Blog – SolSpira

My little world

sunspiral life January 6, 2021January 6, 2021ink, mom, watercolor

Earth and Universe by KJ Gatten — “Earth and Universe” | watercolor | ink

It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was headed to visit my neighborhood friend but needed to climb the concrete steps to her front door. Why walk up those stairs when you could hop? On one foot.

I was nine years old and full of energy. Never mind that I had terrible balance; I could fall over just standing in one place on two feet. My mom had even enrolled me in ballet lessons so I could learn to float like a butterfly, or at least learn to stay upright. But none of that was in my head when I started bouncing up those stairs.

Of course I fell. I really didn’t have much of a chance.

When teeth meet concrete, they break. My two front teeth were badly chipped but at first I wasn’t really all that upset. I figured some new teeth would grow in their place. I mean, that had already happened once. But then I learned they were my permanent teeth and this would require a trip to the dentist.

I don’t have much memory of dentist visits before this event. I’m sure they were part of my life but they were unmemorable – just one of those things your parents make you do and you don’t get to vote.

This trip, though, was unforgettable.

It went on forever. Hours? Days? I sat in that chair while the dentist drilled the nerves out of both of those teeth. It was terrifying. It was painful. All I wanted was to escape and go home.

I’ll never forget this visit for another reason, though. When the torture was finally over the dentist gave me a reward for being so courageous. He handed me the most perfect little world globe. It was tiny, fit in the palm of my nine-year old hand, and I loved it at first sight. Crafted of metal and painted in great detail, this miniature world even spun on its own little wire stand. That gift taught me a few things:

1) even a dentist named Skinner could have a kind heart;
2) good things can come out of bad experiences; and
3) I was brave.

Thirty years later, I was living on my own and happily working at a university – until all of a sudden I wasn’t so happy. It started with subtle things, things that made me think surely I had imagined them. But no – the touches, the inuendos, the assertion of power were all very real and very inappropriate. I kept a journal of everything that happened and how I felt about it, asked my boss to shield me from this man who had power over both of us, and then one day it all stopped. I was relieved but also had an awful feeling that maybe his attentions had turned to someone else.

I was right.

A year later a colleague approached me and asked about my experiences with this man. She had been the new victim. We gathered our collective courage and together filed a complaint. That complaint led to an investigation which led to testimony in front of a committee.

It went on forever. Hours? Days? It was terrifying. It was painful. All I wanted was to escape and go home. But I faced that committee, told my story, and shared my journal.

Shortly afterward a small box arrived in the mail. It contained that little metal globe and a note from my mom reminding me how brave I was as a little girl and saying how proud she was of the brave woman I had become.

And my little world kept spinning.

Note to self: You are brave enough to face whatever your world asks of you.

Expecting to fly

sunspiral botanicals, life April 9, 2020April 9, 2020

Midwest winters could lull you into a coma. After so many dreary gray days strung together you would kind of forget that there ever was anything else.

The plants never forgot, though. Every spring nature would snap her fingers to wake you up and let you know that just about anything is possible – even lush sunny days. It always seemed like a miracle to me when everything that had been dormant for so long would suddenly spring to life.

These days when I see the new leaves budding on the trees and the flowers start to unfurl, it reminds me of a line from a Buffalo Springfield song:

“There you stood on the edge of your feather,
Expecting to fly.”

Those little leaves and blossoms don’t just THINK they’re going to thrive and grow, they expect it. They expect to fly.

I think about that song every spring, but never more than this year, the spring of the coronavirus. The world has turned upside down, from the way we interact with each other to how we buy groceries. It’s a new normal that I suspect will shape our days long after the virus threat is over.

But you know what? My Japanese maples have new leaves that are uncurling more every day. The crocus have already come and gone. Ornamental grasses have bright green shoots reaching for the sun. Azalea blooms are popping out all over.

Every last living thing is expecting to fly, me included.

Note to self: take a cue from nature – she wrote the book on how to keep moving forward.

