Archives For Art

Holy Cow!

Mary Liz Ingram —  December 30, 2013 — 2 Comments

A cold, gray morning just two days after Christmas finds me groggily puttering around the house in my pjs, heading for coffee and breakfast. Still recovering from Christmas festivities, stepping over toys and readjusting to life without Christmas music, I browse my phone to see what’s going on in the world. There’s a confusing text from one of my friends that looks like this:

from www.al.com Birmingham's Best 2013

from www.al.com Birmingham’s Best 2013

I ask what it is, where it’s from, and expected questions when you are nervously beginning to be excited, but waiting to find out it’s a scammy joke. But apparently this time it’s for real. Some of my family members found the same surprising announcement in the newspaper that morning.

Some how, some way, all my little cows, pigs, portraits and cotton bolls helped me get voted by at least enough Birmingham residents to make it on the list as a runner up for best local artist in Birmingham for 2013.

I have one emphatically hyphenated word for this news: Ca-razy.

And even in the Birmingham News! Hurrah!

And even in the Birmingham News! Hurrah!

So let the confetti rain down for just a second, for this lovely year-end surprise… Happy New Year!

Target Practice

Mary Liz Ingram —  November 3, 2013 — Leave a comment

Over the river and through the wood, to Homestead Hollow we go…old cabins and smokehouses, bee hives and broom makers, blacksmiths and craft tents, hillbilly sandwiches and fried pies. A perfect Fall Saturday in the heart of the South, we come, we eat, we see, we walk, we explore, we buy. With the kids carrying their name-stamped horse shoes, homemade brooms and toy bows with eraser-tipped arrows, we truck it back through the field-turned-parking-lot to the car.

Arriving home and practically falling out of the car in haste, the kids bolt across the driveway into the yard, finding the perfect bullseye in a hole in the wooden fence. Target practice begins.

We practice through mornings and afternoons, through a week and into tomorrow. We are good at aiming, elbows up, strong and steady. Bullseye.

The weather turns cold, the children wear shorts: time for clothes shopping. In the midst of “the great purge of 2013,” I have to buy more. Children grow, you know.

Just minutes away from the hole in the fence, I am a walking target.

I enter the game fully aware, readily on guard. The bullseye stares at me from high above: Target. It mocks me from the carts, the bags, the signs, the door, the elevator buttons.

List clutched, I’m determined to escape with my wits and minimal, resourcefully chosen items. Silly store, you can’t distract me with your fabulous…oh, look at that dress…  Wait, wait, where was I. Target, I won’t be swayed by your…aw, look at those little shoes! Argh! Shake it off. That sweater looks so comfy. No! We’re headed THIS way.

Assaulted from every side with beautiful things I don’t need, my children are right there with me. “Mommy, can I pleeeease have these boots???” “Oh, Mommy, I just want ONE of these toys, just ONE, okay????” I try to clear the mist from my eyes and I make a firm buggy-beeline for the toddler section. Watch me focus! Watch me resist! Using my willpower, I explore the $5 mix and match display, ready to choose wisely.

But then the children start spinning. The baby – who was let out of her seat due to ear-piercing shrieks – starts ransacking the sock display and takes off in one direction with a pair of blue socks. My son dives into a clothes rack somewhere to my left. With my scary-calm, slow-speaking mom voice, I regroup my little posse and try to pick out some leggings to match this cookies & milk shirt. The baby hightails it right with her sassy walk and the son chases after. The pattern continues. I don’t even know what I’m saying, or what colors I’m choosing anymore. These look good. Sure, this is probably right. Get back over here. Stop throwing the leggings on the ground! Son, where are you! Get back over here. Don’t grab those. Where are the d@*# long-sleeved white t-shirts??

They’ve broken me. I’m a broken, easy target. Thanks store, with your beautiful objects and eye-level treasures.

The arrows start flying; I just want to make it out alive. Sure, you can have those shoes. Here are some pants, these look good. I just start grabbing.

Somehow, I held on long enough to stick (mostly) to my list, only having one rogue pair of pants that somehow made it into the buggy.

With “sucker” written all over me, I trudge my way to the car, all three kids attached to me in some form, my bags – with their red target logos all over them – hang somewhere off my body.

We survived.

Target Practice, Ink Doodle

Target Practice, Ink Doodle

Things were whirling out of control.

Every day was an exercise in survival. Lots of take-out dinners, scrambling to complete daily tasks, to keep up with the rotating chaos of laundry, dishes and trash. I could feel life slipping through my fingers, days passing by without significance.

It made me sad.

I love life. I want to feel it, breathe it, enjoy it, relish it. To soak up the moments wherever I am.

I declared war upon stress and overload.

