Painted Thoughts Blog: family

Pouring Pain Onto The Page - The Healing Properties Of Art

"Shards of A Splintered Heart" - Painted with watercolor, memories and tears

While painting this quilt pattern, a small splatter of salty water hit the page.

A tear.

As I often get "lost" in the process of creating and go off in my mind to other worlds within this one, it wasn't really a surprise. It's happened before. Creating seems to lower my mental walls just enough to allow me to revisit old memory and witness a new perspective on some experience or relationship.

So, no, the tear didn't surprise me too much until I started following my thought-thread back to find the source of the moisture. Until that moment, I didn't realize I was giving voice to the pain—and healing—of losing my mother after a particularly long and vicious battle with dementia.

My mother was a seamstress of great talent, but making quilts were never her thing though she did make a few. She was more of a collector and she enjoyed them in her everyday world rather than keeping them for "company" or special occasions.

As I let the quiet tears fall, I knew they represented the stress and damage caused by an illness that knows no kindness and gives no quarter. They were for the years lost even though she was alive, for the impact it had on her, my father and my siblings as well as for the loneliness and lost feelings that still pervade my mind. And for the helplessness we all felt as we watched her mind being slowly destroyed.

As I followed my thoughts more consciously, I decided to give witness to the pain, guilt, loneliness, anger, frustration, and yes, even happiness, that her death brought. The swirling mess of volatile emotions, some seemingly at war with one another, were slowly brought to life on the page of my sketchbook.

When I began to lay out the quilt idea on the page, I made several changes from the original pattern I found. The shape of the heart (I made it fuller), the outer edges of the heart shape (I wanted it to be less fragmented) and the small splintered pieces inside (to represent my own emotional shards that have yet to settle) were either changed or added as I went along.

Much of the relief (and happiness) I've felt is in knowing she has set down the burden of her illness. The feeling of being lost and lonely sidle up next to the gaping hole of lost love I will no doubt feel until I no longer walk this earth. Anger that I lost so many years with her to this insidious disease and bewilderment that she's truly gone. All of this was and is overlaid with frustration that there was nothing, absolutely nothing which could be done to slow or stop the illness.

As I poured forth that complicated mess of feelings, I began to feel lighter, a lessening of the weight that seems to have been stifling my soul for months now. And while the weight is not completely gone, the slight lightening gives me hope that it will eventually be transformed into something different and new.

They say time heals. I say art heals more. I am ever so thankful to have an outlet by which I can process the big and little hurts we all encounter as we stroll upon the surface of the earth.

6 Creative Thought(s)

, by Laure Ferlita

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Gifts From The Past

A painting of my grandmother and me from Easter along with a few of our creations

I wrote this article back in 2014 and submitted it to a few magazines, but it never found a home. When I was recently looking through some old files for some family photos, I happen to run across it and thought I'd share it here on the blog. The actual events happen back in the early 2000's.

Recognizing The Artist Within
By Laure Ferlita

When my grandmother fell and mangled her hip and shoulder, she was sent to a rehabilitation facility with every expectation of coming home after a few weeks, maybe a month, after making a full recovery. Staying healthy, especially for a woman on the cusp of her nineties, is a dicey thing at best and coming home was not to be. After spending several months in the center, we faced the hard reality she would never be able to live by herself again.

Cleaning out her home was both heartrending and enlightening. Feeling as though we were plundering through her things and about to get scolded was a constant companion. The very last place I expected to start a journey of artistic self-discovery was among her photos, handkerchiefs and china. As it turned out, I ran smack-dab into my own artistic past.

As per the grandmothers' life guide, this woman had kept nearly everything gifted to her from her grandchildren over the long years or so it seemed. I don't know if she packed away everything we'd ever given her, but judging by all the bits and bobs we found, she'd made a herculean effort to do so.

While my brothers and cousins had given her cards, jewelry and perfume, I'd given her mostly art. Lots of art. We found drawings, painted rocks, ornaments, small watercolors, wreathes and, a simple pencil sketch of my grandfather I created in the summer between my seventh and eighth grades of school.