The yin and yang of hurricanes

sunspiral life September 6, 2019September 6, 2019

I loved living on the coast of South Carolina. Most people think of going there to dip their toes in the ocean, but over the course of 30 years I developed a serious infatuation with the marsh. I could sit for hours looking at it, listening to the marsh hens, watching the little crabs in the mud flats, hearing the wind swoosh through the blades of grass. When the troubles of the world started weighing down on me, that’s where I would go to get balance back in my life.

And at the end of my work day as I drove over the James Island Connector with its vast marsh vistas, I knew I was heading home.

Of course, it wasn’t all bliss. Along with all the wonderful things that came with living on the coast, there were the hurricanes. Every year we all watched and waited for the inevitable threat. Most times we were lucky and only got a glancing blow, but in 1989 Hugo blew through.

My little house sat flat on the ground, 10’ above sea level, and Hugo was predicted to bring 17’ tides. I bugged out, sitting on I-26 for hours trying to get away from the coast, along with thousands and thousands of other people.

This oak tree in my back yard split into pieces.

After the storm I talked with my neighbor who had decided to stay in his home. He said he had a chainsaw and if the water started rising he planned to go into the attic, cut a hole in the roof and climb outside. I tried to imagine what a pine needle would feel like if it was impaled into your skin at 140 mph. He would have looked like a porcupine. And how long would he have been able to hold on in the force of that wind? No thanks, not for me.

The damage from the storm was so severe that we weren’t allowed to return home immediately. Driving back into Charleston in the early morning a couple of days after the storm, the scene was devastating. I remember being stunned by how much sky there was – so many trees were lost.

The piles of dead trees were taller than us.

My nephew, Adam (a.k.a. “My Hero”), was a Marine stationed in North Carolina. He made his way to Charleston, using his military credentials to get through the National Guard garrison around the city. Adam pitched in and helped in the massive clean-up that took place every day.

Mountains of branches and whole uprooted trees were sawed and chopped and drug to the street. Those piles were in front of every house on every street, so driving through neighborhoods felt like driving through tunnels. It took months before those tunnels were cleared, with streets blocked off while the debris was removed. You know how that little ball in the pinball machine pings back and forth and all over the place? That’s what it was like to drive around the city in the months after Hugo, just trying to find a clear route to where you were headed.

You think you’ve experienced hot and humid weather? Not until you’ve been in Charleston after a hurricane. With no electricity. After the storm blew over there were days and days of sweltering sun beating down on rain-soaked land. Steamy doesn’t begin to describe it.

The days were eerie, because of the quiet and because of the noise. There were no televisions or radios or air conditioners for background noise but there were lots of choppers flying over to assess damage. Those brought back memories of Vietnam to our friend who had been a helicopter pilot in the war.

Like a drumbeat through a village, rumors would spread about the potential of getting fresh produce, a rare commodity in the days after the storm. “The Piggly Wiggly on Harborview has broccoli.” And off we would go to wait in line hoping to get something green before it was sold out.

I had a gas stove and a gas hot water heater so every day in the late afternoon my all-electric friends would start arriving. They brought the thawing food from their warming freezers and we cooked it up. Then they took hot showers and made their way back home before the 7:00 pm curfew. It was a sharing of whatever bounty any of us had and it helped all of us get through those days.

After the aftermath, with broken trees all around.

By the time it was dark, we were exhausted. Early to bed, early to rise, just like my grandparents on their farm. After a couple of weeks the power company guy finally arrived and got our electricity back on. We rediscovered the magic of flipping a switch and having light…and air conditioning.

In September 2017 as Hurricane Irma bore down on Florida, my niece and her tribe evacuated to my house in North Georgia. I know first-hand how awful evacuation is – not knowing what damage is being done to your home or if you’ll even have a home you can go back to – but what a blessing it was to have them here. For a couple of days we visited and took walks and even had an art day. My husband gave my great-niece a guitar lesson. My great-nephew entertained us with his daredevil skateboarding on the hills in the neighborhood. We cooked up big meals and had the kind of quality time we rarely get.

This past week Hurricane Dorian visited the southeast coast. I watched the forecast tracks and checked the tide tables just like all those years I lived in Charleston, hyper alert to the danger facing my friends who are still there. Memories of past hurricanes – both good and bad – came swirling to the surface.

