Gypsy Chronicles: Pittsburgh + Philidelphia + D.C.

Me becoming better aquainted with a tree in a Pittsburgh park...

Hello Friends! I have returned from my wanderings with empty pockets, aching feet, a camera full of pictures and best of all--brimming with new ideas! It was five days full of paint, pavement and big ass sandwiches! Here are just a few of the many highlights from the Spring Break Train Extravaganza!:

Pittsburgh

Philadelphia: Washington D.C. :

Now, onto other business!

12 Secrets of Highly Creative Women:

Secret 11: Subtracting Serenity Stealers

This last week McMeekin asks us to hone in on what it is that distracts us and zaps our energy, as well as gain a better understanding of our creative style. When I reviewed the list of Burn Out Warning Signs I had to giggle—welcome to University Life. However, I did find the Body Signals challenge, in which you identify how your body reacts to intense stress, to be extremely helpful. So often we wait until it’s too late before we pay attention to what Body is telling us! Personally, when I am overbooked or overwhelmed I begin biting my fingernails. I nibble them down the wick almost manically. Now I know that this is one of my Burn Out red lights—when I start biting, it’s time for a break!

McMeekin also introduces the Magic Wand, a tempting instrument that allows you to envision what your life would be like without unnecessary stressors. What would we wiggle our noses, tap with a wand and Poof! say Good Bye to? My list of expendable pressures took up an entire page of loose leaf. I know what that means:

It’s time to prioritize and Bibbity Boppity Boo, Bitch.

What unneeded distractions and demands would you erase with your wand?

Until Next Time,
Merry Making and Many Blissings, Friends!~*

12 Secrets: Rejection

The 12 Secrets of Highly Creative Women

Secret 9: Transcending Rejection and Roadblocks

Hello, my pretties! Since I was tied up with midterm projects, papers and study sessions, I didn't have a chance to write on Secret 9. So, here is a breif excerpt from my Creative Gravy workshop with which I use to start the discussion on adversity and critisicm:

"Lastly, you can’t let fear suck you in. Trust yourself. Your guts know where to go! You know what you need to do. Being creative is about risk taking. Our lives are full of risks, we do it daily. How many of you speed while driving or eat fast food? All of us do it! So what does this tell us? It says that we’re willing to risk our LIVES to get to the gas station five seconds faster than Joe Blow or risk heart attacks for the sake of convenience, but we’re afraid to pick up the pens and make because we’re afraid of what people will say about us? This sounds like a bizarre set of priorities.
There is also the fear of criticism. Criticism, the big C. Know that harsh criticism, the kind of criticism that isn’t constructive, attacks your character or isn’t relevant to the work, stems from two sources: ignorance and fear. When people run off their mouths at the void by leaving vicious comments or participating in catty gossip, they do it because they either a) don’t understand what’s being presented to them b) are ineffectively attempting to build up their ivory towers because they feel inadequate and threatened or c) a sad combination of both. We can’t let uninformed angry people squash us. Imagine what the world would be like if Einstein, Madame Curie, Johannes Gutenberg or Joan of Arc curled up under the covers and refused to work because they had been criticized? No Theory of Relativity, no radium, no books, no France. Take comfort in knowing that if Nay Sayers are chastising you-- you’re on to something good! Don’t be afraid. Say no to the nagging fear and incapacitating reservations. Let It Go!"

Secret 10: Living in Abundance with Positive Priorities

This chapter asks us to redefine what prosperity means for us, change our relationship with money and include Self care in our routines to enhance our creative lives.

Prosperity can be difficult to think about—I struggle with it. It’s like a strange cocktail: some days it’s just what I need with a cherry floating in it, and other days it’s a sour concoction that makes my face screw up and I leave it to make a wet ring on the napkin. There’s the constant t e n s i o n between having enough, having what I need, knowing what enough even IS, what to do with it when I have it, knowing the difference between wants and needs and the biggie: feeling guilty about doing well by doing what I love. I have a mental BLOCK.

While I support other people in following their heart’s desires to build a beautiful life for themselves, I don’t prescribe to it in my own life. I feel as though if I’m not suffering while doing the “work” (money making vehicle) that the compensation feels cheap, wrong, undeserved. While my Heart knows that is a false and outdated train of thought, my brain still equates prosperity with enduring some sort of workplace affliction. I once read in a biology book that humans are the only creatures capable of entertaining two contradictory thoughts simultaneously. Go figure…

I'm working on switching up my psychology. It's a work in progress. :)

The book also asks us to listen to what our body has to say about our daily doings. I thought this was particularly interesting. Normally, I wait for a symptom to tell me what’s wrong: a bad cold, a weird ache, or a problem sleeping and then tend to it accordingly. But it never occurred to me to flat out ask myself, “Okay temple, what do we need today?” It’s so simple! Why didn’t I think of that?!

