color wheel

In the theory of Color as Light, white is the sum of all colors.

In the theory of Color as Pigment, white is the absence of all colors.

Either way, without its opposite,
we would never be able to see it.

blues

blues by ania

can you hear it?

in like a lamb

March is finally here. This year, it felt like it would never arrive. And now it has tiptoed in like a lamb, (at least where I live) when I was hoping to hear the roar of that lion...
Outside my window is a landscape of white on grey, beige on brown, the forest green of a few scattered pines, and the red-twigged dogwood that sticks out like a beautiful winter diva.
There is a line from a Counting Crows song that keeps running through my mind..."She is trapped inside a month of grey." This year, that was February for me. The shortest month of the year always ends up feeling like the longest one.
I am craving color like chocolate, literally, physically craving it. And flowers. I go to the flower section of the grocery store just to admire the blossoms. I stand there and let their color sing me happy.
This past weekend, I spent hours with my bead stash, I can always find color there, inspiration for new pieces. I was drawn again and again to the shades of spring, robin's egg blue, pretty pastel pink and daffodil yellow, and that fresh yellow-green of just-opening leaves.
Before I knew it, hours had passed, and while the landscape outside my window had not changed, the one in my heart felt a little bit brighter.
After that, I decided that March must be named The Month of Color. I am going to seek it out, hunt it down, and then embrace it wherever I find it.
My camera will be my companion.
Care to join me?
:: :: ::
Share your colorful photos with us at the Inspiration Studio Flickr pool here.

white space

Mostly, it's easy to find things that inspire me. Words and images, colors and smiles, beauty and meaning.

These days, it's easier than ever, with the whole world virtually right at my fingertips. But sometimes, it's too much. Sometimes, it all becomes the opposite of inspiration, it becomes overload. Too much information, too much visual stimulation, too much to absorb. It starts to feel like chaos.

There are days when I run around noticing everything, scattering myself here and there and everywhere, trying to take it all in, but in the end, it all becomes a blur. Of course, you cannot create in a vacuum, but neither can you create in turmoil.

One of the first things they teach you in design school is the value of white space. A place to let the eye, and the mind, rest. This emptiness serves to bring attention to what matters most. When you find the perfect balance between the focal point and the white space, that's when your piece is the most successful.

Some days, I feel like I need more white space in my life. And I am slowly learning the value of nothing. Of doing nothing, thinking nothing, creating nothing, even if it's only for short periods of time.

Because if I don't give myself the chance to do nothing, I lose something. If I keep filling up the vase with pretty flowers, eventually, some of the stems will be crushed. Some will break off. Either way, the flowers will wither.

But if I give myself space to breathe and room to grow, I can feel my mind and my heart and my art expand. That white space becomes the best kind of emptiness. The kind that lets me focus on exactly what is most important. This moment, this place, this love, this life.

And then when I draw that first line, or write that first sentence,

it is the echo of what's blossomed in my soul.

my holiday wish for you

filling up the empty

I've been creating a lot lately, all year really, in new ways and in many of the same old ways. Sometimes I stop and wonder when, or if, the well will run dry, where it all comes from, this thing called creativity.

For me, art goes in cycles, and some days it is there and some days it just isn't. Some days I am empty. But even on those days, I don't despair, I don't worry, I don't think it is gone forever.

I sit back and I wait. I watch. I listen.

I absorb everything I can about life and I hold it inside. I let it rest there until it is ready to be something other than a void, I hoard words and thoughts and memories, and things I've seen or heard or read, and I keep them all in a box with no corners.

I sit quietly and I let them come to me, the shy ones, I let them nudge my shoulder when they are ready. I let them sing their own song, softly, until they are ready to belt out the words.

Sometimes I don't have to sit for very long before that word or that image or that bracelet or that design falls from my fingers in just the right way. Other days I struggle and I struggle, and on those days I know that I must wait.

Wait for the empty to refill, wait for the spilling over, for the stress or the doubt or the tiredness to clear, wait until what it is that I need, exactly what I'm looking for, steps into the spotlight. I can almost always sense what is there in the shadows, but I cannot force it to shine.

I have to be patient and gentle and kind, I have to let the empty be itself. I have to let my mind sit alone, I have to give it space to wander.

And somehow it always finds its way back home, sometimes with gifts and a hug, sometimes with a frown and a stance of frustration, sometimes weighed down with heavy baggage.

But I've made friends with the empty, I welcome it with open arms, and when we spend time together, I cherish it. All that empty space is making room for more beauty, more words, more art.

The empty is a cup that life will fill.

Again and again and again.

crab apple

I've always wondered why they're called crab apples, don't you?

They don't look crabby...

Autumn is here and I am loving it, every day the landscape looks different, colors change, leaves fall, nature is slowly getting ready to bed herself down for the winter.

This has always been my favorite season, and don't get me wrong, there are things I love about each one of the seasons, but for some reason, autumn wins the contest.

In upstate New York, which is where I live, the seasons are very distinct, they mark the passage of time in a big way, and there is always something to look forward to: the coming of the next one.

