recounted my recent trip to Brandywine, I did not mention another stop we took along the way. And it was a wonderful one!

We were fortunate to obtain tickets to the highly popular Tutankhamun and the Golden Age exhibit at the Franklin Institute. It is from this exhibit that I draw inspiration for today’s Goddess painting of the day, Hathor.

hathor by kris waldherr

Hathor, as the goddess of beauty, prosperity and all good things, was honored as the Golden One — an appropriate title for a deity concerned with the good life. She was usually depicted with the form of a cow, which is how she is presented here. Her traditional rites often included libations of milk offered to the fertile soil. In this particular painting, the god painted her side is Anubis, who serves as the gatekeeper to the heart; Hathor is invoking him with her magical sistern and chants.

This art excerpted from a painting (below) that I created for Shamanic Mysteries of Egypt, a book recently published by Inner Traditions. I used watercolor, gouache and pencil to make it.

hathor, wadjet and set painting

The other gods and goddesses in the painting are Wadjet, Anubis and Set. This particular composition was seen in a vision by Linda Star Wolf, who authored the book along with Nicki Skully; I tried to hew as closely as possible to Star Wolf’s description, which was divinely inspired. Ancient Egyptian art was also an inspiration — I did my best to respectfully incorporate its traditional imagery.


the magic of place names

When I was a child, I loved to study maps. And I still do. Tom, my anthropologist husband, shares this fascination and has collected a wide variety of them. For years, we had a map of the moon and a map of the Vienna metro thrown in the back of our car, just in case. I mean, what if you needed to locate the Sea of Tranquility? Or wanted to navigate your way around the Ringstrausse?

Growing up in (to my mind) boring, suburban New Jersey, maps offered a glimpse of an alternate world that I might visit one day, if I got lucky. Whenever I looked at a map, I would imagine what each place might be like, what their names signified. Even local place names held magic within them: Would Spring Valley be filled with flowers? What about Bellemar — how beautiful would the ocean look there?

In particular interest to me were places that shared the same names. Vienna, Virginia and Vienna, Austria. Paris, France and Paris, Texas. Jamaica, New York and . . . well, you get the idea. My favorite fantasy was that there was a sympathetic field between each of these same-named places. Words are magic, after all. If you located this power field, you would be instantly swept in a vortex of energy from one place to the next. You’d close your eyes in Venice, California and next find yourself chasing pigeons in the Piazza San Marco.

Name travel instead of time travel, as it were.

All of this is a long preamble to describe my visit last week to Chadd’s Ford, Pennsylvania.

Chadd’s Ford, as some of you might know, was home to the noted book illustrator N. C. Wyeth. N. C. Wyeth may now be eclipsed in fame by his son, Andrew Wyeth, but during the early part of the twentieth century, he was quite the celebrity among artists.

N. C. Wyeth was the student of Howard Pyle and inspired generations of illustrators, including myself. He was also well-paid: N. C. Wyeth used the payment he received for Treasure Island — the modern-day equivalent of $200,000 — to purchase land at Chadd’s Ford, where he built his home and studio. When you consider that most children’s book illustrators make under $10,000 for a picture book, this is an astonishing symbol of the power Wyeth’s art wielded in the marketplace.

N. C. Wyeth studio

N. C. Wyeth’s studio (above) is only available for visits during warm weather. Though I’ve visited the Brandywine River Museum previously, it was in the winter. This time, I got lucky.

NC Wyeth view

This is the view from his studio. Imagine gazing upon this as you paint, and how inspiring it must have been for the great illustrator. His commute to work was a bucolic garden path leading up from his home, about 100 yards or so.

In my twenties, I lived for a year in a village in England named Chagford. Chagford was home to several well-known book illustrators. (I do not include myself in their illustrious company, though I hope to one day!) These artists included Alan Lee and Brian Froud. Terri Windling of the Endicott Studio for the Mythic Arts has a cottage there. In other words, Chagford is a nexus attracting book artists of all sorts — illustrators, writers, and so on. Including myself.

