Summer Update + Artsy

Phew summer is flying by and I have been out there enjoying life (in real life)! June was spent at the beach - Atlantic Beach, NY - where my grandparents used to have a beach house that we would visit every Labor Day. That house has long ago been sold, torn down, and rebuilt, but my sister was feeling nostalgic now that we have kids, so we found a monthly rental in this small, quiet, Long Island community, and decamped there for a whole month.

It was a month spent hosting family and friends coming and going, hitting up the waves and the swing set and grilling burgers while drinking beer. I didn't get as much painting done as I had hoped, but I did a ton of reading, catching up on The New Yorker magazine and finishing a few books on the Kindle - catch my whole summer reading list here.

I worked on an abstract floral commission in periwinkle, and that painting process continued to spur on my desire to create more and more of these expressive up-close-and-personal flowers. So that's my current plan for the rest of the summer ~ create a whole collection dedicated to these florals that I'll be able to launch for sale come fall. Stay tuned, and for a sneak peek, become an HLC Insider here.

In other exciting news, Arts Letters & Numbers, the artist residency program I attended last year in Upstate New York, has been named one of Artsy's "Most Inspiring Design Residencies" - read the full list here. Reading about this and the others on the list makes me want to venture afield to paint some more!

Happy painting, reading, swimming and SUMMER

xo

Hannah

What Is Mindfulness Painting?

When I say painting is a mindfulness practice, I’m then often asked, “What is Mindfulness Painting?” For me, Mindfulness Painting describes the process of creating.

 There is a rhythm to my work and to my body as I work. I get lost in the painting, such that I’m only aware of the creation at hand. Time runs out and something jolts me back to reality, but while I’m painting, I’m in the flow. I’ve dipped into the greater universal consciousness. I’m unaware of to-do list thoughts, concerns or worry. Painting is a meditation, a continual practice of becoming present. Here’s a look at what that process is for me:

 An idea comes to me. Usually as I wake up or as I’m falling asleep. Sometimes when I’m meditating or breastfeeding or out in nature. Usually a quality of light, color or composition enters my consciousness.

 As I see the vision of what I want to paint, I imagine myself painting it. I imagine my arm, wrist and hand flitting back and forth. Sweeping side to side. I embody the feeling I experience as I get into a painting rhythm.

 And I sit down to paint. I become focused on the task in front of me: turning my visions into reality. I drop into the rhythm, the flow, the movement of my body. If I find my mind wandering, I think “I’m doing this now.” I get in touch with what I’m physically working on in this moment.

Sometimes I sketch out what I want to paint in pencil, particularly if it’s a figure or still life or something that requires measurements and proportions.

 But often with abstracts, I think about color and composition first. I lay down the main colors where I want them and move quickly across the canvas with my extra large brush or palette knife to sweep them into place and blend them into each other. I add more white along the way or even water to extend and loosen the paint and bleed or lighten the color intensity.

 If I’m adding a focal point of some sort - a block of juxtaposing color for instance - I may lay that out in advance or lay it in after my base colors are down.

 I typically paint around and around the canvas, layering colors and textures, rather than shoring up a particular section to completion and moving on from there. I’ve learned that if I get too attached to any one section, I’ll end up having to redo it for whatever reason - it’s not to scale, the color is slightly off, self-sabotage, etc. - so I keep moving until it all starts to gel.

 Even though I’ve started with a specific inspiration in my mind, oftentimes what is produced comes organically out of this mindfulness painting physical dance.

Then I step away. Hang it up on the wall. Live with it. Until I see what needs to be done: a pop of color added, a section lightened up with white, extra metallics. I reflect: “critique and tweak.”

 Sometimes I love it and feel complete quickly. Sometimes there are weeks of tweaks. Sometimes I put it away for years. Sometimes it gets completely repainted.

I find that my painting practice - this act of creating with my hands and body - is another mindfulness practice for me. Like my yoga practice, like my meditation practice, it is the third leg of that mindfulness stool on which I try to balance. 

The art that results, and the feelings triggered by viewing it, is a product of this mind-body approach: serene, anchored in a memory or mood, tranquil, aware of the present.

Clients have shared with me that my paintings make them feel peaceful. One said that she “love[s] seeing the texture and feeling the positive energy I know you poured into it.”

 It’s really cool to see that the mindfulness practice I undertake in painting creates art that resonates with joyful, high-vibrating people, who then share that wonderful feedback with me, which in turn lifts my spirits too. I feel so happy that a process that is rewarding to me, gives so much to others.

Meditation To Ride The Waves

As first published on the blog Mother Hustle Feb 2017:

I often hear that I have it together, that I’m an easygoing mom, that I’m laid back. I like to believe those things about myself. But while I may be a natural optimist, staying “laid back”  in motherhood is work. Enjoyable work. But nonetheless, effort required.

