I am taking The Leap to be a full time artist!

I am taking The Leap to be a full time artist!
That’s right, as of Thursday, September 19, I will be a full time artist!

I’m taking The Leap.
A leap of faith. A leap of daring. A crazy leap. A brave leap. A courageous leap. A leap for joy.

How did this come about?
About 20+ years ago, I was doing some research and reflection to figure out my ideal job. The answer that kept coming back was: Artist.
Spoiler alert: There’s no clear career path for a fine artist.

So, I made a pledge to become a full time artist in 20 years and have been working on that—building my skills and finding my voice and style—while pursuing a career in communications. I became a certified facilitator, training designer, and learned how to coach performance management, write, edit video, and more. I was juried into scores of shows, painted hundreds of paintings, had multiple solo and group art shows, earned a certificate in graphic design and my MFA in Visual Arts. I also divorced, happily remarried, and moved to the West Coast.

Bringing Joy
And here in Seattle is where it’s all come together. One evening, I asked my friends on Facebook—What 3 Colors Bring You Joy? And that’s when all the years of work and training came together.
I was meant to create art that brings joy to people’s lives.

With this Mission, I Thee Paint
Over the past two years, this mission has become profound and urgent. We are in dark and chaotic times. It’s become clear to me that the forces of darkness and chaos want us isolated and in despair.
The only antidote is joy, because with joy comes resilience and connection.
In the past year, my Joy mission has expanded to include supporting artists in reaching their business goals through one on one coaching, webinars, Artist’s Way workshops, and mastermind group facilitation—bringing together my training, certifications, and passion for helping others.
I did all of this—growing my art and artist coaching business—while I was working full-time.

Deciding to Leap
Recently, it became clear to me that it was time to make The Leap and follow my passion.
Art changes lives and makes the world better. It brings meaning to our lives. It connects us as people. I believe deeply in the power of art to make things better and that’s why I am fully committing my life’s work to art and coaching artists.

Thank you
I want to close with a profound thank you to you my followers, my subscribers, and my collectors. YOU have helped make this dream come true through your support and investment in my work.

I am here to bring you joy and look forward to doing that for decades to come.

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The Artist's Way and "Our Fragile Earth"

The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron is one of the most powerful books ever written. Essentially, it’s a workbook of exercises you can do to recover your creative spirit and follows a 12 week model, which doesn’t sound overly powerful UNTIL you start going through the exercises each week.

When I was a kid, I loved using workbooks at school, so when I heard about Cameron’s workbook about 20+ years ago, I was immediately drawn in.

One of her best tools is Morning Pages. These are three pages of stream of consciousness writing done first thing every morning. It’s not so much writing as taking dictation for whatever the brain wants to share in those early morning hours. Cameron encourages asking the pages what you like/don’t like, what you want more of/less of and to listen to what the pages have to say back. It’s a fascinating process.

This painting, “Our Fragile Earth,” was a breakthrough in process for me. Each morning, I used my morning pages to listen for instructions. I listened and I wrote. I asked what do I do next and wrote out what I heard back. Later, in the studio, I would paint as the pages had instructed. When i got stuck, the next morning I would ask the pages what to do next. The pages always had an answer.

The pages always have an answer.

You can see the 48”x48” painting “Our Fragile Earth” at the Women Painters of Washington Gallery in the Columbia Tower in downtown Seattle (it’s up through late September).

If are in Seattle this fall and you’d like to do The Artist’s Way, check out my upcoming workshop at Studio Life. First workshop is Monday, August 19, 2019—register by August 12 for a special early registration price of $395. The workshop includes snacks, email support, a bonus orientation week, and a special dinner that I host for participants.

PS — Here is what one participant said about the spring Artist’s Way Workshop:

“I rediscovered my passions and interests in a supportive environment in The Artist’s Way workshop at StudioLife. As I worked through the course with Sarah and a small group this spring, things holding me back fell away. Immovable boulders became pebbles, and faded dreams bubbled up into active projects. The commitment to each week’s exercises - in and out of class - created a rewarding, positive feedback loop. The daily and weekly practices in The Artist’s Way are now fully incorporated in my life and I’m not looking back.”

Register today on the Studio Life website.

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Fear or Excitement: Who Decides?

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"I'm so nervous about doing this."