I painted this picture of Hurricane Irma from a radar image of the storm. The intensity of the colors match the incredible power of hurricanes to damage and destroy. I wish no one ever had to be visited by a hurricane again, but like most things in life, some hidden blessings can be found – sometimes you can appreciate them in the moment and sometimes they take a little time to sink in.

Note to self: while you’re hanging on and waiting for the storm to pass, use that time to look for hidden blessings.

Seasons and transformations

sunspiral insects, trees August 25, 2019August 26, 2019gouache, ink, watercolor

“Butterfly Tree” | gouache | ink | watercolor

Hopefully, we all go through transformations, right? Because otherwise we’d be stuck as our infant selves. Yeah, okay – I’ve known a few of those, too, but most of us change and grow as the years pass.

One of my transformations was marked by the dubious honor of a “Most Improved” award. I mean, to get that award you have to be in a pretty sorry state to begin with, don’t you think?

Such was the case with my junior-high-school-self, I guess. Instead of having me hang around the house all summer, my mom enrolled me in Sears Charm School. Yep, Sears the department store. What? You don’t think of Sears as leaders in the charm department? Me, neither, but off I went. The good news was that one of my best friends, Linda, was signed up, too.

Linda had it all. She was beautiful, smart, funny, and confident. She should have gotten the “Least Improved” award because she had the least to learn at charm school. But there we were, learning how to walk, how to talk, what to wear and how to wear it.

The crescendo moment was a fashion show. That was kind of fun. We got to roam through the girls’ department and pick out our outfits, applying what we’d learned, of course. At the end of the school I was dubbed “Most Improved.” Linda went on to model for Sears at more fashion shows and in high school she was crowned homecoming queen. You might think she was the kind of person you would love to hate but you would be wrong about that. Sometimes good things happen to good people and Linda was – and is – good people.

Out there in the natural world lots of things go through transformations. Butterflies are the transformation experts, and I love them, but I also love trees. Just think about all the changes our trees go through season after season. I thought about that, and then this image popped into my head.

My title for this painting is “Butterfly Tree” but my husband said it should be called, “Float Like a Butterfly, Sing Like a Tree.” And that’s why we call him The Wordsmith.

Note to self: embrace the changing seasons and let them transform you.

“Butterfly Tree” is available on merchandise. Check it out!

The mother of all inspiration

sunspiral life, people August 23, 2019August 22, 2019gouache, ink, mom, watercolor

On this blog I write about what inspires me – the stories behind the images that I paint. That inspiration comes from all kinds of sources but at the heart of it all, it comes from my mom. She was the one who inspired me to think creatively in the first place.

Lena grew up on a farm in Southeastern Ohio.

I wrote an essay about her once for a college English class. All I can remember of it now is the first line: “With the determination of Scarlett O’Hara making a dress out of the living room drapes, my mother accomplished everything she set out to do and inspired me to do the same.” That pretty much sums up her approach to life and her approach to parenting.

Lena on the way to the hospital on the day I was born.

Lena was a force, but in a gentle way, if that makes sense. I used to call her the quiet steamroller because she had a way of getting things done when it wasn’t something she could do herself. In her soft voice she would cast a spell on you until the thing you most wanted to do in the world turned out to be exactly what she wanted. But so you don’t get the wrong picture in your head, let me just say that her soft voice and determination were tools used for good, and usually for the good of the people she loved rather than for herself.

The other thing we called her was the Energizer Bunny. She was never rushed or in a hurry but she accomplished more in a week than most people do in a year. She developed a strategy of what I call whittling: dividing projects up into little bits just big enough for the amount of time and/or energy she had available. I find myself using that trick a lot these days.

Walk O’ Wonders in Great Western Shopping Center was one of our favorite places.

She was one of the most creative people I have ever known. She didn’t paint (except for the reflective polka dots she painted on the bumpers in her carport) or write (except for the many family histories she researched and developed into books) or create collages (except for the button collections she turned into an art form). But her mind was always looking at things in a different way, reimagining all the potential possibilities, and she trained me to do the same.

