carolina studios

Become Immortalized!

2011-03-28T12:08:00.006-04:00

Regional Artist Carolina Márquez-Sterling
Looking for models to pose for series on dogs and their owners.

If interested please email:
carolinastudios@snet.net
For more sampling of my work
visit my website
www.carolinaartstudio.com

Tropical Allure in April and No Planes Necessary

2010-04-10T17:06:00.027-04:00

For several years I have tried to maintain a habit of going to a place every week that will inspire me. Not an original idea, but it helps to keep the creative juices flowing. It is called an artist date. I go with friends or family but most of the time I go by myself. Doesn't have to be grand, maybe the local yarn shop or toy shop. Sometimes an hour in the woods or even sitting on a park bench. Last week my artist date started and ended at the NYC Botanical Gard ens

My sister Loli called the week before to tell me about a Cuban Orchid show at the NYC Botanical Gardens. I marveled at the synchronicity of events. As I was picking up the phone to speak to her, I was searching on the Internet to see about an orchid show that I had read about in the paper. She insisted I come down for the day and evening and go to the show with her and her friend, Carmen Maria. Getting there was an interesting trip on the subway

( I'll leave that for another day, an artist date in and of itself). However when we came up from below the weather had taken a turn for the better. We had 6 blocks to arrive to our via point and decided to take in the good weather and walk. With every block we walked, another layer of clothing was removed. It was a beautiful day, downright sultry. Perfect for a display of Cuban Orchids.

For those of you that don't know, me included, the Botanical Gardens are right in the vicinity of Fordham University in the Bronx. Upon arriving we were greeted with happy daffodils dancing in the sunlight. We were dazzled by the beauty of the gardens and the city as a backdrop. Much prettier then I had anticipated. Once inside the conservatory, It was all the orchids. A myriad of colors: yellow, purple, red and a multitude of greens and oranges. It was nothing short of breathtaking. As we meandered through the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory, vani

lla orchids, miniature orchids, and other exotic varieties were in full bloom, manufactured by loving hands, within a tropical backdrop.

My sister and I were in deep amazement. Carmen Maria marveled at the all the varieties that she could remember as a child in her backyard. There were oohs and ah's at every turn. I

became intrigued by the way the natural fauna imitated the culture

of Cuba. I saw visions of the salseros dancing costumes in these orchids. It was a sea of tropical

allure. Don't take my word for it check out the pictures.

Here is my sister loli and her friend Carmen Maria. Loli a Cabaret singer who recently won a the much coveted 2010 Bistro Awards for outstanding entertainer. Carmen Maria is the consummate,roving reporter for Radio and Television Marti and all things Cuban. This was an artist date that won't soon be forgotten, maybe even memorialized. It did the trick of inspiration.
STAY TUNED!

Spring is around the corner!

2010-03-10T15:09:00.010-05:00

There are signs of spring everywhere. It does my heart good to

see these babies peeking out from the dark cold ground.

Has anyone noticed how much longer the day has gotten?
I am loving every extra minute of this new found LIGHT.

Yesterday March 9th, a good friend of mine, had her first baby...

I feel soft, now everything is touching me.

These little beauty's have kept me happy and going for the whole month of February.

I am having an Opening

Friday March 12 2010
5:00 pm - 7:00 pm

Chester Village West
317 West Main St.
Chester, CT

Wine and Hor d'oeuvres will be served

Come on by love to see you!

Creative commission conundrums

2010-01-27T20:10:00.012-05:00

Recently I completed a piece that felt like it took a lifetime. Not because of its difficulty, they’re always a little complicated, but as a result of it being a pre-paid commission. You ponder, how could that be a problem? Let’s put that into perspective. It isn't a real problem such as not having a job, home, food or water like so many in Haiti at the moment. God bless those poor souls.

It's a mental problem that dogs me day in and day out, until the piece is completed. It is a problem that only I can solve and that has no baring on anyone else except perhaps the person who commissioned it. I pretty much live breathe and eat this problem until my every moment, my every thought, my very existence, is consumed.

Really, I was elated! I'm fond of this client. His presence in a room is big, full, and of varied energy. He plays hard and for the most part works hard. He decided that he had to have a Carolina. I inquired "A 3-dimensional assemblage?" "Well what do you think?" he asked. I, an over zealous creative, seeing countless possibilities at that moment, asked if he would like me to do a more personal piece. He leaped at the idea. Later, I shook my head and questioned myself for the deliberate sabotage of selling the already convenient paintings and assemblages I have on sale presently.

Still I reassured myself, it's money in the bank and he asserted that he was not in a hurry. However, he insisted on paying for the whole thing in advance because otherwise he might not have it when it is completed. Hence the problem, issue, conundrum.

Immediately upon receiving the funds, I froze. The original countless possibilities left me faster then a rabbit facing danger. What shall I do? What should I paint? What will he find interesting? What do I find interesting about him? These were thoughts that haunted me for weeks. It is like a dis-ease that hinders every aspect of my life until there is resolution.

Many weeks into the deal, he called and reminded me to do whatever I wanted and go crazy, his words not mine. Little did he sense, that was exactly what was happening. I was day to day, driving myself stark, raving, mad. He reiterated his desire for me to feel comfortable and did not want to encumber me with his lame ideas his words not mine. At this point it is important for me to be clear, this is a great client. Undemanding, prepaid, not needing to match a sofa, enthusiastic about the work. What is wrong with me?