I hear that a lot as an Artist Coach. In fact, I hear about it so much I wanted to write to you about it because we all have those moments in life when we feel scared of what's ahead or where we are at.

Excitement or Fear? A Tool

Over the years, I've picked up a tool that's really helped me when I'm nervous or fearful about doing something and I wanted to share it with you.

So here's the secret--fear and excitement feel roughly the same physically. Our breathing is more rapid, our heart might pound a little, our nerves feel nervy--I even have a weird metallic taste that comes up whether I'm really nervous or really excited.

What we do with that physical response can affect our perceived reality. When I feel those sensations, I’ve started doing a quick analysis of the situation. If it’s not life or death and if I’m not in actual danger, I’ve been saying to myself, I'm so excited about this!” Suddenly, instead of being subject of my fear, I am agent of my own adventure!

Agent of My Own Adventure

As agent of my own adventure, I’m making a choice to do this thing (whatever it is)—from open sea kayaking, to a sprint triathlon, to leading an artist’s workshop, to traveling by myself to visit my Mum and a dear art friend to see Hilma af Klint's breakthrough art show in New York City (where the photo up top was taken).

The tool--labeling the fear as excitement--gets me over the hump and out the door to my adventure. And oh the rewards of doing that--being able to stand in front of the world's first abstract artist, Hilma af Klint. Seeing porpoises swim 30 feet away as my nephew and I kayaked together. Being a part of my workshop participants' journey to increased self-expression. Even tiger paddling my way through the swim leg to PR in my bike leg and run respectably and not finish last in my first sprint triathlon. Taking that first step to see what I can do has meant having experiences that make my life richer, more fun, and more filled with joy.

So try it out. Next time you are feeling nervous about doing something and thinking about maybe not doing it, try saying to yourself "I'm so excited!" and take that next step.

Courage

Courage is not the absence of fear, but feeling the fear and doing it anyway. This tool is one you can use to help you take that first step.

Have a great day. And remember to look for joy. I promise it is there.

Joyfully,
Sarah
Sarah C.B. Guthrie, MFA
https://www.artistgu3.com/

Oh and here's a little Joy for you--"My heart flutters" 12"x12" Acrylic on paper. Click here for more information about the piece.

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Stage Fright, or What Eminem Taught Me about Fighting The Nanas

A few weeks ago I opened my sixth of seven solo art shows in the past 18 months. You would think with that many openings that it gets easier, that I improve my process, that I am—if nothing else—less nervous about it.

But you would be wrong.

The week before I was so stressed. Working late hours to get ready, trying to get through my to do lists. Trying to remember the things I remembered and forgot to write down. My breath tends to be shallow. I’m nervous. Shaky. Intellectually, I know I will be fine—but my physical self is on high alert. It’s hard to unwind. Harder to sleep.

So I’m in that space and I’m driving late one evening. My phone is plugged in and randomly going through all my songs, which ends up with unusual juxtapositions like the Kelly Willis and Black Eyed Peas and Christmas Songs and Kendrick Lamar and Mozart. And then it landed.

Eminem’s “Lose Yourself.”

I turn it up. All the way up. The truck thumps as I drive through the dark and rainy night.

“Look
If you had
One shot
And one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted
In one moment
Would you capture it or just
Let it slip?”

He asks me. He is speaking to me. This show is a great opportunity. It’s a popular shop. My work will be up for at least a month—not just a one night art walk. It was the opportunity. But then his words come back. The reality sinks in. Yes, this opportunity and all of a sudden

“His palms are sweaty—
Knees weak—
Arms are heavy
There’s vomit on his sweater already—Mom’s spaghetti—
He’s nervous
But on the surface
He looks calm and ready
To drop bombs
But he keeps on forgetting what
He wrote down
The whole crowd goes so loud
He opens his mouth
But the words won’t come out
He choking how
Everybody’s joking now
The clock’s run out
Time’s up
Over blau.”

That’s me. That’s me with a Case of The Nanas. Getting ready to walk into a gallery. To meet other artists. To give a talk. The Nanas. It’s stage fright. It’s the most brilliant text I’ve read about stage fright. The lived experience of it. They way the mind can go blank as your body fails you, betrays you. The pressure overrides your mind. Few artists talk about it outside the performing arts. So many visual artists are introverts, which is partly why this medium has such an appeal. It’s a place for us to hide, to restore, to refresh with just the rhythm of the brush on the canvas, the feeling of joy that comes from seeing a work of art emerge from the layers of self expression.

