More Brave

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, Children, confidence, courage, Faith, fear, grandchildren, memoir, mixed media painting, painting, Redemption, testimony, Vulnerability, wisdom
So moved by this opportunity

On the morning the editor of Fathom Magazine emailed me saying she loved the requested rewrite of my article, I found myself thinking about how I hoped my grandchildren and children would remember me.

I imagined young adults now toddlers saying, “Grandma was brave.” I imagined their parents saying “She sure was.”

The final edit echoed that very hope. I wrote an article prompted by the theme of Affirmation”.

You can read it here as well as so many other compelling essays, poems and articles.

Fathom Article

I’m honored to be included and happy to introduce you to this deeply thoughtful publication.

Toi Et Moi

Art, courage, mixed media painting, painting, Redemption, Vulnerability


“Toi Et Moi” (you and me)

Free on Friday!

This Friday from 6-8, 1128 Broad Street in Augusta, Georgia, a pop-up First Friday exhibit

Photographer, Drake White selected a group of artists in the CSRA, photographed them and then coordinated the exhibition.

I dropped off my piece today, “Of Lasting Value”, and got an early viewing of the works of other artists.

“Of Lasting Value”

This promises to be a memorable event and I’m so grateful to be included. It’s an experience I’ll forever cherish.

Drake White, photographer

Make plans to attend. I promise you’ll be moved by the portraits and the art.

Art and Story Continue

Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, mixed media painting, painting, Peace, wisdom, wonder
“Intercession”, most recent painting

This morning I thought of slowing, of savoring and of sort of settling into truly becoming the artist me.

To do so with smallness. And so the 2023 word will be two actually, small things.

2022’s word was/is “willing“ and with effort and effortlessly I embraced it. I said yes to chances I hoped might be possible and I said yes to surprises.

This one, another and likely the last of ‘22 surprised me, a feature about me as an artist.

Inspiring Stories

Thoughts on Psalms and Paint

Art, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, hope, mercy, mixed media painting, painting, Redemption, rest, Vulnerability, wonder
Goodness and Mercy

A few months ago, I discovered an online publication, “Collected Magazine”. I connected and they connected in reply. The result includes some of my artwork and an interview about my Psalm 23 series. Here’s the link:

Collected

Goodness and Mercy is available

Wonderfully Colored

Art, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, daughters, family, grief, hope, memoir, painting, Redemption, Vulnerability, wonder

“On different days, I’m different too, You’d be surprised how many ways.” Dr. Seuss, “My Many Colored Days”

Someone commented on Sunday, her love for the colors in my paintings. I smiled to myself. My palette has decidedly changed.

Formerly, I had a bend towards neutral, bland in conversation and tone. My aim was ethereal. I now see it was timidity.

Yesterday, I watched a tiny lizard fade from black to green to gray. I convinced my granddaughter to let him go as she clutched the caught creature, tiny thumb and forefinger keeping “the baby safe”.

Once set free, it scurried with a whip of a long tail into the sandy ground overtaken by green.

There was a time, I turned all the books exposing only the pages, clean and pristine, no color showing. My husband asked how we’d know the titles, I answered, “Pull it from the shelf and look and keep looking until you find one you like”.

Explore. Truth is, I felt comfortable with the quiet untouched arrangement.

It was safe, not noisy with color, uncluttered, avoidant of engagement.

Now, it appears I’m becoming vibrant, creeping towards but resisting crowded clutter.

Discovering wonder in tiny things again.

Like sunlight landing on spines of books I love.

Morning greeted me that way, touching the den’s corner and I saw the beauty, I saw the gift of a perspective change.

I lean my paintings against my mama’s white chair, the backdrop a mixture of blue speckled paintings and a splash here and there of yellow.

I’m layering color more boldly these days, still soft and easy, fluidly filtered but not at all shy.

Ebony paint fencing in water, creamy white shadows only slightly dulling the grasses.

Verdant green, velvet like a cool cushion.

Happy pinks and confident blues.

October 11, 2022, I paused to see if my memory was correct.

Then I tallied the years since my father passed away on October 11th, 24 years ago today.

I remembered the room where the decision was made and thought of how it seemed to be a circle of voting, “what do we do?”.

Hang on or let go?

I wondered, this afternoon, what might have been had we decided differently and for a minute I felt lonely. Then, a thought that might not be true for others; but, for me it quelled the useless wondering question.

Don’t waste your wonder over what might have been, only and always open your heart to the wonder of now and the wonder of them.

A cousin I haven’t seen in over twenty years wrote to me today. She said my daddy would check on her when he was in Savannah. It was always unexpected; but, sweet, so sweet when my daddy, her uncle came by to be sure she was okay.

I found myself like a child, filled with wonder and my day, one of many colored, was bright yellow dancing with indigo.

Not murky grey like regret, nor blah with grey from the dirty jar needing brushes washed.

No, blue like the eyes of a girl like me, filled with wonder. Coral like kindness, turquoise the assurance of hope for tomorrow.

These are the colors on this day, just one of my “many colored days”.

I have so many more.

“a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;”
‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭3:4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Visit https://www.lisaannetindal.me to view available work.

My Artist Story

Art, artist calendar, bravery, confidence, courage, curiousity, Faith, family, memoir, painting, patience, Redemption, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

I was given an opportunity by Hayley Price, owner of The Scouted Studio and The Art Coaching Club of which I’m a member, to share my thoughts on being an artist and why I continue this intentional journey.

In progress

A journey in progress.

You can listen here:

Art Coaching Club podcast

It’s a wonderful podcast for artists. You should subscribe for both technical advice and encouragement from other artists.