At the time of this antiquated walk through history, I was suffering a serious case of self-doubt over my chosen path and felt plagued with questions of worth—was I really an artist or was I destined to forever be a wannabe? I had yet to find my voice or a way forward.

As we opened box after box of kitsch, I continued to discover various pieces of my artistic beginnings. The realization finally hit me—these uncomplicated pieces of artwork were my true roots. My choices were not based on income potential but in the joy of doing, of creating. I had no critics. I wasn't riddled with fear and the need for perfection. In fact, my grandmother was one of my biggest advocates and fans. There was no struggle with whether is was commercially viable.

While I was not a child prodigy, I could see potential in some of the pieces my grandmother kept. It was humbling as well as encouraging to see the freedom with which I created back then. When I finished (or abandoned) a project, I would flit to the next thing to catch my fancy. At that time in my life, the act of creating that was far more important than the end result and this was a gift my grandmother gave me. I didn't recognize until much, much later.

One of the many tiny ornaments my grandmother made

She created miles of afghans and bedspreads in her day. She was forever dabbling in one craft or another. She sewed and crafted all the time, or so it seemed to an impressionable young girl. She was a role model for creating for the sake of creating and I doubt she even knew it.

I have no memories of criticism or questions of "why would you want to make that" or "why do you want to do that?" I was given an outlet of expression without censure. Yet another gift.

Looking back, I can now recognize the profound effect seeing those old pieces of art had on my direction, and more importantly, my feelings of self-worth. The doubts of being not "good enough" faded—just enough—to allow me to get out of my own way so I could rediscover the joy of creating rather than the "chore" of producing.

In all those boxes of kitschy knickknacks and faded cards, I found my way forward. And if I could, to my grandmother I would say, thank you for these last, unexpected and priceless gifts.

9 Creative Thought(s)

, by Laure Ferlita

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Craving Distraction, But Too Distracted To Be Distracted

From the Imaginary Visit To Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks class*

Have you ever found yourself desperately wanting to distract yourself from something ongoing in your life and at the same time you're too distracted to do anything for long?

That seems to describe where I've been at for the last few weeks.

The few times I've been able to focus has been either while preparing class materials like the piece above from the Imaginary Visit To Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks class or when I am painting in my sketchbook...not sketching, but painting.

I guess painting takes a lot more concentration and so I find my sketches turning into paintings in my current sketchbook.

What is it that I need to be distracted from? My mother's worsening dementia.

We've started exploring options for in-home care to take some of the load off from my father and it's been...rocky. Big-boulder-sized-rocks-kind-of-rocky.

Painting has always been a balance between meditation and torture for me. The further I've traveled down this path of creativity, the more the balance has shifted towards mediation and away from torture.

In the past, I've struggled over the smallest things gone wrong in a painting. Now I recognize it as part of the process and not critical (usually). It flavors the painting with nuances of the me, as the artist, as the imperfect being that I am.

From the Imaginary Visit To Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks class*

It is times like these that I am so very thankful for the outlet of creativity in my life. I feel like maybe, just maybe, I might create something beautiful out of the stress and unhappiness that comes from watching my mom fade away.

The image above is from my Lavender Fest "story" book...it's morphed way past a journal or a sketchbook at this point as it has become my escape when things get a little too intense.

This situation has been impacted my life in many ways with (or not) sketching being one of the more obvious. It has also had an impact on the time I've spent online and posting to social media and this blog. So if I go missing, know that I'll return. I'm either dealing with a mini-crisis or recovering from one!

* The two top pieces of art focus on incorporating maps as decorative elements onto the sketchbook page. The diagonal rectangle in the top image is an envelope that will be filled with a treasure from my trip. The cool thing about the envelope that there is another map printed on the inside!

15 Creative Thought(s)

, by Laure Ferlita

artistic interpretation

When To Sketch...And When Not To

5 Creative Thought(s)

, by Laure Ferlita

birthday

Somebody's Having A Special Day!