So what is today’s reply?

“Hi Molly, this is Self, just checking in. Oh—what do I wish for today? Hmm, let me see. I wish for water! Buckets of water—Brain loves coffee, but skin and cells are thirsty. Be a peach and gift them some cool, refreshing water. Make it a lake! I also have a request for Green. Whatever it is: leafy, crunchy, plump, savory, energizing green stuff! No more fried chicken from work. You should know more than anyone as the person who prepares it that what they serve at work is as close to food as a shoe. It’s joke food. I’m also placing an order for fruit: glorious sweet juicy fruits from a beautiful bowl on your kitchen table. You are what you eat, lady! Are you unrecognizable mystery meat? Are you cloudy puddles of fryer grease? No and No! You are vibrant and spicy! Get us some succulent little pea pods and royal purple egg plants! Got that down? Okay, that’s it for today. Now that midterms are over, tomorrow we’ll talk about sleeping…”

What is YOUR body saying to you today?

Well, I have my Body homework and packing to do before I take off for Philly this afternoon! I hope all of you had a wonderful week and have weekends full of lounging time and productive hours in the studio ahead of you! I’ll be back next week with pictures and words from the East Coast Rail Adventure!

Until Next Time—
Merry Making, Friends!~*

12 Secrets: Consulting with Guides: My Heronines

The 12 Secrets of Highly Creative Women

Secret Seven: Consulting with Guides

This week I thought we'd do something different. Instead of me relating all of the exercise details from the book in a long incoherent babbly post, I've created The Wall of HerSpeak Heroine Guides. These ladies are all living, passed, imaginary and inspirational teachers that I look to to get "the juice". While this list is breif, as I have chosen to focus on stictly on my personal favorite famous female artists and leaders, I hope you enjoy interacting with the wall!

Click on the images to play!

The Wall of HerSpeak Hernoine Guides

Who are your guides?

12 Secrets: Conquer!

12 Secrets of Highly Creative Women:

Secret #6 Conquering Saboteurs

"Money makes ze vorld go around, ze vorld go around! Money makes ze vorld go around-dat clinking clanking sound! It makes ze vorld go round..." --Cabaret
This chapter couldn't have come at a more tender moment. I've attempted to write this post several times, unsure of what to say, how or if I should even write on the topic. I'm embarrassed to say that I'm in the midst of a nearly week long pity party, being pricked with pointy gremlin pins that are making it hard to sleep or eat or even drag my bum into the studio without feeling ashamed.

My gremlins, or Harpies as I've pet named them, don't constantly berate me or gauge my talents--my Harpies appear in the form of constant financial panic.

My Harpies have eye-frying, snotty high school princess voices--the kind of voice that kills brain cells and stuns flying insects. They take joy in pushing in the pins. Lately, they can't seem to get in enough talk time:

"Um Hellooo, global recession anyone?? No one gives a s*** about cupcake paintings. You get to choose between making the green and surviving or being content and blissful in La la Land.

What's it going to be?"

"NO! Put that 53 cent donut DOWN! That's not in your grocery budget. You can't afford it, remember?"

"What the hell are you doing?! Why aren't you working right now?! Your checking account is draining and the clock is ticking! RED ALERT! Let's GO GO GO!"

"You know your Muffin told me that he resents you because you can't seem to get your S*** together, right? How long do you think the sheen and excitement of the Art-School-Girlfriend is going to last when your constantly leaning on him? It doesn't matter how pretty or smart you are if he has to financially babysit you. What the hell are you going to do when he leaves you? Curl up into a cardboard box and hope you die?"

"OKAY-Dr. Phil moment. Let's get real. Who the f*** is going to fork over their hard earned money to YOU , a NON graduate, to tell them how they too can live in a "bohemian paradise"? That's cute and sweet, but cute and sweet doesn't feed you, Dorthy.

This workshop is a T-I-M-E W-A-S-T-E-R.

The time you've flushed down the toilet typing could have been spent in a restaurant somewhere making minimum wage. At least minimum wage is SOMETHING. No one is going to sign up for this crap."

"Pssst. Yeah, uh, I know you're trying to sleep right now, but guess what? YOU'RE BROKE! And I mean, like, not kind of broke, but really broke. I just noticed that you hadn't thought about it in the last 30 seconds and wanted to keep you abreast on the issue. What do you plan on eating tomorrow? Oh yeah, and you haven't told Muffin that you can't afford the spring break trip you've been planning for the last year--put that on your To Do list tomorrow. Alright, sweet dreams..."