Surprises and Courage

Art, bravery, confidence, courage, Faith, memoir, painting, photography, Redemption, Vulnerability

“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.” e.e. cummings

Photo by Drake White

Last month, I noticed a new follow on Instagram. A talented photographer with an affinity for capturing beauty in found objects fresh or ancient and in spaces you’d think too battered, but made brilliant.

His images compelled me, their stories.

An invitation came to be photographed.

Surprised. I was surprised.

Photo by Drake White

I studied his work, admired the portraits of others and felt drawn to each of them through his retelling of their time together, their stories of being themselves, artists.

He must be observant, a good listener I decided.

And so, I said yes to this beautiful surprising invitation to sit and be captured through his eye and his lens.

He listened as I responded to how I began painting. Then, he listened some more to the story of the ill-fitting art scholarship recipient who lost her chance and her way because of hardship, horror and harm-filled days.

Then, the always answer to my return to painting came.

Photo by Drake White

“It began with the gift of a Bible in 2016. Subtle sketches in the margins of women who understood me and I, them.”

And I sat for him twice, occasionally worried I’d overshared and yet, deciding that’s not for me to say.

It’s up to the listener.

The photographer.

The artist.

The capturer of me now, the shadow of the old fading to barely there grey.

I am grateful.

And surprised.

Courageously.

In quietness and confidence shall be your strength…Isaiah 30:15

Follow Drake White on Instagram to view the other artists’ portraits and his website to view his other work.

Drake White, Photographer

In Private

Art, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, memoir, painting, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Vulnerability, wonder

Pay attention to the thoughts that surface, bubble up to overflow in private.

Certainties.

Morning Song

Yesterday morning, I closed the door and prayed on the bathroom floor.

No magic, no set expectation, just a plea that was private.

I humbled myself and asked for ease, for help.

Humbled, but not afraid, not cornered by my delay in praying nor in my honest admission of asking for help, for grace.

And, my prayer was answered. I was without pain, still am.

But none says, “Where is my Maker, who gives songs in the night?” Job 35:10

Around 3:00 a.m, I turned and wondered, why did I stop praying as much as before?

Praying in private, mostly.

Again, humbled by the tender realization, but not all the feeling of being punished or afraid.

More like, “I miss praying. I miss the peace of honesty and of talking to God about others and things that only we know”.

I miss me, humbled and yet, unafraid.

And so, God told me so. Told me in a way, I suppose,

I miss our conversations,

I miss the heart of you.

Painting Crosses

I delivered a painted cross yesterday, a housewarming gift that according to my friend was “extra”, other gifts and favors already given. I told her I’d like to gift another, for her office.

She gave me permission to choose the color, she’d be fine with white, she offered.

I’m thinking now about the depth in her eyes, pools of thought and kindness.

How I’ll capture that color, I don’t know yet.

I’ll pray.

I can pray. I am certain in that.

Unafraid and so very humbled.

You Can

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, courage, Faith, hope, mixed media painting, painting, Redemption, sons, Vulnerability, wonder
Sunday Works

I cried on the back road to Target.

I cried because the mean old thing called fear has been catching up, wrapping its arms around me like a stranglehold suffocating and silencing my wildest, most wonderful hopes.

I cried a little on the trip to find shelves to organize my paint (again).

Tears that said “not again”.

I’ve been hoping I was wrong about what I giddily decided was just right for right now.

I cried because my jaded conclusions drawn because of past hurts, harms, manipulative grooming and demands is putting me in the corner again.

I’ve been hoping I’ll hear they decided it was not right for me to paint and speak after all.

Then, I can sigh and sit quietly hidden in the identity that is me after all.

Alone and isolated, but safe on my own terms.

So, once the quiet tears stopped on their own, I reread the invitation to be photographed and have my artwork possibly featured with others in a future exhibit.

I reread, researched and respected the questioner, trusted it and him.

I said yes because my tears were not from fear, instead from fear that I may again be trapped in my decision to hide and that would mean

I wouldn’t go on.

Again.

It would mean ignoring how far God has brought me and that would be dishonorable.

Dishonoring myself and the one who made me to walk through doors I didn’t even knock on,

You were not made to cower. You were made to create and to share what you make. You were made to be authentically brave.” me

Why do I write about such things, things like declining invitations because trauma triggers say “stay safe, stay humble, stay nothing, be nothing other than afraid and small”?

Because tears on the way to Target may be sweeter than you think, might be a tender gift.

Good tears, friends, very good.

I write because it helps me see the tears on the way to Target were not sad tears at all, rather than were cleansing, clarity, another swash of the trauma residual slate washed clean.

Tears that say okay, now

Take a breath, check your mascara, dab a little color on your lips.

Take a breath, say a secret prayer.

Go on.

You can.

I assembled the shelves from Target remembering the time I felt so excited. I put the bed frame together for my newly relocated to Colorado son. He’d gone to run some sort of errands, returned to realize I’d done it all wrong.

This son of mine who invited his mama to accompany him cross country, the gift of this will not, does not, has not escaped me.

I lined all my pastels, pencils, watercolor acrylic and oil tubes of paint in their own places and threw the dried up paint away.

Then, I painted.

Not as planned or expected, but I painted.

I’ll paint tomorrow.

I’ll keep on.

“For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father.”
‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:15‬ ‭KJV

What We Say

Art, courage, painting, Redemption, Vulnerability
Naomi

I love this painting, much like I love a sentence that describes a cloud perfectly.

Yes, that’s exactly how I wanted to say it.

I saw a bitter widow named Naomi deciding life is good after all.

I’ll add this 12×16 painting to my artist site tomorrow along with a couple of abstracts on paper.

By the way, I’m having a sale. A birthday sale since my birthday’s in August.

Visit my site. See something you like?

Enter BIRTHDAY at checkout for 20% off!

https://www.lisaannetindal.me