7 Creative Thought(s)

, by Laure Ferlita

family

Wonderful, Weird Florida!

Commemorating A Wild and Wacky Mother's Day

Ever go to Gatorland on Mother's Day?

Ever been to Gatorland...at all?!

Well, we have! We went this past Sunday with family and friends and it would not do but some of them just had to go zip-lining over the gator ponds!

The Zippers

And they all had a blast. So much so, that I've already heard discussion about a return trip though we'll probably wait for cooler temperatures—it was HOT! (And yes, I know this is Florida, the land of there perpetual summer!).

The park had plenty of alligators and crocodiles along with lots of other critters—panthers, bobcats, tortoise, parrots, budgies, snakes, spiders, herons, egrets, flamingos, ducks, wood storks, anhingas, a rookery, and without a doubt, the most buzzards I have ever seen at one time! There were hundreds of them!

It was interesting to watch the shows. Most of them were quite comical and at the same time, they were sliding in a lot of education about the critters, their habitats, what kind of environment and food they needed as well as a good bit of common sense about how to avoid being lunch.

My sketch above was just a fun parody on the goofiness of the day! The folks that ran the zip line were great sports and did everything they could to scare the pants off all the "zippers." (At no point was anyone in any danger.)

My goofball having a great time. If you enlarge the photo, you'll see me as a pink blob
doing some videoing on the right

The Great Blue Heron was the only thing I actually managed to sketch on location. Everything else was done from photos once we got home. I was too busy running around attempting to video those flying through the air with the greatest of ease.

The silver token has the saying, "See you later, alligator" on one side and the Gatorland logo on the other.

If you're after a slower pace and a glimpse of old Florida attractions, this is a fun place to visit. Unless you go zip-lining, it won't take you a full day to visit, but I think you'll be glad you did!

4 Creative Thought(s)

, by Laure Ferlita

family

Be Still! (Drawing People)

We went to my nephew's last home game of his high school career last Friday night and I decided to attempt sketching the players...

Black gel pen in No Name Watercolor Journal
3.5 x 5.5 inches

Here are my observations (and remember, these are from a non-sports person):

It is amazing how much the players shift around when you go to sketch them. The catcher shifts from side to side, foot to foot depending on the batter and where the ball may be going.
If you're sitting directly behind home plate, sketching the catcher is complicated by the fact that you have a ref standing directly behind him, hovering over him, and blocking the view.
The players, the pitcher and catcher, are on high alert and the tension shows in their bodies. I don't think I quite captured it as it showed mostly in their shoulders.

Batter for Our Team
Black gel pen in No Name Watercolor Journal
3.5 x 5.5 inches

After (almost) capturing the catcher, I decided to try my hand at a batter. The "guy" above is actually a sum of several players rather than just one guy. Because of the aforementioned ref/catcher combo being in the way, at times it was difficult to see the batter at all. More observations:

It is surprising how quickly time moves when a player comes up to bat and either makes it on base or strikes out. This is partly my fault for being slow at sketching the human form (more practice is needed!).
No two batters place their arms or feet in the same space. This means that their bodies are not in the same position either so you have to "wing it" and draw what you think is correct. This also applies to the same batter though it's not quite as noticeable.
Some guys where their shirts and pants tight. Some do not. This can easily mess you up if you're not paying attention to the details.
Most batters bat right-handed, a few bat left-handed. If you want a decent chance at finishing your batter, choose a right-hander rather than a left-hander...they're up to bat a lot more frequently.

Overall, it was a lot of fun to try to capture the action. I finally decided to put the sketchbook down and just enjoy the game as it's easy to miss a lot of the action.

And it's good to know how many innings there are in a high school game as well. It's not nine like the big leagues but seven, unless there's a tie. I didn't get to finish my batter because we were ahead when the seventh inning rolled around! Oops.

A big shout-out for Mitch who will be attending the University of Florida in the fall! Good luck, dude!