Meditation.

That can be a really daunting word. It comes with connotations of silent monks, enlightenment, waking at dawn, adding another thing to your ever expanding To Do list.

There’s a million excuses: I don’t have time, it seems hard, I can’t clear my mind for even 30 seconds, it’s so trendy right now, I need to work up to that, I’m not mentally fit enough to do meditation, general eye roll.

I hear you. I’ve had an entire lifetime of dueling feelings about the M word.

My mom has made daily meditation part of her life for as long as I’ve been aware. Growing up, she would set the egg timer, go into the living room, and we weren’t to disturb her until the timer went off. It would seem like she’d be in there for aaaaggggessss. What was she doing? Just sitting there! WTF. My little sister and I had things to DO!

She said that meditating added time to her day. Well that didn’t make any sense. She was actually wasting time doing nothing. Here comes the teenager eye roll.

If we expressed any curiosity at all, she would talk to us about how meditation made her day go by more slowly so that she could focus and be more productive in a lighter, happier mood. She would talk about remembering things, gaining clarity…like remembering where she left her calendar. (She still carries a paper wall calendar as her appointment book to this day.)

She tried to guide us into a meditation once or twice, but we said, “This is boring” and got up.

We definitely did NOT get it.

Fast forward 25 years and here I am following in her footsteps, trying to meditate everyday. Just another way in which I’m turning into my mother: a sentence I say at least twice a week.

My baby is 6 months old and I’m working from home as an artist. Maybe it seems to the outside world that we are an easygoing duo, but inside my head and my apartment, I am unshowered, bra-less, spit up covered and anxious that he’s not napping, napping too long, not pooping, and has a diaper rash that just won’t quit. I’m living in 30 minute increments. Working in snippets. Even rest-time is never laissez-faire.

We’re planned. We’re scheduled. We’re tethered to the house and the couch. And he’s in the totally distracted phase, so it’s difficult to watch TV or listen to a podcast or audiobook because he needs to focus on eating or needs my attention when playing.

And don’t get my wrong: I love each individual moment. I truly don’t care if he poops through three diapers and a onesie. C’est la vie. I’m giving myself permission and grace to do what I can work-wise without obsessing on what I’m not doing. But it’s when I think about my life as a whole, my day after day routine, that I become completely overwhelmed. It’s like Groundhog Day. I feel like I can’t breathe, like I’m trapped.

And then I come back to meditation. These days, I prioritize meditation during baby’s first nap of the day. It can be 10 minutes or 40 minutes. It’s something just for me in an endless stream of giving giving giving. Giving my time. Giving my attention. Giving my emotion. Giving my body.

I find that when I include meditation in my daily practice, I feel less overwhelmed and that I can handle whatever the day may bring, as a mom and also as a human being.

I started my meditation practice in 2009 when I did my yoga teach training, and here’s a short list of things I’ve found in my personal experience since then:

1. Meditation doesn’t have to be long. It can be 5 minutes. It can be walking, being present, sitting in silence, listening, breathing.

2. Meditation doesn’t mean you are devoid of thoughts; the thoughts can be laser focused.

3. Meditation is a practice. You start again and again. You restart in every breath. It is impossible to fail.

4. I look forward to the stillness and quiet of meditation.

5. On the days I meditate, little things don’t set me off. So what if the laundry pile is growing by the minute?

6. On the days I meditate, I’m slower to anger, slower to get anxious, slower to get annoyed.

7. On the days I meditate, my highs aren’t as high and my lows aren’t so low.

8. The people and relationships that cause me the most anxiety don’t cause me as much anxiety.

9. I am calmer and more even-keeled in my interactions.

10. I am able to take a beat, pause, breathe, see sticky situations from a detached, objective point of view.

11. I can ride the wave of the day and whatever is thrown at me doesn’t seem like the end of the world.

12. And on the days I meditate, time is added to my day. (?!) Mom was right. Obviously.

I mean, clearly time cannot be extended, but it can FEEL extended. Less hurried. Less oppressive. Looser. The reins of the clock don’t strangle me quite as badly. Time seems lighter.

And I’m float-ier. I’m easier. I’m calmer and more relaxed with my son. Pet peeves in the outside world don’t trigger me. I’m able to breathe deeper and without the tightness in my chest and throat. My son and I just take our day minute by minute, and the Groundhog Day nature of our lives doesn’t weigh on me as heavily.

Now I know what my mom must’ve been feeling day in and day out when she set that egg timer.

Ready to start your own meditation practice? Get my "Practical Pointers for Meditation" and send me an email with any questions you may have!