Don’t get me wrong. I know Eminem is misogynist AF but this song. This song is incredible. It gave me a way out. A way to fight the stage fright. He told me exactly what I needed to do.

“You better
Lose yourself, in the music, the moment,
You own it
You better never
Let it go.
You only get one shot,
Do not miss your chance to blow
’Cause opportunity comes once in a lifetime
You better
Lose yourself
In the music
The moment,
You only get one shot,
Do not
Miss your chance
To blow
Cause opportunity comes once in a life time
You better
You can do anything you set our mind to, man [sic]”

The answer was right there. I needed to lose myself in the music, the moment. To get out of my head, out of my body, and into the zone—connect beyond myself—where the music is. And in that moment “Lose Yourself” became my walk up song.

What’s a walk up song? In professional baseball, there’s a tradition of batters getting a song played each time they walk up to bat. It helps set the mind, shake off nerves, gets them pumped, and ready to connect the bat to the ball. It was just the technique I needed.

Now when I feel the Nanas approaching, I put on my headset and turn up the volume and lose myself. Works like a charm.

 

“Lose Yourself” is written by Jeff Bass, Luis Resto, Marshall Mathers

 

 

See—this is why the walk up song works. Get lost in the music and then I’m ready for the show! Thanks to Classic Consignment in the Ballard neighborhood in Seattle for the show opportunity.

See—this is why the walk up song works. Get lost in the music and then I’m ready for the show! Thanks to Classic Consignment in the Ballard neighborhood in Seattle for the show opportunity.

Uncertain | Voting

Since I have been eligible to vote, there have been maybe just two or three elections I haven’t voted in. I am a naturalized American citizen—I was born in England and we came to the U.S. when I was two years old.

My parents were politically active in England and used to go door to door, canvasing for their candidates. We lived in the States for fourteen years before they became citizens and could vote—so they instilled in me the urgency and importance of voting. Every. Single. Election. I vote in the big elections, in the local elections, in the mid term elections. Hell, I even overnight mailed in my absentee ballot from England, where I was studying my junior year of college. It was that important (and, yes, I had procrastinated that much).

In 2016, the people who could but did not vote decided the outcome. About 47% of registered voters in the U.S. didn’t vote. If they had voted, the outcome may have been different.

I have since 8 pm Pacific time on November 8, 2016—when Florida went red—had a rough, woolen blanket of anxiety wrapped around my solar plexus. It goes with me everywhere. It makes me feel vaguely nauseated every day. It can keep me from breathing deeply. For two years. Feeling like I need to puke and can’t breathe—for two years. It’s like a dull terror. What will happen. What will happen. What will happen. Can I breathe. Will I breathe. What will happen. What will happen.

And it’s the height of privilege that I’ve only had this blanket for two years. Millions world wide, and here in the U.S. have lived with this dull terror every day of their lives as subjects of systematized racism. Much of my work for the last two years has been to learn them how you go on. How you function when your blanket of anxiety is squeezing you, keeping you from breathing.

I’ve learned you take action—whatever action you can. You get out of your comfort zone. You stretch. You talk to others. Create community. Have real conversations about what matters. Check in on your gay, lesbian, trans, black, brown, Jewish, and marginalized friends. See how they are doing. You exercise. You breathe deep. You meditate. You find some way to express yourself creatively. You eat more vegetables and less sugar. But you keep taking action.

We need checks and balances back in our system—which means having at least the House of Representatives or Senate go blue—and right now I’m not sure we will get them. And if we don’t, it is very dark what comes next.

There it is. The blanket of anxiety wraps tighter the closer we get to next Tuesday, November 6. There are times, I’m not sure I can manage it. Manage the anxiety. The dull terror. I am new to this. By virtue of the accident the life and skin color I was born into, I am new to this.

We have seen the erosion of norms I had taken for granted as a white, middle-class, suburban child growing up in New England. I had taken for granted that the U.S. would always be a democracy. Taken for granted that, as a naturalized citizen, I would always be able vote. Taken for granted that, as a woman, I would always be able to vote. It was naïve. I know that now. There is nothing we can take for granted. All of it is at stake.