In winter, it's cozy fires and pretty snowflakes, the holidays, and those weeks in January and February when it's okay to hibernate, a little. Lots of books to read, cookies to bake, homemade soup every week. Boots.

In spring, it's the color green that seems to pop out overnight, and little flowers pushing their heads up out of the ground. Sunshine after you've forgotten what it feels like, days when you can finally shed that heavy winter coat.

In summer it's, well, summer, that sense of freedom we all seem to have leftover from the days when we were still in school and summers were special, carefree. Skirts and tank tops and iced tea. Sandals.

And in autumn it's the settling in, the ever-changing colors and the still-warm days followed by perfect-sleeping-weather nights, and apples and hot cider and pumpkins, frosty mornings that come too soon, and blue jeans.

Of course, there are things I dislike about each of the seasons as well, the sweating in summer, the freezing in winter, the mud in spring, and the... hmmm, can't think of anything I dislike about autumn just now. I guess that is why it's my favorite.

Through each of these changing backdrops, I can always go out into my garden and find something beautiful, or new, or at the very least, interesting. Different. Time passes every day, we change. The earth moves through another night, and we change. We don't notice sometimes, until months have passed.

Next spring, these crab apples will give way to lovely pink blossoms. Over the winter they may feed a bird or two.

But just now I'm going to look at them for a while, watch the leaves around them float gently to the ground, one or two or three at a time, until there is nothing left but bare branches.

Like a blank canvas or an empty journal page,

just waiting for nature's brush.

still, life

Life gets to be so crazy sometimes.

It can be overwhelming. Sometimes you just have too much on your plate. And we all know how hard it is to keep from eating what is right there in front of you.

I live a deadline-oriented life. There is always something that has to be done by a certain time, that time known as the "drop-dead" deadline in the graphics industry. So aptly named, because it means you have to wear yourself out to get there. And then you will drop from exhaustion.

So I go through these periods of craziness, when I barely have time to sit down or rest or think about anything other than the task at hand. But here's what gets me through: a tiny little place in my heart that I keep still. Steady. Silent. Sane.

That is my place. No one else, nothing else, is allowed in there but me. Some days, I never actually get to visit this oasis, but just knowing that it is there can get me through. Knowing that tomorrow, or the next day, or all the way into next week, it will be there, waiting for me when I am ready.

A place where I can sit, alone with my thoughts and my words and my feelings. A quiet place, quiet even when the world is roaring in my ears. I grow in this place, stretch my roots further down. I ground myself there, in the stillness, hoarding bits of peace.

Then, on the days when just one more crazy gust of the wind that is life threatens to carry me away, I hold onto the knowledge that I am tethered, to this place, this hidden spot.

It gives me something to grasp when it feels like everything is about to get away from me, much like a smooth, worn pebble.

It gives me a place to come home to, always.

In my heart, it is there.

Still.

on letting the cat out of the bag

Inspiration can be a little bit like a cat. Just when you seek it out and want it to pay attention to you, it walks away, turns it back, gives you the cold shoulder. But if you pretend to ignore it, sit down and get to work and let it come to you, suddenly, there it is, rubbing its nose against your hand, asking to be noticed.

Some days no matter what, you just don't feel inspired. Fear gets in the way, life gets in the way, all those things we have to do, chores and work and caretaking and maintaining, and what do you do when you just don't feel it?

Do you walk away in frustration? Give up? Or do you sit down and wait?

I have, at different times, done all three. Sometimes if something isn't working, I let it rest and come back later to find that the solution has come into focus. Sometimes I do something entirely different to distract myself, to give my mind a chance to think about something completely unrelated. Sometimes I sit there and wait, and nothing happens.

And it is those times that make me realize that inspiration isn't outside of me, it is within me. If I begin, if I stop trying to call it into my lap and go about my business, it will suddenly show up, looking for me.

If I can't think of anything to write about, I just sit down and start typing, recording my thoughts and feelings and observations, even if they seem stupid or boring or inconsequential. And sometimes they are. Sometimes it is all just words. But more often than not, something starts to happen as I move through the process. I start to feel the flow of thoughts and the meaning behind the words. I start to feel that I have something to say, even if moments before, I had nothing. I start to feel inspired.

To get better at anything, you have to practice. Over and over and over and over. I think it is the same with inspiration. You have to put yourself in the right place, give yourself the time and the freedom to find it.

So pick up your pencil and start writing. Anything at all: what you did today, what you're thinking about, your frustrations, your joy, what you wish you were doing, what you are grateful for.

Walk around with your camera in hand and start taking pictures. Don't wait for the perfect shot, just start shooting. With a digital camera, there is no reason not to. Get down low or stand on something high to change your perspective.

Pick up a paintbrush and start painting. Or your knitting needles. Or some beautiful paper. Choose a color and begin. Play.

Look so busy that inspiration will wonder what you are up to and come over to investigate.

And the next thing you know, it will be there, on your lap, purring away.

Kelly Letky - The Blue Muse