And perhaps the most painful and scathing of them all:

"You are a brat.

You are a naive BRAT.

Do you think you're special?

I bet you do, you think your special.

Why on Goddess' green earth do you think that YOU deserve to love what you do?

What about your Muffin?

What about your parents?

They work at jobs they loath,

jobs that are

hard,

dirty

and stressful

where they are under appreciated

and underpaid

but YOU,

oh no--you're special.

WAKE UP.

Buck up and get on the f***'n bus."

Owie.

I keep wincing as I write this, but I feel like this process and discussion is useless if we aren't honest. It hurts. It really hurts. But I hope that by acknowledging that my Harpies exist, I can do something constructive about them. I'm not sure what that "something constructive" is yet, but in the mean time, I've applied for more restaurant jobs in hopes of staying afloat. I realize I have a lot of years ahead of me to be happy, but right now making ends meet is a priority. Here's hoping I get a call. Hair nets Ahoy-hoy!

Wish me luck!

How do you swat away Harpies?

12 Secrets: Focus and Persona

12 Secrets of Highly Creative Women:
Secret #5 Committing to Self-Focus

This week McKeekin asks us to commit to self-focus: the difference between focus and selfishness, what is essential to creative time, moving away from unrealistic expectations of what is feminine and making a shift towards self care.

I laughed out loud when I came across the phrase, "There is a myth that says really creative women are impossible and difficult people...especially for artists, devotion to their work means madness or isolation."

I can't tell you HOW many times guests will visit my home after a performance or know me only through my studio work and look utterly confused, maybe even disappointed. They are disenchanted when they realize I don't live in a dungeon, that there aren't small mountains of cocaine on the coffee table or that I don't sleep upside down wrapped up in my own wings. While talking to an audience member after a Famous Graves show, the man actually took my hand and seemed relieved as he said, "Wow, you're much nicer than I thought you'd be." What the hell is that supposed to mean? I understand that when I'm on stage I adopt a berserker persona but it's just that, a persona. I don't run around my apartment screaming at my cats or listening to Doom metal in the shower.

"Rabbit Hat" by Molly Roberts. Available for sale here.

Sometimes I think people have difficulty separating what has been made from the maker. Emotions aren't all you are. Emotions are simply your reactions to experiences and your art is an expression of those experiences. For instance, if you experienced a car crash and wrote about how frightened you were, you are not a car crash. You are responding to the accident.

The myth that artistic women have a few screws loose is deeply embedded. Needless to say, as makers, performers, writers, and dreamers we know this to be false....well, mostly false. Hehe! As far as being "impossible" and "difficult"--if sticking to my guns and following Spirit is unreasonable and a sure sign of insanity or being devoted to my work and causes is illogical then I am proud to be incurable.

“Those who dance alone are considered
insane by those who can’t hear the music.”
—-George Carlin

Here's to stubbornness, self centeredness,
Madness and impossibility!

Merry Making, Friends~*

12 Secrets: Surrendering to Cycles

12 Secrets of Highly Creative Women: Secret 4
Surrendering to Creative Cycles

This week, McMeekin addresses creative cycles: What are they? How do we survive the Void? She also asks us to examine what our own creative cycles are like, what we do to feed them and figure out our flow.

So after after stewing on the information for a few days, I was able to solidify a few observations. Firstly, I do notice definite cycles--weeks of heavy dreams, inability to fall asleep because ideas are swimming laps in my psyche, and prolific productivity in the studio. When these things wain to a less manic level, I like to read interesting texts about things that aren't art, see strange films, find odd photographs, thumb through image heavy coffee table books, discover new and exciting music or attend openings or showings in my city. Travel is an inspirational power food. For me, traveling is similar to experiencing your first Aloe and Ginger smoothie: it fills you up, tickles your fancy, treats you with something unexpected and is ultimately refreshing.

"Stocking Self Portrait" by Molly Roberts. Mixed Media 2008. Click for a larger view.

Though most often, I find surviving The Vacuum isn't the problem. (That's what I've titled my Void.) My issue is trying to focus on one idea at a time. I get pulled in the direction of plays and then fashion design and then "Ooh! that's new!", flipping through design magazines and grumbling, "$4,ooo for an ottoman? I could make that..." and "Where do I get china markers?" and constantly scribbling down new ideas for paintings, shadow boxes, classes, altar pieces and experimental books and-- WOAH!