More freezing. No thaw in sight.

Finger nails bitten down to the cuticle and months into this thing, he called and invited me to go watch him play percussion for his band. I had not known that he had a passion for playing percussion. He was light, pure unadulterated LIGHT. He exuded so much joyous fun that unexpectedly the creative juices started to flow. Ideas started flowing effortlessly. I was inspired and motivated. That evening, a little inebriated I managed a quick sketch on a scrap of paper lying on the coffee table. The next day I downloaded the various photos I took for reference. I drew a larger sketch and I colored it. I gave it a fun Caribbean island background because that is the feeling that I got from his playing. Carefree and light.

Fast Forward....

Six months later, I still had not finished. I was flogging myself daily. I have got to finish was my daily refrain. I kept changing the background over and over. Four different versions all requiring my utmost attention only to realize it was mediocre.

I floated upstairs and collapsed on the couch. My husband staying quiet knowing that if he asked anything he would be struck faster then a mosquito on a summer night.

What is it? Why am I struggling so much? The idea was solid, the assemblage pieces were cut and put together on the table, but a finish was way out of sight. In a moment of quiet desperation, I determined to change my paradigm. I decided to make believe I was getting a big fat paycheck upon completion. As I sat at the foot of the un-assembled piece I repeated the lyrics from ABBA "money money money it’s a rich man's world." I had come to understand that part of the problem was that it had been pre-paid. Money can be a great motivator even for an artist.

I still struggled even with that thought in my mind. Fit to be tied I decided to go to my very favorite meditation/inspiration stop. A place that gets the creative juices flowing by scent and site. Jerry's Artarama in West Hartford. As I entered the store I was engulfed with inner peace. It was like walking into the Sistine Chapel. At every turn something beautifully useful and desirous to own. Every isle full of tools and supplies to worship. At every corner color in all hues and tones. Tubes of paint in oil, acrylic and watercolor. Pencils and pastel with accompanying papers. I hit the decorative paper aisle and there a vision of consummate knowingness I saw my background. I got several pieces of paper and scurried back to the dungeon as I had begun to call it.

I worked feverishly for a week. Eating meals in the studio and only coming up for bathroom breaks. During the process I forgot that I was in need of motivation because all at once I had found it. On the seventh day of 24/7, a touch of glitter here, a brush stroke there, another strand to the dreadlocks of hair and viola...a masterpiece I was done. For the first time in months, I breathed a breath of air. The weight of mountains lifted off my shoulders. Lighter then a hummingbird in flight, I re-gained my zippy smile. It was the first day of freedom since October 2008. It was exhilarating. Not only that it was finished but I was very buoyant with the results which is why I write this post. I have been in this situation many times. It always resolves itself with time. Sometimes I have it, other times achieving it is more stressful then trader on the floor of stock exchange. No one can be tougher on me then I. I know all my weaknesses and go for the juggler at every turn. On the out side it appears as if nothing is happening, however on the inside I am at war. Fighting all the negativity and despair that accompanies any battle. The creativity business is tough. In that you battle yourself and if you are me, you have a touch of perfectionism...OK more then a touch, you have the critics within which are often tougher then the ones on the outside.. I have often heard said, “Ooh you are so lucky. You get to paint pretty pictures and get paid for it” I always smile it is lucky but hardly easy. Many times, more then I care to admit, things I paint go unnoticed or under appreciated. I am my best cheerleader and my worst enemy, sometimes in the same moment. I am lucky, though I have found something that I love to do and by the grace of god get to attempt a living at it.

And the winner is.....Judy Perry

2009-12-24T21:40:00.018-05:00

After much thought on all the entries received and there were many, Some were very creative, some were really sweet and one just a wee bit late, there was one that captured my thoughts and emotions. It came from a friend that nearly lost her life at the beginning of 2009 due to a head on collision with a drunk driver.

In spite of all the obstacles she has endured to get well she has kept her humor, her loving nature and her indomitable spirit intact. I don't know if I could do the same!

I began this contest/blog looking for something that would make me aware of the true meaning of Christmas. The paragraphs written by Marianne Williamson in my last entry and the belief that Christmas is a time of transformation, a rebirth of sorts hit home best by Judy's letter of thanks. Of all the wonderful entries I received I really felt that Judy personified this in a myriad of different ways.

Here's to you Judy! CONGRATULATIONS!
2009 was divine and I for one, am glad it was not your time!

Love you sweetness.

My letter of thanks….

At the end of each year, as I reflect on things gone by and look to the future, I come up with a positive prayer/mantra that I can focus on for the next year. In 2008 my prayer/mantra was “’08 will be GREAT!”

I had settled into a new job, had purchased a fixer-upper I could afford, I was continuing my spiritual quest and was hopeful. At the end of ’08, looking toward 2009, my prayer/mantra was “2009 was going to be Divine”.

I had plans for the transformation of my little house, plans to begin teaching art again to Special Needs individuals, I was hopeful.

Well as most of you know, on January 12, 2009 I was hit head-on by a drunk driver setting my life into a spiral I could never have predicted and changing my plans for sure. I have struggled this year to hold onto my prayer/mantra “09 will be Divine” and have lost sight of it for months at a time.