It is uncertain.

#UncertainDispatches #NaNoWriMo

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Turning Fiddy

I turned 50 this year. Well, I like to say I turned fiddy as that sounds much less AARPish than “FIFTY!!” I’ve been thinking a lot about what that means for me, for my family, for my peers.

I am proudly part of the cynical, sarcastic GenX generation. We were kids in the 70s and early 80s. On Amazon Prime/Netflix, my peers are Paige in The Americans and Lorelei Gilmore (the second one). I used to go to my friends’ houses by walking or riding my bike. Long distance phone calls cost a lot of money. There were maybe four TV stations. I rode the school bus and had no after school activities, other than occasional Girl Scout meetings. I was part of the first wave of “latch key” kids because my Mum began working full time when I was about ten or so.

I had access to a suburban U.S., middle class white girl’s generally typical childhood. With two notable exceptions:

  • I was (and am) an artist, and
  • I am an immigrant, now naturalized citizen.

I’m going to start writing more about turning 50 because for whatever somewhat random math reason, it’s a milestone number and that has an effect on how we approach the world. Well, at least for me it does. Maybe it’s just me? I’ll post here and on my blog. If you want to follow along look for #SarahFiddy

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New horizons in "What 3 Colors Bring You Joy?" (literally), Part I (from August 11, 2018)

If you follow me on Facebook or Instagram, you know that watercolor landscapes have entered into the What 3 Colors Bring You Joy? series--although now that's called What 3 (Landscape) Colors Bring You Joy?

How did that happen?

The summer road trip my husband and I took was a great adventure for us and changed my paintings, at least for now. I’m still painting What 3 Colors Bring You Joy?—but now I’m playing with 3 color landscapes.

I love living in Seattle but hadn’t yet visited much of the rest of the state. Back in June, we decided rather last minute to go on a road trip around Washington state. The drive was gorgeous. If you haven’t been to Washington state, there are all sorts of climates to experience--from Alpines, like Switzerland, to temperate rain forests, to high deserts like New Mexico, forests, farms, canyons, and on and on. And it’s all beautiful.

As we drove past all these scenes, my desire to return to landscape painting grew. By the fourth day of trying (and failing) to paint the scenery with my Fluid Acrylics, I knew I had to make a change. To get the paintings to come out the way I wanted, to my surprise, I realized I needed to go back to my old friend—watercolors.

Okay, I'll pause there. More on that story in my next blog!

And remember, wherever you go this week, be sure to look for joy. It's there. I promise.

("You Matter," the painting below, is On Reserve.)

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Creating art vs. rendering (from July 31, 2018)

“Making art is not simply rendering.”
—Barbara Earl Thomas

I was lucky enough to hear Barbara Earl Thomas talk about the intersection of her work as a museum director and her process as an artist recently. There was so much that resonated for me, particularly this—that as an artist my job is not to render. Rendering is not making art.

What that meant to me is that my job is to bring myself, my own reality to what I am seeing, thinking, feeling, and or experiencing to what I create.

Photos and copying machines do a better job at rendering than I ever could. And replicating what is seen, for me, is not the point of what I do.

I want to communicate with you, to share with you.

And so I change the reality of what I see when I make art. I am doing the work, the labor of making something that never existed before, because until I made it—without me—it *cannot* exist.

I am curious about how what I make affects YOU—what do YOU see, what do YOU think, what do YOU feel—when you see my work? What does it evoke for you? I most want you to feel lighter, to feel joy, to have some respite. It may not always do that but that’s what I want...more joy for you.

I want to show you my process, so you can see the choices I made and how they differ from the source photo--and get some insight into the enormous number of decisions that goes into each work. I normally would shy from showing you the source, because what I painted is different. But a life without taking chances is far less interesting.

So here we go. On the left, the inspiration photos. Then, on the right, the paintings.

Take gentle care of yourself. Look for joy. I promise it is there.

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Time to rest and create some joy...how about you? (from May 21, 2018)

It's been a busy year of making Joy in the studio! Five solo shows (four of them with totally new paintings), painting and posting (just about) every day since January 1, and creating several beautiful commissioned works. It's been glorious and so much fun!