When I left Chagford to return to the United States after my visa expired, I felt like Eve expelled from the garden. I still dream about Chagford regularly, walking its winding streets toward the moors beyond.

Chagford

Chagford, England and Chadd’s Ford, Pennsylvania. Both homes to noted illustrators. Both attracting artists and writers.

Coincidence? Or a bit of sympathetic place name magic?


Q & A catch up

Right now, I’m posed gracefully between the end of one work cycle and the beginning of the next. I suppose that’s why I haven’t been blogging very much the last few weeks — have been regrouping myself. To be honest, it’s been good to have a break from everything before I head back into the fray of new projects and new deadlines. It’s as if I’ve filled my lungs with air before I dive back into deep water.

To bring you up to date, here’s a little Q & A catch up at Art and Words:

What’s going on in Omaha with the exhibition?

Short answer: I don’t fully know.

Long answer: The exhibition was taken down temporarily by the insurance company, since the humidity level was high after the roof collapse and resultant flooding. I trust that the art is safe — the insurance company doesn’t want to be liable for damaged art and is very experienced with these sort of things. I’m assuming the exhibition will be remounted once the new roof has been approved by zoning and all that. In the meantime, limbo.

What’s going on with the new book?

Lots.

I’ve already received a deal memo from my agent, which states the terms for the book acquisition: advance, royalty percentages, publishing rights and territories, work deadlines, and so on. This makes it feel very “official”, since it may be some time before I actually sign the book contract — typically it takes anywhere from six weeks to three months to get a finalized contract from a publisher, then another month to receive the first advance payout. But I’ll be working on the book before then.

My manuscript deadline is January 15, 2008; the deadline for the final book with art, design and so on is July 15th. So just over a year from book acquisition to completion, which is typical. My new editor at Broadway Doubleday has been wonderful so far — lots of supportive excitement on her end. I’m looking forward to meeting her in person next month for an editorial lunch.

What’s the new book about?

I know I’ve been a bit mysterious about the new book’s subject matter. But that’s just how I am — while I’m working on a book, I don’t like to talk too much about it. It’s a way of protecting my creative process, I think. I’m superstitious that if I spill too much, there’s less energy to go into the work itself.

I once read (was it in Writing Down the Bones?) that if you talk about a creative work too much, you trick your brain into thinking that you’ve actually already completed it, in some strange way. Maybe that’s it. Or maybe it’s not wanting to tempt the fates. All I know that I need to keep my focus without distractions, without feeling vulnerable to outside influences, or diffusing my excitement about the new book with other’s reactions.

FWIW, the new book is a bit of a departure for me, though it’s definitely related in theme to my past publications. When people ask me about it, I’ve been describing it in general terms as an exploration into the shadow side of feminine empowerment.

The new book is a little dark, it’s humorous — and I’m having a blast creating it. I feel strangely freed by embracing this part of myself.

So does this new book have a title?

Indeed it does. But for now, I’ll simply refer to it as the New Book (or the NB for short).

What’s next?

My immediate concern is lining up childcare for this summer, so I can work on the NB. Childcare is an ever-ongoing concern for me, and a reality for any working mother with children under school age.

I’m fortunate in that my schedule is somewhat fluid and that I work at home, so I can be around for Thea as well as be open to numerous childcare options. For example, I have a cooperative childcare playgroup that I host with several other mothers in my neighborhood. I also have several babysitters that I know and trust, and most importantly, that Thea likes. If I was a mother with a corporate job with set hours, my situation would be far less flexible.

That written, being a WAHM has its own challenges. It’s impossible to work and take care of a two-year-old simultaneously. You end up doing one or the other in a distracted manner, which is unsatisfying at best, impossible at worst.

Anyone who has a fantasy of “oh, it must be nice to paint as your child plays in your studio” has never had to wrestle a paint brush from a sobbing toddler who’s decided that mommy’s painting needs a special finishing touch involving copious quantities of magenta paint. Try doing with this while rushing to make a fedex pick up.