But two weeks ago, while meditating/praying, I was struck by a revelation…”09 HAD BEEN DIVINE”.

When I consider that I lived through that horrific crash at all is Divine.

The fact that I was paralyzed from the neck down at the crash site and after screaming to God for help (I mean literally screaming out loud, asking him to help me) after several hours I gained movement in my arms and legs….Divine.

The fact that I lived through the surgery, when the Doctors told me there was no certainty I would………..was Divine.

That I have found strength, support, love and laughter from friends and strangers (who have become new friends) is DIVINE.

That I learned that I am not alone, as I had always thought, is DIVINE!

My situation is not what I had planned or expected though what it is, is hopeful and grateful. I have found humility; grace and acceptance through this adventure and each of you have helped me do that.

Again DIVINE.

I will continue to do my part to move forward and my prayer/mantra for 2010 is “2010 will be Zen”.

I wish you all a happy, healthy and spiritual 2010, “2010 WILL BE ZEN”.

You lift me up,

Judy Perry

Feliz Navidades and Happy Chanukah Contest

2009-12-01T17:57:00.037-05:00

It's December again and all that comes with that month. I tell myself every year that it will be different but every year predictably I become a scrooge. This year I promised I would really try to be fresh and original in my demeanor. I had my first opportunity Friday night at the Chester night celebration of the incoming holiday season. However, as if the muses for scrooge heard me, I wished someone my very first merry Christmas of the season. Without missing a beat, in a dead pan face, she responded "I don't do Christmas and you have offended me." I think...no...I believe that she was only kidding but the effect of her effusive humor left me drained and embarrassed. I slowly extricated myself from the conversation and let my love bug, Stanton, handle the bantering of dry sarcasm and cynicism, as only a Jew can do. That was December 4Th. That evening while falling asleep, I consoled myself by reminding myself that it may be to early for some folks.

The very next day, December 5Th, while visiting my sister in in NYC, as I looked out her living room window at dusk, wondering about all the peoples lives, in the many lit windows across the way, my eyes drifted over some colored lights twinkling below. To my surprise my heart felt a tug. I tried as hard as I could not to let it effect me, buh humbug, but it put a smile on face.

In a matter of two days I had two distinct feelings about the holiday season. Now that got me thinking about the holidays and something I read a couple of years ago.

"These holidays, religion aside, are about transformation and the emergence of a new self. They are most definitely not about who you will spend them with or what you have to do or buy for relatives and friends, or whether there are finances enough to buy it all. Such material considerations rob us of energy and eat away at our soul. Yet such anxiety-ridden dynamics will prevail if we surrender to the endless nagging of our ego mind. Those of us who wish for a deeper experience of the holidays should remember that we are responsible for our own thinking. We can embrace the deeper meaning of the holidays that matter to us, celebrating the days on which they occur from a place of serious wonder and awe. We don't need to go along with the pack: indeed we can consciously repudiate the shallower thought forms that pervade it. Sometimes you can feel there's an undertow, but choose to try to swim across it with every bit of strength that you have. When it comes to the temptation to make Christmas and Hanukkah more about the gift of the catalogue than the gifts of the spirit, JUST SAY NO. Once we recognize the real power of holidays, we begin to approach them with deeper devotion. A holiday is a holy day, and holiness doesn't happen to us. Holiness is a choice we make, and holidays are portals of energy through which the experience of things that matter most is increased within us and in the world in which we live. Marianne Williamson Everyday Grace

That being said I have decided to hold a contest. IF YOU CHOOSE, here is what you have to do: Send me a message in the next 15 days either on blog or to my email address of holiday spirit. Something, anything, a story, memory, anecdote or picture, that exemplifies the above two paragraphs by Marianne Williamson. The item or story that represents holiday spirit the most to me wins a Little Chick of there choice and will be published here on my blog and announced on December 25Th. Good Luck! I wish you all the best while transforming and blessed birth in your new beginnings.

Please keep in mind......... for those of you that are looking for that special someone or FOR something special Think ART!!!!!!!

You will not only give something that is lasting and lovely to the one you love, but you will also give the artist a much needed lift both financially and spiritually.

I will be open every day but it is best to call before coming by since I tend to take walks to stretch my legs, sneak out for sushi with a friend or drift upstairs to see Stanton. The Chicken Little's are on sale for the holiday, 50% off. I have posters, postcards and prints available plus the studio is full of discounted paintings.

The Plain Old Truth

2009-11-11T11:32:00.039-05:00

"The greatest virtue of this book is its lucid summation of all the complexities…Nothing I have read up until now has given me as clear a view of the meltdown that led to Fidel…I've always wondered why it was that our homeland fell apart so thoroughly, and especially why it was that our political elites were unable to stop Fidel from taking over. Now I don't have to wonder about it any more"
Carlos Eire, author of "Waiting for Snow in Havana."

"We all know that Cuban history, as presented in the MSM and the worldwide Academia, consists of mostly of a recitation and transcription of talking points handed out by Castro propaganda ministry…That's why Manuel Márquez-Sterling's disclosures are so important…This is a great read- a very troubling read. It is troubling to read the stark unvarnished truth, is what I mean. The author has performed a tremendous service for historical truth.
I am extremely thankful."
- Humberto Fontova, author of "Fidel, Hollywood's Favorite Tyrant" and "Exposing the Real Che
Guevara, and the Useful Idiots who Idolize Him."