And boy, could she sew. Her sewing machine was always ready for action. When I was a little girl I stood by her side while she sewed dresses for me. When I got old enough, I got my own machine set up next to hers in the basement and we would spend hours there, sewing together. She would even tear out my stitches when I made a mistake. Now that’s love.

Lena wasn’t above acting goofy to make people smile.

Her greatest gift was making the people in her life feel her love. I always felt like I was at the top of her list but the thing is, she made everyone feel like that. In the days before social media, she kept in touch with just about everyone she ever met. Countless birthday and anniversary cards and hand-written notes. Oh, how she would have loved Facebook!

She was my maid of honor when I got married in 2003.

The one thing she couldn’t steamroll over was cancer. Don’t get me wrong – she tried. She did everything in her power to beat it because, as she said, “I haven’t done everything I wanted to do.” At the very end, when she had lost the energy to speak or even keep her eyes open, that Energizer Bunny gathered enough strength to tell me she loved me. Talk about inspiration. If I could muster up half the grace and courage she showed during that time I would be very proud of myself. She lost the fight 14 years ago today.

Giggling like little girls, we sprayed each other’s hair with glitter for the wedding.

This painting “Lena” is from my mom’s high school graduation picture. It doesn’t look exactly like her because I’m hopeless at painting portraits but it captures something of her. When I look at it I get the warm feeling that thinking of her always brings and that’s good enough for me.

Note to self: never forget the source of your inspiration or the lessons that love taught you.

A horse of any color

sunspiral animals August 4, 2019August 26, 2019horses, love

Don’t all little girls love horses? I sure did. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t drawing and the first thing I remember drawing was a horse.

I was very young, maybe even preschool, sitting in a room with a plastic play horse, trying to capture it with paper and pencil. My dad wandered by and came in to see what I was drawing. He pointed out to me that the horse’s legs were rounded, not flat, and if I shaded the sides of the legs with my pencil the horse legs on my drawing would look rounded, too.

As Jimmy Buffet would say: so simple like the boogaloo. It blew my little mind and I never forgot it.

When I was still in elementary school I had a girlfriend, Leslie, who kept her pony, Spotty, at a stable near my house. Every now and then Leslie would let me ride Spotty, but my version of riding meant that I kind of hung on and hoped for the best.

I loved hanging out at that stable, though, and seeing all the horses – especially an elderly Shetland pony that wandered the grounds. I liked him because he was just about my height and his days of sowing wild oats were long past. Very gentle and sweet natured, not intimidating like those giant horses. Who would be crazy enough to try to ride them?

That would be me.

One day someone offered to put me up on one of those grown-up horses and in a moment of temporary insanity I said yes. I was a scrawny kid, probably all of four feet tall at that point, and that horse was huge.

Was I scared? You bet, and that horse knew it. He decided to show who was the boss – as if there was any question – and tried to get rid of me as quickly as possible.

He took off like a bat out of hell (I believe bolting is the official horse term) and ran under low-hanging tree branches, hoping to scrape me off the saddle. He went on like that for hours.

Well, probably it was only a matter of minutes but long enough that my young life passed before my eyes multiple times. And I had time to make a bargain with the universe: I would leave the giant horse riding to those who knew what they were doing and in exchange I would get to keep on living. Several years later, after my first experience with downhill skiing, I made a similar bargain. I have kept my promises.

I was reading about the symbolism of horses recently. Black horses are said to represent your shadow self, the part of you that you keep hidden from the world (and often from yourself) while white horses represent your self-awareness. Black/white, dark/light, yin/yang…bingo! The idea for this painting was born. It’s sort of the horse version of yin yang.

Note to self: Embrace both your light and your dark sides – you can learn a lot from each.

“Horse Love” is available on merchandise. Check it out!

Yoga Cats

sunspiral animals July 23, 2019August 26, 2019cats, yoga

Yoga has been part of my life off and on for years. I love the way it stretches and coaxes my body to do things that are good for it. As self-care goes, it’s my favorite.

But cats? Cats have been part of my life even longer. Seems like just about every picture of me as a kid included at least one cat. I’m not sure if I was always drawn to them or if they were always drawn to me, but we speak the same language.