I formulated the first stages of a peaceful plan of attack, which has been in action for a week or two now. Small steps to get me going in the right direction, as I detail a larger front to find a more permanent peace:

1. Worst Case Scenario dismissal

Awake with anxieties, I started asking myself, “What’s the worst that can happen if…” I found that the answers were never as terrible as the stress that was boiling in my busy, responsible mind.

2. French Music & Open Windows

For the past week, each morning as I pull out of the driveway I roll down the windows and crank up Carla Bruni’s Little French Songs. It is so nice. So relaxing. To feel the cool Autumn air in my hair, on my hands, listening to music that transports me to Paris, reminding me of a bigger, wider world…happy sigh… I feel the sky open up above me, and I feel my feet more firmly planted in my place. I notice the rays of sunlight wash over me as I drive the beautiful winding roads, and I am ready to live life with my eyes open.

With my car fully loaded with kids one afternoon, I brought them into this peaceful experience. In the rear view mirror, I watched as my 5 year old son closed his eyes to “see” what the songs brought to his mind. They thought it was awesome. On one song, they felt like birds in the clouds. Then things got more elaborate. They envisioned a funny king penguin with an ice crown on his ice throne, and ice palace with penguin servants who slid down ramps on their bellies. Yep. I asked them to draw their penguins later:

A few days later, my son asked me “Mom, can you roll down the windows and turn on that music so we can breathe?”

Pretty much sums it up.

3. Vision Adjustment

When I hit the peak of stress one afternoon, I was sitting in the car waiting for my daughter’s dance class to end after two failed attempts to run errands (due to uninteresting, but irritating complications). While we waited, my son hung out the open window, singing away to the world, completely oblivious to any cares. My stress evaporated as I watched him, and I gained a new perspective.

Taking a step back from the to-do list and noticing the real, tangible situations around me has helped tremendously… looking at the clouds, the people, the fallen leaves instead of passing by on a mission to somewhere else.

“Pay attention, just for a moment. Think to yourself, This is my life, right now. I need to remember.” -Roxana Robinson

4. Up and at ’em

This one is tough. But everyday after I (or more correctly my husband) drag myself out of bed at 5:15am, have that waiting cup of coffee (my requirement for getting up an hour earlier than usual), and wake up a little, I find reward. I have about 45 minutes to just sit, sip coffee, do whatever I want or nothing at all. No getting ready, no requests from kids, no noises, no demands. My husband writes on his blog, and I sit in a leather chair in my warm robe sipping coffee. It’s nice. It starts the day in peace instead of hurry.

“Stillness in your body leads to quiet in your mind.” -Elona Landau

We’ll see if I can keep that one up…

My Favorite Chair, Ink sketch

My Favorite Chair, Ink sketch

Birmingham Artwalk 2013

Mary Liz Ingram —  October 12, 2013 — 1 Comment

Here’s a quick recap of my experience at Birmingham Artwalk 2013… Sold enough I had to replenish! Thanks B’ham!

 

Repetition

Mary Liz Ingram —  October 10, 2013 — Leave a comment

Repetition. Sometimes it is spirit-crushing monotony; sometimes it is a rhythm.

Lately, as my husband and I have been collapsing on the couch each evening, we have discovered a more defined explanation for our weariness. It occurred to me that all day we slowly and repetitiously teach. We train the puppy, “no bite, no bite, no bite, no bite.” We teach the baby, “sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down in your high chair.” We teach our son to read, our daughter to spell and learn place value to 1000 (in 2nd grade?!). I teach preschoolers to respect their teachers, follow the rules, be kind to others. My husband teaches teenagers to discover themselves, to make good choices. Teach, teach, teach. Over, and over, and over.

It may sound like I’m being negative. It is tiring sometimes, this repetition. But I do not intend negativity. It is a gift, to teach. To mold and shape and grow. It requires a growing patience, which I am trying hard to acquire more deeply each day.

In reflection upon this discovery, I reclined on the couch in a quiet moment and scribbled down a quick, unrevised poem.

Repetition

Drip,  original photography

Drip, original photography

Teaching every moment
Teaching at work
Teaching my children
Teaching my dog
Teaching myself
Like a constant dripping
Reminding the same behaviors
Reciting the same words
Watching for signs of answers
Proof
Slowly shaping
Gently molding
Patient work
That doesn’t end
A gift
Often unrecognized
To others and ourselves
So we remind ourselves
Teaching brings goodness
Careful
Thoughtful
Intentional
Patient
Teaching

RTR?

Mary Liz Ingram —  October 8, 2013 — Leave a comment

In my 32 years, I’ve traveled to many countries: Jordan, Syria, Italy, France, Ireland, England, Mexico, Jamaica, Bahamas, Belize, Canada…I love it.

Since I had kids, my traveling days have been pretty nonexistent. Until recently.