"I urge all those interested in knowing the distilled truth of what really happened in Cuba during the critical period 1952-1958, to read this riveting and thoroughly- researched book of Professor Manuel Márquez-Sterling. With fresh material and illuminating perspective, the book explains why and how Castro managed to fill the power void left by Batista and implant communism in Cuba, and how and why this tragedy could have been avoided."
-Nester Carbonell Cortina author of "And the Russians Stayed."

I have just finished a book that for years I could not find anywhere. Not in the bookstores, university libraries or even my favorite place for books, Amazon. Primarily because it had remained unwritten by its author, filed in the vaults of his mind, under "Pain, Sorrow and Don't go there!"
Recently "mi Papa" has completed a life long tribulation. A book that would explain to me, and others of my exiled generation, the true story of Castro's rise to power and his so called revolution.
For many years I have known the truth of what happened, but found little or no place to validate to our friends and foes alike, of these truths. Largely, because much of these facts had not been known even by many of its countrymen. In addition, a nuanced language barrier prevented me from truly comprehending the actual events that took place that destroyed a democracy and republic in its infancy.
After reading this book and its facts, I have a profound admiration and respect for my parents and family at large. Talk about having to let go. Talk about Krishnamurti's mantra "I don't mind"; talk about remembering, but continuing onward and upward with your new place in life with grace and aplomb. Phew!!! I wish I could say with real certainty that I could do the same but I don't think so. I get upset when the networks preempt my favorite TV show.
As I read through this engrossing eye opener (actually my eyes had been opened years ago but as a child facts get confusing and you tend to write your own version to make sense of what you don't quite comprehend) my heart cried out for them. It took me awhile to finish because the pain was so palpable that I could not read at my usual rapid pace. Several times tears streamed down my face at the frustration and anxiety that my grandfather and exiled countrymen must have endured.
My grandfather Carlos Márquez-Sterling, a man of great intuitive intelligence, eloquence and integrity must have suffered unimaginable mental torment while in exile. Having been unable to convince the powers in the U.S. and Cuba, that the country, his country, their country, was on the precipice of a looming calamity of disastrous proportions. To have won the election for the presidency of Cuba (recently confirmed by General Tabernilla head of the armed forces in Cuba at the time) and still not be able to save the republic from the savagery and brutality of Castro's Communist Clan is a death of some form. In this country and for most of us, we have little or no perceptive knowledge of a death of this manner. The grief must be unbearable.
This book is an ode to my grandfather and his countrymen both past and present. It is not a personal account but with first hand knowledge of the events very believable in its unbelievability. Thorough and succinct but not so much so that the average person could not find value in its lessons. It is scholarly, while at the same time enlightening, easy, fast pace read. There are facts in this book that have never been revealed, not intentionally or out of fear but for the mere fact that they were ignored and judged by Main Stream Media to be irrelevant and also quite unfashionable in the viewing (and still in some circles) of the past and current concocted myths and talking points, of Cuba and the Castro dictatorship.
Finally I breathe a sigh of relief. I can rest my head from the constant challenge to dispel the ignorant half-truths, flagrant lies and propaganda that is constantly repeated to me as gospel.
I have often suggested to my parents, as a spiritual insight, that maybe it all happened in order for us to be here in what I consider to be the greatest country in the world. Having the grace of god, to have been born here and raised in a country where the rule of law is the end all. That mob or majority doesn’t always win but the law is the final arbiter of what is right and wrong. And if the law is wrong there are ways to change it until it is fair and just. However, these thoughts are of no consequence to my parents, their country was that way and it slipped out of their hands. Not through a violent civil war or by the strokes of pens on voting ballots but by ego, an insatiable thirst for power, and the need to be right at all cost. The need to be able to punish and seek vengeance became the mantra above all else, common sense, compromise and constitutional litigation. Political demagoguery and a lazy complicit press both abroad and in Cuba, let evil slip in and replace a once thriving growing nation into nothing more then a tragic third world country of slaves to the state.
In closing, for those of you who don't know me well this topic of Cuba and all its complexities brings out my passion ten fold, often attributed quite tritely to "the Latino way." However, in this past year I have seen much of the same rancor and misplaced partisanship in our own country, politicians and media, that led to the demise of a once great, hard fought for independent homeland, of my parents. Please keep this mind when watching our own republic. We are not safe from the same ravages that are a hallmark of troubled democracies. Please don't foolishly think that this can't happen here and that it can only happen in banana republics as has been said to me ad nauseum. A government is suppose to work for the people not against them. The essence of freedom is proper limitation of government. A republic is limited by the law. People confuse the political spectrum by putting the communist to the far left and the fascists to the far right. In fact, a more accurate picture is 0% power on the far right ie; anarchy and 100% power to the far left. ie; Communism, Socialism, Nazism, Fascism, Monarchy's. In the middle of this spectrum is where our constitution lies. Protecting the rights of the people. When government power grows peoples freedoms recede. Alexander Hamilton said "We are a republican government. Real liberty and freedom is never found in despotism or in the extremes of democracy." Our founding fathers knew that having a democracy where majority rules is short lived, and throughout history has proven to eventually lead to mob rule, then morph into anarchy allowing a vacuum of power to be filled with tyranny. And that my folks is why we have the Republic and not a democracy. The rule of law protects are rights from government and from majority rule.