Now that the shows are wrapped, I'm catching up a bit and looking at what's ahead. I posted a lot of new art on Instagram and Facebook yesterday as I had taken a much-needed breather for a few days. For me, that's meant catching up on sleep, baking, visiting with friends, cycling, cleaning up my studio, playing board games, watching the Royal Wedding, drinking tea...all that "normal" stuff. I've also been thinking a lot about how to refine my goals and ambition so I don't burn out.

How about you? How are you doing? I know a lot of my parenting friends are trying to keep heads above water with all the end of the school year "fun" and school projects. My student friends are trying to get through mid-terms and finals. It seems like there are loads of events, travel, and work projects for many of my friends and colleagues.

The warmth and long days of spring are so welcome...just maybe not all the To Dos!

So as the Artist who Brings You Joy, I want you to consider this blog post as your permission slip to skip something--cancel a plan, ask someone for help, have your kids make their lunch this week, eat out/order in, call your dog walker to cover a couple of walks--and use that time to do something for you!

I'm back in the studio and have some fun ideas to paint What 3 Colors Bring You Joy?...but inspired by 3 colors from landscape paintings. If you have a favorite landscape you'd like to see translated into a What 3 Colors Bring You Joy painting, please send it by reply email or post to my studio Facebook page!

Until next time, take care of you. Find some joy. It's there. I promise.

Finding love, finding joy (from May 2, 2018)

In my last email I wrote about losing love and taking care of ourselves, so let’s swing the pendulum the other way this week.

Let’s talk about finding love and finding joy this week.

Finding Love, Finding Joy

The end of May marks thirteen years that I’ve been divorced from my then-husband and this past week marked the seven year “meetaversary" of my husband Tom and I met. That six year gap felt like dog years, some days. I knew I wanted a life partner, which for me was a husband, and a family...and just something different. I wanted adventure. Even a new city to live in after being in Washington DC area for twenty years. And then one night in April seven years ago, I had a date with a retired Marine who made me laugh and made me think, even on our first phone call together. And soon after the adventures began--moving cross-country to Seattle, meeting new friends, exploring new places, learning a new culture, re-establishing my studio space, and finding my calling by creating the series, "What 3 Colors Bring You Joy?" By creating a life that brought me joy, I have been able to share that joy with you through my art.

If you are in that place now--of knowing what you want and also knowing you're not there just yet--keep going. Hold on to that vision of what you want for your life. Keep taking steps that move you in that direction. Don't worry about how long it may take or that you started late. It may not unfold the way you thought, but keep going. And if you are an artist, writer, performer, protect your art and keep practicing. We need you. We need more creative, positive energy in this world and you are just the person to do it. Trust me.

Losing love and taking care (from April 22, 2018)

I woke up this morning to news that a friend's wife passed away after fighting ovarian cancer for two years. I am heart broken for her husband, daughter, their family, and friends. And, honestly, it's had me kind of paralyzed and teary today. There's all sorts of cliched thoughts running through my head, but what lingers are echoes of other losses. One of my family lost a very beloved friend recently. My cousin's beloved son who passed away six years ago. Ted, my painting mentor, who passed away 12 years ago. More. Too many more.

I'm not really sure what to write--or even if I should share this to you--but it feels important. Grieving, letting in and letting out the sadness and anger, feels so important. If you are struggling with loss, I hope you have some love you can lean into for support, whether family, a trusted friend, or counselor. That connection with others will help soften the jagged edges of grief.

And, while we are here, please get that thing checked. You know. That thing. I wrote this week on Instagram about my follow up eye appointment--and how 18 months ago I'd had to have emergency eye treatment. My recovery is going well and my doctor said now everything is stable. The procedure averted riskier and more invasive surgery. And that's where I implore you to get that thing checked. I'd had flashes in my vision, but didn't understand the level of risk I was in...until I called the nurse line, described my symptoms, and she booked my appointment that same morning. So whatever that thing is for you (as one friend said, when you hit a certain age, there are a lot of "things!"), please get it checked.

Thank you for reading and for taking care of your loved ones...and especially yourself.

Here is some healing heart chakra green joy for you. Sending you the peace and fresh air of a walk in the woods.

"Deep Forest" dark green lighter green and gray 04/14/18 #103 5"x7" Acrylic on YUPO.

Andrew Wyeth, My Painter Grandfather

I went to the #AndrewWyeth exhibit @seattleartmuseum a few days ago and had an epiphany that brought me to tears. Oh yeah. That’s right. Crying. In the museum. While others were milling around. And I was taken aback at my response…until it came to me. 

