
The blues
Image



Untitled, 10×10 acrylic on wood panel
I’m struggling to come up with a title and need your help. Any ideas?

What does the image evoke for you?
Thanks in advance for anything you’d like to share – critique, encouragement, title suggestion, or a combination thereof 💚

When someone asks good questions, we often discover new things about ourselves and gain insight by the chance to more fully articulate our experience. I am so grateful to have been interviewed for this amazing podcast – Accept Your Gifts – which encourages all of us to live our most creative lives. I’ve previously blogged about part 1. Here is a description and link to part 2.
In part 2 of this series, podcaster Tracy Crow, an author, writing coach, and Marine Corps veteran, talks with Amanda Reilly Sayer, a pediatric psychiatric nurse practitioner, about the “paintings I’ve pulled out of the fire…and some actually go in the fire!” As Amanda explains, “It’s a beautiful thing to be on your journey…and to watch someone grow.” She says that each painting also reminds her of the story behind the creation of each — its layers, imperfections, transparency. And, Amanda treats us with a reading of several Haiku poems!
You may find both part 1 and 2, along with other creatively inspirational interviews here. I hope you’ll check it out and let me know what you think!

I’m honored to have been interviewed for a podcast that encourages folks to live their most creative lives, an idea that will almost certainly resonate with other WordPressers.
In part 1 of this 2-part series, podcaster Tracy Crow, an author, writing coach, and Marine Corps veteran, interviews Amanda Reilly Sayer, a pediatric psychiatric nurse practitioner by day, to discover how and why she turns to painting, poetry, and photography. “It’s important to me,” she says, “to think about how I can inspire or offer gifts to other people…sharing the love, paying it forward.” In a frank discussion about emotional pain and healing, Amanda says grief and emotional pain can be transformed through creativity. The act of transforming, itself, is an act of creation, she explains. “Where are your wellsprings?” she asks herself and patients.
Check out Part one of my interview here: https://acceptyourgifts.podbean.com/e/ep-24-part-1-pediatric-psychiatric-nurse-practioner-blends-science-and-art-to-refill-her-well/
And consider scrolling through the other interviews. There are some real gems here!

© Amanda Reilly Sayer
Even with
Persistence
Deliberate care
Pressure
and prescience
Pendulous motion
A solid iron
Smoothing
Your rough nap
The edges
Re-curl
Recoil from
Striving
Away from
Your center
Weighted ballast
Those corners
Threaten, disturb your
Effortful peace
But then
Who says?
Who ever said?
Why would you believe?
You are supposed to
Lie – flat

I hope you’ll enjoy this haiku, written in response to Ronovan’s Haiku Challenge, which you may learn more about here. In brief, the challenge asks for a haiku using the words narrow and minded.
Broad minded captains
© Amanda Reilly Sayer
Bypass narrow river’s edge
Sail the open seas

I thought it would be different
©️ Amanda Reilly Sayer
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

You know those days. When everything feels a bit off?
Yesterday was that kind of day for me. It started with a dental appointment. We lost power due to tree-bending, frigid winds. There were no candles to be found, at least ones not scented with the makings of nausea. You get the idea!
To be clear, it wasn’t a terrible day. I’m grateful for teeth, access to dentistry, and a home that usually has electricity. The day was just a bit askew. Much like a “fresh breeze” scented candle which, in fact, smells like nothing found in nature!
It’s not the sort of day that usually inspires me to paint. But with the power out, my options for escape were limited. Plus, I wondered if it would be possible to paint myself into an improved mood state.
Verdict: not really. At least, not this time! Instead, I painted this very unusual painting, which probably represents the day more than changed the course of it.
Truth in advertising: the painting looks best from a distance. But then again, so do those kind of days.

Mostly I don’t plan paintings beforehand. There are exceptions, but painting for me is primarily about expression.
The unintended similarities between paintings shouldn’t surprise me. They might simply be variations on a theme.
Still, the repetition in the absence of intention strikes me, makes me wonder what is being painted when there is no consciously identified subject.
I’ve called this a seascape, because that’s what the image most closely approximates. I’m also curious about what else it might be.

Some of my favorite paintings have been made from the passenger seat of long car rides. The time with nothing else to do and the light that streams into the car from every direction surely inspire me. But the absence of expectations and the willingness to improvise are the secret ingredients that make these paintings different, I think.
Folks in my life have wondered how I can paint in the car: Don’t you get carsick? How can you work with all the motion? How do you not spill the water or ruin the painting when you hit a bump?
Yes, I get carsick when I am not in the front seat. And I can only paint (or read) while highway driving. The paintings I make in the car are small, so the water is pretty well-contained in a cup holder. My travel paints sit on one leg; the paper pad rests on the other.
And the bumps? Well, they definitely happen! But, especially with abstract painting, the unexpected brush marks can usually be incorporated into the landscape.
And what a great metaphor! For when we keep our expectations loose – as ideas about form in a piece of abstract art – the surprises may add interest. The unintended marks might even inspire a major change in composition, impetus to create something better than we could have imagined.
The uncontrolled elements, and my unplanned response to them, may indeed be what makes my car paintings special. Maybe I like them best because they evoke the sense of freedom and flow I experienced while making them.
What frees you up to find creative flow?