Like when I was a kid, visiting the horse stable that was on an adjacent property. One of the barn cats there had a litter of the most adorable soft fuzzy kittens and one of them was begging to go home with me. I heard it loud and clear. I knew if I asked my mom if I could have one it wouldn’t go well. But what if the kitten accidentally followed me home? I didn’t want to pick it up and carry it just so I couldn’t be accused of “bringing” it home. Plausible deniability. I didn’t know what that was at that point, but somehow I knew I needed it.

So, I walked home very very slowly that day and coincidentally (you know what they say about coincidences: they take a lot of planning) it was at exactly the same pace as that little kitten could walk. Did I get to keep the kitten? Actually, I can’t remember now how it all turned out but it wasn’t the first or the last time I tried to talk my mom into letting me have a(nother) cat.

Fast forward many years to when I was on my own. A stray cat in the neighborhood (I named him Clyde – who knows what other aliases he had) used to wander inside my house when he needed a spa day. What a life Clyde had. He would find a cozy spot – preferably with a sunbeam – and snooze the day away until it was time to head back outdoors to patrol his territory.

Clyde was the inspiration for this Yoga Cats design. As I watched him stretch and yawn and curl and twist into different positions all day, it reminded me of my yoga poses. Talk about zen. I’m pretty sure that concept was invented by cats.

Note to self: Take a lesson from the felines and gift yourself some zen moments.

“Yoga Cats” is available on merchandise. Check it out!

The Outlaw

sunspiral animals July 15, 2019July 15, 2019gouache, ink, watercolor

When I came up with the title for this painting, I immediately thought of my dad. Most of the time he wasn’t a REAL outlaw but when we gathered at my mom’s parents’ house and they started taking family photos he quickly became one.

I guess I’d better explain before you get the wrong idea. As our family grew we wouldn’t all fit in one photo so my grandma divided the adults into two groups: her children and the in-laws. My jokester dad (think Don Knotts and you’ll have him pegged) quickly changed the name of his group to “The Outlaws.” That’s him, second from the left.

Admit it – you’ve felt like an outlaw when hanging out with your in-laws more than once, right? It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone.

But that’s not why I painted this piece. I actually painted it because of Laura, a friend of mine. Laura loves sheep. I don’t think she’s ever actually owned a sheep – maybe she’s never even met one in person – but sheep speak to her and they must say something funny because they always make her smile. So when my husband and I were wandering around Blue Ridge, a little north Georgia mountain town, and I saw a small herd of metal sheep outside a shop, I immediately snapped a photo and sent it to her. I was pretty sure she needed me to bring one of those sheep home to her and I was right.

On the drive back with the metal sheep in the back seat and Laura on the phone, we decided the sheep needed a name. Of course, the job fell to my husband, the wordsmith, and he dubbed her “Purl.” See, sheep make wool and wool is used for knitting and purl is something you do when you knit. Get it? Perfect.

Laura gave Purl a place of honor in the front yard and promptly bought her a necklace. Pearls, of course.

Note to self: Don’t always follow the herd. Channel your inner outlaw to see things from a different perspective.

Happy birthday to me!

sunspiral life July 9, 2019July 9, 2019

I’m celebrating this birthday and thinking about birthdays gone by.

In those photos at the top, I was four years old. That party was at my maternal grandparents’ home in southeastern Ohio. See that playhouse in the background? I loved that thing. And that’s me in the photo on the right, holding my Raggedy Ann doll. The goofy little boy on the left is my brother (come to think of it, he really hasn’t changed much) and my mom’s two sisters, Myrna and Marlene, are next to him. It was nice having aunts who weren’t that much older than me. Still is, as a matter of fact – love you both. Who knows who everyone else is. Have you noticed how when there’s cake and ice cream you never know who will show up?

Several years later I was again spending my birthday with my grandparents, this time on their 100+ acre farm. When asked what I wanted to do and eat for my special day, I didn’t even have to think twice: hayride and homemade ice cream!