Wyeth is my Painter Grandfather!

Stay with me a bit and I’ll explain what I mean.                                                      

The term “woman painter” is a strange and often pejorative one in the male-dominated art world. It doesn’t make any sense when you really think about it. Why should my identity as a cis female in any way change the value or regard for my artwork. Art is art. Why does my gender matter? The term always left me feeling less than, like I had no right to be part of the art world—this place that called to me so profoundly.

So back to me in the museum. Crying in front of Wyeth’s early watercolors. Early in my return to painting two decades ago, I studied with Ted Betts in Virginia @theartleague. Ted was a brilliant mentor—kind and generous in his teaching. He painted in the tradition of Wyeth—often using those muted palettes, highly detailed hardscapes and landscapes. Ted passed away about 10 years ago and I miss him so much. He was such a force for good, kindness, and compassion in the world. From Ted I learnt how to mix colors, create light effects, choose paint and brushes, paint details, to know when a piece was ready and when a piece was still a work in progress, and over the course of the years I studied with him, I began my foray into working abstractly.

At the Seattle Art Museum last week, my epiphany was that for me, as an artist, Ted is my Painter Father.

Ted helped me grow my happy accidents into intention. He taught me so much and, most of all, he was respectful of me, my work and my aspirations. He was encouraging. He built my confidence after many others had torn it down. Standing in front of Wyeth’s watercolors, I pieced together that if Ted was my Painter Father, then Wyeth was my Painter Grandfather. Suddenly I went from orphan Woman Painter to painting royalty. Through painting, I had a direct connection to this artist. This was my Painter Patrilineage. On exhibit in the Seattle Art Muesum. I was uplifted and overwhelmed. 

And I cried with joy, grief, and relief.

So if you haven’t been yet, I recommend you go. For more information go to: Seattle Art Museum Exhibitions.

 

Oh yeah. That's me. Crying at the Andrew Wyeth exhibit.

Oh yeah. That's me. Crying at the Andrew Wyeth exhibit.

Green purple dark blue

The works in "What 3 Colors Bring You Joy?" are inspired by suggestions from people in my life and those who follow me on social media. I ask for inspiration and in return I paint images designed to refresh and restore. The works are small and prices for collecting multiples. Comment below and let me know what three colors bring you joy!

What 3 colors bring #joy? One person said green purple dark blue.

This 5"x7" piece is 95.00 (includes mat and shipping). PayPal accepted. Comment "WANT" to purchase or comment "MORE" to commission your own 3-color work and I'll message you.

"We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure, but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless furnace of this world. To make injustice the only measure of our attention is to praise the Devil."--Jack Gilbert, Refusing Heaven

Green purple dark blue. Acrylic on paper 5"x7" 95.00 (matted and shipped) 

Green purple dark blue. Acrylic on paper 5"x7" 95.00 (matted and shipped) 

New in the store: MT. RAINIER

After weeks of previewing my work in progress on social media, I'm pleased to announce that Mt. Rainier is complete and available in the store!

Mt. Rainier has a power and vibration like no other I've known before. When I first visited Seattle in 2012, I found the mountain (actually a volcano, but we'll stick with mountain for this story) kept popping up when I least expected it. Almost every time, I screamed or startled when I saw it on the horizon. I couldn't decide if it terrified or thrilled me. A believer in signs, I had no idea how to read this one: what did it portend? I decided in the end that it foretold a great adventure--a decision I made just as we made the decision to move to Seattle. Every sunny day in Seattle, I see the mountain and it brings me joy. This painting portrays the emotional impact of this beautiful mountain.

April Challenge!

I'm getting ready for a solo show in May. I have 25 paintings but I need to paint at least 75 What 3 Colors Bring You Joy paintings to get to an even 100! And I NEED YOUR HELP WITH INSPIRATION!! Please post what 3 colors bring you joy in the comments below. Share with your friends and ask them to post too. Thank you!! #aprilchallenge #75paintings #💯

Yellow pink red 5" x 7" Acrylic on paper (c) 2017. 95.00 USD matted and shipped in US. 

Yellow pink red 5" x 7" Acrylic on paper (c) 2017. 95.00 USD matted and shipped in US.