Archives For life

It was a few weeks ago, I was driving with the flow of before-work traffic, sipping my blessedly fragrant coffee out of my travel mug and listening to NPR, while my son counted repeatedly to 100 and my baby threw her toys around. I heard snippets of an interview with Facebook CEO Sheryl Sandberg. Between listening to counting, stopping and going down the highway, and planning for the day ahead, one piece stayed with me: Sandberg’s favorite workplace poster: “What Would You Do If You Weren’t Afraid?”

That got me to thinking. Mary Liz, what WOULD you do if you weren’t afraid? That half-answered and waiting question floats in and out of my head from time to time.

What would you do if you weren’t afraid…

I would stand up for what is right, for what I believe is good and true. I would take action when opportunity arises to make the world a better place.

I would do these things in spite of fear of what others would think, who would disagree, who might think of my beliefs with distaste, or question me. If I were not afraid, I would be a better person, I think.

So I’m going to try to take steps as they come, to do more good with less fear. I’m sure the lesson should be much deeper, the deeds greater, but you have to start somewhere.

So I start here. I support and want to encourage equality among people…we are all human, we all feel love and hate, sadness and joy; we are a mixed up lot and disagree so much because we are all unique. But no matter our circumstance, we are in this together, in flesh and blood, living and breathing. We all have a story, half-hidden, so do not judge; I won’t judge you.

“Be kind. Everyone you meet is in the midst of a great struggle.” -Plato

Marriage Equality, 3x3 pastel on card

Marriage Equality, 3×3 pastel on card

Lovely Girl

Mary Liz Ingram —  March 11, 2013 — 2 Comments

 

Nora Grace, 8x10 pastel on paper

Nora Grace, 8×10 pastel on paper

Baby Nora

An unexpected gift to our family, this little girl is joy in the flesh. Sweet and soft, small and patient, she is a little light, bringing dimpled grins wherever she goes. Each time we hold her, we breath in life a little more deeply, pause and linger over the moment with a little more care. The gratefulness we feel because of this precious girl is inexpressible. I spend each day gushing over her: squishing her cheeks, waiting for her smile and her sweet, tiny voice to call for me. She lives surrounded by love, as I hope she always, always will.

“Lovely girl won’t you stay, won’t you stay, stay with me” -The Lumineers

“Let us go on talking about ourselves and our own particular little niche in life. The world is too vast a place.”The Colossus of Arcadia E. Phillips Oppenheim

Today I read a blog post by one of my fellow artists that encouraged the art of self portraiture. Hmm. Not something I do very often – ahem – I mean ever. I’m not a big fan of photos of myself, much less drawing my face.

But there is something fascinating about an artist’s self portrait. It is a window into their life, their thoughts, their persona reflected in their own creation. I browsed the web for self portraits and came across a Russian artist from the early 1900s with whom I was unacquainted.

Zinaida Serebriakova self portrait

Zinaida Serebriakova self portrait

One of the first Russian women to gain real fame in the art world, Zinaida Serebriakova painted images of her surroundings and the people in her country.  She valued life and beauty, worked in oils, charcoal and pastels. She was a wife, mother, daughter and experienced her share of tragedy during the revolution in 1917.  She began her successful art career as a young woman, and painted many beautiful self portraits that stand out to me because of her charm, her smile, her friendly, welcoming expression. The props and surroundings she chose give you a glimpse into her life: paints and brushes, her children, her dressing table with jewelry, perfumes and combs. I was fascinated by her. While most self portraits portray serious expressions, without hint of smiles, Serebriakova’s portraits intrigue me with her pleasant, almost mischievous grin.

I began thinking on my own self portrait. What would I include? What expression would I depict?

We all seek to be known. Continue Reading…

My grandparent's WWII Salt & Pepper Shakers

My grandparent’s WWII Salt & Pepper Shakers, original photograph

I was standing in the kitchen eating a good, homemade southern biscuit with a nice pat of butter in its middle, when my senses whisked me back to another house, another tasty biscuit, another just-melting-but-still-cold piece of butter.

My grandparent’s house, Birmingham, Alabama circa 1991: In front of me, at chest height while sitting, is my Granny’s oval dining room table, shiny with wood polish. Around the table, on rounded and puffed, aqua-upholstered, carved wooden chairs from an era past, sits my family – my Granny with her curly gray hair, my Grandaddy topped in a gloriously soft white tuft, my mom and dad, and my little sister with her freckles.

Eating my biscuit in my own kitchen today, I remembered how things were to be done at that family dinner table. In this formal Southern dining room with it’s sheer lace curtains, the African violets bloom in the window, and Granny’s pastel portraits of my four great grandparents hang in gilded frames upon a wall-papered backdrop. In this room, your mint iced teas must sit on the silver coasters, and the tiny salt and pepper shakers – brought home from France in WWII – are set within reach. The fresh biscuits are always served in the ventilated and covered red warming dish. Continue Reading…

When Cotton Whispers

Mary Liz Ingram —  February 18, 2013 — 2 Comments

“Art creates a kind of commentary” -Barbara Kruger

I live in the South. Sweet Home Alabama. The southern states of the US are full of a complex history, and for me, it is always strongly felt when I have the rare opportunity to gaze in stillness over a vast field of snow-white cotton.