But even in the quietest of moments I feel compelled to make something--words or marks--that describe that quietness, something that reflects the inner space, something that responds to The Vacuum. Sometimes I experience creative Limbo when in a transitional period, a time when my interests are in flux or I'm moving on from one theme or material to another. I think, "I've been playing with this project for months, babying it, devoted to it, loving it. But---Oh! Ooh. What's that?" And I see that idea from across the room. I slyly look at it and it looks at me, we exchange glances for a while. So, I take initiative. I flirt with that idea for a while. Then I become brave and I ask it out for a drink. After a few dates at the library or in the sketch book it dawns on me--we were meant to be! And all the while I feel guilty about moving on from the former idea, the series, the finished work. But ultimately, I must leave it behind and confess,

"It's not you, darling. It's me."

The most excellent part of this melodramatic exchange is that there is a happy ending. There are no tears, no one is dejected and holed up eating Ben & Jerry's and no one gets their tires slashed. :)

What are your creative cycles and soap operas like?

12 Secrets: Follow Fascinations

12 Secrets of Highly Creative Women: Secret 3
Following Your Fascinations

This week McMeekin asks us to look at our risk taking and intuitive self-talk history in regards to our creative lives. Do I take risks? What kind of risks? What stops me from taking risks? Am I committed to these risks? For those of you lovely souls in the blogosphere who are not participating the the reading circle, the author is refering to creative risks: starting a business, showing work in public, choosing to commit to creative practices, or just gettin over the fear of making. These are not free-base-jumping sort of risks--however exciting that may be. :)

I had mixed feelings (strong feelings) about this chapter, especially the concept of the "inner patriarch". I have certainly had moments of doubt or fear in regards to my artistic life, but I never classified it as my inner patriarch chopping me down from the inside out. And I still wouldn't. In fact, in my creative endeavors I have found that it is most often the matriarchal voice that does the cleaving. I've never been told by a man (or a subconscious male voice) that I wasn't pretty enough, or smart enough or talented enough. It's been other girls that have been the source of berating or creatively crippling comments. We see it in Queen Bees and High School Bitches, the toxic cattiness that is transmitted from one grown woman to another under the guise of "girl talk". I have never seen men get together to talk trash about someone they have invested enormous amounts of energy into to maintain the facade of friendship. Did you see her? What is she thinking?! You know what I would do? Seriously, did you hear about_____?What a slut. When I perform or show work my fear is not of the patriarchy, but is of the shark tank-like ferocity of women lurking in the crowd who have been bred to compete and conquer.

Ouch...

Where my mixed feelings come in however is here: while I don't believe my "inner patriarch" is destructive, the outer one certainly is. (I'm going to keep this brief as I hadn't really planned for this post to become an Orwellian-esque tirade...) Our culture has bred us to believe that to be a joyful person is to be naive-- that to be open to experiences is asking for trouble in the form of heart ache and betrayal. That being kind is a waste of time, unless of course you're sitting in a pew with other people just like you waiting for the collection plate and give not with your heart but out of fear of your peers thinking you are stingy. Bitterness is not a passing phase but a survival tactic.

Patriarchy as we know it doesn't value art in any of it's forms, and if it does, it has a funny way of showing it. It comes down to cash--creative time is seen as a privilege and not as a necessity, reserved for people with time and money to burn. Symphonies, galleries, theater companies, schools and libraries are always scrambling for funds and are the first victims of budget cuts. Culturally, the ability to screw someone over and cheat your way to "success" is held in higher regard than the ability to teach or create beauty. We see proof of this in payrolls and sociological standings. This form of patriarchy is a creative killer. Take away a persons ability to love, to be intimate with the world around them, to trust, to feel as though they have the freedom to choose and the ability to create--and what are you left with?

But enough of the Doomsday mushroom cloud....

So as Ladies of Action, the question ultimately becomes, how do we deal with it? How do we stave off the sharks and dive into the pool of creative risk taking? McMeekin suggests that we closely examine examples in our lives when we've taken the leap and been successful. She asks us to analyze, to break down what steps we took to achieve the goal and use those ideas as stepping stones. She also states that the practice of positive risk taking is that--practice. It's not a one time ordeal, but must be done again and again. I honestly believe that this chapter could have been condensed to nine words:

If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.

I'm putting this into practice by pulling up my Big Girl Pants, learning from my mistakes and celebrating the victories. I am not going to be smothered by fear of failure. I am also doing my best to provide support to the women around me, cut poisonous talk out of my life, help other's ideas grow by offering what I can, encourage those who are embarking on a creative journey and stepping out of their comfort zone by dipping their toes in the pond.