One last thing, if you are interested in reading the unknown truth of Castro and his so called revolution, you can purchase a copy of the book from Amazon.com. http://tinyurl.com/Cuba5259Book And if you desire to have my dad sign it, leave it with me and I will get him to sign it over the next holidays season.

Just below is a picture of my grandfather
as a young man in a newly independent Cuba.Encircled above is my grandfather and father in the early years of my grandfathers career as a statesmen.

Below my grandfather attempting to get any one who would listen tirelessly speaking against the Castro revolution in this country to what would be come a matter of fact shortly. In the photo below my grandfather
in Miami after retirement reading. I never knew anyone who read more. Except my father.

Below me and my grandfather in one of my annual visits to Miami.
I loved him and admired him so much. It kills me to think of his dream and aspirations, seeing Cuba free, never came to happen while he was still alive

2009-09-19T14:11:00.010-04:00

The Spiritual Message of flowers

Earth, 114 million years ago, one morning just after sunrise: The first flower ever to appear on the planet opens up to receive rays of the sun. The first flower probably did not survive for long and flowers must have remained rare and isolated phenomena, since conditions were most likely not yet favorable for a widespread flowering to occur. One day, however, a critical threshold was reached and suddenly there would have been an explosion of color and scent all over the planet --if a perceiving consciousness had been there to witness it. As the consciousness of the human is developed, flowers were most likely the first thing that they came to value that had no utilitarian purpose for them that is to say was not linked in some way to survival. Seeing beauty in a flower could awaken humans however briefly to the beauty that is an essential part of their own innermost being their true nature. Eckhart Tolle from A New Earth

Do you remember when you thought dandelions were flowers and not weeds?
Or when you counted the petals of a daisy to see if he loved you? How about putting the buttercup under your chin to see if you loved butter? Not to long ago my sister and I spent hours at a baseball field in Lyme picking red clovers. The scent of one so delicious but in a bunch they intoxicate a room with their fragrance.

Flowers have always fascinated me. The amazing detail in each one. It is magical and wondrous world. The different scents. The myriad colors and structure. Several years ago, I was taking a walk with my 4 year old nephew. He was so alert and curious. As the walk ensued he would ask why this and why that. When suddenly we both noticed a hibiscus flower. It was gorgeous! Crepe paper petals showy and big. Yellow,velvety, thin long stamens punctuated with red orange tops. The two of us stared at it like bee's looking at a pot of honey. I remember wanting to be small enough to get in there and really look at it and feel it. Pointing at the stamens, Nicolas pipes up in that little voice, and asks "what are those for?" I looked at him and was struck with silence. I pondered, he persisted. How do I answer that question? I think that I said something benign like "oh that is how they make other flowers." Fortunately a bird or cat caught his attention and he was off to ask a million more questions. As the weeks of summer slipped by the Hibiscus kept blooming and I kept looking... til a painting was born. Pollen Nation.

As I clean the garden and prepare for the upcoming end of summer and the last vestiges of flowers in the garden. I have come to recognize a correlation between flowers and people. We are like flowers. In general, each one of us looks the same. We all have noses, mouths, eyes, hair, but as you get closer each one displays a very individual perfect beauty. Some flowers are prickly but still so amazing that you can't help yourself you want them around. Some are resilient beyond your wildest imagination growing where nothing else does. Others are not from these parts wilting at the first sign of trouble. ie; to much sun, not enough water. Some are exotic, presenting themselves without chagrin and others hiding beneath, demure in their simplicity. Some are just easy to have in the garden. Year after year following winter they show up to spread there unbridled enthusiasm.Supplying me bouquet after bouquet of love each day. Other times you end up with flowers that don't work in your garden anymore. They were fine at one point but now you don't have the energy to care for them the way they demand. It is always nice to be able to let them go to another gardener who has the energy to give them exactly the right conditions to thrive.

People are the same. As you get closer you notice the different things that make that person beautiful and perfect. It can't always be seen from the road you must get out of the car and drift into the field and really observe and become involved with the mass of beauty that is a human being.

Next time you get a flower from some one whether it is a dandelion, carnation, hybrid lily or rose really look at it. What you might find in that flower is the smile of the divine. Are humans not the smile of the divine?

The details above are from a painting I called Pollen Nation. Named after the explanation that I gave my 4 year old nephew. This painting is about 20 years old. Every time I look at I can't help but smile. The things I new intuitively when I was younger. Sometimes I feel like Rip Van Winkle asleep for 20 years. My constant refrain is " Oh...I knew that".

Be like a flower open to all that surrounds us. It hides nothing of its beauty. It has no preferences, everyone can enjoy them equally without rivalry. It gives the mystery of beauty and the very perfume of nature without reserve or restrictions. It has such tenderness its very presence fills us with joy. Happy is he who can exchange his qualities with the real qualities of flowers.

Sri Aurobindo and the mother

The Festival

2009-07-21T05:39:00.019-04:00

Here are just a few pictures of the Chester Market Farm Art Festival on July 19, 2009.

Photo Chick, Caryn B. Davis and me.