Cotton Whispers, 24x36" soft pastel on board

Cotton Whispers, 24×36″ soft pastel on board

Stand with me a moment:

It’s a gleaming fall day in Alabama. The sky is brilliantly soft blue as the sun shines intensely at midday, lighting up the tufts of white cotton to full brightness. The grass is becoming dry, multicolored with the changing of season.

Behind me is your average gas station. We’ve stopped to fill up on our way home. You see, I’m a city girl, raised from age two in Birmingham, “the steel city,” the largest city in Alabama. We don’t have cotton fields nearby, and I have grown up in an age in which people don’t pick cotton by hand anymore. I’ve never seen people working fields with anything other than large farming machines.  Continue Reading…

The Birds

Mary Liz Ingram —  February 12, 2013 — 2 Comments
Busy Birds, 7X12 soft pastel on card

Busy Birds, 7X12 soft pastel on card

I step outside into the fresh morning air;

a swirl of eager chatter encircles me.

I lift my eyes to the busy scene:

birds playing a game of musical chairs

amongst the bare branches of the tall trees.

All weight is lifted into the cool gray sky,

agendas fade and I pause upon the stair.

I breathe in life.

I feel a small and glorious part

of the nature of things.

neighborhood chatter

neighborhood chatter

 

1,000 Words

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

Sometimes a moment grabs you.

Your life is carrying on, business as usual. Then you look up, and, pow! An image, a person, a sound, a smell…it just gets you. It steals your attention away from the course of everyday life, and gives you pause. It’s a moment when your senses are flooded by emotion…nostalgia, gratefulness, love, perhaps sadness or pain.

I am working to soak in these unexpected treasures as they come. When I see my boy lining up snowballs, for instance, or I find him reading far after bedtime in his fort, I am thankful for the moment’s fullness; I snap a picture, and I create a piece of art to convey that moment that took hold of my heart.

It’s raining and thundering on this February Sunday. In my art room, I was irritably trying to muster the focus I needed to finish a planned pastel of a cotton field. My daughter quietly slipped into the room, and perched on a tall, yellow metal chair behind me. I turned to look at her, and saw her slowly smoothing a long silk scarf on her head as she watched the rain out of the window, dressed in a puffy pink tutu with her little feet propped up on the bottom rail.

She was beautiful. I soaked it in.

Rainy Day, pastel sketch on paper

Rainy Day, pastel sketch on paper

“A picture’s worth a thousand words”

 

Bookworm

Mary Liz Ingram —  January 30, 2013 — Leave a comment

I’m a bookworm.

I love to read, and I read everyday. I read when I rest with baby, on lazy mornings while sipping coffee, and every night before I go to sleep. This love of reading has been literally passed down through my dad’s side of the family through generations. We have this tradition of book-sharing, and you MUST initial the inside cover signifying completion before you pass it along.

Valentine Williams

My favorite books are, as I call them, light mysteries…you know, the kind without any disturbing, gory crimes. Just good “whodunits” that keep you guessing. For example, I’ve read all the Sherlock Holmes mysteries, most books by Dick Francis, and I’m currently reading my grandfather’s 1930s editions of Valentine Williams’ Secret Service Series. Love it.

Writing inspires me. Much of my art has been inspired by words: poetry of William Blake and Emily Dickinson, Southern literature like Cold Sassy Tree by Olive Ann Burns, and poetry and stories that I write like Little Feathers and my Such is Life series.

Here are a few of my pieces that have been inspired by literature: Continue Reading…

Such is Life, Act Three

Mary Liz Ingram —  January 28, 2013 — 1 Comment

The lights dimmed and the curtain raised, the stage once again reveals the now-familiar, bustling family of five.

In the driveway of their small suburban home, the father is buckling the well-padded baby into her snug carseat, making skilled attempts to wiggle her arms through the straps, as she works hard to get them out. The mother pulls at jackets and lifts under arms, ushering the bundled older children into the back of car with their loads of explorer-worthy trappings. Finally, children strapped in place, the parents take their seats and the family van pulls onto the road.

It’s a vacation day: pancakes have been eaten, lazy sipping of coffee has ensued, relaxation has crept into this usually-busy group. It’s a crisp, sunny day and the normally scheduled, organized family feels the need for a bit of spontaneity.

Time for a family hike. Continue Reading…

Such is Life, Act Two

Mary Liz Ingram —  January 21, 2013 — 2 Comments

An intermission has ended, as the routine of life has been lived another week. The audience takes a seat once more, as the curtain is raised.

The stage, reset, now reveals a sunny winter’s day at the small home on the fringes of a bustling Southern city. The young working mother takes her place in the haven of leather armchair, a brief respite from the busy game of everyday life. On stage right, the baby naps in her crib. Stage left, the other children play together in a tango of happy cooperation and bossy annoyance.

Her head resting askew upon her supportive hand, the mother reminisces upon the events of a few days past, when the city slowed to a crawl. The spotlight centers on her place, as she recalls the day when the snow began to fall. Continue Reading…