Buzz the Blog - Life by Larabee

An Unexpected Christmas Blessing

We thought about bypassing Christmas this year. We had been sick with a stubborn respiratory infection for weeks. Isolated in our house, we had to cancel all of our scheduled festivities. At our home, there were no signs of Christmas. No tree, no elves, no Santas… and most of all, no baby Jesus.
He was missing. Yes, missing. After all of the antibiotics and steroids, when we finally started to feel better, we tore through the house in a cleaning frenzy. Then came the decorations, ending with the manger scene. But my heart dropped when the baby was nowhere to be found.
I looked for him among the elves, the carollers, the gnomes, the angels, the Santas, and the ornaments. The shepherds were busy with their flocks and the wise men had their hands full of gifts. Technically, they hadn’t even arrived yet. Mary and Joseph stared at the empty manger until I put in a placeholder, a shell from Florida shaped like a small body. A creative, but very different, representation. It will do, I told myself, but I missed that tiny baby in the manger. I wasn’t able to find a suitable baby on Amazon or Etsy, even when I checked the shop where I purchased our original set. It appeared they didn’t make the set anymore.
So, I wrote the artist, telling her what had happened. “Do you still make the figurines that belong in the set? Our baby Jesus has come up missing.”

Only a Moment

Today, I no longer see snow resting on top of colorful tree branches. After the snow, a biting wind snatched the remaining leaves from their wooden perches, sending them to the ground in dancing cascades. Movement into winter is nearing completion. Last week, I hiked in sunshine and in snow. Today, as I sit in my art studio, the day is grey and cold.

Change always seems sudden, even though signs may be apparent well in advance. This is true not only of seasons but of life in general. As a young woman, life felt spacious, almost eternal. Now, as I near seventy, life has limits. I am aware that my personal story will eventually end, and it will be up to others to carry the journey forward. Still, I am not disheartened or fearful. Instead, I am grateful. Not everyone is blessed to live into their senior years.

Transitions

The snow came earlier than expected, dotting the Ohio landscape with white. Colorful leaves were still visible on many trees as if fall was not

Echoes of Autumn

I decided to try a muted wash and hated the result. The colors were much duller than I had anticipated, a far departure from my usual bright, uplifting theme. I wanted to throw the project away and start over, but a little voice in my head stopped me cold.
“Are you sure? All paintings have an ugly stage.”
This, in fact, is true. Maybe my struggle was not so much about the wash as about the unknown. This wash had a completely different feel, and I didn’t know how to handle it.

Arctic Symphony

Painting is more about discovery than certainty. I almost always begin a painting with an idea. The idea might be inspired by something someone said, a place I visited, or an event I attended. Yet, also, almost always, the painting takes on a life of its own and often turns out dramatically different from what I envisioned. Take this painting, for example. My initial brushstrokes were inspired by several pictures I had taken of different creeks during my hiking adventures. I was fascinated by the way the sun skipped across the water, tumbling lazily over fallen branches and rocks before meandering into the distance.

Passage (part 2)

What do you imagine when you look at this finished piece of a rocky mountain overlooking the sea? Does the painting leave you with calm and a feeling of peaceful serenity? Or do you feel isolated, stranded on a rocky outcropping with no escape? Does this painting inspire awe as you gaze at the vivid colors? Or do you feel dread? Perhaps the cliff is too high and the distance too far.

It is interesting how the same painting can evoke different feelings and reactions from a viewer. There are no wrong answers to the questions. Each viewer has their own unique perspective. It is not the painting but what the painting generates inside you. Paintings are like mirrors, reflecting what is already there.

The ability to reflect upon what lies within the heart is one of the true gifts of original art. This is true for both the painter and the viewer. Pay attention to how you feel and react when you observe works of art. Let the painting take you on a journey. You may discover something new about yourself. Reflect. Imagine. Enjoy.