Patrick Mcgannon owner of XO Yoga doing his massage thing.

Morley and Micheal sharing a laugh.

Jonathan Rapp owner of River Tavern

Jen and Justin playing and singing on C & G porch.

Leif Nilson working on a painting of his garden and the delightful Carolyn.

Molly and Farrah

Farrah Louise, 2009

I must admit Woody, Gordo, Quentin, Paloma and Pearl will be missed.
However, I am reassured that they went to great homes and will be very much appreciated.
I would also like to thank those of you who adopted a Little Chick. I have visions of one or two in every household. Some of you are well on your way.

Farrah Louise Siegel had her big debut. She started hatching nearly a year and a half ago.
The egg was enormous and it took a lot of paint and supplies to keep her comfortable while she became the bird you see here.

On Sunday July 19, 2009, she perched herself on the sunny stoop of Leif Nilson Gallery in her sumptuous disposition and finely coiffed eyelashes. She clucked and cackled all day long.

If you missed last weekends introduction she is now perched on my front lawn for clucking.She looks so comfy creating a scene for all who drive or stroll by. It will be hard if she wonders to far from home or if a very wealthy foxy loxy comes to town.

In the end Farrah Louise and Stanton perched on the stoop together at last.

Chicks talk - It's a good umbrella!

2009-07-15T20:44:00.008-04:00

Chicken Little is eating lunch one day, and believes the sky is falling down because an acorn falls on her head. She decides to tell the King. On her journey she meets other animals Henny Penny, Cocky Lockey and Goosey Loosey, who join her in her quest to warn the king. Finally, they come across Foxy Loxy, who offers the chicken and her friends his help. Foxy Loxy eats the chicken's friends, but the last one, Cocky Lockey, survives long enough to warn Chicken Little and she escapes. After that day, Chicken Little always carries an umbrella with her when she walks in the woods. The umbrella is a present from the king. The moral of the story is not to be a "Chicken", but to have courage and get an umbrella!

Pick a little, talk a little, Pick a little, talk a little

Pick pick pick, talk a lot, talk little more!

I walk a big circle around the town I live in. Sometimes I go by myself! Other times I take a friend or two with me. When we go together we walk and talk, a lot! If the conversation gets serious I have noticed the pace is challenging. If the chatting is light and jovial I confess it's a summer breeze. We try to help each other understand things that happen to one another. With 3 of us there is 120 years of experiences to draw upon. The majority of mornings the exchange glides over topics like skis on snow. The past, future and the present all on the go.. Our woes, our wows, our Joe's, our lows. Dates, dreams, work and dough. Sisters, brothers, kids and toes. Politics, Lyme tics, facial ticks and TV shows. We help each other go with the flow.

We provide each other hope and a safe opening to more positive awareness. We give each other permission to bitch, to be afraid, to not judge or correct things. With that permission it's easier to let go. Let go of the negativity and the fear it engenders. It helps bring on forgiveness for the offenses we feel we have suffered. You can't forgive if you don't fully realize the injustice. Sometimes it takes many walks, but in the end we loosen our hold, with a chuckle, a smile. and a hug we go. Thoughts shape your awareness. It is important to be conscious of them. You can not change your thoughts if you don't observe them. Although, I must admit it is hard to recognize their appearances as negative. Most are born from the womb of FEAR.. Dining at the table of your life in tears, with fork and knife pounding the table year after year. Yelling for more! How do you feed it? Do you continue with denial and doubt? THOSE MY FRIENDS ARE FEAR'S COUSINS!. I am reminded that fear is an illusion. It lives not in the present but resides in the past and future. Two places I can't get to from here. So the idea is to stay in the present. As we walk we breathe, that keeps you present. Breathing is a present activity. It takes courage, strength, love and kindness to stay present. Some one once said to me " This moment is a gift, that's why they call it the present." If you slow down and take a breath you can usually be grateful for something. The more gratitude the less fear. The less fear the more love. We can't be Chicken Little's and run at the first sign of the sky falling. Get an umbrella, mine are my friends, my sisters, and my Stanton.

July 19th I will be selling the Chicken Little's you see here and more, down town at the Chester farm festival. They will be available for purchase for 50% off price. That means you can finally own a Chicken Little for $50.00. The Chicken Little's are named and have hatch dates and a hatch place. They carry insight on themselves and are all signed by yours truly. Own one, two, or ten. There fun! You'll find me with the photo chick, Caryn B. Davis, on her front stoop selling our wares. Please come by and visit. Take a chick or two home.

One last thought...
Chicks talk! That is what we do and sometimes we pick a little then talk a little more.

A Soul full Place - It's a Good Thing!

2009-07-10T11:00:00.004-04:00

Years ago I practiced yoga everyday for 1 1/2 hours . I could bend here, bend there. Walk with feet over my shoulders, smile with my feet on my head ( I am exaggerating greatly). Today the simple lotus position hurts my knees, the tree pose requires absolute concentration and with my eyes closed an impossibility. The triangle pose wrenches my love handles tighter and the warrior pose a feeble disgrace. The years of life are hidden in every nook and cranny of my being.