Come on in. The water's fine. :)

12 Secrets: Creative Customs

The 12 Secrets of Highly Creative Women:
Secret 2

This week, the author Gail McMeekin asks us to consider our creative patterns and rituals. Personally, I am FASCINATED with other peoples rituals: Little putterings, how they take their morning coffee, notes to themselves,where they stash little artifacts and goodies they've collected during the day's activity, candid moments in front of the vanity, superstitious habit, traditions they are unaware are even traditions and the amazing beauty present in the daily minutia. What makes your juices flow? Between what and what time do you feel in the groove? Are you a walker, hummer, doodler or pacer? I often think that if I hadn't chosen art (or if art hadn't chosen me) that I would be a sociologist, or anthropologist. So, the discussion of creative ritual was right up my alley. She asks us to closely watch our own creative rituals and if we don't have any, to get get'n and make some up!

While buzzing about in my studio this week, I took a few moments to catch myself in the midst of creative ritual and jot them down in a notebook. Here are my findings:

***I can't concentrate in my studio unless the rest of the apartment is in some passable state of organization. Dishes need to be done or at least contained by the dish tub. The bed needs to be made and ready for me to collapse in during the wee hours of the morning. The laundry monster needs to be stashed away in the hamper. No distracting dust cattle, mystery spills or receipts scattered on the floor. Order matters to me. I don't need the vacuum cleaner lines in the carpet to be aligned or every knick knack dusted to sparkling perfection--but a state of "Ahhh" is necessary for me to concentrate. So everyday before I start pushing paint, I do a round up of clutter and a quick tidy up.The same rule applies to my workspace: at the end of the day everything gets put away. I don't ever want to be intimidated by or avoid my space because it's just too big a project to wade through the chaos.

***My Strawberry Apron. I have an awesome apron my Mom made for me that I just adore. It has these silly pink and red strawberries splotched all over it with gathered black and white striped trim. She even made the pockets long and skinny for me to stuff paint brushes in. :) Before I can feel groovy at my drawing table, I have to don the silliest of strawberry frocks! It's like a uniform. When it's on it's saying, "You're done messing with the pantry, or shuffling school papers, you are working right now." I know that studio time is over when I hang my apron back up on it's nail in the corner.

***Altar Building. I have two small altars in my studio. One is dedicated to Lakshmi, where I keep a drawing of her likeness, pictures of roses I've cut out of gardening catalogs, chocolate coins and a small porcelain tea cup that I drop a quarter into every day. (She is very generous as she lets me borrow them back when I desperately need to do laundry.) The second is a little more amorphous: It's a pretty antique dish anchored by a beefy black pillar candle around which I pile shells, peacock feathers, twigs, trinkets, gifts from friends, goddess charms and cut outs that all migrate too and fro on a regular basis. Lighting the candle gives me focus and in some cases shifts the studio into sacred space where I work on special objects like altar pieces or memorials. I've been teased that between the wine drinking, sound track and twinkling candles that my studio practice is more like a hot date than a workspace. Merry Making, that's what I'm talking about. ;)

***Speaking of Music, it's huge. I can't clean or study or even nap in silence, much less create! My play list depends on the day, the season, the weather, who is home and what I'm working on. I feel like an appropriate soundtrack keeps me on target and helps me submerge myself in whatever it is I'm tinkering with. And I'll admit it, I'm a shameless singer! I often turn up the tunes loud enough so I drown out my own singing. I know my neighbors can hear me--but it's payback for all the awful thumping I hear blaring out of their unit.

***Last but certainly not least is my Zone Out Time. Every night while I'm laying in bed staring at the glow-in-the-dark spots left to us by a previous tenant, I stew on ideas. I feel like this is the time I am most receptive to inspiration--that it's a quiet enough moment for things that my brain has been holding onto all day come up for air. The only "Aha!" moments I've ever experienced have been while in that fleeting foggy moment somewhere between being awake and slipping off to sleep. I keep a notebook and my dream journal on my bed stand to scribble down ideas lest I forget them overnight!

I did notice this week how much the look of my workspace leaves me totally underwhelmed. It functions--holds onto my things, but that's about it. I thought it was silly: "This is the space in my home where I try to make beautiful things, yet it is the least beautiful space in the entire apartment!" That simply won't do. I plan to remedy the situation with some plum colored paint and a trip to the container store! My sister can expect a call from me sometime soon--grab your roller and get your painting pants on, honey!

How about you? What are your creative customs?

Until next time--
Merry Making, Friends~*