Yeah, but what’s really next in the studio?

Oh, you want my new-and-updated list? Okay, here goes:

1. Get started on the NB. Organize my research files, lay out the base book dummy, expand upon the book outline. Also start thinking about a publication plan for it — what will its website look like, what events should coincide to publicize it? These need to be planned at least six months before the book hits the stores.

2. Finalize my travel plans for this summer. This week, I’ll be in Philadelphia visiting friends and family, seeing the King Tut exhibition. In August, we’ll be in California and Vermont visiting family.

3. Plan a website overhaul for the upcoming publication of the Goddess Inspiration Oracle. Nothing major — just incorporate more information about it, design a new home page, update the online catalog and so on. I’m designing a new format for Art and Words Extra, my occasional bimonthly newsletter.

4. Follow up on other developing projects. For example, I have another two proposals (a book and a deck) out on submission to several publishing houses. Now that the NB is a go, I need to update the editors considering the proposals on my latest. It may or may not be a factor for them, but that’s for them to decide.

5. Plus there’s the usual studio reorganization and preparation that is part of a new cycle — photo reference to be filed, art supplies to be replenished, computers needing maintainance and so on.

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In regards to this blog, I have more than a few posts started or drafted out. Now that I’m properly replenished, I’ll aim to be blogging regularly.

With everything going on with the NB, I have several publishing posts percolating, in particular one regarding the inside skinny about literary agents. I’ve also been thinking a lot about defining moments — what they are, ways we can identify them, how they define us.

On the goddess front, I have some new drawings I want to share with you as part of my ongoing Goddess Painting of the Day feature. These were created for Goddess Alive, which will be published by Llewellyn this fall. I also plan to share some excerpts from the Goddess Inspiration Oracle, as I wind up to its publication this September.

And that’s the latest for now!


My trip to Omaha


Art gallery roof collapses just hours after reception

About 150 people attended Saturday night’s showing of about 100 pieces of art at Jackson Artworks.

 

Click to Enlarge


A possible lightning strike and the weight of water is being blamed for the roof collapse at Jackson Artworks on early Sunday. Paul Davis Restoration employees work atop the building at 1108 Jackson St.

Fortunately, they had left the opening-night reception hours before the collapse of the roof at 1108 Jackson St. in the Old Market of downtown Omaha.

“It was like a mini-tsunami in here,” gallery director Marcia Manzo said as she provided a quick tour while workers removed debris Sunday evening.

Manzo and owners Jim and Kat Moser, who live next door in one of the two side-by-side buildings they own, were the hosts of the reception from 6 to 9 p.m. Saturday. The roof may have been struck by lightning and, weakened by the weight of the water from Omaha’s record rainfall Saturday, collapsed between midnight and 2 a.m.

“It could have been devastating if it had happened last night,” said Manzo, who received a phone call informing her of the collapse.

Nobody was in the building after 10:30 p.m. Saturday. None of the pieces in the show were damaged. However, damage totaling thousands of dollars was done to other pieces, including many that were being held for buyers.

“We were blessed,” Manzo said, referring to the fact that there were no injuries and the 100 pieces that were shown were intact. “But we also sold a lot of art last night.”

Unfortunately, the studio and artwork of Omaha artist/sculptor Dan Newberry were destroyed. Some books in his studio ended up more than 35 feet away in the building’s kitchen.

Paintings in a front storage room were destroyed; others were damaged by the humidity in the aftermath.

Other artwork hadn’t been accounted for, and some works in storage weren’t reachable because of their proximity to the collapsed roof. The building’s office, including its computer, was destroyed, as were the contents in another room rented by an Omaha musician.

“He was pouring water out of guitars,” Manzo said.

Workers estimated the hole in the roof to be 22 feet by 20 feet.

Despite the mess, there’s a possibility of reopening soon.

“We’re hoping for a reopening of this show, with any luck, this weekend,” Manzo said.

Meanwhile, there is no way of estimating the damage.

“We’re not anywhere near that yet,” Manzo said.