Today I went to yoga and found during my savasana (Dead Man Pose) that I was getting emotional. Grateful for the moments I had this weekend and at the same time eliciting release from old dramas and traumas. Nothing specific but a lifting of a heaviness in my heart. Bend this knee here, place this foot there, point hand to the elephant wall, hips forward, stop gripping with your toes, reach to the sky and.... oh yeah CRY! I was stunned. I could not stop the tears from flowing down my face. Essentially, I had hit an emotional pain spot.

Where do you put all the pain that you avoid in life? You know, a friendship ends, your dog dies ( for me that is one in the same) a gallery rejection, love gone sour......... well I believe I know. It's in every cell of your being and when compressed and stretched you can finally say goodbye to it. It is illuminating and satisfying, not to mention extremely therapeutic.

I enjoy my yoga classes. I have two teachers Laura and Patrick. Laura joy in movement. Smiling even at 6:00 am. Patrick has clever grace. I am forever grateful for their light and thoughtfulness. It is the best time of the day, in that I only think about what I am doing in that moment. Along with the stretching, bending, pulling, there is the constant reminder to breath. It is a vacation from my mind. Away from the monkey mind that swings from thought to thought without a break for a banana or to scratch an itch. When I walk into class, usually harried being that it is early morning and I am not a morning person. I find that the studio holds an energy of acceptance and truthfulness. An intimacy you can't hide from. My teacher, healer and friend Patrick is the proprietor of this studio XO Yoga, and his presence brings another point of light to Chester. Intimacy is not only physical but also psychological and spiritual. It is to know and to ALLOW to be known. Don't get me wrong he is not an angel or infallible, he will admit often enough (although sometimes I do think so). However when I am in his studio I feel just a little more myself . I feel I am home. Not a house or a place but more in my heart. More soulful.

Now THAT'S a good thing !

The drawings were created right after class. I then I played with them on photoshop. They are not my usual expression but no one has ever said that I am predictable. I have new pastels and a new kind of paper that I have never used. Both are intriguing me at the moment. For those that want to know I got a set of pan pastels and some yupo paper. That paper is like silk. It is 100% Plolyprolene with a smooth finish that allow the pastels to glide like skates on ice..

Namaste!

The Past

2009-06-10T11:18:00.027-04:00

Lately I have been so busy getting my hunna bunna's new venture off the ground that all work on Carolina Studios halted. You will learn all about the new venture soon but for now back to Carolina Studios.

On the off hours of my day, which is usually in the wee hours of the early morning, when I'm supposed to meditate for an hour, I have been jumping out of the Lotus position a little early and organizing my slide files from the last 22 years. And this is what I have discovered!.

I remember those earrings.They were glass grapes. Look at those big eyes. I look like a Bambi caught in some headlights.

A self portrait,1984.

I worked as an senior designer for a Lotus software company. I would take foam core scraps from my office and paint at night in my North End studio apt. I had no illusions that I would ever do this for a living. It was something that I had to do because it was fun and it relaxed me. I used old house paints to paint them. Oil! I believe it was Pittsburgh Paints. I just loved the smell and watching 1950''s and 60's movies till very late at night.

The King of Brussels 1986.

When I was a kid, my Dad would me tease about brussels sprouts. I absolutely loathed them. I would pack them, one by one, to one side of my mouth, but not swallow. My hope was that my parents would leave the table and I could spit them out in my napkin. Those suppers around the table were eons of bitterness hanging onto one side of my mouth. I named the piece King of Brussels, because of the distaste the king shows in his expression. I wonder if that is what I looked like and if I ever fooled them with my specious attempts to ditch them?

Rock and Rollers 1985

This was created after I went off to mefah (medford) MA to see the Stray Cats with my friend Kathy. She could not get enough of their music and would dance all night to the beat of the Cats. Seeing them again made me wonder about Kathy and all the laughs and dance steps we shared.

Space Travelers 1985.

I have no recollection of it's inspiration. What I do remember is I sold them to an Art Director for $ 125.00 in 1988 six months after leaving my employment as a 9 - to forever designer/art director. He was passing through Portsmouth NH and decided to visit the Hoyt House gallery. He worked from Ogilvy and Mather. Life is funny, the irony of selling a piece to someone in my old profession. Especially to someone who worked at one of the places I had wanted to work for when I got out of school in 82.

Bird of Paradise. 1984

I should have called it bird of scraps because often that is how I would decide on what to create next. Determined by the material available to me.

People of the 80's 1986

I don't know why but it seems that is when everyone started to really experiment with their personal appearances. Before then it was boys with long hair and girls wearing low rise jeans, which were hip huggers in my day.Ty and Dina 1987 An old boyfriend and his dog Dina. A sweet dog. I had to break up with him, I regretted having to break up with her.

Looking back at these early creations I realized how creatively free they are. I clearly recognize the courage it took and takes to put yourself out for the public. Recently, someone who just finished writing her first screenplay said " well it is out there, being judged, and I feel so naked!" I smiled and thought naked is a state of mind where there is no place to find cover. NO camouflage, NO masks to conceal behind. All your glory is fully lit and beaming. It must be addressed with kindness and respect by all, but principally by yourself. It is an admirable thing to do. I think it is time to get my birthday suit on and go to work.