I prepared myself for a new foreign experience. I don’t speak the language, and my eyes have ignored the culture as much as possible.

I loaded up in the car with my handy tour guide, an expert in the field and walking guidebook.

Dressed for cultural assimilation, we began our 40 minute journey… to Tuscaloosa. On Gameday.

If you are a Southerner, you know what I’m talking about. Football is different down here. Fans go ALL. OUT. I have never cared for nor watched football on my own initiative. In elementary school on “team colors day,” I was confused and appeared lame in my regular attire. Just recently a man bagging my groceries asked me “Do you go for Alabama or Auburn?” When I replied neither because I don’t really watch football, he was aghast and blurted out “What is wrong with you!?” For serious.

But this time, my husband won 4 tickets to the Zone, so Bama shirts on, we loaded up 2 of the 3 kids and headed to T-town.

Wow.

Gameday rides

Gameday rides

Moving down the interstate with throngs of fans, caravans of crimson and white cars decked out in flags & houndstooth magnets, my husband tearing up when the kids instinctively boo the opposing team driving past in buses…This is a new experience for me.

My nature rebelled, asking me why I’m wearing this bill board of a shirt, but I’m taking one for the team…my team, i.e. my family. My trusty tour guide was openly hoping for a conversion to take place in his anti-football wife. His actual words were: “I’m hoping the tradition, the pageantry and the beauty that is Alabama football takes root and you become a diehard fan.”

Um, never.

We did have fun. I went “all in,” wore the shirt, wore a “Beat Everybody” pin. The stadium is a giant monolith, the crowd crimson and dressed to the nines. I was definitely immersed in a culture unfamiliar. But I’ve done it! I’ve been there, seen what there is to see, stood in a mass/line to take a picture of my husband and kids with a statue (still weird…). I have experienced a big part of “my South” that I had been missing. Not a convert, but I at least gave it a taste.

Whew.

Sweet home Alabama 
Where the skies are so blue 
Sweet Home Alabama 
Lord, I’m coming home to you

Passing it on, ink & colored pencil

Passing it on, ink & colored pencil

It was quite a busy day.

Work, carpool, dropping off two kids, toting the baby & art to one store, then more art to Irondale. It was hot outside, so a pony tail was in order. Sweating like only a busy mom can sweat, I circle the block a few times to find my location. Siri was not helpful.

At last! Andrea Lucas Studios, here we are! I step out of the car and begin to unbuckle baby Nora. To her great delight, a train whistle blew and a big train moved right next to the parking lot. I took a grateful pause and let her enjoy this moment, her chubby hand waving away at the moving machine. Choo choo!

With a bag of art on my shoulder, we entered the studio to see that kind lady and fabulous stained glass artist Andrea Lucas. She snapped a few quick photos that I just discovered on Facebook today:

Here are the new pieces for sale at Andrea Lucas Studios! I have to say, Old Muddy Pig is my favorite. He deserves a good home!

It’s a morning routine:

Coffee in one hand, a small hand clasping the other… A garish pink stroller pushed by the strong hands of my husband, two baby hands below holding the chosen toy… Two more little hands jauntily holding onto the straps of a super hero backpack. We putter through our neighborhood in the fresh morning air, a family of 5 strolling our way to school.

We notice the cicada shells, the pine cones, the mosquitos trying to attack us; we follow the sidewalks and talk to the dogs. Then we notice the clouds.

We pause. We stare.

There’s a glowing feather in the cloud covered sky.

Thanks to the glories of technology, I can snap quite a nice picture using my phone. Encouraged by my hubby, I tweet my photo, adding a mention to our fabulous local weatherman James Spann. I must’ve acted fast, before everyone else in Birmingham starting snapping photos of the cloud feather, because he posted my photo on Facebook, and I feel ridiculously proud to have over 600 likes on my little ol’ picture. Hee hee!

Come to find out, our “feather” is a cool and rare cloud formation known as a Fallstreak Hole or Hole Punch Cloud. Pretty neat, and very beautiful!

FB fame

Vacant

Mary Liz Ingram —  August 28, 2013 — Leave a comment

A vacant desk waiting for that quiet moment

An empty chair waiting for creative companion

A tired artist waiting for a calmer day

A busy mind waiting with gathered thoughts 

Waiting through the new starts, the new schools, the busy days

Waiting for the rhythm to return, the mind to be renewed.

Vacant, original photography

 

Farmyard Additions

Mary Liz Ingram —  August 24, 2013 — Leave a comment

How many pigs does it take to make a drove? How many cows to make a herd? How many sheep to make a flock?

Whatever the answer, I’ve added a few more to my farmyard brood. Each of these new friends wants a home, and are currently boarding with me before making their way to the foster families at Alabama Goods and elsewhere.

Let me know if you are interested in adopting! Email: marylizingramart@gmail.com