Haiku: #namethatvase

I love pottery. So it’s no surprise I’d want to participate the Alchemist’s Studio challenge to name and honor her beautiful work with a title and creative ode.

“Chantico”

Goddess Chantico*
Born in fire, her armor shines
All the shades of red

© Amanda Reilly Sayer

[*Chantico: Aztec goddess of hearth fires and volcanoes]


Continue reading

Snow Day

New snowfall through starless night
Laden trees with cotton tufts
Now, luminous tendrils
Against the dawn sky

“Snow Day!” cheers rang through the house
As kids, alert in their still warm pajamas
Danced with anticipated snow forts
And other forbidden weekday play

All whilst their parents, bent over for boot lacing
Felt their backs groan, remembering
The last storm, which wasn’t the last
Not nearly the last, after all

If they noticed anything
Beyond their full shovels
The rhythmic, industrious scraping
It wasn’t apparent to anyone

Until the laughter of their children
Rattled the glass panes
And impelled them notice
Breath-stained windows, mindful nudges

Look up and see!
The vast sky of carefree days
Your perception
Malleable as wet snow

Witness the very moment
When fading midnight embers
That blue-lit, sparkling tree line
Those inky nighttime remnants

Become the new day

© Amanda Reilly Sayer

Clair de Lune

I’m still discovering the fun surprises blogging has to offer, including this speculative fiction style writing prompt posted by D. Wallace Peach.

pixabay image by Natan Vance

Here’s my response to the photo prompt above:

You can’t risk it! They said,
Anything could happen out there
Exposed in that dangerous blue light
The illumined darkness

Stay here, safe in Shadow!

But she wasn’t the sort
To use fear as her talisman
To mistake shelter for freedom

She was ready for more

Thus crouched in the hidden doorway
She cautiously looked both ways
Watched as the moon eclipsed the sun
Then stretched herself to fullness

As her small body expanded
She strode, near danced
Into the silvery center
That infinite space of the unknown

And found herself reflected there

© Amanda Reilly Sayer

Meditation (safe harbor)

I thought it would be different
Peace and stillness, perhaps
Buoyant rest on polished velvet

Instead, the quiet tideline beckons
Foretelling the pendulum of crescent surf
Of storms and variegated skies

Pause, notice

The sound of stillness in motion
Vibrating stars on a summer night
Waves against the rocky shore

Then the whispered reminder:
You are the boat and the water
Sanctum and sea

©️ Amanda Reilly Sayer

Make art where you find it

Awakening (Found Art; Mexico, 2019)

When I think about my creative process, I can be admittedly fussy. The light isn’t quite right. Inspiration is lacking. Words aren’t flowing. The excuses are easy to find.

It’s not that quality doesn’t matter. But I wonder how often the insistence on the right conditions to approximate beauty is really an excuse to avoid the vulnerability of imperfection. 

There is something to be said for spontaneity, for making art simply to engage in a creative act, to express something in resonance with our best energy, our loving heart.

Destructive energy can be easily found, but collectively we can choose to shift the tide. One way to do that is to practice and celebrate simple creative acts. Whether it be a sand sculpture, a poem, or photograph, let’s make art where we find it!

Watercolor Expressions: Knowing when to stop

Mexico Dreams, 7×10 watercolor (hot press)

Arguably an ability that ranks high on the list of life skills to master, it is also a valued skill to develop as an artist.

Although the inspiration to start a painting can be a challenge, the wisdom to know when it’s time to put down the brush may be even more elusive. Many of my paintings have been cast in a dull patina of excess fiddling. At the other extreme, lackluster efforts have been rescued by a few additional brushstrokes or slight color adjustment. The problem for the amateur (me) is learning to judge proximity to either pole, to make more calculated decisions about when to rest and when to push on.

If my experience is any indication, I’d guess that beginners err on the side of doing too much, desperate to fully manifest the kernel of a good idea. Masters almost certainly know when enough is enough, when to move on. Not every painting is meant to be saved.

My decision to let this painting rest has been an acute struggle. I see flaws – things I’d like to fix or explore further – and bits I’d like to preserve in a better painting. I also know that the risk of ruining this particular work is far greater than the likelihood of additional improvement. I’ve already edged into destructive territory. Perhaps my willingness to stop here is a small step towards mastery.


Addendum (day after original post): “Oops, I did it again,” to quote Britney Spears. I said I’d stop, but I didn’t. Hear me out though!

As promised, I stopped to let the painting rest. Then I looked at it. And kept looking. I’d already determined it would never be a great painting. Still, there was apparently more to learn. So, before burning it in a ritual fire, I began again with nothing to lose but time.

Ironically (considering the orignal post content), I think the painting is improved in a number of ways. Under no illusions it’s now a great painting, with areas that are evidently a little worse for the wear, I nevertheless prefer it.

What then is the lesson here?

Perhaps knowing when to resume is as important as knowing when to stop. Especially for a beginner, squeezing every last drop of learning from each creative experience may ultimately be more valuable than the final outcome.

Sometimes growth may require a step or two back before finding the right stride forward.

The before and after images are below. Which do you prefer?