My grandpa loaded up the flatbed with hay, hooked up his tractor and off we went. We only moseyed down the road to the neighbor’s farm and back, but in tractor time that was quite a trip. I can’t remember who all was on the hayride but I still remember the cool summer night air blowing in my face and the smell of the hay. Whenever I get a whiff of hay (which isn’t often anymore) it still takes me back to that birthday.

After the hayride grandpa got busy cranking the ice cream machine. You’ve never had hand-cranked ice cream? I’m a chocoholic from the word “go” but that homemade vanilla ice cream was pure heaven. That was one of my favorite birthdays when I was a kid.

For my 16^th birthday, my parents flew my English pen pal, Christine, to Ohio to spend some time with us. Remember in the 6^th grade how the teacher made us practice letter writing by having us write to some company to request a pen pal? You could mail the letter or not, but I sent mine off and my reward was Chris. We are a long, long way from 6^th grade now, but she’s been back to the States once since then, I’ve visited her in England, and luckily the magic of Facebook still keeps us connected because I am really bad about writing letters (sorry, Chris!).

Birthday buds Carolyn, Teresa, and Cindy

When I hit 17, Carolyn, Teresa, and Cindy helped me celebrate. As you can see, they were a shy group, but oh so cool with those secret agent glasses. Looks like maybe Teresa was singing happy birthday to me.

At birthday #21, I got a car! Not just any car. She was a 1964 Rambler – three on the tree – and had been my paternal grandpa’s car. He was a minister and, yes, he only drove it to church on Sundays. I promise I’m not making that up. I named her Lizzie.

Lizzie had those vacuum-operated windshield wipers. Never heard of them? Well, when you had your foot on the gas, they operated at a slow speed. If you wanted the wipers to go fast you had to take your foot off the gas. That was better than my friend Linda’s car (was that a Ford Falcon, Linda?) that had no windshield wipers at all, but not to worry – she had a rope. When it was raining, Linda put her hand out the driver’s side window with one end of the rope. Whoever was in the passenger seat had the other end and they synchronized their movements up and down to wipe off the rain.

The good thing about birthdays is they give you a chance to pause and remember all the ones that went before. Fun times and great memories.

Note to self: Celebrate today but never forget your yesterdays.

For the love of trees

sunspiral trees July 1, 2019August 26, 2019ink, trees, watercolor

Heartwood | watercolor | ink — “Heartwood” | watercolor | ink

I grew up kind of out in the country, on four acres of land. The first two acres had the house, yard, and a very large vegetable garden with some apple trees. We grew plenty of vegetables and fruit to feed our family of four and sold the extras at a roadside vegetable stand.

Shucking corn and shelling peas filled my summer days and made me hate vegetables for a very long time, until I had to become a vegetarian because of some health issues. Life likes to laugh at you like that, doesn’t it?

But that’s another story. Like how my aunt helped out at the roadside stand when she visited by dangling her long legs at the passersby like a Rockette. (I’m not naming any names but you know who you are.)

Like I said, another story.

Anyway, I always envied my friends who lived in town. They were so close together, they could hang out and shop and walk very very slowly past the cute boy’s house hoping for a glimpse or maybe even a casual conversation on a lazy summer day because if you’re crushing on a guy how can you be expected to wait clear until school starts to see him again?

Me? I got to shuck corn and shell peas.

I can tell that you’re starting to feel sorry for me, but wait. On those back two acres were thick woods. When not shucking, shelling, or minding the vegetable stand, I roamed through those woods, cleared paths and made hidey holes. I was forest bathing before forest bathing was cool and those woods were my summer retreat.

Up closer to the house, there was a giant tree with giant limbs. I shimmied up the trunk and sat on those thick branches for hours at time, reimagining the tree as my very own apartment. I stuck masking tape “buttons” on the branches and at a mere touch I had dinner prepared, the TV tuned to my favorite show, and all the laundry washed, dried and folded in a snap.

Jane Jetson had nothing on me.

Living out there in the country, I learned to love trees and that’s what I was thinking about when I painted this Heartwood image; just giving back some of the love trees have given me. Maybe I didn’t miss so much by not living in town after all.

Note to self: Make some time to spend some time with trees.

“Heartwood” is available on merchandise. Check it out!

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