MUSIC AS INSPIRATION

2009-05-04T19:33:00.049-04:00

So much of my work comes from the inspiration of music and the actual observing of music being created. I love watching a musician make music. When I was young I was obligated to take lessons of varying media. The clarinet an instrument of soulful and whimsical tones. The piano with elegant graceful notes. There were the ballet lessons and the tragedy of me in movement. Once there was even a painful audition of Ado Annie in the musical Oklahoma that shook my every nerve to sickness. Nonetheless my favorite lessons of all, were the illusive and diverting drawing, oil and mix media art classes. And for good measure, my parents made us take tennis and golf just in case sport was one of our gigs.

We as family went to see choral, instrumental and band concerts. I detested every minute of this requirement in my family. However, one day that changed in a big way. Now in college, I got a call from Papa requesting that I attend, with him, and some friends to a production of Madame Butterfly. I tried to beg out "papa I would love too but I have some sketches due tomorrow and a review with my advertising counselor". My dad being an aficionado of this particular arcane art form would not hear of it. He commanded, "meet us at the Wang theater and your ticket will be waiting at the booth".
I had learned a long time prior not to disappoint my father with my unintended ignorance, besides there would probably be a free meal involved and potential influx of funds into my much depleted bank account. Upon taking my seat, I was Immediately, turned off. I whispered to my father are you kidding me. He shhh me and told me to pay attention. On stage was Madame Butterfly. She had entered stage right and begun to sing what I imagined would be many arias. She was a big, black, women with a distinctive, large forehead and a long flowing hair piece. What little I did know about this particular opera, was that Ciociosan (madame butterfly) was suppose to be portraying a 15 year old geisha girl. This singer was not 15 nor a geisha girl.
I could not believe my eyes. I slumped back into my seat and resigned myself for a very long evening. As I began to watch I became enchanted. The magnificent sets, the vibrant costumes, the actors and of course the conductor with his sporadic movements directing the primos and orchestra with excitement. As a visual person, I thought this could entertain me but could it sustain me for the next 2 hours? To my amazement, the time flew by quickly. Ciociosan was about to give her final aria and I felt a sudden body shiver. As I watched, riveted, my eyes started to water. Her last song was a creative, flamboyant suicide/death scene, while her boy, whom she adored was leaving for America with the duplicitous Pinkerton. It was a stirring moment for me because of the emotion the music was able to conjur. And for the second time in 2 hours, I could not believe my eyes as I wept at the final scene. Bravo!

I never forgot that experience. It was a lesson to experience everything. In life you may not know the gifts that will come your way. I read once, that god will not punish us for our bad deeds but will question vociferously about why we did not take advantage of the wonderful gifts he sent our way and we rejected them. Open your eyes, take it all in. This life time is not a dress rehearsal. I believe that the human condition is owned by all human beings. White, black, small, large, young, old, happy, sad and inasmuch of that we are all related by our experiences.The painting above was painted in 2004 many years after the experience at the Opera. The first drawing is a quick rough draft/sketch of my ciociosan in 1987. As I remembered her 4 years later. I carried that memory in my mind and in a sketch book for 16 years before I attempted to construct it. I didn't want to be disappointed by not remembering it as it was. I wanted to remember more the feelings I had maintained through memory and with time difusing the the details.

CELEBRATING 22 YEARS IN BUSINESS

2009-04-24T15:44:00.002-04:00

I have now been at it for 22 years. I never thought that I would make it this far. Many times just wanted to stop and do something else. Just when those thoughts would pollute my mind someone, usually a stranger, would show up or call me and remind me of why I started this business 22 years ago.

Business and Art a troubling and difficult way to make money!It is a bit of an Oxymoron. A pointed foolishness. A contradiction. When I was a child my mother took me to the museum of modern art in NYC. I was in the 4Th grade. My parents always taught me and my sisters that there was more to this world then met the eye. Exposing us to all things cultural, natural, creative and political. My mother became aware that Guernica a painting by Picasso was heading home to Spain. On loan to the museum, we had one last chance see it. I have never forgotten that moment. As I stood in the exhibition hall with others milling around me I marveled at the greatness. It uttered its story with out words but with pictures. That moment hit the spot! 40 years later I desire to do the same, for others. It is an intangible experience. Hard to describe the feeling but when it happens there is no denying it, and with that experience connect on a very deep visceral level with the viewer.

In order to inspire others with this experience I have decided to open the studio for summer hours. Starting May 1, 2009 I will be open W-F 10am - 2pm and Saturday and Sundays by appointment only, so that maybe just maybe my creations "HIT THE SPOT". In addition, I now accept MasterCard and Visa to aid in bringing this experience home with you. Come on by and check out my spot.

So now that spring and the advent of summer is on its way I can stop feeling like the blue nude and move into a more lively color. This piece was created in the middle of winter in the shoreline of NH.

This is what happens when an artist that loves color and lacks the vitamin D to process the winters here in New England. Soon I promise you will see a livelier color palette.

For now I am delighted with what I have been able to do with this blog. I owe a great deal of thanks to a couple of
friends and mentors who kept cheering me on to do the blog. I would like to thank Robin and her lovely daughter for all there help and encouragement. I would also like to thank my very good friend Erik who was the first to suggest a blog and get my feet wet with this form of communicating on the Web. I really don't think it would have happened with out them. I would also like to thank Stanton for always encouraging me every step and back step I have taken in this art career. Standing next to me all the time and never ever giving up hope that my gift is worth sharing with the world. I love you Stanton!