“I believe not in a personal God who will help me or condemn me or put me in the hell. But, there is evident there is something above us, far above us, who, what we cannot understand.”- Anselm Kiefer

It’s another working weekend, but I’m not complaining at all.

 Mockingbird WIP, Aquarelle & Acrylic on Rives BFK. 8x10 2018.

I’m beginning to simplify and only leave the subject detailed melding with mark making and abstraction.

Water Moccasin WIP, Aquarelle & Mixed Media on Rives BFK, 2018. 

As September draws closer, the work becomes more solid and complete. There are a variety of sizes large and small. Below is a detail on a flower of life. 

 Finger WIP  Detail. Aquarelle & Mixed Media on Arches Hot Press. 2018.

The medium I choose to work with is not separate, but a part of the process. Most paintings consist of Sennelier Aquarelle and various metallics. I chose Sennelier not solely for their rich pigment, but also ingredients, specifically honey. Bees and hives are very mystical. It’s a huge study. There is such an element of creation in the process of honey making that connects directly with the earth. It’s tangible science, but also ethereal art. I find that blending to be essential.  

Likewise metallics are made from metal flakes and minerals. They have a sheen to them that is transparent and hints again at the “other”.  

Here is a small section of the Finger WIP. Mark making for me is another form of language or communication. I mix Sacred Geometry and simple polygons with repetitive tapered lines or other small symbols. It’s a question of how do we listen or speak without words?

On September 8th and 9th, I will be showing my work in downtown Sacramento on the Sac Open Studio Tour. There will be an email sent out with all the information in August. Please subscribe to my mailing list with the form located at the bottom of my Contact page.

Until then, stay tuned as the blog will become very busy leading up to those dates. Also, give me a follow on Instagram  @lofi_heather as I update my story  throughout the week. Cheers! 

 Jack, Geometric Detail. 2018 Aquarelle and Mixed Media on Rives BFK.

Finger WIP 2018. Aquarelle and mixed media on Arches Hot Press 22x30.

Finger WIP detail. Iridescent layering phase. 2018

The one glaringly present force in the South is the weather. It is so unpredictable that one second it could be snowing and the next a heat advisory issued. These sudden shifts in hot and cold air cause tornadoes.

Finger Sketch, Graphite on Rives BFK 2018. 

I don’t know if I will ever be able to say that I became “used to this phenomenon”. The shreiking of the emergency alert radio followed by that robotic voice, still makes me tense up with nausea. 

At least I can say that I’ve lived through many of these dangerous storms.

But, there is one that stands out. 

In 1988, I was six years old in kindergarten at a small elementary school in Clinton, MS. It had been a rough few months of the new year as my mother returned to work in medical coding in March at Blue Cross and Blue Shield.  I still remember her coming off the swing shift every morning as I was just waking up for school. We barely saw each other except for tight hugs and quick kisses as I ran to catch the bus. 

I still can see myself waving to her that morning in the dark as the bus pulled away from our little house. Our relationship was so disconnected, two related strangers.

The sky overhead was turning a heavy grey and indigo while the thunder began to roll in the distance. I didn’t want to leave home.

Later at school, it rained constantly, and the sun never really felt like it was going to rise. All day long, I stared out the window of my classroom as the lights flickered on and off. The school secretary kept interrupting class to remind teachers of safety precautions. Ms. Montgomery, my teacher at the time, eventually gave up on instruction, and I spent the afternoon playing Old Maid with a friend. At around 2:00 p.m. our usual dismissal time, the weather became quite violent. The rain started falling like nails as we were hurriedly sent out to the buses and cars. The lights in the school went off and the wind began to pick up quickly.

As I found my seat, our bus driver began to argue with the principal, “It just isn’t safe!”, she yelled as her hand gripped on the lever to hold the front door open. However, the principal only waved her hand in the air while turning her back responding, “oh it’s fine!”. I couldn’t believe her carelessness as we took off towards the next school to pick up more students. 

As the bus turned onto the main street that lead to Eastside Elementary, a large gust of wind hit us on the right side. The bus briefly came off its wheels, as we all let out a unified scream.  The sky had grown even darker and the rain was quickly turning to hail. I knew in that moment, it was coming.

The bus pulled up to park beside the school and immediately a teacher came out banging her fist on the glass front door. The bus driver opened it quickly as the teacher yelled, “Get off! Get all the children off! Everyone needs to get inside now!” Of course, we all screamed a bit again as we were quickly yanked off our seats. Once down to the sidewalk, I could see the wind was even stronger as the buses rocked back and forth. They’d always seemed like indestructible mammoths. Yet, I was sure one would turn over on us. 

We were guided against a long brick wall on the outside of the school towards a large common room with heavy metal doors. The electricity had gone out and I began to cry. All I could think of at that tiny age was, “Where is my mother!”. It was one of the most painful feelings accompanied by my first taste of mortality. I knew that day I could die. My face became puffy and my eyes blurry with tears as I looked around the room for a familiar face. A teacher tried to comfort me as I collapsed down sitting on my knees. Other kids were scared too clustering around in little circles shaking.  Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned to see my older best friend Tiara quickly crawling over to sit beside me. We both stayed at the same neighbor’s house every day after school. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relieved. I cried reaching for her as she hugged me tightly and whispered shaking, “It’s gonna be ok baby, it’s gonna be ok.”  The tornado sirens went off full blast. I’ll never forget the sound that followed. It was like a train coming in full force with a loud groaning. We all sat huddled in the middle of that room as we watched this strange animal pick up trees and rip at the ground outside. I closed my eyes and prayed in my own little way for my mother to be safe and for us all to survive. Objects bounced around outside smashing into the front doors, windows in classrooms shattered, and finally we heard one of the buses turn over on its side. This all lasted for around fifteen minutes, and then everything went quiet. 

After awhile one of the school’s administrators got up and hesitantly exited the main doors. Teachers and other school staff followed. Soon after, we were told to get up and form lines to exit the building. As I walked out slowly with Tiara, I could see that the entire neighborhood had been destroyed, except for the school. Miraculously, It was the only structure that survived. My eyes clouded up again. I was thankful, but could not stop crying. My thoughts immediately returned to my mother, and I frantically began to worry. As I walked through the debris towards a different bus, I prayed again that my mother was safe. 

Tiara sat beside me on the bus as I cried all the way to our sitter’s house.  I don’t remember the bus ride or even getting off it, but I do remember that once inside that house I sat on the carpet, just staring out blankly. The rain had come back full force and it pelted in waves against the glass storm dorm as a tv kept blaring weather bulletins in the background. I just waited and waited. I kept thinking, “What would I do without my mom?” Prior to the storm I’d been angry with her because of her schedule. I’d behaved badly and been a bit of brat to her in the few moments that we shared. In February, she had made me a special scavenger hunt for a tin of freshly homemade chocolate fudge. She’d spent her entire morning off hiding notes for me to find with her lovely little handwriting. I closed my eyes and breathed in all the facets that made my mother great. Just as this gratefulness began to fill me, a clang rapped at the front door. I opened my eyes and there she stood soaking wet with the biggest smile I’d ever seen on her face. I got up and ran to her as she opened the door. We both cried. Little did I know that she had suffered the exact same situation. A tornado had also touched down along the highway outside her office. 

From this very early age I learned that life is a gift given that can quickly end in a flash.