Looking for a unique gift that just seems to speak to you? These quirky, textured pastel farm animals are just the thing…a gift that will last and bring fun to any room! Check out some of my newest pieces that will be available for sale at my upcoming art shows. Contact Mary Liz if you’re interested in a special piece, or one of the farmyard friends below: marylizingramart@gmail.com
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Coming up is the always fabulous Mountain Brook Art Association Holiday Show at Colonial Brookwood Village. On the lower level of the mall, this huge show is full of wonderful art, perfect for gift giving! Join us for the opening reception on December 5th from 4:00-8:00, catered by Cocina Superior. The show will be up from December 5th through the 19th, 10-8pm daily. Grand Finale party 5-8 on December 19th. Lots of fun, lots of artists, lots of shopping! Hope to see you there!
Another great gift idea for your holiday season, these original pastel cotton bolls are symbols of the South. Drawn from actual pieces of Alabama cotton, this handmade local art is available in various sizes, from 4×4 to 16×20. Proving most popular, the small cotton bolls make fabulous gifts, affordably priced at $40.
Contact Mary Liz today to purchase your own! marylizingramart@gmail.com
Looking for a cool gift for the holidays? Why not share a local, handmade “piece of the South”?! These small, framed and original oyster shell pastels make inexpensive and thoughtful gifts. Affordably priced at $35 each.
Eight of them have already made their way into wrapping paper!
Contact Mary Liz today to purchase your own: marylizingramart@gmail.com
Watching the asphalt, lost in thought.
Automatically winding my way through the canopied landscape to work, sinking in plans, the weight heavy; not seeing, just moving.
Suddenly blown back, breath caught, time slowed, curve elongated, eyes opened.
A second stretched into a seemingly physical pause.
Like cold air to the lungs I woke up.
The trees were like glass, the sun rays palpable. The leaves fell slowly across my view, drifting gently to the ground.
A sense of peaceful melancholy was thick… an understanding sadness, a recognition of life’s complexity, a sense of purpose, or duty, to help the falling gently to the ground.
My mind was haunted with metaphor. The inevitable decay. The grace in falling. The beauty in a life well lived. An acceptance of difficulties. The need for gentle hands to guide unexpected descents. The hope of coming renewal. The recognition of the seasons of life. The determination to aid the process of rise and fall. The need to care for the falling leaves…
One at a time, reaching out for this one, then turning to let that one land safely on my palm; now another, and another, and another.
Taking them as they come.
Calmly, peacefully catching them as they fall, without distress or worry or questions. Just because it is. Because they are.
Whispering, whispering, whispering, whispering
As I pass myself down to my knees.
Whispering, whispering, whispering, whispering
As I fall through the willow trees, and I said.
Who will care for the falling?
Who will care for the falling… leaves?
Autumn shades, calm my shaking hands,
Tender, cool breeze, keeps me where I am.
Suddenly here, when I want to scream,
Autumn calms me down, keeps me in my dreams.
Keep on falling down, they keep on falling down,
Keep on falling down, keep on falling down.
-excerpt from Whispering, Alex Clare
Me: I just read on Uber Facts that 1 American consumes as much as 32 Kenyans! Look at me! I use as much stuff as THIRTY-TWO Kenyans!? (holding out my arms to draw attention to my wee self)
Stephen: Well, that’s probably an average American. You only consume as much as 22 Kenyans.
Me: (pouty look for him making fun of my shrimpiness)
But seriously. On my quest for less (stress, stuff, waste, and let’s face it, laundry), I feel a bit overwhelmed. But I decided to just start somewhere.
With a mountain of unfolded laundry staring at me, I started in my closet.
Easy enough, I thought. Less stuff should mean less to clean, right?
So I picked out the stuff I don’t wear often. Feeling proud, I decided to have another go. So I pulled out some more. Repeated process two more times. Threw in the towel.
Next day, I felt the need to purge the hangers again. Found a few more.
Third day since my decision to take this journey to who-knows-where to end up at some fuzzy better place, I poked my head in the crowded closet and dug out some more things to give away.
So let’s add that up: 4 purges the 1st day, then 2 more times. And I still have tons of clothes.
Interestingly enough, I find myself obsessing over my wardrobe the past two mornings more than usual. I probably asked Stephen 10 times if I looked ok. I mean, really…it’s the silliest. It’s like I’m having clothes withdrawals or something.
I’m not completely clear on what’s going on here at the Ingram household. But I’m not worrying too much about clarity at this point. I’m just going with it. I feel the urge to be a more responsible human. I chose a place to start: living with less…first choice, clothes. Should be easy peasy…I mean lots of people have no food, for pete’s sake. But good grief, what a silly problem! We spend a lot of time choosing our outfits. We think that our clothes define us. Now, I’m not showing up to work in a grubby old t-shirt, but I also don’t need a closet packed with choices. This initial purge is intended as a starting place, not just to make room for new clothes (the usual impetus).
That’s where I am right now. So we’ll see.
We are literally hung up on crap. It snags us and holds us back from things that are important; it distracts us from doing greater good in the world. It hangs us close to selfishness and keeps our eyes on what we want, what we think we must have.
So I’m giving away lots of clothes and, when I’ve finished, I’ll take another step and see what happens…
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…
Here’s a quick recap of my experience at Birmingham Artwalk 2013… Sold enough I had to replenish! Thanks B’ham!
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!